#rogue continues to be a mood

[fairytail-incorrectquotes]

Sting, trying to flirt with Rogue: Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime

#sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #rogue continues to be a mood #stingue #fairy tail #incorrect fairy tail quotes #fairy tail incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect quote #anime #manga

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Silent treatment. ✦ 」 Mattheo riddle x reader

Summary: Giving Mattheo the silent treatment after an argument wasn't the best idea after all

Words: 5k

Warning: [smut , heavy smut , strong language NSFW]

On days like these, I feel an overwhelming urge to rearrange Mattheo's face. Despite our discussions and my heartfelt pleas, he seems to have a remarkable talent for ignoring everything I say.

The memory of our conversation echoed in my mind: my desperate pleas for him to leave that wretched boy alone, the hollow promises he'd made to appease me.

And now, that very same boy was lying in the hospital. Quite a coincidence, isn't it?

The cold shoulder was the only response I could muster, a potent cocktail of disappointment and anger simmering just beneath.

"Look," he started, a cocky edge to his voice, "that jerk had it coming. You can't just let people walk all over you."

My blood ran cold. He wasn't remorseful, he was proud. My icy glare intensified.

"So you think injuring someone and getting them suspended is the answer?" I countered, my voice laced with controlled fury.

He shrugged, a nonchalant act that did little to hide the flicker of unease in his eyes. "He'll learn his lesson," he muttered, avoiding my gaze.

“ so , are you “ my voice tinged with disappointment as I turned away, leaving him behind. Maybe I wasn't that hungry after all

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"Ah, I see you're in the mood for a silent treatment today," he remarked dryly as he leaned against the nearby wall, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Must be a new strategy in the art of communication, or perhaps it's just your way of keeping things exciting."

"Either way," he continued, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, "I'm impressed by your dedication to the cause. Who needs words when we can communicate through meaningful silence, right?" His eyes sparkled with amusement as he waited for my response, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

"Meaningful silence?" I scoffed. "That's a new one, Mattheo. Very poetic."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep up with your level of dramatics."

I crossed my arms, feigning offense. "My dramatics? You're the one who turns every situation into a Shakespearean tragedy."

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Is that so? Well, I suppose every play needs a leading lady."

I couldn't help but smile despite myself. "And what role do you think you play in this drama?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The charming rogue, of course. The one who keeps the plot interesting."

I shook my head. "You certainly do that, Mattheo. Whether I like it or not."

His grin was infectious. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now, are you ready to break the silence and actually talk to me?"

“actually I have something to do “ i said

As I turned to leave, Mattheo's taunting words followed me. "Ignite me, Lady Macbeth."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," I retorted.

He grabbed my arm lightly as I tried to walk away. "Don't roll your eyes unless you want this conversation to continue somewhere else y/n "

"I have something important to do," I replied coolly, trying to free my arm from his grasp.

He persisted, asking, "Like what?"

"Visiting a patient in the hospital," I said, finally pulling away and smiling.

Mattheo chuckled. "You'll regret this little act, baby."

"I thought we were in a play," I quipped before turning and walking away.

Truth be told, I had no intention of visiting that snobby Gryffindor in the hospital. Mattheo's broken promise irked me, but I couldn't muster any sympathy for the boy who got what he deserved.

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As the days went by, Mattheo's attempts to regain my attention became more evident. He started showing up unexpectedly in places I frequented, always with a casual excuse or a playful remark.

But today , today was something else , he deliberately sat closer to a group of giggling Ravenclaw girls, laughing a little too loudly at their jokes and engaging in animated conversation.

I couldn't help but notice, my eyes flickering over to his table every now and then. It was frustrating how effortlessly he could draw attention, even when he wasn't trying. I busied myself with my own friends, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into my chest.

However, Mattheo wasn't done with his antics. As the meal progressed, he caught my eye from across the room and winked mischievously. It was a subtle gesture, but it made my heart race in a way I didn't want to admit.

Feeling a surge of annoyance mixed with curiosity, I excused myself from my friends and made my way over to his table. "What's with the show?" I asked, trying to sound unaffected.

Mattheo grinned, leaning back in his chair casually. "Just trying to keep things interesting," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, it's not every day I get to make you jealous."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "You wish."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Admit it, you were totally watching ."

“ well played riddle well played “ I walked away

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The days crawled by, each one painted in shades of frosty silence between Matteo and me. Rumors swirled around the school like rogue Bludgers. Had we finally called it quits? The question hung heavy in the air, fueled by Mattheo's brooding demeanor and my own steely resolve.

One particularly dreary afternoon, I found myself drowning my sorrows (or at least trying to ) in a big cup of apple juice in the library. Lost in a dusty tome about ancient magical creatures, I barely registered the approaching figure until a shadow fell across the page.

Looking up, I encountered a smug face I vaguely recognized – Zacharias Clifton, a Quidditch player from Ravenclaw notorious for his greasy hair and even greasier personality. "Mind if I join you, lovely?" he drawled, his voice dripping with a forced charm that made me cringe.

Before I could muster a response, he slid into the seat opposite me, invading my personal space with a confidence that reeked of entitlement. "So, I hear you're single these days," he continued, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint.

I gritted my teeth, the urge to hex him into a toad growing stronger by the second. Just as I was about to unleash a verbal scathing of epic proportions, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Actually, Clifton, she's very much taken."

Mattheo stood in the doorway, his usual swagger amplified tenfold. His gaze, however, wasn't directed at Zacharias, but at me. A flicker of something that looked suspiciously like possessiveness crossed his features before he turned his attention back to the unwelcome visitor.

"See your broomstick awaits," Mattheo said, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Don't let me keep you from your precious practice."

Zacharias, his face a comical shade of purple, sputtered something incoherent before gathering his dignity (or what little he possessed) and retreating with a disgruntled scowl.

The library door swung shut with a satisfying thud, leaving Mattheo and me alone in the hushed silence. My heart hammered against my ribs, a chaotic rhythm that seemed to echo in the stillness.

Mattheo took a tentative step forward, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before gently settling on the back of my chair. "Can we talk?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yeah, just not here," I managed to get the words out, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Lead the way," he said, his arm tightening around me possessively as we walked out of the library

The anger that had simmered within me for days threatened to fade once I saw him, and it just hit me how much I missed him.

As we made our way to our secret chamber (the hidden chamber we found last year and claimed as ours),tucked away from the curious eyes and whispers of Hogwarts, Mattheo's touch took on a possessive edge. His hands found every excuse to claim me, a silent proclamation to the entire school that I was still his .

With each step down the narrow passage, Mattheo drew me closer, his fingertips tracing tantalizing patterns on my skin. The sensation sent delightful shivers through me, igniting a quiet thrill of belonging in his arms amidst the bustling halls of our magical world.

The soft glow of the hidden chamber beckoned us, casting an enchanting ambiance that mirrored the intimacy between us.

As soon as we were finally in , I turned to him,my voice tinged with anger."What was that all about ? A show for the audience ? "

He met my gaze, a playful glint simmering beneath the surface of his seriousness. "Just reminding everyone that you're happily taken."

"Happily?" I scoffed, pushing against his arm, "We haven't spoken a word to each other in days!"

He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And whose fault is that, love? " His warm breath tickled my ear, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

My cheeks burned, a mixture of annoyance and something else entirely swirling within me. "Yeah, going to blame that all on me now?"

"No," he paused, his eyes searching mine. "I just don’t understand why you're so mad about what I did to that perk."

I sighed, "it’s not about him , Mattheo… You know that," I conceded, my voice softer than I intended. "It’s about the promise you made and broke. You know how much I hate that."

It stirred up emotions I'd rather forget. Let's just say, coming from a family where promises were often broken had its drawbacks.

"So you've chosen to give me the silent treatment instead of talking it out? Is that your solution y/n?"

I scoffed, crossing my arms defensively. "I didn’t expect it to drag on this long. I was upset,but Maybe then I get tired of being treated like an afterthought."

"An afterthought?" he scoffed back, incredulous. "You haven't spoken to me in days!"

"And whose fault is that?" I shot back, my voice rising. "You waltzed over to those Ravenclaw girls like they were the only ones who existed!"

"That was a stupid attempt to get your attention, alright!" he snapped, his frustration boiling over. "I never meant to make you feel like an afterthought."

"But you did!" I yelled, my voice echoing in the damp chamber.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "I messed up, okay? I know that! But instead of talking to me about it, you shut me out."

"And what was I supposed to do?" I countered, my voice softening slightly. "Sit back and watch you flirt with every girl who walks by?"

"It wasn't flirting!" he defended, his voice strained.

"Then what was it?" I challenged, narrowing my eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like flirting."

"That's not fair," he said, his voice low. "And what about what you said? Visiting that perk in the hospital? Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

He was so close that I could feel his breath on my face

"Maybe I overreacted about Michael," I mumbled, finally breaking the silence.

"Maybe you did," he agreed cautiously anger in his eyes and lips so close to mine

“it’s really fucking rich of you to push the blame into me “ I screamed in his face frustration boiling over

“yet i was the only one putting in the effort to fix things!” He said back with lips so close to mine

“you didn’t even —” pulling me close. In a rush his lips were on mine I didn’t get to finish the words . It took a few moments for me to come to my senses; letting my eyes flutter closed as i kissed him back. The kiss wasn't gentle or sweet. It was needy and heated as mattheo’s tongue moved against mine.

In an instant, I found myself pressed against the wall, his mouth devouring me hungrily. His hand on the back of my neck drew me closer, while the other rested on my waist, kneading the flesh there. He pulled away slightly, speaking against my lips “ jump”He ordered, and I complied wrapping my legs around him

"Mattheo—" He silenced me once more with a kiss.

His black hair was hanging down into his face, so i pushed it back. 

As he ended the kiss, his hands reached for my robe, tossing it aside. Next, his fingers trailed to the hem of my shirt, pulling it upward. Throughout, his gaze remained locked with mine as he removed the shirt, adding it to the pile on the ground. . “If you just wanted a dirty fuck , you should have just asked” 

Gently placing me on the bed, he observed as I sank into the soft sheets. He removed his shirt and joined me, straddling my hips without a word. His eyes held mine as he pushed up my skirt. "This stays," he stated firmly, maintaining direct eye contact.

He then moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. Slowly, he pulled down the lace material, causing me to close my eyes in response to the sensation.

"Matt, what are you doing?" I asked breathlessly, feeling his warm breath against my thighs.

His hands glided up and down my thighs, eliciting a soft moan from me as I savored the sensation of his skin against mine. It had only been a week, but I missed this closeness immensely.

My eyes flew open as his hands gently spread my legs, his face drawing closer between my thighs.“ You’re so wet for me.” he chuckled cockily “ i this a new kink we just discovered “

“you’re so full of Yourself .” I didn’t help the smile that comes

“and you’re about to be full of me, so what does that make us?” He Murmuring as His hands wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer to his mouth.

“ Merlin's Beard! “I moaned so loudly

never breaking eye contact as his tongue lapped at my wetness. I moaned loudly, the sensation overwhelming me as Matt's tongue explored my wetness. Each flick of his tongue and gentle suck sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me tremble beneath him. My heart raced, the sound echoing in my ears as I expressed how much I had missed him.

"God, Matt, I missed you so much," I moaned, my mouth agape and my toes curling into the sheets. My hands instinctively tangled in his hair, urging him on with each movement. I cried out his name as the intensity built, feeling like I was on the brink of ecstasy.

But then, it stopped.

Confused and desperate, I lifted my head from the pillow, tears in my eyes as I struggled to catch my breath. "Why... why did you stop?" I cried out, my voice a mixture of frustration and need.

Matt flashed me an amused smile, teasing me further with a kiss to my aching clit. My breathing quickened again as he kissed along my inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where I wanted him most.

"Matt," I whimpered, regretting the frustration I must have caused him. His kisses trailed back up my body until he was face to face with me, watching me quiver beneath him.

"Please," I begged softly, feeling the desperation creeping into my voice.

“ what is it my sweet girl? “ He brushed my hair aside and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. "You've been teasing me all week," he murmured, his eyes filled with desire. "Wearing those short skirts, laughing with my friends, giving me the silent treatment."

He kissed me again, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "I've wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there , to fuck you senseless that my name will be the only thing you remember " he confessed, his voice husky with desire.

His lips trailed down to my earlobe, where he bit it softly, eliciting another moan from me. His mouth continued its journey, claiming every inch of my body with his tongue and teeth, until he reached my chest.

I arched back, silently pleading for his attention on my breasts. With a teasing hook of his finger, he slid down the neckline of my top, removing the lace of my bra in the process. His mouth captured one nipple, sucking slowly while his free hand caressed the other.

His actions sent shivers down my spine as he licked, sucked, and bit, creating a delicious rhythm that had me gasping for more.

"I'm sorry," I cried out, tears welling up in my eyes. "I missed you so much, and seeing you laughing with those girls hurt."

"I know, my sweet girl, I know," he whispered, his head buried between my legs once more. "Let me make it up to you."

With renewed fervor, he sucked harshly on my clit, his fingers pumping in and out of me rhythmically. The combination of sensations overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but moan in pleasure.

As my body reached its peak, I gripped his hands tightly, feeling the fluttering release of my orgasm. I moaned his name loudly, I moaned his name probably too loudly for ghosts in the castle liking, pulled him up for a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of myself on his lips.

“Turn around,” he says,

I obeyed his command to turn around, and he slowly unpinned my hair, letting it cascade down my back in loose waves. He pushed it over one shoulder with deliberate care, his fingers trailing down my spine, igniting goosebumps along my skin , his fingers trailing down my spine, brushing the skin on my back.

His lips found their way to my neck, planting soft kisses that trailed down to my shoulder. Then, I felt his fingertips running along my skin again, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. His touch entered my hot, dripping core, and I couldn't help but let out a loud moan, begging for more.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice filled with desire.

"Yeah," I managed to say between moans.

“Is this why you were shouting nonsense at me? Because all you really wanted was me to fuck you senseless? Huh?” His words were like fire, and as he added another finger, I couldn't help but scream in pleasure.

continued to pump his fingers into me, increasing the intensity with each stroke. his finger got faster and faster His thumb pressed onto my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body, gripping the bedding hard as the third finger carefully joins the others hitting my g-spot continuously , trying to close my legs, his free hand keep them parted I felt my orgasm building stronger than ever before, my body unable to contain the pleasure.

He turned me around, kissing my cheek softly before returning to my open mouth, sucking my bottom lip between his own. "That was so hot," he grunted, concern lacing his tone. "Are you alright baby ?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, my chest heaving with each breath. Despite the intensity of the moment, my predominant feeling was one of satisfaction and desire.I hummed

“ need words my love “

"Yes Matt I’m alright " I managed to say, pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss.

His hips pressed against mine as we kissed, his covered arousal rubbing against my heat, sending a surge of desire through me. I trailed my hands down his muscular back until I reached the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Baby, stop," he murmured, concern lacing his tone. "Are you sure you want to keep going? I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed."

"I've never been more sure about anything," I whispered, kissing his cheek. "I missed you, I want you."

