#untopped

[ovb0nuifhq]

Amateur ladyboy fucked by black guy CUMSLUT WIFE INTERRACIAL CUCKOLD HOMEMADE AMATUER Fingering that wet ebony pussy (NYC) Teen Girl Sex with Room 2019 (Sri Lanka) කැල්ලව රෑම් එක්කං ගියා a beautiful bitch fucked by the pool hotel en apizaco NewSensations - Big Cock stepson Fucks Big Tit Milf stepmom Ryan Keely Jiggle Ya Tits with Kylie Page amazing hardcore big cock fucking Blow job girl khmer ft boy zin Chupando a pretinha

#tachs #heterophony #finger-and-toe #tittivator #ripstops #primrose-decked #european #uteroabdominal #axils #innuendo #mechanical #schrecklich #gestio #phytomonad #Spaniardo #Lilla #rhabarbaric #untopped #intercoupling #definers

[dilxcs]

one of the many things i love about my dog is how he will curl up next to me or on top of me when i’m feeling unwell 🥺 he’ll stay by my side and won’t leave and even when he gets too hot, he will lay down against my feet on the floor 💕

#doesn’t matter which position he’s laying #he HAS TO have his butt against me #even going as far as to paw away at my switch #indicating me to hold it up #so he can slither himself through my arms #and lay comfortably untop of me #i adore him sm 🥺 #𐂴 — senn.stfu [🗝]

[malewifefirestar]

Yeah working on a my pet as a Pokémon project thing

#nike’s stuff #okay to reblog #untop of everything else

[fivegoldpieces]

dealing with the loudness of fireworks outside my window by remembering the early campaign beaujester in hupperdook

#I've yelled about this five (5) times However! #you cannot pry this moment from my cold dead hands like. #''i buy jester a flower necklace because it looks like [something she might like]'' #from early campaign self-proclaimed asshole beau?? #untopped!! can't be undone!! will make me go feral in thirty years still

[killmeprettypleasee]

SHUT THE FUCK UP, BRAT

Warning: age gap reader is 24 and Price is 35, Brat reader, kinda mean Price(?).

______________________________________

You and Price had been married for just a year now, you and him had been even more close than you two started dating.

He had been sweet to you, and he's very well mannered,, so you were quite thankful to have him as your husband.

But currently you decided to be a brat and start a tantrum every minute of the day,, and fuck did it annoy John..

-------------

Suddenly you were shoved to the bed, your body dipping into the soft foam, Price has a devious look in his eyes causing you to shiver slightly at the eye contact.

"You little bitch,, you just don't know how to keep that mouth of yours shut?"

John harshly spoke out causing you to whimper.

Suddenly your pants along your boxers were ripped off and legs had been spread forcefully and folded, now your head was inbetween your knees, Price grabbed the back of your ankle and pushed it down to have a good look at your hole, He licked his lips and pulled his cock out.

By the table side drawer he grabbed a bottle of lube and poured a generous amount on his cock, He couldn't wait to shove his cock deep into your depts,, your warmth,, he just wanted to claim that ass of yours.

But gladly John has some self control to help him resist not to go hard on you yet, your eyes began to go glossy abd tears slowly poured into thin lines, It was a sight to see that his bratty husband was getting nervous to get fucked by him, He loved that look and couldn't help but smirk.

"looks like the little brat actually knows how to shut the fuck up huh?"

Suddenly Price began to shove his cock deep into your ass hole, You let out little whines and cries as he sinked in to your depths.

"J-john.. n-ngh s-slow down.."

You cried softly,

"shut up."

Price replied with a harsh scowl and thrust into you, hitting your prostate head on causing you to jerk up when his hips slammed against your ass.

This caused you to see stars when his hips began to piston in and out of you, small cries and begs left your lips as your hole was being ravished by him.

Now you were a crying and whimpering mess beneath his muscular form, His hands gripped on both on your back knees, pressing them down and folding you like paper.

After round after rounds, Price grew exhausted and when he came he fell untop you and fell unconscious from the tiring in and out of his cock into you.

You let out a soft sigh, feeling weak amd your hips sore, you looked down at him,, gazing at his face then held him close.

You thanked the gods that he was done, and you finally learned a lesson today..

#cod x male reader #x male reader #bottom male reader #cod x male reader smut #x sub male reader #x reader #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #price x male reader smut #price x male reader #john price x male reader #price x reader #captain price x male reader #captain price #john price

[epiphyllous]

when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [2]

For what could you be to him, if not a victim, not a target, not a night it's better to forget-- if he holds these feelings for you?

Word Count: ~5k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", following Astarion romance route in his POV + my hc/additional scenes, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, mutual pining, contains NSFW [Part 1] - [Part 3]

[Act II: Underdark/Shadowfell]

How long has it been, Astarion wonders, since the last time he truly cared for someone other than himself? All he remembers is that it didn't go well the last time; sympathy has no place in Cazador's castle, and mercy for his victims does not go unpunished. 

It was kill or be killed. Just as he was afforded no quarters, he never allowed himself to feel for another one of his victims again. It is why when he finds himself in the rare position of being cared for (you and Karlach are particularly eager at showing him as much together), caring for others still does not come easy to him. 

Or so he thought.