He moaned as I touched his erect member through the fabric, his breath hitching slightly. "You need to stop, love," he managed to say, his voice strained with desire.

"Sorry," I replied, pulling my hands away quickly. He leaned down to kiss my neck softly, causing me to close my eyes and wrap my arms around him.

"You never have to apologize," he whispered against my earlobe before whispering, "I’m going to make love to you," and pressing his lips to mine in tender kisses. then onc again pressing his lips to mine in sweet, sweet kisses.

one of my favourite thing about mattheo is how gentle he can be. He can be so passionate when he wants to and right now i can feel the love behind his kisses. 

Feeling his cock tapping against my clit a few times, I couldn't help but let out a moan as he guided himself into me. Taking hold of my leg again, he used them both as leverage to push himself fully inside me. I moaned into his ear, my breath hitching in anticipation.

"Fuck," I whispered, watching him mutter under his breath as he slid in and out of me slowly. The sensation was incredible; I could feel every inch of him dragging over my most sensitive parts.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby," he whispered, and I opened my teary eyes slowly, doing as he said. He smiled, his gaze filled with desire. "That's it, good girl ."

Still buried deep inside me, his movements began to pick up speed. My breath caught in my throat as pleasure surged through me.

"Oh," I gasped, my head dropping back as my mouth fell open in pleasure.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted with each thrust. "So fucking mine."

I hummed in response, words escaping me as Mattheo continued to drive me wild. With each thrust, my moans grew louder, reaching a crescendo of pleasure.

"Mattheo," I moaned, his name leaving my lips like a prayer.

"That's it, baby," he replied, his lips devouring mine softly. "So beautiful, moaning my name like that."

With a gentle touch, he pushed my hair out of my face before placing his hands on my cheeks. His eyes roamed my face while he continued to thrust into me at a slow, deliberate pace. I looked at him with half-lidded eyes, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

As he started to thrust harder, I grabbed a fistful of the sheets, feeling the intensity building within me. His hips bucked against me, his face buried in the crook of my neck. The faster pace and increased pressure caused my eyes to roll back in my head. I was on the edge of my high, having come so close moments earlier.

"Mattheo, I can't wait any longer," I screamed out, wrapping my legs around his torso tightly and intertwining our hands.

"Not yet," he grunted, turning his head to meet my gaze. He continued to move in and out of me, keeping eye contact as he held himself up by his forearms. I was so sensitive that the delay in my orgasm began to ache, and I felt the need to let go.

"Please, let me cum, baby," I pleaded, sounded desperate, begging him not to pull away at the last minute again. "I can't..."

And just as I was about to reach my breaking point, he freed one of his hands and snuck it between us, his fingers expertly rubbing at my clit and pushing me over the edge.

"I need you to do something for me, pretty girl. Want to try something?" he asked, and I nodded, willing to do anything he asked in that moment.

He kept everything slow, almost torturous, building up the tightening pressure inside of me with each pass before thrusting so hard the next time that I felt like I was going to pass out.

"Don't be nervous," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "Just relax and let go. I'll keep going until you tell me to stop." His soft tone sent flutters through my heart, and I nodded in response.

My breath hitched as his hand returned to my clit, igniting a fire in my belly. His hard thrusts hit my g-spot, and I screamed out, clinging onto his hand as if my life depended on it.

"Shit," I hissed, feeling him deep inside me, the pleasure building into a heavy weight in my gut. A tingling sensation hummed through my limbs.

"Let go, baby," he ordered, and I did just that as waves of pleasure crashed over me. It was an intense release unlike anything I'd ever felt before, leaving me shakily tilting my head up, tears in my eyes as I watched clear fluid gushing out of me each time Mattheo pulled back.

When he noticed me watching, he withdrew entirely, bringing his soaked fingers to my clit and rubbing fast circles that made me cry out loudly as my muscles spasmed again. Without his presence inside me, an unbroken stream of fluid rushed out, spraying over the bed sheets.

"Oh my god," I whimpered, needing a moment to focus on the overwhelming sensations. Mattheo made a noise of appreciation, reentering me, the wet sounds now more intense as he pushed in again.

"That's my good girl, you just squirted for me, baby. See how good you are," he praised, his words adding to the intensity of the moment.rl you just squirt for me baby see how good you are ”

Pounding into my g-spot hard enough to make my legs shake, he elicited another wave of pleasure that rolled through me. Instinctively, my body responded to Mattheo's instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of me as I moaned softly with each pump of his hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I gasped in sync with his movements.

"Holy shit," Mattheo rasped as he drew his fingers out again, groaning when he returned to my clit and easily worked even more wetness out of me. "You just keep fucking cuming, baby."

I could barely process what he was saying. "Please, cum inside me, Matt," I wanted to mention that I finally got on pills this week but couldn't find the energy to.

"Yeah?" He breathed, "Want me to cum inside this pretty pussy?" Thrusting hard, his fingers still circling my clit, I moaned out his name as I squirted again and again. My pussy started to quiver as he continued to fuck me through it, crying out loudly when I felt him coming inside me as well.

Wetness splashed out of me in endless spurts, soaking my cunt, his hand, and the bed. It felt like I was coming for hours, amazed at what my body was capable of.

"You okay, my love?" He asked, concern evident in his voice as he looked down at me. My eyes were closed, and I gave no indication that I was listening to him, feeling like I had passed out for a second.

"Hey angel, open your eyes to me, please," Mattheo implored, kissing my cheeks and rubbing his thumb soothingly.

"Yeah, I just need a moment," I managed to whisper, feeling drained. "I think you ruined me, Matt," I added with a weak smile.

He chuckled softly, giving me kisses all over my face. "Yeah?" he teased.

"In a good way though," I reassured him.

With a small grunt, Mattheo pushed himself off of me and sat up from the bed. I reached out for him, not wanting him to leave my side yet. He chuckled at my antics, lightly grasping my hand and stroking my fingers before letting it go and stepping away.

"Just going to grab a few things to clean you up, love. I promise I’ll be right back," he assured me.

Nodding, I closed my eyes again, too exhausted to do anything else.

"I brought you some water, darling. You should drink a little," he said as he sat back down on the bed next to me, helping me sit up a bit. I complied lazily, sipping from the glass he held against my lips.

"Now, spread your legs a little, sweetheart. I need to clean you up. Not too sore?" He asked as he gently cleaned me up with a washcloth, my body still sensitive .

As he cleaned me up and tidied the sheets, I felt sleep starting to take over me, comforted by his warmth and embrace. He kissed my face a few times and chuckled softly before I finally drifted off to sleep, feeling content and loved.

"I don’t think I would ever be able to walk again," I joked softly .

"I would carry you then," he replied affectionately.

"Since it’s all your fault, so yes," I teased, feeling a mix of emotions.

"I’m so sorry," he apologized sincerely

"Matt—"

"No, listen. I’m really sorry for everything. It was all my fault from the start. I shouldn’t have promised you that and then go and break it the next day," he admitted regretfully.

“ I’m so sorry too “ I hugged him tightly, hiding my face in his neck as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling the blanket over us.

"Can we sleep here tonight?" I asked, wanting to be close to him.

"We can do anything you want, baby. I will do whatever you want," he promised, kissing my forehead.

"I love you so, so much," I whispered, feeling sleepiness creeping in.

"I love you so much too, my love," he replied, kissing my forehead back.

"Baby?" he said after a moment.

"Yeah?" I replied, feeling sleepy.

"Did you ever think about kids?" he asked, surprising me.

I laughed softly. "What?"he said

"I’m on pills, baby. I finally managed to get them," I explained, resting my head on his chest as I got ready to sleep.

"Baby?" he said again, and I hummed in response.

"Just for your information, I’m going to hit that Zacharias boy so hard tomorrow he can join Michael in the hospital, and Michael doesn’t have to feel lonely anymore. I’m telling you now,"

"I was thinking about hexing him into a toad, but we can decide tomorrow," laughing while giving him one last kiss I said .

#mattheoxreader #masterlist #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys

[vixstarria]

Missionary with the lights off

We're back in Act 1 again! I swear I'll start moving forward now that I'm playing the game again, after this.

Astarion x Tav, Astarion x F!Reader

18+, blood drinking, fluff to smut, porn with plot, PIV

Pst, don't let the title mislead you too much

Approx. 1,800 words

You woke up in Astarion's tent.  

Last night had been… unusual. Something you said had soured the mood for anything sexual. Instead you stayed up talking late into the night. You hadn't even taken your clothes off.  

You'd never spent the whole night together before, always opting to make your way back to your respective tents eventually, after your nocturnal activities, but then again you’d spent those previous nights opening your legs more so than your heart. Something had now shifted a little.  

The last thing you remembered was drifting off with your face nuzzled into his neck as he draped an arm over you, having hugged him on a whim and finding yourself not wanting to let go. What you saw now was completely contrary to that memory, as you found yourself lying on your side, with Astarion's head pressed against your chest, right over your heart, both arms holding you close. He must have moved himself while you were asleep. 

He looked perfectly at peace. It was actually adorable, seeing the prickly rogue like this.  

You reached out to softly run your hand over his disarrayed curls, when he also stirred. 

“Hello, darling,” you purred, copying his habitual greeting for you. 

Astarion was startled, suddenly jolting up. He seemed momentarily disoriented, taking in you and his surroundings for a few moments before comprehension returned to his eyes.  

“Are you alright..?” you asked. “I know it's first thing in the morning, but surely I don't look that disturbing.” 

“Yes, sorry… I just… I can’t remember the last time I woke up next to someone,” he said finally. 

“The night at the clearing..?” you offered. 

“I didn’t sleep that night,” he admitted. “And now there's a woman in my tent and I don't know what to do. ...Ahah..! Refresh my memory, what is the protocol? Do I need to make you breakfast?” he joked. 

“I’m sure Gale’s already working on that,” you grinned. 

Astarion laid back down next to you, propped up on an elbow. He gave you an odd half-smile with a slight frown, his eyes narrowed. Not unkindly, but rather a bit… awkwardly. You wondered what he was thinking. 

You ignored the odd look, and instead your eyes wandered up to survey his bedhead. No trace of pomade was left in his hair, instead some of it was standing on end, while other, longer strands started to fall over his eyes as he leaned on his hand, watching you.  

“What is going on here..?” you laughed, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. He leaned into your hand as you ran your fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes, his lips widening into a genuine smile. He reminded you of a cat that was enjoying a head scratch.  

“I don't have the slightest idea, darling,” he drawled. “But I guess you have to die after all, now that you've seen it.” 

“You are a horrible flirt, you know, and I don't mean that in a good way." 

“It works on you, doesn't it?” he shrugged, grinning and leaning in for a kiss.  

“Hmm, but returning to breakfast,” you said, breaking the kiss as his lips slowly made their way down to your neck. “What about you? Fancy a nibble?” 

“If it's on offer…” Astarion purred, continuing his way down. He knew your body entirely too well at this point. His lips lingered on the exact spot that made your breath shudder, sending a wave of shivers all through you. “Where..?” 

“Right there,” you breathed.  

“Oh? You want me to leave my mark on you, right where everyone can see..?” he murmured, continuing to kiss your neck. You usually offered him your wrist.  

“It’s not like they don’t already know what we’ve been doing, so sure, mark me...” you replied. “Mark me as yours,” you added in a hoarse whisper.  

Once the words were out you wondered if it was too much, but Astarion clearly liked the idea. He liked it a lot, judging by the soft growl he let out, as he continued to trail his lips along your neck, searching for just the right spot. You knew he'd found it, you remembered where he's bitten you before, but instead of going in for a bite he toyed with you, leaving slow, deliberate licks, until you released a small moan, and only then sank his fangs in you, lightly grinding his hips into yours as he did.  

Something about a vampire's bite made it quite unlike anything else. It started off as a sharp, icy chill, gradually spreading and melting into something that stung the way an itch strings right before you scratch it, multiplied tenfold. The only way to relieve that stinging sensation was to give into it, more and more. The area bitten remained tender and sensitive in the most erogenous way for a long time after the bite itself. The whole experience was inherently erotic, no matter where the bite was. 

You understood why this was fetishised. You also understood how people happily allowed themselves to be bled dry.  

Astarion continued to grind against you, slowly, his erection evident. This was nothing new and didn't necessarily mean anything - you’ve joked before that any blood he drank went straight to his dick before going anywhere else – which is why you usually did this privately, even when he drank from your wrist.  

However, this time, you really didn't want it to just be casual. You didn't think he did either, the way he was breathing. One of your hands was caught in his hair at the back of his head, the other trailed down to his hips, squeezing, as he grinded into you harder, making you crave more.  

And then it was over and you felt a profound sense of disappointment and loss, as Astarion gave your neck a few final licks and broke away from you, lifting his body from yours. The only contact that remained between you two was your eyes, as he gave you an unwavering look of barely contained lust.  

The aching need between your legs had become unbearable.  

One heartbeat... Two... Three... 

Astarion’s lips crashed into yours.  

Suddenly, without a single word, you found yourselves tearing at each other’s pants in an urgent rush to remove them.  

Curse them, you thought. You would start sleeping in a nightgown, if you managed to find one. Or naked. Or steal Astarion’s shirt. 

You thought you recognised some elvish curses as Astarion snarled, struggling to pull your pants off without lifting his body from you, biting your lip as you managed to twist and free one leg, the other pant leg left danging at your knee. 

All the while, you’d been tearing at the lacing on Astarion’s pants, managing to undo it just enough to slide them low enough to release his pulsing cock. 

You didn’t even bother with your shirts. You had a burning, ravenous hunger, and it had to be sated. Immediately.  

You tugged on Astarion’s cock, impatiently guiding it towards your throbbing pussy. You had no time or eagerness or wish for any teasing or foreplay, only a carnal, animalistic need. You’d barely aligned Astarion’s dick with your entrance when he plunged himself into you, fully, with another swear through gritted teeth.  

Finally, you felt complete.  

There was no rhythm, decency or finesse to what followed, the only way you could describe it was mindless, feral rutting. You dug your fingers into his hips, trying to bring him closer, deeper, moaning as his tongue writhed against yours. He couldn’t be close enough - even had you melded into one you would still want more of him. 

You spread your legs wide, angling your hips so his body hit your exposed clit with every thrust, and bucked into him, desperately. He changed his thrusts to a more rolling motion, rubbing into you.  

“Yes... Like that...” you barely managed. 

There was a commotion, a loud clanking, crashing sound and some yelling outside. 

“Astarion!” you heard Wyll’s voice just outside the tent, shortly after.  

"Fuck,” Astarion growled under his breath. “Three minutes!” he shouted. 

Three minutes? Then again, you didn’t think you were going to last even another minute. 

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand as his hips continued to relentlessly grind you into the floor of his tent. Your whimpers grew more drawn out until your body stilled before breaking into tremors emanating from your hips, as he continued to fuck you. You were holding on to his back for dear life, bringing your legs up to wrap tightly around his hips, moaning into his hand as you came. 

Immediately, he changed his rolling thrusts to something frantic, grabbing your hand and bringing it over your head, and catching your knee at his elbow and bringing it up with his other arm. He buried his face in your neck, moaning, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, until he slammed his hips into you with a final groan, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you. 

“Astarion! This is urgent!” you heard Wyll again.  

“He’s coming!” you yelled, exasperated, before you realised what you’d said.  

Your words were greeted with a momentary silence, then the sound of Karlach laughing somewhat off in the distance.  

Astarion was also laughing into your neck, his shoulders shaking even as he delivered his final thrusts. 

“That was-” he panted between laughter, “the sloppiest... most unimaginative... objectively worst sex I've ever had.” 

“And subjectively..?” you asked, also starting to laugh as you came off the sudden high that had overtaken you.  

“I wouldn’t mind waking up to something like that every day for the rest of my life,” he said, lifting his head and looking at you. 

“That can be arranged,” you purred. 

There was that little frown again, as he cocked an eyebrow at you.  

“We could always die today,” you shrugged. 

“Funny...” he said. “Anyway... Good luck with this giant mess I left between your legs. I better go see what is so godsdamn important.” 

Bonus scene: 

“What do you mean, I’m the only adult here that knows how to manage a needle and thread?! And how do you even rip a bag of holding..?!” 

“Astarion, our fate is in your hands.” 

“No, you can carry your own shit from here on. I’m fine with just my weapons and the clothes on my back.” 

“We need you, Astarion!” 

“At least get rid of all the junk, what do we need a dozen goblin scimitars for, they’re not even worth anything!” 

“Save us, Astarion!” 

“Rotten carrots, rusty tongs... Is that literally just a rock?” 

“Save us, 239-year-old vampire that can sew!”  

Sigh... Astarion observed the torn bag with a resigned look.  

“...Would you mind mending Clive as well, while you’ve got the kit out..? He’s been through hell and back. And looks it.” 