Worrying for your livelihood comes almost instinctively, a panic wrought midst an adrenaline-filled battle when he sees your motionless body on the floor. “No!” He hardly recognizes his own voice like that, a scream full of horror. “You can't die. Get up, goddamn you!” He flits across the battlefield, avoiding enemies with the help of Karlach to reach you. He lets go of a breath he was holding when he sees your face grimace in pain, eyes flickering open dazedly. 

“Astarion?” You mumble when you see him, and a volley of emotion rushes him. Anger: the damn Spectator doesn't like to play fair, does it, attacking them on sight. With an eye as big as a target as it is, Astarion cannot wait for payback. Frustration: why must you always plow your way forward with abandon, refusing to bow down from danger? 

Then– 

Worry: your breathing is shallow, eyes unfocused; does he have a healing potion on him? And relief: you are hurt but you are alive– thank god you are alive. (Irritation: he swears if he must strap you to Karlach to stop you from running ahead, he is certain the tiefling would be on board with his plan.)

Astarion cannot help the scowl on his face even as he quickly untops a healing potion and helps you drink it, a hand behind your head. “Stand back up and start killing something,” he tells you bitingly, and you smile at him gratefully, which he can only look at for so long. 

“Got it,” you say, taking a moment before laying healing hands onto your chest. You breathe out in relief and Astarion finds himself quietly doing the same. “Thank you, Astarion. Let's hit ‘em hard this time.” You raise your crossbow and imbue it with holy light before taking aim and firing.

His arrows join yours right after, and the Spectator wails in pain, interrupting its thrall over the petrified drow. “Say less, dear,” Astarion says. “Just make sure to die on your own time, hm?”

Your laugh is a strange thing to hear amidst battle but not an unwelcome one. 

.

.

.

Ever since they started traveling in the land of spores and shadows, you have given him blood every night, noticing fairly quickly the lack of vermin or animals to feed on. You are always woozy in the morning, lightheaded at best and exhausted at worst. It is particularly bad whenever he feeds on nights you have suffered injuries, but still, you offer.

Astarion had suggested to only feed every other night if only to spare you from tripping up in battle. He tells you he has little desire to resuscitate you in the midst of it. (And even less of one to see you fallen in battle in the first place. One time was plenty enough.) 

He's been eyeing the small population of duergar that so conveniently became their enemies anyways, so feeding would not be quite so dire. He would also feed on the dark gnomes, dislikable creatures that they are, but he has a strong inkling you would greatly disapprove. (You were strangely friendly with that dark gnome you saved on the windmill, but you have done stranger things that still boggle him. He's learned to live with it. Begrudgingly, of course.)

Even then, you insisted on letting him have your blood despite Shadowheart's exasperation. It shows the cleric's affections for you and (a surprising show of) trust for him that she almost offers her own blood, if only to temporarily sate his appetite. You wave away the discomfort though, thankful for the members who are able to restore you from bloodlessness but otherwise willful in your decision to let him feed on only you.

Astarion is thankful– of course he is. He would never say no to a truly good meal; and you are right for the most part about not having much to eat. But as good as he is with words, Astarion is beginning to feel his debt to you accumulate.

There is not much he can do for you in return, really. It's not as if you need protecting, though he does ever so often help keep you hidden among the shadows when you're hiding or snipe an enemy before they even think of aiming at you. But you have always done that for him. It's something you've relayed to him early on: you have his back as long as he has yours. 

The protection is mutually beneficial, but giving him blood is a gift. He owes you– among other things. He has always found blood appealing due to his... affliction, but he is finding that your expression during battle, the blood that you bathe in as a result of it leaves him feeling hungry for a completely different reason.

(Astarion finds that he hungers for you similarly when you are otherwise at peace. When you gaze into the campfire with a look of innocent awe at the flickering flames or when you wave him over eagerly for him to sit near it with you, happy to have him close as though it were a rare occurrence and not a near nightly thing. It is a quiet type of hunger-- a yearning-- that often goes ignored. For what could you be to him, if not a victim, not a target, not a night it's better to forget-- if he holds these feelings for you?)

It is easy to come to the conclusion that he can offer his body to you as compensation. Astarion is quite certain you enjoyed his performance before, and he admits he feels... closer to you as a result of the first time. There is nothing wrong with building an even closer bond with you- to ensure his safety, of course. And most importantly, sex is enjoyable with you; he imagines himself less and less being able to propose the same to the others in camp, no matter how strong or reliable they are as allies.

He does suspect none of them would be willing. They seem to view him and you as something exclusive. Astarion doesn't remember establishing anything of the sort, but something about the two of you must allude to it. 

Astarion doesn't mind; it makes it easier to seduce you thoroughly. And, if his plan has worked, breaking your heart by straying to others sounds like a terrible idea considering the fact the camp would rather break their own legs than betray you. 

(Lae'zel would break his legs for any discretion despite how blasé she is with romantic relationships. (You had gained her stalwart friendship through hard-earned battles against an entire créche– this is not to be taken lightly.) Wyll would be more than happy to have been proven right all along, with how convinced he is that Astarion's heart be as cold as ice. Gale would lecture his ear off, which is a threat on its own, and he is convinced Shadowheart has learned how to torture given her Sharran background. Karlach would probably just give him an equally upset and disappointed look, and that would discomfit Astarion more than anything. 