“Yes, Karlach, I’ll fix up your teddy bear too...” 

~~~~~ 

Mark me as yours - fic re the following day

I have a whole series with these two, check it out

AO3

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance

[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ domestic diaries

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ೃ⁀➷ notes: I saw this gif (top right image) & wrote a post about nanami getting turned on seeing his wife in an itty bitty tank, and I cannot get this out of my head. I need this man to **** ** until I'm ******* and ******. this is very self indulgent. forgive me lskjfd

ೃ⁀➷ tags: smut; masturbation; oral (f receiving); nipple play; p in v; rough sex; reader wears glasses

feb 3 - 8:31 pm

"look at how wet you are-" nanami exhales, a strand of gold kissing his forehead. the muscles of his strong stomach flexing when he unfastens the last button of his shirt. he pulls the fabric over his broad shoulders, taking in your hungry eyes roaming all over his body. rough hands instantly trail to the belt cinched around his waist. you whimper when he loosens the buckle, your fingers circle over your clit just a little faster as you watch him yank the leather band out from between the loops.

"n' you're hard..." you softly pant, licking your lips which only continues to exacerbate your husband’s madness to have you.

he palms over the prominent tent that's formed against his slacks, his length stiff from the sight of coming home to you earlier. you were innocently standing in the kitchen, wearing your black thigh high socks and a pair of shorts along with an itty bitty tank top that did nothing to cover you. midriff out, nipples prominent. your hair a mess, and your glasses resting comfortably on the bridge of your nose.

it was in that moment when the realization struck nanami. when he pondered when was the last time he taken you to bed. both of your schedules have been busy. neither of you have been in the mood for making love, too worn out from the stresses of every day life.

so, his reaction towards you shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. he just wished that he noted the dry spill that's hit your relationship a little bit earlier.

"hi, baby", you sweetly greeted with a smile, as he stood there dumfounded with admiration. "you're home late, I was worried you might miss dinner-"

nanami loosened his tie, swallowing the hard lump that formed in his throat as his skin scorched with heat. he can feel it prick the tips of his ears, singe the the highest parts of his prominent cheek bones, and burn it's way down his neck. he stalked towards you before you allowed yourself to get distracted, and circled his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

you were taken aback by the urgency, but you soon melted in his arms and found yourselves in the sanctuary of your bedroom.

nanami smiles - an angelic grin, full of reverie. you have to press your lips together to stop yourself from pathetically moaning at the gesture.

your husband doesn't make it easier by treating his exceptionally attractive self with such nonchalance. so completely clueless by the power he has over you.

he boldly stares at you, eyes falling to the peaks of your breasts, the tips furiously prominent against your tank top and begging for attention. he followed the path down the lower half your naked body, to the triangle between your legs where you were fingering yourself in anticipation. half your legs were still concealed by your thigh high socks, your glasses slowly falling down your nose.

he drops his shirt to the ground, bringing those fingers to push back that infuriating rogue strand of hair that carelessly fell. he cups your knees, his thumbs stroking your socks lovingly as he nestles himself between your legs. his jaw twitches when you spread your lips for him, your arousal strings of sweet sugar. nanami leans forward to peck you tenderly at the source of your desire, and the sound that travels out of your throat is so desperate he nearly cums on the spot.

"shit-" you curse, your hands moving to rest on your lower belly so nanami can touch you as he pleases.

he uses to fingers to spread the petals once again, before placing his tongue flat to broadly stroke up your slit. his eyes flutter close and the drawl of his hum is deep, sending a shiver up your belly. you bring one hand to the locks of his hair, massaging his scalp lightly as you keep the strands from falling over.

"haven't tasted you in a while, my love," nanami sighs. his hot, heavy breath fanning your cunt.

he dives in with no mercy, making your hips buck into his face while he fucks you with his mouth. he pays extra attention to your clit, sucking on the bud and flicking his tongue back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth...your fingers dig into his scalp, your upper body nearly off the mattress as you hold him close. when nanami slides two fingers in to stretch you out, your eyes simply vanish to the back of your head. you're so soaked by the time you orgasm, tremors shaking your clenched thighs that nearly squeezed your husband's head.

you taste yourself on your tongue when he kisses you. it's sloppy, wet. completely primal. nanami only stops to remove his slacks, rbefore eadjusting your position when he climbs on the bed.

"take your glasses off," he commands, and you oblige as you place them by your side.

he flips you over, lifting your hips and creating a lovely slope on your spine. his hands graze over the socks pinching the meat of your thighs, and he widens your stance before aligning the heavy tip of his cock to your entrance.

your words are reduced to vowels, and when your husband gradually pushes himself against your folds, you release a long cry as you grip onto the sheets for support.

"oh fuck,-" nanami purrs, before pulling back and rutting deep into you. "uh-you feel s'good, s'warm..."

"kento-" your whine out his name pornographically, which makes your husband thrust into you even harder, "kento, more...please, please, please-ah~"

your tank top rides up as your body rubs against the mattress, your sensitive nipples brushing over your cool bed sheets. he's usually so gentle when fucking you, calculative even - but not tonight. tonight, his movements are unrelenting. whenever that mushroom head hits your sweet spot it has you seeing a cluster of white stars in your eyes. the sound of skin slapping skin echoes all around you, with nanami's grunts following in harmony. he's rough when he holds your hips because he's unable to hold onto any self control, because you're sucking him in, and milking his cock.

you anticipate the soreness to come.

when you orgasm a second time, tears prick your eyes from relief - it's been so long since you've had your husband inside you that you forgot how pliable you become in the process. he's so close now too, his flow staggering as his hipsstutter, until he finally releases his full load inside you.

it takes you both a few minutes to gather yourself. you can feel your husband grow soft inside you. you turn around to face him when you finally detach. sitting upright on your knees as you circle your arms around your neck, and bring your face in front of his.

you moan into a kiss, his own hands cupping your breasts chastely, his thumbs swiping over your pebbled nipples.

he rubs his nose over yours, his lips finding your cheeks as he kisses you. "you okay, my love?" he asks, always the gentleman for checking in. "m'sorry if I was rough, I..." he sighs, stealing another kiss from your lips before whispering, "I didn't realize how long it's been..."

you sniffle, your body coming down from the rushed high. "m'okay, kento..." you dreamily reassure, your lips seeking his own for another kiss, "that felt so good..."

"yeah?" he smiles before nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and tracing that dangerous mouth down the curve of your neck. "felt good for me too, baby..."

you're like sand between his fingers, slipping through the cracks of lust and love. nanami leaves a trail of kisses down your collar bone, moving further until his lips circle over the tip of your breast.

you hiss when he sucks on it, using his hand to cup the weight. the sensation of his thumb makes you pulse between your legs, and you gaze down to watch him slowly pull away to release the bud. his eyes stay fixated on your chest, a small string of saliva connecting from your nipple to his bottom lip. he uses his thumb to wipe it away, stroking the hardened peak.

"want to keep going?" he speaks in a hushed tone, lifting his head up and resting his chin against your chest to gauge your mood.

"yeah," you sigh, wanting nothing more to ride along this intimate dance until your bodies can no longer keep up. "yeah, let's keep going..."

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x female reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction

[littlejuicebox]

My Sun, My Moon

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3 / Part 2 to my other fic Astarion talks in his sleep. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / In game spoilers / Alludes to sexual encounters / Mentions of past trauma etc / Pretty much all fluff / It’s so sweet it’s going to rot your teeth Word Count: 2.3K Notes: This is 5/5 Days of "Star-mas!"

*takes a bow* Happy Holidays! Hope you all enjoyed!

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "twinkling lights."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

After Astarion’s sleep-talking gave away his little secret, you’d spent nearly every waking moment anticipating the rogue’s proposal. You were horribly, terribly wrong every time, of course. You began to think that perhaps your original assumptions were right, and that an engagement would come much later on. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready. Maybe he was just planning and thinking about the future… the frustratingly distant future. He’d ask the question when he was ready, you reasoned; in his own time and on his own terms. You could respect that.

But then, on the eve of the Netherbrain Battle’s six month anniversary, you came home to a dinner that Astarion had cooked (almost) entirely himself. Candles were lit, table settings were placed, and your lover chose an expensive wine pairing for the meal. His steak was, of course, entirely raw while yours was seasoned and cooked to perfection. You were certain you had Shadowheart to thank for your half of the meal, but you’d complimented your lover and all his efforts, nonetheless. At the end of dinner, you were quite confident that this would be the moment you’d been waiting weeks for.

“I have something to say.” Astarion murmured, lithe fingers rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he clasped it in his own.

You practically felt your soul leave your body in that moment. Oh gods, you knew what your answer would be, you knew this was coming, and yet here it was, and you were still wholly unprepared. You barely fumbled out a, “Y-yes, my love? What is it?”

“I read your mail.” Astarion responded, his eyes flooding full of guilt at the confession. He expelled a small sigh, flicking his gaze up at the ceiling and then back down to you. “Darling, I know we have been discussing this for months, but I really don’t think we should go to the Underdark. You’re getting so many outstanding offers that require you to remain in the city. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate, for god’s sakes. I know you want me to be safe from the sun… but I can’t, in good conscience, do that to you and rip you away from so many wonderful opportunities.”

“O-oh…” Your chest deflates and you catch yourself frowning for just a moment. Astarion’s brow furrows as he incorrectly interprets the cause of your sudden mood shift to be the current conversation and not the crushing disappointment you were trying to shove aside. You quickly try to move into a more neutral expression, but the rogue is already jumping into another worried explanation.

“Darling... Please hear me. I love you more than anything, and I know you better than anyone. You will not be truly happy there, of that much I am absolutely certain. These offers you’re receiving will give you multiple avenues to build the life you want…. the life we want. Imagine the good you could do with that level of influence, my love! Let me help you; I can review contracts, negotiate deals… whatever you need to ensure your success. Do not throw away so much potential on my account. I simply couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

He was right, of course. The only thing you wanted almost as much as you wanted Astarion was to continue the good work you two had been doing for Baldur’s Gate.

You sigh and nod your head, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re right, my love. I suppose it would be silly for both of us to throw away so much opportunity.”

Astarion beamed at your response before leaning over the table to plant a kiss on your lips. You smiled at the rogue when he pulled away to look at you with adoring crimson eyes. Perhaps it hadn’t been the conversation you were hoping for, but it had been a good and much needed one, nonetheless.

-----

Tonight, you and Astarion decided to take a stroll around the city. You were following the vampire’s lead, ambling around the streets as he pointed out more than a few of his old haunts. He revealed some of the difficult moments in his past as you two meandered about… more than one of the tales nearly made you cry with an overwhelm of sympathy for your lover. But you held back, knowing the elf hated eyes full of pity almost as much as he’d hated Cazador.

You noted that Astarion seemed to look back on his experience with more acceptance now. You knew, of course, that there were likely an infinite number of stories he had not yet revealed to you and perhaps never would. But you were still happy to see a bit of lightness in him as he spoke his truth. He hadn’t appeared to have one of his episodes on the entire walk, and as you pondered this, you also realized his night terrors had only occurred a handful of times this month. Such an improvement to what had been an almost daily incidence when you two originally moved in together.

Before long, you and your love arrived at the docks, where just over six months ago you’d felt as if you’d been stabbed in the gut as you watched the rays of sunlight scorch the vampire until he was forced to run for cover. But now, you two stood there hand in hand, resting in a pocket of comfortable silence. Both of you were admiring the twinkling starlight, full moon, and dark, mysterious expanse of the sea.

“The stars were so much more beautiful in the wilds… don’t you think, my sweet?” Astarion asks, his eyes filled with wistfulness as he ponders the sky.

You utter a little hum of agreement as your mind flashes to the first night in camp, when you caught Astarion reclined on his bedroll, stargazing. You turned your head to look at the rogue and remind him of the memory, but found he disappeared from your line of sight. Your vision wanders down and there he is, bent on one knee.

Oh this had to be the moment. Just when you were about to shout yes before the rogue even had a moment to say anything, Astarion looks up and smiles, a small pouch of gold coins in his hand. “Look! I suppose it’s our lucky day, darling. Their loss is our gain, would— are you alright, Tav? You’ve got this strange look on your face.”

Gods, not again. You feel your face flush with embarrassment. In your excitement and overwhelm, you’d almost ruined everything and let Astarion know that you knew his little secret. You made the decision then and there that this would be the last time you anticipated his proposal; let it happen when it’s meant to happen. You were done playing the guessing game. You couldn’t ruin everything with your big fat mouth.

You nod your head slightly before turning to look back at the stars once more, taking a deep breath and hoping to settle yourself.

“Yes, my love. I suppose I’m just thrilled by the beauty of the stars and the full moon, tonight. And by your beauty, of course.”

The rogue stands up, tucking the small sachet in his pocket. He smiles and places a soft, loving peck on the apple of your cheek before wrapping his arm around your waist. The two of you look up at the stars once more, and you spend a few moments pointing out some constellations in the sky. Stargazing had been one of the first things you two bonded over in camp.

Astarion is watching you with devoted interest as you ramble on about the planets and the mythological creatures represented by the patterns in the stars. Finally, there is a small lapse in conversation, and you want to take the opportunity to kiss him, but when you turn, the vampire is once again out of your sight line.

When you look down this time, Astarion is looking up at you, holding a velvet box in shaking hands.

“Tav—" He manages to choke out, but then his eyes fill with tears, and he stops to blink them away, chuckling softly at himself. You immediately come to kneel in front of your love, hands pressed to either side of his face, silently urging him to continue.

The vampire inhales shakily, suddenly quite overwhelmed by the extreme vulnerability he knows he’s about to lay before you. But the softness of your hands on his face grounds him in the moment and he smiles, admiring the look of utter adoration in your eyes.

A couple of tears fall over the edge of his lash line, and you immediately swipe them away with your shaking thumb. Another chuckle escapes the silver-haired elf, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“My love… I’ve rehearsed this for weeks. I’ve said it all out loud more than a thousand times, I’m sure. I’ve spent almost every opportunity in your absence practicing this. One time I even had Shadowheart pretend to be you while I rehearsed my grand speech. But now that we are here… I’ve nearly forgotten everything I wanted to say.”

You move forward to press a kiss to Astarion’s lips, your hands still shaking as you run your thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s okay, my Star. Please continue, when you’re ready… rehearsed or from the heart… I want to hear it all the same.”

Astarion nods just a fraction and inhales. The shaking hand that is not holding the ring box comes to lay atop your own hand resting on his face. Your love slowly, absently runs his thumb along the back of your palm as he gathers his thoughts. He stares into your eyes with so much love that you almost kiss him again but hold yourself back to allow him to continue.

Astarion exhales a shuddering breath and then continues in a reverent tone, as if he’s whispering a prayer, “My darling. I have lived long life. Much of it was a sad and hopeless one. When we were walking through the city, I pointed out several places where I’d encountered horrible things. Many of those things are still hard to talk about… some of it, I don’t know that I will ever be able to.”

You are crying now, from the overwhelming blend of sympathy for your little Star and palpable feeling of love in this beautiful moment. Tears begin coursing thin streams down your cheeks. Astarion wipes away the tears as they fall, though his lips start trembling from your display of emotion.

“B-but what I do know is that… in many of the places I pointed out, there are also memories of us. Of our friends. Of the time we spent together before saving the city and of the six months we’ve spent here after that. Little by little, we are taking places that only held horrible memories for me and turning them into places that hold feelings of hope and happiness.

I guess what I’m saying is that… these past six months have been the counterweight to two hundred years of misery. And I do not think I deserve you, but I cannot imagine my life without you. You are everywhere I go, everywhere I look, and every happy memory I hold in my heart. If you’ll have me… I would like to spend the rest of our lives, however long they may be, turning this city into a place of hope for us and for the people we hold dear.”

Astarion opens the box, and you gasp in true awe as he reveals possibly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. At the center is a beautiful moonstone, emitting an ethereal glow that shines brilliantly in the darkness of the pier. The setting is gold, and an intricate sunburst pattern made in smaller gems surrounds the center stone.

“Standing on the dock that day, after that long battle… I had the thought that my life was ruined when I realized I could no longer stand in the sun. I thought I might never know true happiness again. But it turns out, that was the moment my new life with you began… and you’ve opened the door to more happiness than I could’ve ever imagined for myself.

Even if I never see the sun again, I have made my peace. I would make the choices I made to be here with you, on this dock, in this moment, again and again in every lifetime. You are my sun and my moon. And my darling, it would be my honor to be your Star for the rest of time. Tav… will you marry me?”

As soon as the question comes out of your lover’s lips, you instantly push forward to crash into Astarion, enveloping the elf in an emotional kiss. You both topple over from the sheer force of your ardor, and as you do, the vampire deftly snaps the ring box closed to protect it from spilling out onto the dock.

When you finally break away, panting heavily, both your faces are thoroughly flushed with excitement. The vampire looks up at you, scarlet eyes filled with absolute devotion. You giggle and press one more soft kiss to the rouge before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckle. “Yes, Astarion. Nothing in this life would make me happier than to share it with you.”

-----

Later that evening, the two of you are naked in bed after several rounds of vigorous celebration. You’re admiring your ring, which is still faintly glowing in the semi-darkness of your bedchambers. Astarion takes your hand and presses his lips to the ring with a small smile; his scarlet eyes closely examine the gem.

“I don’t know how it works… you would have to ask Gale. But the center stone glows when I think of you, you know.”

You blink, moving to touch the gemstone in the middle of the ring with curiosity. “But it hasn’t stopped glowing since we’ve been on the docks.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we’ve been on the docks.” Astarion replies simply, moving his hand to stroke your cheek as a gentle, good-natured laugh escapes his mouth, “Perhaps now you’ll have some insight into how often my thoughts revolve around you, my sweet.”

You feel your eyes welling with tears again. Damn this man and his beautiful heart… he truly never misses a detail when it comes to you. You move forward to pull his lips into another loving kiss, and when you break away this time, a thought crosses your mind.

“Astarion… did you really find that bag of coins on the dock?”

Your lover grins mischievously, his crimson eyes crinkling at the corners as he grabs your ring-clad hand and kisses it once more.

“No, my sweet. But I had to throw you off. Shadowheart told me about my mishap. I wanted to surprise you… but you know me far too well and you’ve never been easily fooled… and the sleepy confession didn’t help things at all. I just figured that you would never anticipate that I’d drop down on one knee twice in a row.”

Astarion knew you just as well as you knew him… and he had been right. He’d fooled you. You roll your eyes and chuckle as the rogue moves closer to you, nuzzling into the side of your neck where fresh fang marks throbbed.

“Now what do you say, darling? One more round of celebration before we go to bed?”

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #tav x astarion #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion romance #astarion fluff #bg3 fluff #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #5 days of starmas #bg3holidayfluffle23

[happilyhertale]

The Rogue Prince - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a stressful day that leaves Daemon in a bit of an angry mood, you decide to give him some relief. But in a different way than you usually do.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x poc!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (: A one-shot Daemon story requested by Anon 🖤 It took me some time but I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.5 k

Other stories of mine

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You didn't have to look up, just the way the door slammed open was enough of a sign for you to know - Daemon was pissed. He entered without knocking, his armour clattering against itself.

In a mixture of snorts and grumbles, your husband strode into your chambers. As you lifted your gaze, your warm hazel eyes met the captivating intensity of his purple eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. Your curious gaze wandered further, discovering the mess of dirt and the almost macabre pattern of dried blood clinging to him. Uncertainly, you put aside the book you were engrossed in and approached Daemon, who was already in the process of freeing himself from the constricting confines of his armour. But before you could approach him, a piece of his armour flew into the far corner of the room.

"It will not improve your mood if you damage your armour," you say gently and help him to open his armour.

He just looks at you and his gaze makes you shiver a little again.

"What do I care about this fucking armour?" he hisses.

You look at him and your hands continue to work on the buckles and remove the chest piece.

"You want to tell me what happened?" you ask quietly.

There is a brief silence in your chambers and you use the time to admire his muscular chest, visible under his shirt. His body does not fail to bring you to ecstasy.

You look into his eyes again as he begins to speak.

"None of these idiots in this council understand the importance of cleansing our city of these filthy criminals! Not one!" he hisses.

You nod at him and try to concentrate on his words and not let his body distract you.

Your hands continue to work on the buckles of his armour.

"The city is full of disgusting creatures. They steal, they kill, they rape and none of those cunts at that council table give a shit!" he continues to hiss.

"But you do," you say softly and his eyes meet yours.

"I will teach these people to fear the golden cloaks again," he says in his deep voice.

You smile slightly and take off the last piece of his armour. Your fingers begin to take off his shirt.

"First we have to clean you up," you say gently.

Daemon's soft chuckle, markedly different from his previous behaviour, resounds through the air as he spreads his arms and asks you to release him from his shirt. His shimmering silver lengths fall over his shoulders, framing the network of scars etched into the skin of his neck and nape. These battle-scarred marks, created by victories and fire, are revealed in all their glory.

Your fingertips run tenderly over these well-deserved scars, your soft olive hue a striking contrast to his pale skin. You relish these imprints of his commanding prowess on the battlefield, each scar telling its own story, a testament to his unwavering leadership qualities. Daemon watches the movements of your fingers and notices how your gaze is fixed on his chest, unable to avert your gaze.

"Are you sure you just want to bathe me?" he murmurs, and your gaze jumps to his eyes.

You smile slightly, "Yes, I do," you say seriously and take his hand, leading him into the adjoining bathroom. Daemon grunts in disappointment, but lets himself be led along. The bath is quickly prepared and warm steam rises from the tub.

Daemon stands next to the tub of hot water and begins to open his trousers. As they slide down, you can see his already hardening arousal, but you avert your gaze and go to a small dresser in the corner of the bathroom.

Daemon watches you, a grin on his lips.

"Oh come on... You can't ignore my needs like that..." he says, but you interrupt him.

"Into the warm water with you," is all you say as you look through small bottles on the dresser to find the right one. You have these little vials from your home in Dorne, filled with different elixirs, and this time you want to put him in the right, stimulating mood.

Daemon grumbles something unintelligible, but obeys and gets into the tub. His gaze is fixed firmly on your back.

"Will you at least keep me company?" he asks, and you can hear in his voice that he is getting impatient.

You turn to him and smile, "No... at least not in the water," you say softly.

With two bottles in your hand, you stride to the bathtub. In the soft, flickering light created by candles, Daemon's gaze fixes on you and you can see an unspoken desire in the depths of his eyes to just grab you. But instead of giving in to temptation, his hands grip the edge of the tub. He leans back slightly and lets you pleasure him, a sign of trust he has only in you.

You kneel behind him, set the vials aside and carefully remove the hair ribbon from its silken lengths. As the ribbon gives up its hold, his hair falls gracefully over his shoulders. The once shining silver strands, now clouded with dirt and sweat, literally crave your touch. You gently begin to work water into the lengths, and the soothing rhythm elicits a contented murmur from Daemon as his eyes are gently closed.

Your hand wanders to a vial, its lid giving way with a soft, melodic pop at your careful touch. At this slight disturbance, Daemon's eyes flicker open to take in the unexpected intrusion.

"What's that?" he murmurs. You smile slightly, "Lavender oil... I like it when your hair smells fresh," you say soflty.

Daemon reflects your soft smile, "All right... If my Dornish princess wants me to smell like a silly bush from the garden, I don't think I could refuse," he mutters. With a smile, you apply a few drops of oil to his shiny silver locks and enjoy the feel of his long strands gliding through your fingers as the accumulated dirt runs effortlessly down.

After pampering him with your grooming, you rise and hand Daemon a towel. With a synchronised movement, he accepts the towel, and as he dries himself, you return to the bedroom with the other vial of elixir. Daemon follows you silently, his shapely form wrapped in the loosely hanging towel.

"Now you're going to take care of my needs?" he says to you, a cheeky smile around his lips. And at that moment you notice the bulge under the towel. You smile, "Lie down on the bed," you say.

Daemon's smile widens, like that of a child who finds an unexpected, delicious treat. He complies with your request and lies down in your marital sanctuary - the very bed where he makes you squirm and beg every night. But this night it will be different.

With an expectant gaze, Daemon watches your every move. How you slowly take off your dress and walk towards the bed. You crawl onto the bed and his hands reach out longingly to pull you close.

But you push them away, "Hands by your side," you say and move to sit astride him. Daemon looks irritated, but he obeys. You take the bottle and open it while Daemon watches you closely.

"More lavender oil?" he asks, "You know I'll have trouble commanding my men if my whole body smells like a flower bouquet" he says.

With a soft chuckle, you murmur, "Not a hint of lavender..." as the delicate scents of osmanthus and patchouli dance around you, washing you with their stimulating embrace as you place a few drops of the oil on your warm palm. Daemon's eyes remain fixed, transfixed by your hands as you set about the task of massaging the oil into his powerful chest.

"And I don't think you'll have any problems commanding your men.... No matter how you smell..." you say softly.

Daemon can only growl slightly as he slowly feels the effect of the scents and his arousal presses harder against you. You can feel a slight movement of his hips as he tries to grind against you. You stare into his eyes as your hands continue to glide over his skin.

"Don't move," you say to him. Daemon grunts, but he obeys - again.

You hear his breathing become more irregular as your hand turns to his belly. Slowly you massage the oil into the muscles of his belly, but your hands are unstoppable. You sit up a little and release him from the towel and his hot length springs free. It twitches wildly as you begin to rub his pubic hair with the oil. It twitches even more wildly as your hands turn to the shaft of his cock, which almost invites you to let yourself sink onto it. Daemon grunts impatiently, wanting to move his hips again, to somehow get close to your cunt.

"Don't," you just whisper, and your hands begin to wander up and down. You hear him gasp, see his hands gripping the sheet beneath you tightly. Your hands slide faster as his member literally pulses. Daemon breathes faster and faster as he chases his climax and you can already see the first drops of his release coming from the tip of his cock. You lean down and lick them away and hear him hiss.

"Woman, you will be my death," he whispers breathlessly. You just look up at him, grinning a little, and bite your lip. Your hand slides up and down faster.

It also increasingly excites you that he could just grab you, push you onto the bed and thrust into you, but he does not. He lies there and lets the feelings and actions wash over him.

When suddenly you feel a strong twitch in his member and Daemon spurts his hot seed onto his belly. He grunts loudly and watches you pump the last drops of cum out of his cock. He breathes heavily and closes his eyes briefly. His head falls back on the pillow.

"I think I need to take another bath..." he mumbles.

But you only smile, "I'm not done with you yet," you whisper. Daemon opens his eyes and looks at you in irritation.

You notice how he slowly softens in your hand, but it is not over for you yet. Slowly you slide further down and push his legs apart. You kneel between his legs and your hand gently moves along his shaft again. Daemon hisses slightly as you lean down.

You take his softening member into your mouth and begin to suck. The remnants of his cum unfold their salty taste on your tongue, but you love the way he tastes.

Daemon gasps, "What are you doing?"

But you just grin slightly and push him all the way down your throat.

"Gods...", Daemon gasps, but you notice that he is getting hard again.

But then, with a pop, you release his cock from his mouth. He is breathing heavily and still looks irritated, his cock hard again and standing in all its glory.

Daemon's heavy breath echoes from the walls of your chambers. You move and lie down beside him. You bite your lip gently and lean forward, kissing his neck softly. Your tongue is like pure fire that hits his skin and could cause new scars. A hot, arousing fire. His hips rise again with arousal and his hand reaches for the back of your head to move your head down. But you stop caressing his neck and look at him. You shake your head resolutely and Daemon pulls his hand back grumbling.

His voice fails in his throat and nothing more leaves his mouth as he slowly loses control. A growl sounds from him and his back arches slightly as your hand begins to caress his chest.

A moan escapes him as your nails leave light marks on his skin.

"Stop it, love," he murmurs. "You're driving me crazy" But you see his cock twitch wildly and you know he doesn't want you to stop. His hands reach into the sheet again and you know, that it's taking all his will not to grab you. Gently your lips graze over his neck as your fingers gently move down, teasing him. You feel the remnants of his previous climax and you see him bite his lip as you slide through it. His eyes are closed and you can see him enjoying this. Your fingers gently caress his abdomen, following the light hair to your destination.

A moan escapes him again. His hand suddenly reaches for your arm and you gasp softly, feeling his fingertips dig into your arm, showing you how much you're already teasing him. But you are not finished yet.

Daemon tries to concentrate on staying calm for your sake.

Once again, you can't stop your fingers from stroking his pubic hair as your smile widens. You watch his expression as you caress him.

A sharp intake of breath comes from his throat. He feels nothing but your touch. His fingertips dig further into your arm, but he finds it hard to stay still. You feel his muscles twitch and he just wants to pull you closer to him and take control of the situation so he can use your body as he wants.

But he forces himself to stay still. He forces himself to enjoy the passive role for once.

Your fingers gently graze the tip of his hard manhood. You bite your lip as you feel it twitch. As you close your fingers around the tip and the twitch shoots through your fingers.

"Ops...", you say softly, with an air of innocence, but Daemon knows you are not innocent and it's impossible for him not to react to that – a soft hiss escapes him.

His back arches slightly upwards and he grips your arm even tighter. His head turns towards you. His eyes are still closed, but you feel his lips seek yours. But you let him suffer. Let him feel what it is like to be on the receiving end of something like this.

"Is this what I put you through every night?" he suddenly asks softly, still keeping his eyes closed. You hear a slight breathlessness in his voice.

You smile again, "Yes... Every time you tease me..." you whisper.

You feel at your fingertips how his arousal continues to make itself felt, and the drops wet the tip of his cock.

"You like that, don't you?" you whisper.

He responds with a low growl, as if he's too busy enjoying it to reply with words.

His fingers disengage from your arm and sink to the bed, holding them still. It works up to a point. But you see his fingers clench into fists again and again.

You lean forward again and gently kiss his neck. Lightly you let your teeth sink into the skin. Again you hear a slight growl.

But still your fingers do not touch his hard member. Teasingly you only stroke his tip, refusing to embrace it completely. You feel it twitch violently again and again. Almost desperately it wants you to touch it. And again a moan escapes Daemon's throat.

You notice his breath quickening, and your own smile turns into a wicked little grin.

His fingers clutch the sheets on the bed as his muscles tremble slightly. You can feel the tension building inside him.

"Stop it... stop..," he murmurs, his voice strained by the desire to just grab you.

You continue to nibble on his neck. Your fingers, meanwhile, are stroking his pubic hair again, your caress growing rougher.

"Would you like me to touch you?" you whisper. With this question you have sealed his fate.

You see him contort his face almost painfully, trying to resist his urge. It would be so easy for him to give in, to just turn and take you as he wants. You see the inner struggle in him. The Rogue Prince who never begs, never bows to any command. The dragon who needs control over every situation. But still you see his breathing quicken, his muscles tremble slightly, he moistens his lips.

"Yes..." he whispers after a while, almost defeated.

But then his fingers move to your hips, wanting to grab you and force you closer to him. You slap his hand away.

"No, Daemon. Get your hands off me," you whisper warningly in his ear. You underline your momentary power and nibble lightly on his earlobe.

Your fingers now find their way to his balls, your fingernails gently scratching the now taut skin and he hisses again.

It's a struggle for him to take his hands off your hips. He doesn't want to. But he obeys.

You continue the torment, your fingernails almost driving him mad.

"You know you'll pay for this, you little pest," his voice sounds a little hoarse.

But with each word his voice grows softer and is now just a low murmur as his body continues to tremble with desire. You have the power over this moment, and you know it. You smile just slightly, knowing you will pay for this, and a feeling of anticipation spreads through you.

"Please," he murmurs suddenly. His breathing is quick and heavy. Right now he is nothing more than your plaything. The Rogue Prince on the verge of begging.

You bite his neck again, "Please, what, my love?" you whisper as your fingernails continue to tease his balls. He hisses again. His hips jerk a little, desperate for a touch.

His mouth opens and closes as he tries to find words to say what he wants. It's all gasps and moans and deep, animalistic noises now.

"Please... I need more...," he finally murmurs weakly. He can't say much more, he wants you too much. You know it. He knows it. You both know it.

A low grumble escapes his throat as he hisses again. He clenches his teeth as you grab his balls. He tries to take a deep breath to keep his voice low, but he can't stop his voice from shaking. "Touch me...", these are the only words he manages to say.

Your hand continues to grip his balls, squeezing them gently.

You kiss his neck, "My Rogue Prince...", you whisper.

He is silent now, looking at you with half-closed eyes, his breathing heavy.

You continue to kiss and nibble on his neck as your hand holds him tight, enjoying this newfound power over him. "If you keep this up, I swear we won't leave this bed for at least twelve hours. And I will make you suffer,“ he hisses, his last attempt at exuding dominance.

You smile at him, your fingers now slowly stroking along his shaft.

"I wouldn't mind," you whisper.

His hard manhood is dripping with precum. Your hand wanders along his hard manhood. It twitches violently as you rub the pecum over its tip. He gasps and grunts.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" you whisper as you nibble on his neck again.

"Yes...!" Daemon suddenly groans. You're playing with fire and you know it. Your teasing only drives him closer to his climax without you actually touching him. But you embrace him fully now, and the sudden rough touch makes him grunt loudly. Your hand wanders up and down, your other hand starts massaging his balls again.

"Then come for me, love...", you whisper. You are also breathing harder by now as your hand slides along his hard manhood. He is moaning uncontrollably by now, his manhood twitching. His eyes are closed and his hips are twitching.

His fingers dig deep into the sheet as he makes sounds you didn't think he was capable of. But his moans turn into hisses as your hand works faster.

He pulls your head towards him and kisses you fiercely, almost desperately. He holds nothing back now and you let him.

"My wife. My Dornish princess. My queen. I am yours. Only yours.", Daemon gasps and you feel the twitch move from his balls up into his cock.

And then he comes. Again his seed spurts onto his belly, while your hand does not slacken in its movement. You're still kissing him and he moans and whimpers into your mouth.

Daemon releases the kiss, still breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Softly he whispers your name, smiling.

"You're cruel, you know that? Cruel and beautiful," he whispers.

You giggle softly and watch the movements of his face. After a few deep breaths from him, he suddenly moves. So suddenly that you gasp slightly. Your eyes grow wide as he suddenly hovers over you. You stare into his violet eyes, his cum dripping onto your soft, olive skin, creating a complete contrast. Daemon slides his finger through it as it continues to drip, just as you did on his skin before. A dark grin on his lips.

"I'm going to make you pay even more cruelly for this..." he murmurs and before you can say anything, his lips meet yours and his hand finds its way between your thighs. Your whimpers echo through your chambers as his hand grips your cunt roughly.

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Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @wetbitchlibrary @sylasthegrim

#prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #the rogue prince #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen oneshot #matt smith #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon smut #daemon stannies #prince daemon #daemon targaryen x oc