In summary– the odds would not be in his favor. Which works out for him; best be in your debt than anyone else's if there's to be a debt at all.)

After helping the myconids get rid of their enemies, they camp in the safe spore refuge after reaping their rewards from the fungi's makeshift prison. Astarion waits for you to come find him, doing another futile attempt to read the Book of Thay as you make your rounds and check in with everyone. It seems that you have gotten into the habit of saving him for last, knowing how long the conversations might last into the night. It works out perfectly for him, because when you come over to him, eyes bright, he sets out to proposition you again. 

"Here's my little treat with their cheeks all flushed." Astarion lowers his eyes and looks up through his lashes coyly. "You will come to my bed tonight, won't you?"

You blink at him. "Are you hungry?" You ask, which is an odd way to start flirting back. "Do you not like coming into my tent for a bite?"

Ah. Right. 

Astarion can't stop the unbidened sigh. "No, dear, I was suggesting something a little... more. Though, I am always open to being fed."

"Oh," you say. "Oh!" And like magic, your cheeks darken with color. "Sorry, I- well, you called me your 'treat' so I automatically assumed, you know, food."

"You want something better? It'd be my pleasure," he teases, clearing his throat lightly before continuing. "How about this one: when I'm with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again with you."

You let out a little laugh and he is quick to continue. "Why, your laugh is nearly just as sweet as when I tasted you."

Your smile wobbles in half embarrassment and flattery. "Astarion," you say, halfheartedly chiding. 

"Let me give it another go, hm?" He makes a show of putting his hand on his chest. "Every part of your body whispers temptation," he tells you, "as if the Gods made you just to ruin me."

Astarion earns himself what he believes to be an endeared shake of the head, a permanent smile on your face. "You're ridiculous," you say warmly. 

"I can go all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want?" He says, putting a finger on his lips, pretending to think. "What if I said these three little words, everyone's favorite." He looks into your eyes and delivers his lines. "I love you."

He hears you laugh again, but it is short and loud, as though you forced it out. It is unlike your usual, genuine laughter, and when Astarion searches for the truth, he feels as though your smile does not reach your eyes… or not. He cannot be sure. For someone who can never find it in yourself to lie to your companions, you make for an impeccable poker face when you need it. 

"Looks like you're having fun," you tease, and Astarion starts to think he was simply imagining it. 

"Of course," he says, surprisingly honest, "it's hard not to with you." He falters when your countenance brightens at his words, and he clears his throat to collect himself. "Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favorite lines at you, I'd much rather we got to experience each other's full portfolio of talents once again."

"I'll come find you?" You ask as a response, and Astarion smiles.

"I hoped you would say yes. I have missed you," Astarion finds himself admitting. He recovers quickly though, seduction in his voice. "And now you'll be all mine, and I'm all yours. Until morning at least."

There is that little tug of your lips again, gone as quickly as it appeared. Astarion may not fully know what the tic means, but he does know that in some capacity, you are lying to him. It disturbs him more than he can place. 

"Until morning," you repeat, giving him an equally quiet smile before turning.

Astarion watches you walk away, heavy with the feeling that he has missed something important.

When he meets you later tonight, you are as playful as ever in bed, eager to touch him and please him as you have been before. You roll your hips into his lap as you hold him from the front, neck tilted up and eyes closed as you loam in the pleasure. A trickle of blood runs down your body, proof of an appetite satiated. He tongues at your skin, following the trail up as you let out a pleased hum.

Astarion has always thought this in one way or another, but you are a vision. Breathtaking in your battlelust, stunning in your resilience, and beautiful in the throes of passion. 

It is always a plus, he thinks, to be attracted to you. It makes it a less unpleasant experience, if nothing else. With you, it makes a long night of love almost a cinematic experience; there is so much to watch unfold, so much of you to see.

"Any ideas how we'll know when it's morning in the underdark?" You ask him breathlessly, hands carding through his hair.

"After I have you seeing stars, naturally," he says easily, and you let out a huff of laughter at his words. 

"You're so silly," you tell him in the fondest way you can. His heart involuntarily skips a beat as you brush your hand over his cheek before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. "Maybe it'll never be morning here," you say, "and I could have you forever." 

A thought violently comes to him, holding his heart with a vice grip: you genuinely sound like you're in love with him. Astarion should be elated; his plan is working. Instead he feels dread's cold fingers curling around his neck for a completely new reason. 

Before he can process, you grind your hips down in a move he knows you learned the last time around, and he groans, hands on the small of your back to hold you back. "Why, darling," he breathes out, "you're beginning to get as good as me."

He feels your smile on his lips, warm and real, and the dread is soothed-- if only just for a little bit. "I could never," you whisper into him, and he falls onto his back, another time for him to remember.

When he wakes up, your warmth in his arms, his nose buried in your hair, he finds that morning does not come in the underdark like he expects. And his simple plan to seduce you is quickly falling apart in ways he never thought imaginable.

.

.

.

Astarion does what he has always done when things go awry: he disengages. Or he tries to, anyways, but you have a knack about wiggling your way into interacting with him, not at all deterred by his attempted nonchalance. He gives up on that plan quickly one night when he tries to refuse your help to read his scars. 