[bg-brainrot]

Would You Still Love Me? (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: When you ask the question, 'would you still love me if I were a worm?' Astarion's response surprises you in more ways than one.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, silly goofy mood, act 3 unascended Astarion

Word count: ~1.7k

--

You’re chatting with Astarion over dinner at the Elfsong when a question strikes you. It’s an odd one, and you’re not sure if you should ask it. Your curiosity builds as you consider Astarion’s possible answers though and, by the next lull in conversation, you can’t help yourself.

“Astarion?” you ask, spearing a potato on your plate.

The vampire swirls his wine glass, watching the red liquid fall into place before answering, “Yes, dear?” 

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?” The question spills out of you, sounding even sillier than it did in your head.

Your lover blinks at you, as if he couldn’t possibly have heard that properly. But when your expression doesn’t change, your eye contact doesn’t drop, no admission of jest is to be seen, he finally says, “Darling, what kind of ludicrous question is that?”

“Well, would you?” you counter, pointing at him with your fork before popping the potato in your mouth.

His face grows pensive as he thinks. It’s a few seconds later before he asks a follow up question, “What type of worm?”

You finish chewing as you think of the worms you know. Not many admittedly– life in the city meant that free patches of earth are few and far between. So you answer the only worm that truly comes to mind, “The earthworm kind.”

“And I would know that it’s you?” he asks, leaning forward now. It seems like he’s invested in the question now, despite his initial reaction.

You nod, as if that’s a given. “Yes, you saw me transform.”

“Hells, I was hoping I could pretend not to know,” he says with a smirk. 

“Wicked man,” you retort, shooting him a responding smile.

Astarion’s face looks thoughtful again as he considers the developing situation. “Could I turn you back?”

Now you shake your head vehemently. What use was the exercise if magic would fix you? “No, nothing could turn me back. I’m simply a worm from now on.”

“Hmm, and are you certain that you would love me?” He raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, as if he’s cornered you in your own mischievous little game.

“Of course,” you answer immediately. “I don’t think my little worm brain would be able to think of much else.”

“How sweet… I think,” he says, cocking his head. You suppose it is, though you had meant it as fact. “Well then, one final question, if you would?”

You nod, gesturing for him to continue with your fork. “Go ahead, I’m an open book. Or worm, in this case.”

“How long do worms live?”

You blink, having not expected such a question from him– and truthfully also due to not knowing the answer. “I don’t know. Maybe Halsin would?”

Astarion locates the druid, sitting a few tables away talking to Wyll and Karlach. He raises his voice to be overheard in the din of the tavern. “Halsin, be a dear, how long do earthworms live?”

“A fantastic question, Astarion!” The druid’s voice carries easily with excitement. “It truly depends on the conditions of the worm, but anywhere from a few years up to eight years.”

You balk at that fact. A worm can live how long?

“I’m happy to tell you all about ideal soil conditions–”

Astarion cuts the man off with a loud, “Thank you!” Then he turns back to you. “Well, there you have it.”

“Have what?” you ask in response, confused at the turn in conversation.

“You would live at most eight years. I’m immortal, my love. I think I can manage less than a decade of loving a worm,” he says, rolling his eyes at you.

You’re not sure how to take the casual way that he speaks of your impending wormy death, but you find it oddly comforting to know that he would in fact still love you. You honestly hadn't expected that. “So you’d keep me around? Made sure I stayed healthy and safe?”

He nods, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Naturally.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea of him keeping you as a pet worm. It seems almost unbelievable. “You wouldn’t throw me into the nearest patch of dirt? Or worse yet, let a bird take me?”

“Gods below, dear,” Astarion responds, aghast, putting a hand over his heart as if he’s been truly, deeply offended. “I would never.” Then he gets a far off look in his eyes and adds, “Well, maybe never. I suppose it depends on if I needed you as bait. But I’m certain I would be able to rescue you after the fact.”

“I would allow it,” you say, with a short nod. “If you’re using me as bait, it’s likely for good reason.”

"And after you pass? I would miss you terribly of course," he says solemnly, with his most maudlin, tragic expression.

"You'd better. And I expect the best soil for my burial," you say, pointing your fork at him threateningly.

“Of course, darling,” he says, only the hint of his smile visible from behind his wine glass. He takes a sip and looks at you again. “Now, why would you ask such a thing?”

You shrug, entirely convinced it was just a passing thought. But, as you poke and prod at your food, you find yourself answering, “I don’t know. What if, before this all ends, something happens to me. I already come with my own scars and problems, gods know how much worse it can get.”

Astarion stares at you over his wine glass, processing what you've just said before responding, "My love, believe it or not, I'm a vampire. I have 'scars and problems' of my own. If you think that anything could happen to you that I wouldn't be able to handle, you'd be sorely mistaken."

You hadn't expected him to say such words so sincerely, and you find yourself a bit taken aback. You love each other, you'd said as much on the night Astarion had been freed from Cazador, but it still feels a bit intimidating to know how deep that love could run. Apparently earthworm deep.

The idea that this man, who would rather bathe in blood than touch an inch of dirt, would continue to love you? Well, despite the inane premise, you find the warmth in your heart to feel very real.

"What about you, darling?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. "If I were to become a worm, what would you do?"

You answer quickly, "Easy. I would still love you, probably keep you on my person, and offer you blood or other sustenance when you need it."

Astarion looks at you aghast. "Sweet hells, do not put me in your pocket."

"And why not? I would be extremely careful, and then I would never lose you," you respond, explaining yourself logically. "Besides, even as a worm, who knows what kind of trouble you'd get yourself into."

"I should be saying that to you," he says, placing his wine glass on the table, serious now. "I can't believe you would put me in danger like that. I fully expect you to place me somewhere nice, like the lawn of some pampered Upper City noble."

You think about his proposition for a second before shaking your head. "But then I couldn't take care of you. What if you get stepped on?"

Astarion considers your counterargument with narrowed eyes. “Ugh, fine. I shall stay in your pocket. But I expect you to clean it regularly. And I demand that you get a new lining for it. Silk, preferably.”

“Easy enough to do,” you say, nodding along. “You would be most comfortable worm this side of the Chionthar.”

At that, the man looks pleased, picks his wine glass back up, and reclines back in his seat. “Good. And, for what it’s worth, I'm sure you would make a very cute worm.”

You’re not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or an insult, but you suspect it’s the former. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at your lover. “You would make a dashing worm yourself.”

“Are you both expecting to turn into worms any time soon?” you hear from behind you. You turn around to see Halsin standing tall over you. His tone is friendly, warm as he continues, “I would be happy to take care of either of you.”

You can’t help the blush of embarrassment that comes over your face. You’re also not sure how to take the words. Is he asking to adopt you both, as worms? Gods, how did you end up here… So you look back to Astarion who is now shooting you a look that says, Now look what you’ve done.

“Err, no Halsin. It was just an odd little conversation we were having. Sorry to cause you any confusion.”

“No need to apologize, my friend,” he replies. “Though if you ever do need help, you know where to find me.” He gives you both an affectionate smile before heading off. 

While it’s nice to know that others would care enough to take care of you as a worm, you’d meant the question to be solely for Astarion. You’re left burying your face in your hands to hide your shame.

“So, darling… what did we learn?”

“To never ask Halsin about earthworms,” you mumble through your fingers.

Astarion gives you a ‘tsk’ before responding. “No, my dear. If either of us turns into a worm, we must hide that fact from Halsin." He scrunches his nose in distaste before continuing, "I refuse to live in whatever healthy soil he’s found for us.”

You snort at Astarion’s conclusion, but still find yourself agreeing. “Fair enough. Better yet, let’s try to keep ourselves at the very least bipedal.” The two of you share a laugh, but in the back of your mind you’re already thinking of your next question. I wonder if he would still love me if I were a mimic? I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

#astarion x tav #astarion #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #would you still love me if i was a worm? #there's no right answer ofc

[lokisgoodgirl]

Peace [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After an outing to the Christmas Tree Farm goes awry, Loki does a little soul searching in his moccasins. (w/c 1.2k) Warnings: A tiny bit spicy. Like literally pepper. Fluff, some forestry angst(?) A/N: My contribution to the Secret Santa 2023 event hosted by the wonderful @fictive-sl0th - Merry Christmas @coldnique  ❤️ Request: Reader and Loki are burdened with a mission; finding the perfect tree. Unfortunately, our god doesn't deem any of the ones they see at the farm worthy so...

You watched Loki’s frown deepen as he concentrated on the road ahead. A familiar sign flashed by at the roadside, finally. Tony had given you a loan of his cabin in Vermont for the week. But festive, it was not. Not yet.

You turned up the volume on the touch-screen, hoping that Elton would rouse Loki’s mood a little. Biting your lip, you glanced at the god out the corner of your eye. No change. The trip to the Christmas tree farm had not been a success.

“They were all too...bushy, unkempt” he grumbled, switching to fifth gear with an unnecessarily erotic yank. “Well that’s what pine trees do, my love” you replied, letting your eyes run up his chest, up his neck. Loki hurmphed. “-And the needles on them were so jagged. Dry. All arrogance and no substance." He tilted his chin upwards, the hard vein in his neck throbbing at the tip of an elegant turtle-neck jumper. The god let out an incredulous scoff. “My dear you could injure your delicate mortal hands. I simply will not allow it.” He paused, nodding sagely as you approached a bend. "Arrogant. Yes, that's what they were. No individuality, no...depth,” he growled, giving a haughty sniff. You looked out the window, taking a deep and silent breath. Placing a hand on his thigh, you felt the muscles beneath his jeans work, clenching. You gave him a consolatory pat. “I mean really,” Loki continued undeterred. “Once the various trinkets you like so much are added to the tableau it will look truly ridiculous. Pompous, in fact.” “At least they were green,” you murmured. The sound of Loki’s hair whipping as he snapped to face you rustled the air. “Yes,” he snipped. “At least they were that.”

Back at the cabin, you flinched as Loki threw the door closed behind him. He strode into the kitchen, dropping the car keys in a dish with a malevolent rattle. You walked to where he stood gripping the counter top, sliding your hands around his waist. He huffed gently, before his touch covered yours. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I ruined the Christmas ambiance, didn’t I?” “A bit, yes” you replied. He huffed again. The soft, nasal kind that denoted annoyance at himself. He spun to face you.

The fine knit of his sweater pulled against your fingertips. In seconds his lips sealed to your neck, longing kisses wet against the angle of your jaw. Loki pulled you against him, soft tongue darting teasingly against your lips as he sought entry. Your hands slid up his chest, toying with the high collar tight against the sharp slate of his jaw before you slid your fingers up. They tangled in his locks, tugging gently while he moaned into your mouth.

“Ah-” he gasped suddenly, timed with a well-placed squeeze of your hand against his cock.

It pulsed against your palm. You smiled. Fucking on Tony’s counter-top was most definatley on your 'Christmas ambiance' list. The smile fell as Loki touched your hand, pulling it gently aside. He gazed at you with narrowed eyes, a thoughtful glint sparking deep within them. His lip twitched as he straightened, towering over you. Rogue curls fell around your face, the scent of his almond and redcurrant cologne that clung to every strand making your mouth water. “I cannot be held responsible for diminishing the glimmer of Yule in that precious heart of yours,” he whispered gallantly, before clearing his throat. “I shall be back presently to right this most egregious wrong.” And in the swirl of a coat and the click of the latch, he was gone.

Loki walked approximately fifteen steps before he admitted to himself that the soft leather moccasins were a bad choice.

He pulled the coat he was wearing tighter. The hem flapped against his knees as he walked. Unfortunately for Loki, he had neglected to pack alternative shoes in his pocket dimension. And furthermore, he could not abide a return to the cabin after such a flawlessly theatrical exit. A warming enchantment on his feet would have to suffice.

He walked, and he walked. And the forest grew thicker.

The god’s gaze darted between each majestic pine tree, stretching to the sky. Perfect, he mused bitterly. They’re all too perfect. If Loki had learned anything in past years about the power of this so called christ-mas, then it was that the festivities were a time for see the beauty in things oft overlooked. To celebrate that which was diminished throughout the other, more bountiful seasons. Loki could relate to that feeling. It was part of the reason he enjoyed it so much. He came to a clearing, shivering lightly as he stopped. Snow had begun to fall in silent flakes, resting atop already heaving branches. How far had he walked, he wondered. Loki looked up, closing his eyes to the bright, frozen sky. The god would never quite understand how he had found himself living happily on Midgard. In truth, how he had found himself living happily at all. It frightened him sometimes how much he saw his past-self as another. Like one of your documentaries, or a myth. Stories told as a cautionary tale with a flashlight under one’s chin in the dead of night. A fiction. And he would tell them gladly. But it was not himself of which he spoke. Not really. Not anymore. It frightened him, oh yes. Not that he would ever tell anyone that. No one but you.

But Yule is a time for honouring one’s past, he surmised. And so – the first emblem of the season he chose himself should reflect that. "Where are you?" he murmured quietly, spinning in a measured circle with his eyes closed. A flake of snow stuck to his bottom lip. He felt it melt against the warmth it found. Loki opened his eyes. He took a few steps towards the nearest tree. Tall, bushy, perfect – just like the others. But he trusted in the moment, however that worked.

His moccasins crunched, disappearing into thickening snow beneath his feet. Moisture soaked into the suede lining. The god shifted around the plump fir, pushing its branches from his path. "There you are," he whispered against the chill.

In amongst the tightly packed pine trees, sat a rather modest specimen. It was a fine tree. Noble, despite its diminutive state. A little tired. Lack of sunlight from those crowding around it had stunted its growth. Loki could see where its branches had fought for every scrap of light, twisting and adapting at strange angles. He ran his fingers gently across the vibrant spines. Plump, and luscious. None came loose. The tree was free of snow, shielded by the very branches which cramped his ascent to their level. He hummed an Asgardian chant, running his hand to the tip of the branch.

Loki waited for a response. He lowered his head, listening. It was ceremony. "This, I swear," he murmured in reverence. With the greatest care, he summoned the gentlest magic he possessed. The tree roots came away with ease, plucked from the moist soil like sponge from a greased tin. Willingly, he thought with a smile. And Loki cradled the small tree all the way back to the cabin. You were overjoyed, greeting him through the window and then at the door with a smile that would rival the brightest moon. That evening, you and he decorated the small tree with delicate ornaments. Loki was sure that he had never seen a finer Yuletide scene. And every day, in the bright winter light of the living room, and where you and Loki spent lazy nights celebrating by the warmth of the fire – that little tree grew. Love, space, freedom, faith. Loki pondered those words whenever he saw it. The god tended it every day with his magic, keeping the roots fresh in their temporarily home. And when the holiday ended, he would re-plant it. Somewhere it could continue its journey to its full potential in peace. Peace, Loki mulled as he brushed a strand of hair back from your cheekbone while you slept on his chest. Carols played. He inhaled against your hair, feeling your breaths rise and fall in time with his own. Peace.

Secret Santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @give-me-a-moose @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @fictive-sl0th @smolvenger Tags (cont in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips

#loki x reader #loki fluff #secret santa 2023 #Camilles secret santa #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine

[ghostbsuter]

Team effort

Danny is a member of the Teen Titans!

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The team had noticed something off not soon after the raid.

Something about one of Danny's– Magpie's– old Rogues having a lab. Some investigations from Robin and Cyborg soon proved that the man had been working on human experimentation.

Not even a day later and they'd raided the place, putting it under the JL's radar alongside the wayward rogue too.

Beastboy noticed it first, the way Magpie would look around uncertain, less enthusiastic and fidgeting in his seat.

Robin tried to shield him, take the attention away and talk behind closed doors with the other afterwards.

Yeah, it didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong.

They waved the issue off, maybe it was temporary? Danny never got distracted, it should be short right? They didn't need to worry too much.

Besides Robin was already on it.

The alarms went off however when Danny announced a break, going under for a few weeks, months maybe.

Starfire pestered him with worry, tugging him along in the air. She's speaking her native language, something about healing? They would have noticed if Magpie hid a injury however.

The protests didn't budge the decision, Robin steady when they turned to him for help.

Reassurances came in a rush. If truly needed, Danny would aid them, but he could not stay.

Raven stayed quiet, nothing unusual but surprising. Robin and her were often seen speaking in hushed whispers, it drove the other 3 members crazy at the secrecy.

It took 2 months to finally see what the cause was.

—

Costume dishevelled, mask thrown to the side, Magpie enters the tower by foot. His unannounced appearance had them all unprepared.

Raven and Robin were by his sides first, closely followed by Statfire.

"Hey man," Cyborg greeted, brow knitted in concern. "Weren't you supposed to be on vacation?"

Danny gave a dry laugh at that. "Plans changed, Cy."

"How do vacation plans just change?" Beastboy asks, scratching the side of his head.

"They changed because I wasn't really on vacation."

He avoids their eyes, Starfire dint like that, cradling his head to turn to her. "Why aren't you looking at us? Why lie about vacation?"

"It's not that I wanted to lie, staying ignorant to what was happening was just better," he shrugged with a strained smile.

"I'm assuming your location was compromised?"

A nod.

"Wow wow wow," beastboy interrupts. "What do you mean compromise? You went into hiding??"

Magpie gave a sheepish laugh, which didn't lighten the mood at all.

He tried.

"Where is—?" Raven asks right as another tiny hand clamps on her cape, tugging.

The eyes of every teentitan are drawn to whatever— whoever is behind their missing member.

"Okay so don't freak out—"

"You have a child??!"

"What the hell— JESUS CHRIST!"

"A human child! A baby!"

A sharp whistling from their leader got them to shut up, eyes on Robin now.

"You're frightening her."

True to his words, tuffs of white hair peek out between Raven and Magpie, large green eyes watching.

A tiny girl, barely reaching Danny's waist, stares at them.

"Friend, who is she?"

"This," he leads her out by hand, letting her cling to his side instead now. "Is elle, she..."

A look to raven had her continue. "We found her together in the raid."

Starfire knelt down before Elle, holding her hand out in greeting. "Hello Elle, I am starfire." She tilts her head. "You seem sleepy?"

"It's been a long day— I'll talk with you guys later, okay?"

They watched him leave, returning to his room long untouched.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #teen titans x dp #Teen Titans Danny #part 1 #part 2 will be soon too! a flashback to the raid <3 #its my birthday #hi guys #hows it going #yeah i should totally ginish my other parts soonish #byw this whole story si just foudn family #what does a team of teens do woth a child #raise it ofc

[writingsofwesteros]

Daemon and his twin/little sister fucking some where and Aegon and Aemond thinking their being sneaky watching them (they prob in semi public somewhere, bc i feel like daemon likes being watched just as much as he likes watching, and his twin loves being watched lol) but the twins of course know their there, and Daemon can’t help putting on a show for every audience lmao

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“Daemon..” Your moans easily flooded the council room as he pushed you down. The dress pushed down to your hips. Your soft, ample breasts brushed against the table as your body moved up and down. His own hard cock was pushing deeper inside your weeping pussy. An act he had wanted to do for the whole of the feast.

His hand moved onto your arse and began to palm you. “Good girl..” He whispered his praises loudly as his smirk only widened. He knew the two Princes had followed and were now watching the passionate moment. Not that you knew it; not yet anyway. The Rogue Prince would tell you at the right moment.

Your walls were fluttering around him already. His hand moved into your locks and pulled you back. Your bouncing breasts on full display now as he had you against his chest. His mouth was soon on your neck once more; marking you for all to see. The sight of his cock moving in and out of your pussy was on display too.

His hand snaked around your middle as he hotly mouthed at your neck. Your mouth watering scent moving over him. “Fuck, have you been this wet all night?” Daemon asked; louder than needed. “Yes..oh gods, Daemon.” You whimpered out. Your locks are in a mess as they fall down some more.

Daemon's thrusts continued at a rapid pace now as he pushed against your spongy spot again and again. He tapped your clit again and again with his hand; moaning as your walls fluttered around him. The sounds of your wetness echoed around the room; much to his enjoyment and your own.

His hand roughly cupped your breast once more and began to squeeze. The milk dribbled from them as he smirked into your neck. He knew the Prince had the most mommy issues than anyone he’d ever known. And Daemon was a dick enough to tease him. For a moment, he thought he heard a grunt. 

“We have an audience.” Daemon whispered into your ear, finally telling you the truth whilst his thrusts never slopped. You whined in confusion as your soaked walls fluttered around him. His hand moved around your neck and subtly turned you. It was then that you noticed the two brothers.

You gushed around his cock at the realisation. The sound echoing around the otherwise silent room. Daemon pushed you back onto the table as his hand came down on your arse. He grabbed you; pulling your cheeks apart to watch his cock fiercely moving in and out of your weeping pussy.   

His hard cock was covered in your cream as he pushed deeper. The sound of skin slapping together echoed around the room as you reached for anything to hold. “Oh gods..” You cried out as he pushed against your spongy spot that had you squirting around his cock before you realised it.

Daemon chuckled and only fucked your harder. He placed one of your legs on the table with you, which allowed him to sleep deeper inside you. His fat head pushing against your spot some more. “Oh…I..Daemon..” You cried out. Tears of pleasure falling down your cheeks now. He was in no mood to stop.

His hand moved to your hair now and pulled. Your head moved with your bouncing breasts on full display once more. “Gods, I hate this place.” Daemon spoke to nobody as you cried out complete nonsense. Your mind softens under his attack. Your eyes became hazy with the intense pleasure.

It seemed never ending as his hand snaked around your middle. His slender fingers moving over your completely drenched pussy. He pinched your clit that had your walls fluttering around him. Daemon’s moans of pleasure began to sound out. His own stomach tightening as his thrusts became sloppy.

His fingers were completely soaked by your own wetness and his hand slowly moved to your arse, spreading your cheeks before slipping two fingers inside your arse. “Oh fuck, Daemon!!” You cried out his name again and again like a prayer whilst the rogue Prince only chuckled in delight. 

The princes watching could only stare. Their mouths open as you shake under their uncle’s touch. You tightened around him so well as his thrusts never stopped. He pushed deep for his cum to flood you whilst his fingers teased you without mercy. Your soaked walls began to quiver around his sensitive cock.

“Fuck,” Daemon couldn’t handle it as he leaned away. His softening cock soaked with your wetness as he moved to his knees. “Good girl.” He purred as his fingers continued to tease you. It was not long before his hot mouth moved to your weeping pussy. His tongue collects both of your cream.

“Oh gods…I” You wiggled as he pushed his face into you. His mouth is engulfing your soaked pussy. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling as your legs began to shake now. Your stomach tightening as the painful climax was reaching you. You were slowly losing consciousness as he pulled it from you.

You squirted and he harshly sucked on your clit; his tongue moving to gather up and take all that you gave him. His fingers gently removed themselves from you as you finally breathed. Daemon couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to your clit and watched you jolt at the small touch of his.

His touches became gentle now as he heard the shuffling of fear. Daemon had nearly forgotten about their audience. “I love you.” Daemon whispered into your ear as you only hummed; burrowing into his chest as you tried to calm down; your heart racing wildly as your body was so sleepy.

“We should get some rest now.” Daemon hummed and gently moved you to sit up. Your hands moved into his locks already as you leaned close and rested your head on him. “Hmm, we cannot rest here.” He chuckled as his hands moved up and down your sides whilst he pushed up his pants.

His lips found yours once more in devotion and love. Your tongues met as he danced with yours. You hummed before looping your arms around his neck and keeping him close for a moment. “We should go home.” You whispered into his ear; softly mouthing at his neck as your eyes fell shut.

#aemond targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #request

[dottores]

DANGEROUS GAMES | CYNO

pairing: cyno x fem!reader.

summary: your boyfriend finally comes home after being gone weeks for mahamatra duties and finds himself in a rather difficult position when you make it your goal to cause him to lose control while finishing up his mission report.

warnings: fem!reader, oral (f->m, m->f), brief manhandling, reader teasing cyno, pussy drunk!cyno.

notes: this was only supposed to be a 500 word drabble. sobs.

wordcount: 3.3k

“Mm, I told you that I had to get work done tonight,” Cyno murmured, gaze flickering down to the ground where you were leaning against his leg, head resting on his thigh as you blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent as if you hadn’t just been dragging your lips up his skin, dangerously close to his cock.

He supposed he had known what he was getting into as soon as you had shot him that pouty, pleading expression, fingers digging into his forearm. 

“I just want to be close to you,” you had said, and Cyno knew better than anyone that wanting to ‘be close to him’ always led to something more, but Cyno could never say no to you, especially when you looked at him like that. So even though he knew damn well that he had a report that he had to finish by dawn tomorrow, he still gave you the okay.

And if he hadn’t been certain already that your intentions were less than innocent, he absolutely was sure when instead of climbing onto his lap like you usually did when you were in a mood, you slipped beneath the desk, curling up at his feet and laying your head on his thigh, giving some half-assed excuse as to why you’d prefer to be down there instead of in his arms. 

“I’m not stopping you,” you smiled, eyes alight with a sort of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a while. His blood ran hot, and he pressed his lips together tight--he couldn’t blame you, he mused to himself, Cyno had been away for weeks hunting down a rogue scholar, he had missed you just as much as you had him. “Or is the General Mahamatra’s grasp on his self control so weak that just a few kisses are enough to break his concentration?” 

He eyed you, unamused at the challenge--if he were any other man, he was sure he would have broken there as your tongue darted out to swipe at his inner thigh, eyes bright and teasing as you watched his face for any crack in the hard exterior. But Cyno was not any other man, he was the General Mahamatra of Sumeru’s Akademiya and it would take more than just a few taunts to make him falter.

Cyno clicked his tongue gently, placing his pen down on his desk as he reached down to cup your cheek. His fingers danced along the soft skin of your cheekbone and he watched with lidded eyes as you instinctively leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. Cyno’s breath caught, taking in your lax expression as you basked in his touch, a familiar, warm feeling enveloping his chest--one that he had missed severely over the past few weeks.

As if you could sense the moment of weakness, like a spinocrocodile drawn to blood, your gaze trained on his face again, teasing and playful, waiting for him to give in. The hand on your cheek slid to your chin, gripping it hard, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he said firmly, dropping his hand to redirect his attention back to his document, picking up his pen to continue detailing what exactly had happened while he had been hunting the rogue scholar. 

The giggle you let out nearly had him pause mid-stroke of his pen. “Yessir,” you said softly, breath ghosting over his bare thigh, and Cyno almost bit down on his tongue, teeth scraping against the muscle as the heat pooled down to his lower stomach immediately. 

He forced himself to continue writing, brows furrowed at the clear interruption of the letter he had previously been writing--a stray line jagged off at the side, physical evidence of his momentary lapse of strength, one he prayed you didn’t catch. Your lips tugged up against his skin, and he knew that you hadn’t missed it.

The soft kisses you had been laying upon his skin turned heavier, wetter. He inhaled deeply as you sucked gently, certain that you were leaving a trail of bruises along his thigh in your wake. It took all of his inner strength to force himself to continue filling out the report, abdomen tensing as every movement you made dragged your lips further and further up his thigh.

You were playing a dangerous game, he noted as he let his free hand drop to the back of your head, fingers intertwining with your hair. It was another sign of surrender, he realized duly, but he supposed the way you let out a pleased hum against his skin made up for the internal disappointment he felt at himself.

You resumed your mission with a more intense fervor, and distantly, Cyno realized that he might have fucked up by giving you that brief yield. Give a step, take a mile, the old saying rang through his head, and Cyno barely suppressed the smile that itched at his lips as you, for the millionth time, proved the saying to be true.

He didn’t have much time to linger on the thought, a curse spilling from his lips as, without warning, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock, tongue flicking out to drag along the slit. His hips jerked, his grip tightened on his pen--barely stopping himself from dragging a dark line across the whole paper, which would have forced him to restart. 

His gaze darted down, shooting daggers at you, but he couldn’t hold the irritation when the sight of you sucking gently at his tip, pupils blown wide and eyes lidded and dancing with mischief, came into his field of vision. His jaw clenched, and a part of him debating on trying to finish the report just to make a point.

He decided against it, in the end--but solely because it would be more work to restart if he messed up than it would to just finish later or in the morning. Not because he had lost his sense of self control. He laid his pen back down on the desk, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs just a bit more to give you more room.

He raised his eyebrows as you looked up at him, surprised, “Go on,” he said, voice low. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Your eyes lit up so bright that he really couldn’t stop the way his lips pulled up this time. You removed your lips from the tip of his cock with a soft pop, and Cyno nearly hissed at the loss of your touch. His thumb caressed the back of your head as you nuzzled your face up against his cock, giggling.

“Missed you s’much,” you breathed out, warm breath fanning across the sensitive skin. Cyno had a distinct feeling you were not talking to him, your eyes trained solely on his cock as you spoke. His throat bobbed as you began to lay slow, lingering kisses on the length of his cock, nails digging into his thighs as you pressed your body up against his leg.

Cyno let out a low grunt as you sucked lightly at the skin, hips bucking up. “Stop teasing.”

“‘m not teasin,” he could feel you pouting softly, but only for a moment, because a second later he could feel the way your lips tugged up again, the soft smile he loved so much hidden against his cock. 

His grip on your hair tightened just enough to force you to look up at him, and Cyno bit back a sharp inhale when he caught the glossy sheen of his precum over your lips, caught how your eyes were half-glazed over as you looked at him--whatever words that had been lying on the tip of his tongue dissolved. 

“I need to finish the report,” Cyno’s voice strained as you returned your attention to his cock again, licking a long stripe up his length before kissing the tip. He groaned, head tilting back as you finally sucked his tip back into your mouth. Letting out a low curse and taking in a shaky breath, he forced himself to look back down at you. “You hear me?” 

You hummed around him, and the vibration sent a shudder through his whole body, one hand fisting your hair while the other gripped the arm of his chair so tight he swore it would break. You took him deep in your mouth, until his tip was nudging the back of your throat, lips sliding slowly up and down his cock, tongue swirling around it.

His blood burned, lips parted as you directed all of your attention to his cock. “Missed this,” he gasped, and he did. He had spent countless nights alone out in the desert missing the feel of your lips wrapped around his cock, your cunt squeezing tight around him--his hand wasn’t the same, didn’t feel as good even as he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined you were there with him. 

You moved agonizingly slow, and the hand grasping your hair twitched with the need to push your face down, rock his hips up to chase the release he so desperately needed. He refrained, if only barely. 

You pulled off, and Cyno barely stifled the complaint that rose to his lips, gaze dropping down once again. You rested your cheek back against his thigh, looking up at him, and Cyno just couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at your blatant teasing when you looked at him with clear adoration on your face. 

“I missed you,” you said softly, and this time you were talking to him, and he couldn’t help the brief pang in his chest as he let his hand slip from the back of your head to cup your cheek again, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. He knew the weeks away he spent were always hard on you but he also knew you couldn’t come with him for two reasons--one, you were still deep in your studies at the Akademiya, you couldn’t afford to leave the city yet; and two, his job was dangerous and he’d rather not put you in the line of fire, you were at risk enough from the people that were out to get him and would go to any lengths, including targeting the ones he cared about. 

A part of him wondered why you even stayed, but he could never bring himself to ask--every time the question laid heavy on his tongue, he could never force it out. As commanding of a presence that the General Mahamatra was, confident and stoic and intimidating to those who come across him, ice-cold fear flooded his veins whenever he mulled over the prospect of you leaving him for someone more present in your life, anxious that if he’d voice the question out loud, it would make you second guess, realize that you did deserve better than a man that was more absent than present. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, once again unable to push the question out yet again. 

You only smiled, nuzzling his thigh, “S’okay, I know you’re busy.”

Shouldn’t be too busy for you, he thought to himself, thumb running over your glistening, puffy lips. You kissed his palm once before batting his hand away, returning your attention to his cock. 

There was no teasing this time as you took him into your mouth until your nose was flush against his pelvis, cheeks hollowing as you braced yourself on his thighs. Cyno’s eyes nearly knocked back, exhaling sharply, a low moan and a litany of curses spilling from his lips.

You didn’t give him any time to try to regain control over himself, bobbing your head on his cock, tongue swirling around him, flattening against his slit and flicking over it lightly every time you dragged your lips to his tip. 

His hand shifted back behind your head, head thrown back as he guided your lips up and down his cock. “Just like that,” Cyno groaned, thighs tensing as he forced himself not to fuck his hips up against your face. Your throat spasmed around him as he pushed your head down just a bit too quickly but Cyno couldn’t bring himself to apologize, words catching over another moan.

He could feel your throat tightening against the intrusion, barely able to drag his lidded gaze down to you to catch your teary eyes as you struggled to take him all the way down your throat, as you struggled to breathe. 

If it were any other time, Cyno would have loosened his grip on your hair, pulled his hand away from where it was laying heavy on the back of your head; his self-control had always been impeccable, even when he could feel himself on the brink of his orgasm, but this time was different. He had gone too long without your touch, without your lips, without your cunt--his body felt like it was on fire, aching for release, and you had been teasing him for far too long while he had been trying to finish the report. You really were the only one that could make the General Mahamatra lose control so easily, and he wasn’t sure if he hated it or loved it. 

“Gonna cum,” he gasped, “I’m gonna-

It was the only warning you got before Cyno let out a loud moan, one that he was sure that his neighbors could hear and would know damn well what the two of you were doing, but Cyno just couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. He spilled his release deep down your throat, and he could feel you choking on it, desperately trying to swallow it all.

After a few seconds, Cyno’s hand dropped from your head, and you pulled up, gasping for air, tears spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him. Cyno’s chest heaved, reeling from the intense orgasm as he looked down at you. His cum dribbled down your chin and you were slumped against his leg, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover. 

You gave him a small smile as you looked up at him. “Now you can go back to your report,” your voice was hoarse and scratchy, and Cyno studied you for a moment, still half hazy. You looked more than content, letting your eyes flutter shut as you rested against his leg and once again that heavy feeling settled over his chest--guilt.

Guilt because he was always making you wait for him, guilt because he was putting you off for finishing reports, for meetings with the Mahamata--when he was in the city, he was usually back home by the time you were already fast asleep in bed, face nuzzled into the pillow that only smelt faintly of him. 

With that thought in mind, Cyno shook his head and stood up. You let out a surprised noise as you lost your balance when he moved, but Cyno was leaning down before you could topple over, large hands wrapping around your waist. He held your weight with one arm as he swiped his stuff off of the desk. And a part of him mourned the fact that he would have to rewrite the report and clean up the splattered ink.

He sat you down on the desk, kneeling on the ground in front of you and parting your legs. He could hear you inhale sharply, his name leaving your lips in a yelp but Cyno ignored you, tugging your underwear down.

He swallowed thickly, inhaling deeply as he took in your scent--drenched just from having your lips wrapped around his cock, he wondered when the last time you made yourself cum was, you always complained that you were never good enough to do it on your own, begging for his fingers and his tongue and his cock. 

He didn’t hesitate as he hooked your legs around his shoulders. He let out a low groan against you, hands slipping beneath your skirt, fingers digging deep into the plush skin of your ass as he pressed his face into your cunt. You cried out his name loud, hips jerking up as his tongue glided between your folds--if his neighbors hadn’t known what the two of you were up to already, they certainly did now, but Cyno was far too drunk on the taste of you to care.

God, he had missed this, you were intoxicating to him--from the first time he had ever tasted you, he knew he was a goner. Cyno sucked gently on your clit, relishing in the way your body shuddered, in the way your thighs clamped down around his head. Your hand found his hair, fingers intertwining with the strands, tugging so hard that it had him moaning into your cunt. 