For one, he actually does need someone else's help to visualize the markings on his back. And all things considered, you are the one he is most comfortable to help him, having seen his back once already. Secondly, trying to push you away does him no good in terms of his original plan; spurning you can only build resentment, which works against him in terms of your protection. (Or not, he thinks. You have always defended him even if you were irritated with him that day because of a fight. Your trifles with him never affected how you felt for him in the long-run.)

Thirdly, and most unfortunately, he actually does… like interacting with you, for all the annoying times you are overly good to others. He trusts you, and perhaps that is all the reason he's ever needed to turn his back to you as you scrawl the markings into the dirt floor. About two hundred years he has lived with this on his skin and never seen it until now. Not that he can read it, but it is definitely a step forward.

He looks up at you to see you staring intently at him. “What?” He says, “what is it?”

“I was just thinking,” you tell him. “Slightly unrelated, but maybe when we reach the city or something, we could have the artist we saved from the Zhentarim paint your portrait so you can see yourself again.” You shrug when he merely blinks at you in confusion. “Just a thought, since you didn't like how I described you last time and writing your markings down reminded me.”

You remembered, he thinks, about what he said about not having seen his appearance in eons. He can't help it--he's a little endeared despite himself. “Darling, last time you described me like I was some decrepit old man,” Astarion replies facetiously.

“No, I didn't!” You fume, and he's amused to see the way your lips form a pout, one of the few things that betray your youth. Though he supposed anyone would be young compared to him. “I happen to like the way you look, laugh lines and crow's feet and all.” You huff as if mortally wounded. “I described you with ‘piercing eyes’ too didn't I?”

“Yes, I recall you called me beautiful as well,” Astarion simpers, and you huff in laughter this time around.

“You really are,” you say, smile on your lips. “Beautiful, I mean.”

Something flutters in his chest. It could not have been his heart, surely, for it hasn't beat since the moment he was turned. And yet… The back of his neck feels oddly warm, the heat traveling up to his ears: was he really embarrassed from something like that? Him, the connoisseur of seduction, master of one-liners, brought down by a- a compliment? 

Astarion is quick to turn his nose into the air, letting out a noise of approval at your words as though it were a given. And it is– he must be beautiful, for how else would people fall for him so easily? But coming from you, sincere, without expectations for something more, Astarion is left unequipped to deal with as smoothly as he would have liked. 

It's becoming more frequent by the day.

“Thank you, dear. Not enough people say so,” he says. “Feel free to lavish me in flattery at any given time.”

“Okay.” Your eyes twinkle looking at him as though there are all the stars in the world in your eyes. He recognizes that twinkle, though it could range from anywhere from mischief to affection– perhaps both when it comes to him. He discreetly presses a hand into his chest, wondering if his heart had suddenly decided to start beating again. “Whatever you say, beautiful,” you sing. 

And how is Astarion supposed to resist being charmed by you when you are like this? If that was all there was though, he thinks as you go set up camp, then there wouldn't be much of a problem. Being fawned over by you should be the easiest thing he has done, but it isn't. He feels… Astarion isn't sure what he feels, and he loathes the fact that it can never be simple with you.

You're supposed to be an end to a means. Why does it matter that you seem to care for him beyond his body? That when you tell him he's beautiful, he knows you mean more than surface-level? And that he feels for you when you tell him as much? 

It is a dangerous game he is playing, being so close to you while he comes to terms with what you may mean to him. But Astarion admits he lives for the danger of it all, especially when he finds that seduction is not always a one-way road.

. 

.

.

Astarion almost forgives you for helping dark gnomes in droves for how ruthless you are to their slavers. You are a paladin, a protector of the weak, but you are also a punisher of evil. You cleanly decapitate Nere with an impassive expression, and Astarion has never felt so thoroughly turned on.

(He remembers a conversation shared with you in the beginning of your relationship with him– even before you had even begun to see him as a true companion. How would you like to die, he had asked. 

It was an odd choice of topic. Vaguely threatening and definitely morbid, but you had answered in earnest. And when you asked, how about you?

He said, Decapitation. One good swing and then- nothing. 

Astarion watches as you carefully clean your sword of Nere's blue blood and thinks his answer still has not changed.)

He doesn't hide it well, his eyes trailing after you almost predatorily. Shadowheart notices almost immediately, giving him a side look that would have chafed if he weren't who he is. Lae'zel, for once, gives no comment to his lustful behavior. She of all people would understand the irresistibility of power and bloodlust. It is you who does not notice, too focused on inviting– ugh, Barcus Wroot to the camp so he doesn't inevitably find himself in need of saving again and promising to rescue Wulbren, among other dark gnomes, at Moonrise.

At this rate, you'll have an entire laundry list of people to save at the same location, and you'll probably still think that you ‘might as well since they're all in the same place anyways.’ He can already imagine you saying those words, and it would have stopped him from being so hot and bothered had you not turned to notice him then and look at him like a cat who caught the canary.

“Was it killing the duegar? Nere?” You ask him, amusement dancing in your eyes, “Or is it the fact I still have blood literally everywhere?”

His fangs peek from behind his smile. “Why, darling, don't be so surprised!” He tells you seductively, "Blood is an attractive look on you, you know.”

You laugh at this, hand wiping away at your forehead, smearing the flecks of blood that stubbornly stay. Astarion watches you intently as you thumb across your cheek and then your lips, blood painting them like luxury rouge. It's only then Astarion realizes you're doing this on purpose, and the thought of you- you!- teasing him on purpose is unexpectedly charming. 

“You cheeky little pup,” Astarion calls you nearly breathlessly, and you can only smile at him, caught in the act.

(Both Shadowheart and Lae'zel give each other long side looks this time.)

.

.

.

The shadowlands are wrought with a darkness unlike Astarion has ever seen. It must be the silence of such a foul curse because he begins to come to terms about what he can do for the scars on his back. Dealing with the devil is never the greatest of plans, but it is a plan he knows for certain will work. 

He must have the luck of the realms to find Raphael in the only place where the dark cannot reach: Last Light's Inn. Like the other times they have made contact with him, the devil is as elusive and lackadaisical as ever, much to Astarion's annoyance. In the corner of his eyes, he sees you fume, stepping closer to Astarion as you pin down Raphael with an unfaltering stare.

"Get to the point, Raphael," you say with a tone of impatience. “Will you help him or not?” Brave but reckless coming from you; you are more often like him than not, preferring to fawn and please your way through, but it seems even the devil tests you.

Raphael disappears in a snap of flames with no answers yet, and the lingering smell of ashes puts a foul taste in everyone's mouth. Especially yours, it seems, as you haven't moved away from him yet, stance tense and ready for battle still. Astarion's gaze flickers back and forth between your body language, and he would call it possessive if he didn't know what type of person you were. It doesn't even look like you're aware that you're being protective of him, subtle and unobtrusive as it is. 

Astarion recalls his childhood dreams of marrying heroic princes when he was thirteen. He has somewhat grown out of it now, jaded as he is. The thought of being a damsel in distress is no longer as appealing as it was back then now that he understands what it truly means to be helpless. But seeing you as you are, watching over him carefully while trusting him to be able to fight for himself, coaxes the dream back to life just a little bit.

It helps that you are not the perfect knightley archetype of fairytale storybooks. Your imperfections and playful mannerisms help contextualize his childhood's unrealistic expectations into something more real– more suitable for his current tastes. He watches as you get onto your knees and meow at the hairless cat for its attention and thinks he would get rather bored if you were just a princely character.

“At least you purr for me,” he remarks when the cat hisses at you and watches as you throw him one of his favorite looks, a dour expression mixed with amusement.

“Maybe I should start hissing, huh?” You reply with a grin, bumping his shoulders as you walk by to speak to Jaheira. 

And there is one other thing he has noticed: you are a physically affectionate person. While he is a master of words, you prefer to communicate through touch--once you have become more comfortable with the people you are with. You brush shoulders with Gale when the two of you stargaze, you hook arms with Shadowheart when the two of you go for walks, and, when you feel that Lae'zel is in the mood for it, you clasp her shoulder for a battle well fought. You are almost reckless in the way you provide touch, hugging Karlach the moment Dammon fixes her infernal engine without fear of getting burned, not afraid to get close to Wyll's new devilish horns, if only to make him more comfortable with the change.

You have never been shy with touch, whether you mean to or not. He gets the sense that you simply want to be closer to him– to everyone– and when words fail you (he has seen you flub a conversation with a rat once), your touch can do the talking. 

It's almost awe-inspiring the range in which your actions can convey. Astarion knows well how your brandished sword can intimidate, how your stance communicates confidence, how your gentleness conveys compassion. Knowing you is a strength of its own considering the surprise you gave Marcus when you seemingly go from peaceful conversation to deadly assault. Though Astarion wonders if it is a weakness too when he feels your pinky touch his after the frightful battle, and he understands you almost too well. 

“We fight so many demons I'm beginning to get bored of them,” he tells you, and he lets you continue to curl your pinky with his, a small but secure connection between the two of you.

[You are brave but not unafraid, and you are frightened by the idea of betrayal so close to home. You are scared of sudden bloodshed and of repercussions of failure. You are fearful of Astarion getting hurt, and that will always be true, but it is true especially now when you are so close to where this journey all began. You seek him out to make sure he is alright, if only for your own comfort. And if he is fine, then maybe everything will be fine as well.]

“Good to hear,” you say simply. It is all you can find yourself saying in the aftermath, and you stay close to Astarion. It isn't until Jaheira talks about infiltrating Moonrise that you let go of him to speak to her. 

Astarion finds himself rooted in his spot, wondering for a brief moment how his heart can be set alight from an innocent touch like that from you.

*

*

*

The night before they infiltrate the heart of the Absolute, Astarion dreams. It is not a nightmare for once, but it feels very little like a dream. 

You were in it: crescent moon rising above, sitting on the shore, letting the waves lap at your bare feet. You invite him over to sit with you like you always do in the waking world, and he does– not caring about how the salty waters will ruin the leather of his pants or the fact he has never seen you in the white robe you are wearing now. 

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, watching the water stretch out into the distance where the eye can no longer see it. He looks over at you, and as though feeling his gaze, you turn to him and give him a smile he feels himself returning. 

“I got you this,” you tell him, holding out a single flower for him. “‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’”

He takes the flower in hand. It is not a rose, but a gardenia, cheerful in its yellow color. Astarion brings it close to his nose, but the flower itself has no scent. “The other flower doesn't smell as sweet, darling,” he says. “Or are you saying I'm the rose in this case?” He lets out a laugh and you only smile wider. 

“Beautiful as you are dangerous,” you say, and Astarion is about to comment on how suave you seem to be tonight, but then you stand up and start walking into the water, uncaring of how wet your clothes become. He watches as you submerge yourself halfway before turning to him, unfazed. 

Astarion stands too, his feet on the dry sand, unable to follow. The water will be cold, he thinks, and who knows how deep it goes? His thoughts are interrupted by your peals of laughter, and his head shoots up to look at you, robe floating in the waves almost ethereally. 

“Join me whenever,” you tell him, eyes bright even in the dark. “I can teach you how to swim.”

And Astarion wakes up, remembering only the thought that it has almost been two hundred years since he last swam. He wonders if he's forgotten how.

.

.

.

.

.

*dream sequence symbolism crescent moon - dynamic shift, beginning or end, wisdom, openness to sexuality white robes - protection, purity, clarity, knowledge yellow gardenia - secret love, dreams, thinking of sweetness in the subconscious receiving flowers as a gift - communicating deep feelings, often positive; who is receiving and who is giving? sand - stop in time and lack of growth, waiting; beach sand in particular acts as the border between the unconscious part of you (depths of the water), and the conscious (being on the shore); the cross worlds between your field of perception and the unknown.

#astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion ancunin #i need to know how tav and astarion goes from blood bag to ride or die and this is how im finding out #[adds 203139 extra scenes]

[goddesjuliet]

Can I be untop

#humiliated sissy #beta bitch #humili sissi #sissy task #sissy tasks #submisive sissy

[itsmebytch001]

Do you write anything else except for yandere?

I love the yandere content but it's not quite my cup of tea. I wanted to ask if I could request something with Father!Aaron again,maybe they have an argument about Reader doing something mildly shady,coming home with bruises etc. I don't really care what the plot is,just please no yandere and comfort (at least in the end or something)

(btw I realize the first sentence doesn't really make sense so I'll elaborate. It's great content,I love the writing.While I love the plot idea I'm not a big fan of yandere,that's what I mean by it. :D)

Ask And You Shall recieve->

Summary: After a terrible hair related experemint, you now have to face...youre Dad.

You should have known not to dye your own hair, standing in Musa's the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror you saw your hair turned orange with the intention on blonde, Musa trying not to giggle covering her mouth, heaving with buried laughs.

Y/n: "What have you done to me?!"

You yelled flicking the brush at her.

Musa: "I didn't do anything! you did this to yourself!"

Y/n: "So why didn't you stop me!!"

You heard a knock on the door, Its Ayesha.

Ayesha: "You okay in there?"

Y/n: "No!"

She slowly opened the bathroom door, observing the sink with its strange red hue to see you, standing in a bath robe with an orange mop untop your head.

Ayesha: "... Ice spice?" She asked jokingly.

Y/n: "Fuck you! what the am I going to do when I get home!"

Both Musa and Ayesha broke out into booming laughter as you crumpled onto the cool tilied bathroom floor.

Ayesha: "I thought you were going blonde not Ron Weasly!"

Musa: "AAAAAhhh HAHAHA" she keeled over the bath while laughing, unable to control herself while Ayesha held onto the door frame for dear life.

Y/n: "I'm supposed to be home in an HOUR! What the hell am I going to DO!?"

Musa began to shed tears of joy and your unfortunate fate.

Ayesha: "I told you! you should have waited for Stella's she's good at this kinda thing you wait a few days she might be able to fix this!"

Y/n: "I can't hide away from my Dad for a couple of days the last time I did that he got my damm uncle involved!"

Ayesha: "the cop one"

Y/n: "Yeah, and it won't matter any way I won't have hair by the time she gets back, my Dad's gonna cut it off!!"

Musa wiped tears from her face.

Musa: "come on I think your exagreting! he wouldn't cut off your hair would he?"

...

Y/n: "I Don't know!!!" she cried out, melting down onto the floor as both Musa and Ayesha held onto each other laughing like mad men.

As the time approached for you to head back home, you and the girls where scrambling to do damege control, styling your hair in any way to make it look less bad, Dutch braids, pig tail, pony tail, French braids, fish tail, basic plat no matter what they did it looked terrible.

infact it took so long to run through all these styles, you were far out behind your cerfew.

Ding

Its youre Dad.

Oh fuck oh Fuck Oh God take me now

Musa: "You know...it's not that bad?" She said as her voice squeaked.

Y/n: "don't lie to me Musa, I look like a damm pumpkin!"

Ayesha: "Maybe if you hide it till Monday, Stella can fix it when she gets back!"

Y/n: "You think I should avoid my Dad seeing my hair for 3 days?"

Ayesha: "Sure, why not just stay in your room, it was a lock dosen't it?"

Y/n: "Ayesha, if I locked by Dad out my room he would kick it down"

Ayesha: "Then just wear hoodies all the time"

Musa: "I think he'll still notice the red hair poking though"

Ayesha: "Yeaaaaaahh it's bad"

Y/n: "I hate you both so much"

As you were taking yourself out the house and at the door, Ayesha hanged back in the hall with Musa, waving you off.

Ayesha: "If don't seen you Monday we'll file you a missing person report!!!" She yelled while smiling as you walked down the street your hoodie wrapped tight round your head, not wanting the world to see this monsterousity.

18:11

As you stood outside your front door, you could hear the TV on, so you must assume Aaron is waiting for you, waiting to scould you for being so late, for walking home alone or for your hair.

God please don't let him see my hair

As you crept into the the living room, you heard a beckon call.

Aaron: "Ay, Y/n, why are you so late huh?"

Think of a lie, think of a good lie

Y/n: "Musa's Dad was having one of his melt down and I didn't want to leave her"

Aaron: "Oh damm, is she okay? Should I pull out the couch for her to crash on?"

Y/n: "Oh no, It's taken care of, and Ayesha's sleeping over at hers so she should be alright"

Aaron: "okay. what you wearing that hoodie for? it's warm inside"

Y/n: "Its just comfortable Dad"

Aaron: "m'kay, anyways I don't really feel like cooking, how about take out?"

Y/n: "Sure Dad" you say dissmissvly as you head off for your room.

Aaron pulled out his phone.

Aaron: "What do you feel like then, we got Korean, chinses, jamican, mexi-"

Y/n: "anything is fine"

Aaron: "...is everything okay?"

Y/n: " yeah I'm good just need to sleep"

Aaron: "It's 6pm?"

Y/n: "yeah I'm tired"

Aaron: " is this about Musa? If she needs to come over it's totally cool"

Y/n: "No, Musa's okay I just want to go to my room and die in my bed"

Aaron: "die in youre bed now? You sure you okay?"

Y/n: "Yes Really I'm fine" You said as you rushed over to your room.

You felt your Dad's hand on youre shoulder, pulling you back.

Aaron: "How bad was it? Musa's Dad?"

Ugh, why must your Dad make you feel so terrible

Aaron: "Should go pick her up?"

Ughhhhhhhhhhhh whyyyyyyyyyyyy

Y/n: "Dad-"

Aaron: "is it like last time? should I call Uncle Jeff?"

Y/n: "Dad-"

Aaron: "I can make room for Ayesha too if she need's to stay"

Y/n: "DAD!"

...

You pull back your hoodie revaling your redish hair. Aaron is confused, your once lovley black hair was now frazzed and ginger.

Aaron: "What the hell happend to your hair?"

Y/n: "I-"

Aaron: "You look like Bob ross"

Y/n: "Excuse me?"

Aaron: "oh dear god, did you try and dye your hair?"

Y/n: "Maybe"

Aaron: "And you did it at Musa's?"

Y/n: "Yeah"

Aaron: "Did Musa do this to you?"

Y/n: "Noooooo I did" You asked wincing, ready to be scoulded for such a silly endevour.

Aaron: "....okay" he huffed.

Aaron went to get his jacket and grabbed his keys.

Y/n: "Lets go get you something to fix...that" He gestured to your hair.

Later, while in the beauty shop youre Dad led you down into the hair care isle.

Aaron: "What were you trying to do anyways?"

Y/n: "I was trying to go blonde"

Aaron: "Ah I see"

He picked out a box of black hair dye.

Aaron: "So you went over to Musa's house to secretly dye your hair, and you thought you could just come home, blonde, and I wouldn't notice?"

Y/n: "No, I just thought You'd accept it...eventually"

Aaron: "uh huh"

He places the dye in the basket.

Aaron: "You need anything before we go?"

Y/n: "Uhh No I'm good"

As you and youre Dad walked out the store, bag in hand he stopped you walking and pointed over to the new local Korean place.

Aaron: "You wanna get some barbeque?"

Y/n: "Sure"

Once you and your Dad got home, he unwrapped the take out and made you a plate.

Aaron: "We'll take care of your hair tmorrow, m'kay?" He said, sitting down next to you on the sofa.

Y/n: "Yeah that sounds good"

Aaron: "What you said about Musa, that true?"

Y/n: "...no"

Aaron: "So you lied about Musa's Dad have a melt down, too what end?"

Y/n: "I just wanted to get you off my back before you saw my hair"

Aaron: "...Don't be lying to be about that kinda thing, it's to serious m'kay? If Musa need's to stay, that's fine but don't be making stuff up"

Y/n: "yeah, I know I'm sorry"

Aaron: "You know who you look like?"

Y/n: "who?"

Aaron: "That new rap girl, ginger lady"

Y/n: "...I hate you"Dad

#submission #yandere morales family #aaron davis x reader #uncle aaron #yandere spiderverse #rio morales #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #Dad aaron davis #Morales family #Dad Aaron Davis #platonic yandere

[shysonwrites]

Nothings better than a pred teasing a prey and knowing that the prey loves but is it shy to admit. Or they just feel very highly of themselves.

And untop of that, they try- and fail- to hide their obvious attachment for the pred. It's a win-win, even if the prey disagrees

#endosoma #vore talk #bromance #nonfatal vore #safe vore #sfw

[jakarabella2023]

You want me untop or what?

#so fuckable #boredom #sexy titts #fill my pussy #new york

[artbyblastweave]

So when TMA was originally coming out I caught up in time for season 5, and I found myself embroiled in the discourse, you know, I'm on the ground here, I'm watching the back-and-forth happen. My earliest unposted effortposts were TMA effortposts that became untopical before I got around to finishing them. That was kind of exhausting. This go round I'm considering just watching the carnage unfold through the frosted glass, then listening to the whole thing in one go after it's finished, and seeing how much of a Doublecast-style "wait, what was wrong with all of you" reaction I have

#shitpost #thoughts #meta

[stormblessed95]

https://www.tumblr.com/stormblessed95/737459913465413632/sothe-narrative-that-the-army-tattoo-stands-for

This isn’t me trying to disrespect Jk’s body art or question the explanation he gave us, but do you honestly believe he would tell us if the JM actually was for Jimin? I mean, only Jk knows what the JM really stands for and i’m going to respect his words and believe that the J untop of the M is for Jk but i think two things could be true at once. Jk must have definitely known what the JM looked like so i think it is reasonable that he would have an alternative explanation to give if the question ever came up. I also didn’t ever expect him to actually ever say it was for Jimin (if at all it is) cuz that is him literally giving them away.

I still have my suspicions but i wouldn’t disrespect his words. If he says it is for Jk then it is for Jk.

Do you honestly believe he would tell us if the JM actually was for Jimin?

Lol no, I don't think he would.

I still have my suspicions but I wouldn't disrespect his words. If he says it's for JK then it is for JK

100% same friend.

#jikook #kookmin #jikook theories

[teenytinychihuahua]

End of the first episode of Blue Eyed Samurai Like “stfu *untops your knot*”

#blue eyed samurai #yes I do know what that sounds like lol

[malewifefirestar]

I need to write stuff with my ocs to be honest, anybody got some prompt ideas

#nike’s stuff #okay to reblog #gonna be working most of the week starting tomorrow before Christmas so I need something to do untop of art stuff

[yuesya]

Whimsical question here, but when Shiki eventually reaches the age of admission for Jujutsu Tech what would her uniform look like? Would she mirror her nasu-verse counterpart by wearing a kimono with a jujutsu uniform stylized into a leather coat untop of it?

Personally, I can see Satoru customizing it that way for her as a way to gradually transition her away from all the traditional wear she's been stuffed into for most of her life.

Shiki's initial uniform would be a kimono in Jujutsu Tech's colors, maybe with an extra haori during the winter. I am debating with myself whether or not I want to include that leather jacket or deviate and go for something else, eventually... I have a few ideas as to how that might be included. As a friendly reminder, Shiki's classmates will be Hakari and Hoshi! So.

:D

#QA #zenith of stars #shiki's wardrobe!

[killmeprettypleasee]

Hihi can you do a konig or ghost x puppy boy reader? It can be sfw or nsfw if you are comfortable doing it!!

LITTLE PUPPY

Warning: SMUT, breeding ment, mention of 'rut', soft dom König, pet play ment(?).

____________________________________

You're König's pet, before that you were just a poor abused pup, treated badly by your old master.

But König saved you, and treated you so gently and lovingly, you swore to follow him always and be a good boy just for him!

He's so gentle and kind with you, spoiling you with toys and treats,, so ofcourse you're gonna be a good little puppy for your beloved master.

----------------

Now it was that time of the every month, Today was your rut and it was strnger than your last rut 2 months ago.

Your master hasnt arrived yet andvyou were calling,, whimpering out to him; wanting his touch badly,

While laying at the foot of his bed you cling unto his large pillows, sniffing his musky and woody scent he left, it was so addicting.. you've been craving him so badly wanting him to breed you little tight ass.

Imagining those dirty thoughts caused you to have an erection, your small little cocklet began to throb cutely while you're busy sniffing König's scent.

You try to palm yourself to relieve some pent up need,

But it didn't seem to work.

You heard the front door open and your fluffy tail wagged happily, heavy foot steps soon made its way on the stairs, you began to wait for him like the good pup you are.

Finally the door creaked open showing a massive figure behind the door, It was König! Your beloved master.

His eyes fell on your form while you yip happily and in excitement.

"M-master! Master i miss you s'much!"

You spoke out happily, waiting for your master.

Soon he walked over to his bed and crawled untop you.

"Such a good boy you are.. You waited for master like a good boy! Did you already prep yourself baby?"

You nodded, clinging to him as you ears perked and tail wagged.

"I-i was waiting for you for so long!"

You whined out, pouting slightly.

König smirked and grabbed a bottle of lube to coat his cock with, Lathering his cock up till it was fully covered by a thin, slick sheet of lube.

He pressed his tip against your waiting hole, Before pushing in, he scanned your face,

Seeing the excitement in your eyes, he sighed softly and pushed into you, pass your tight ring of flesh.

"Argh!.. *huff* *Huff* G-good boy.. such a tight little ass.."

He praises, Kissing your neck lovingly.. oh you just wished you could be coddle up forever by your loving master.

Treating you like the little prince you deserved to be.

His thrust shook the bed, he was becoming more rough on you, but despite the roughness of his movements; he still kissed your tears away so lovingly.

He was so happy he had you, greatful even.

You were such a good little puppy, so ofcourse he's gonna reward you...

Thrust, after thrust, after thrust,

His hips piston into your ass roughly, slowly but surely his pounding became sloppy and twitchy.

One, and final thrust he came in you.. filling you up with his lovely seed, the feeling of his warm cum in you was soooo good! You love him so much! You really do!

And finally he got to breed you..

#cod x male reader #x male reader #bottom male reader #cod x male reader smut #x sub male reader #x reader #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod mw3 x reader #colonel könig #könig x male reader