Distantly, he realized he couldn’t breathe but he wasn’t sure he entirely cared--buried in your cunt, suffocating between your legs… Cyno figured there wasn’t a better way to go. You pushed him down harder, and Cyno hummed, nose pressed against your clit as he lapped at your release.

You had the prettiest pussy, Cyno was sure of that--heavenly to taste and even more heavenly wrapped tight around his cock. His grip on your ass tightened, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed his tongue into you, eyes nearly rolled back at the feeling of your walls spasming around his tongue. 

“Cyno,” you were pretty much sobbing his name as you tugged at his hair, “Cyno, feels s’good.”

Your words only spurred him on more, groaning as he fucked his tongue in and out of you, flicking it over your clit, tracing circles between your folds. You were squirming in his hold, hips grinding up against his face, back arching against his desk. 

He had missed this, the words rang through his head on repeat, recalling all of the lonely nights he had spent out in the desert longing for your touch, your warmth, playing memories of you over and over again in his head as he fucked his fist, chanting your name like a prayer to the gods. He was certain he could spend forever buried between your thighs--damn the Akademiya, damn the Mahamata, damn all of his responsibilities as General Mahamatra, so long as he had his lips sealed around your clit or his tongue fucking in and out of your cunt, he would die a happy man. 

“Cyno, ‘m gunna cum,'' you pulled hard at his hair, and he wasn’t sure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer. His teeth grazed your clit lightly and that was all it took to have you crying out his name, body spasming against the desk as you came all over his face. 

Cyno let out a muffled moan into your cunt as he lapped up your cum, sure not to let a single drop fall to the hardwood desk. 

You were still trembling in the aftershocks of your orgasm and Cyno was still half-drunk off of the taste of you when he forced himself to his feet, only hesitating for a split second before he lifted you into his arms to bring you over to the bed.

Laying you down gently before following you onto the bed, he hovered above you, pressing his lips to your forehead and then to your nose. 

You giggled softly. “What about your report?” you asked.

“I’ll finish it in the morning,” he murmured, nipping your cheek. “Right now, all I want is you.”

#cyno x reader #cyno smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #cyno x you #genshin x you

[fairytail-incorrectquotes]

Sting: Dating you feels like a dream, you know?

Rogue, uncharacteristically sappy: You’re a dream

Rogue, immediately flustered: I mean, send nudes

#sting eucliffe #stingue #rogue cheney #rogue continues to be a mood #fairy tail #incorrect fairy tail quotes #fairy tail incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect quote #anime #manga

[justporo]

Sinful strawberries and siren's song

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 6

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit shorter but I still couldn't decide on the banner picture for it - so you get two! And also two songs - yay! (Ik, no one asked)

Astarion gets fed a strawberry - and of course he is VERY normal about it - cheeky bastard...

Songs: Eat Your Young - Hozier / Siren - Kailee Morgue Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Rating: Explicit Warnings: implied drowning (not really tho), slight smut? (also not really tho, it's just a strawberry...)

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

Suddenly, with a lot of clattering pearls were rolling all around you – hadn’t dog lady been wearing several pearl necklaces? You carefully watched your step as the shimmering beads rolled around your feet.

Astarion stopped and bowed down while he gave a whistle and grabbed one of the shiny spheres. “Such a waste”, he whispered and clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

All around people gave exclamations of shock – one, because the fight that had broken out behind you seemed to be vicious judging by the continued sounds and two, because the many pearls had some people already stumbling and falling – not everyone had the same graceful step as you and the rogue.

You couldn’t help but starting to giggle. “Thank you, Astarion”, you whispered to him as the vampire turned the pearl around in his long fingers.

“Oh, for what, my love, defending your- our honour? I fear we didn’t have much of that to begin with, let us be frank with each other.” He sighed dramatically. But then he gave you a genuine concerned look and you saw that rage had started to rise up again in him. “But no one talks to my soulmate like this. I would have ripped their throats out had we not been in public”, he growled still staring at the pearl in his fingers. You could see the tension in this tiny gesture.

For a moment he seemed lost to his furious feelings. Only as you softly touched his arm did he snap out of it.

Astarion closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked directly at you again, his expression back to his usual smug and playful mood.

“But now you’ve experienced firsthand, my heart, how easily” – he quickly twisted the pearl in his fingers – “manners and social standing can disappear and mean nothing.” He opened his fingers again – the pearl had disappeared.

“Some people are vermin and will only ever be vermin no matter how many complicated words they use or how much gold they have dangling around their neck”, Astarion said with a snarl. “And then there are people that will always shine brightly, no matter what might be hurled at them”, he continued and lifted his hand to gently hook his thumb on your chin. You saw the warmth and the pride as you looked into his ruby eyes and felt your cheeks warm once more.

But what was that thing he had just did with the pearl?

“Was that a magic trick, Astarion? Gale would be so proud.” You grinned at your vampire. His face immediately dropped.

“Trust Tav to immediately ruin a romantic moment”, he sighed as if you were an indeed hopeless case. “Don’t make me regret I showed you”, he responded and softly shook your face with his hand that was still gently holding your chin.

You giggled and stood on your tiptoes to reach him for a kiss even though he moved away his face with a mockingly annoyed face – but he gave in in the end.

“Now, shall we explore the rest of this mansion and party? At least until they all finished clambering over each other trying to grab the pearls?”, Astarion proposed after your kiss. You nodded before he grabbed your hand and you made your way back indoors and straight towards the doors leading away from the ballroom.

“I’m certain this is only the most civilised layer of this grand event”, your partner said to you as he led you through the room. He threw you a glance with a promising sparkle in his eyes. But you found yourself making a painful face at him.

“If this is the most civilised how much worse can it possibly get?”, you asked him and scrunched up your nose.

“Oh my sweet Tav, have our adventures taught you nothing?”, the vampire teased. Your mouth pressed into a line – you didn’t even honour his mockery with a response.

“You’d be surprised, my love”, Astarion cheerfully went on when you kept silent, “of how quick people lose all their dignity when they have the money to pay for their morally rotten desires.”

You softly hummed in agreement as you passed the huge double doors and left the ballroom.

The room you entered was just as tall and dimly lit. A huge pyramid of crystal glasses filled with champagne dominated the middle of the room. Here, more people stood around and talked but the atmosphere was immediately more intimate than in the huge ballroom.

It was also considerably quieter which probably meant that magic had been worked to keep some of the noise from the rest of the party out of this room. Nothing else really was remarkable about it though, except that in the corners were one or two couples that also must feel that it felt more intimate in here. Astarion saw you noticing that and immediately wiggled his eyebrows at you before his eyes fell on the giant crystal peak dominating the room.

You were already looking ahead to go to the next room, but Astarion stood stock-still next to you, staring at the glittering tower of glasses. A mischievous light shone in his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion”, you scolded him and grabbed him by the sleeve of his doublet.

“What?”, the rogue replied and pouted at you. “I wasn’t going to do anything, love.”

You simply shook your head and dragged Astarion to the next room. And for extra safety made an extra big circle around the giant stack of glasses. “Spoilsport”, the vampire whispered sulkily under his breath as you entered the next room.

Seemingly, you were still in the gourmet area: here an enormous buffet was presented. Long tables with snow-white tablecloths were topped with platters and trays of delicacies of which you were sure you couldn’t even name a third and decorated with candelabra and vases full of flowers.

Lots of people were walking around the long tables, elegantly putting tiny portions on their tiny plates and eating tiny bites while shamefully covering their tiny mouths while chewing. Some though had huge piles of food on their small plates and basically just tipped whatever was on there into their open mouths. You were somehow appalled by both – as was Astarion, judging by the downturned corners of his mouths when you looked at him.

You were delighted though at the opportunity to eat something– you surely could feel the champagne starting to have an effect on you. So you walked over to the table closest to you and grabbed a small plate.

You walked along the platters, looking at pies, canapés, meats, vegetables – and were hopelessly lost. You indeed had no idea what most of these dishes were. Looking for help you threw a look at Astarion that you hoped would convey your cluelessness. And he didn’t miss a beat.

With a hand on your back for moral support he called out all the dishes and delicacies and gave his recommendations on what you might like and what better to leave sitting. You piled up your plate with what you felt like was a good compromise between the two portion sizes dominating the room and ate. Even Astarion grabbed a plate and eclectically chose a few certain things to try.

Of course, everything was delightfully tasty. Even the picky vampire seemed impressed and even motivated you to try some of the riskier stuff – involving some slimy and awful tasting seafood and some meats you were sure should actually by really anyone. But you still enjoyed the opportunity to try new things – and even Astarion’s laughter when you almost gagged after trying something especially vile. (You were sure he’d exactly pushed you to try it for this exact reaction – payback for that one time you had dared him to eat something utterly spicy without warning him.)

Afterwards you went back to grab some of the stuff you had already deemed delicious. You happily munched and chatted with Astarion until you saw the giant chocolate fountain in the far corner of the room. Surely this had to be fuelled by magic. It seemed like from the top corner of the room a true chocolate spring had originated, the streams of the sweet treat dripping down several levels as if it were a very slow – and sugary – waterfall seemingly dripping into nothingness before it hit the floor.

Servants handed out chocolate covered fruits and desserts to the guests while delicious goodness slowly streamed behind them. Your jaw dropped as the thought of just holding your open mouth underneath the chocolatey stream crossed your mind.

And Astarion must have seen the exact thought on your face as he looked at what you were staring at. “Don’t even think about it, darling!”, he mockingly repeated the words you had only spoken a few minutes ago and moved his head sassily.

You grinned at him. “What?”, you played along with his charades. “I was only about to get some dessert!”

“Then do that but leave some room for more dessert later, eh?”, Astarion replied quickly enough while already guiding you to the chocolate spring and you were once again flustered by how easy this man pulled out lewd comments.

You grabbed a bowl full of chocolate covered strawberries and tried one. Your eyes almost rolled back in delight by how sweet and tasty they were.

“Care to share, my sweet? This must be good if you make that face”, Astarion commented, tongue in cheek and eyes half-lidded. Ah yes, he was also very good at making seemingly innocent things not so innocent anymore.

You held up a strawberry for him to try. He grabbed your hand holding the fruit firmly and very slowly leaned in close to you while not breaking eye contact with you and – of course – licking his lips before taking a bite. Then he bit into it, taking his sweet time while letting his thumb wander over your hand, involuntarily making you gasp. You immediately felt electrified.

Astarion licked up the red juice from the strawberry and the chocolate from his lips and teeth, showing his fangs as he unwaveringly kept looking in your eyes and holding your hand.

“So sweet, my dear darling, almost as sweet as you”, he whispered hauntingly while you felt drips from the delicious fruit run over your fingers and hand and waves of arousal ran through your body.

Then he leaned in again, taking the rest of the strawberry out of your hand, his soft lips closing around your fingers, sucking for a short moment and his tongue flicking over your fingers. Astarion’s sparkling ruby eyes were still on you, patiently observing your reaction, one eyebrow twitching playfully.

Your lips parted slightly and your eyes widened as the vampire then lifted your hand up farther and just licked the remaining strawberry juice off the palm of your hand, his fingers steadily around your wrist.

“Gods, Astarion, love making you eat out of the palm of my hand, but you got to stop making everything so sensual!”, you whisper-screamed at him when he finished the job by sucking up a speck of chocolate from the top of your index finger. You stared at him in silent panic – desperate to not find out how far he would make you go in this very public space if he kept going.

But Astarion simply pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand before he finally let go with a wink and a smirk: “That’s what you get for not letting me have some fun with the mountain of crystal glasses.”

“We’re in public!”, you replied and whacked his arm. He simply laughed, shrugged and stole another strawberry from your bowl with roguish quickness.

“Hey!”, you exclaimed and turned away from him to put your fruity treasure out of his reach. He grabbed you by the waist then and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek from behind. “Alright, I leave the rest of the sweets for my sweet”, he chuckled and then put a hand on your back again to make you start walking again.

“As for the rest: I’m not going to apologise to make you flustered in public – it’s too much of a delight to see your cheeks blush when you think of something naughty, my love”, he whispered into your pointy ear and you tried to elbow him. But the vampire just laughed again and elegantly moved over to your other side. “And smell it too.” You tried with your other elbow but he was again way too quick and only laughed when you threw him some lustrous insults for his cheeky behaviour.

You kept snacking on your dessert as you explored more of the mansion and the party. Many rooms were just filled with people talking – the rooms merely only discernible by other colours and themes: forest green with paintings and statues of nymphs and other mythical creatures of the wild, red and gold underlined with motives of embracing lovers and tasteful depictions of naked bodies, lavender being represented with lots of floral patterns - and as you noticed – depictions of highly poisonous flowers and plants.

A blue room, filled with artworks of sea creatures and merfolk then gave you both the feeling of being in the deep sea all of a sudden. Doors were leading outside again, opening up to what you could only describe as a round open-air grotto. It was lined with columns forming an arcade around the small space despite most of the walls looking like an island cave had sprouted from the ground right there. Under the arcs of the columns springs and shallow pools were placed and everything was decorated with statues and shells and fountains.

The two of you walked over to the glass doors thrown open to the outside and watched the spectacle there that had attracted quite a huge group of partygoers.

Lots of guests were pressed into the small outside space, some standing, many sitting on the edges of the pools and springs. And in the middle under the biggest arc a huge rock was placed in the midst of the basin. On top of it sat what you immediately thought must be a siren. She was incredibly beautiful, shiny black hair was covering up her naked upper body and her long, scaled tail was lazily draped over the rock, the end of it hanging in the shallow water. The silver moonlight reflected off her oily long hair and the shiny scales on her lower body.

She was singing – of course she was. Her hauntingly beautiful face filled with sorrow as her pitch-black eyes seemed miles away and her ballad filled the space with her longing and yearning song. Her hands slowly combing through her slick hair with her fingers or reaching out to grab something that wasn’t there then shying back when realising.  The forked fin of the siren seemingly absent-mindedly kept splashing the closest on-lookers.

Around her basin some people had already crept closer, eyes wide and mouths open, completely enthralled by her voice. Parts of skirts and several hands were already dipping into the water as the audience was bewitched by her performance. A sturdy dwarf was on his hands and knees crawling closer, his expression mindless as he got his trousers and doublet wet.

You felt the draw of the enchantment she was weaving. A feeling of intense grief and longing overcame you and made your chest hurt. Tears welled up in your eyes and when you looked over to Astarion you saw his eyes also seemed dangerously wet. But his tone was flat while he looked over the spectators that kept closing in on the creature and it’s deadly lure and whispered: “Like critters getting caught by a glue trap.”

At least your elven heritage meant you had more resistance to the pull of her song than most of her audience. The two of you kept watching the performance but you found yourself sucking your cheek in and biting into it – a reminder that you were here and not there. Not in this unearthly and dark place the siren kept singing about.

You grabbed Astarion’s hand and dragged on it as a new feeling of uneasiness settled in your stomach. The remainder of strawberries suddenly tasted sour in your mouth.

Astarion wrapped an arm around your shoulder and affectionately rubbed your arm, throwing you worried glances. You quickly went on to other parts of the mansion as you found yourself hoping that the pools weren’t deep enough to drown in or at least that the bewitched spectators wouldn’t lose more than their dignity and maybe some of their gold.

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque @worryknotdear

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies #tav #bg3

[medic-simp]

Just Go To Sleep - Third Night

Rating: Gen || Chapter Word Count: 962Chapter Content Warnings: one-sided pillow fight, silco snoring, silco being a bitch, slow burn

Masterlist || Previous || Next || AO3 Work Link

Taglist: @averagecrastinator, @ilikemymendarkandfictional, @deny-the-issue, @popoisatan DM me to be added to the taglist! &lt;3

Summary:

Hard times fall upon you and your apartment is unlivable. You have no one to ask for help other than your boss, Silco. Luckily, he's got some space for you.

If it was a different situation, one might think to themselves, I could get used to this. Warm fluffy bed, three nights in a row? Sounds fucking amazing! You’ve never seen such hospital behavior from Silco, especially after you’ve woken up atop him, kneed him in the balls, and had to borrow his clothes. However, as you kick him for the millionth time, you would likely rather poison the man than put up with him and his infernal snoring any longer.

He stirs now at your most recent jab, starting groggily.

“What…?”

Silco shifts a hand through his bed-ridden hair, not doing much to calm the rogue strands sticking up and out from his head as he sits up. The baggy maroon t-shirt he wears is clinging to his chest with its loose material, too big for him and giving only a hint at what the lithe frame underneath may look like. It’s a sleep shirt that has been worn through many a restless night. It looks older than you.

“What did you kick me for?” The squinty glare he gives you is far from intimidating as he continues to wake up a little more, but you can certainly tell how annoyed he is. Normally, you would care, your life would be on the line putting him in a mood this sour. But he certainly deserves it.

“Because you won’t stop fucking snoring!” you hiss, leaning forward from your propped up position to give your wrists a break. Silco cuts a glare that screams, that's crazy, and suddenly, you’re tempted to grab your pillow and hit him.

“I don’t snore,” he scoffs, flopping back into the sheets and moving further away from you. You’ve just decided that previous temptation might not have been such a bad thing.

Without second thought your hands shoot behind you, take your pillow in hand, and obliterate Silco’s head with a single blow. The harsh whoomf! echoes in the quiet of the room, ringing dully with the air settling around you, and you swear you can hear the gears churning in Silco’s brain as he tries to fully process the fact that you just hit him with a pillow.

He sits up once again, not looking at you but off into the distance. The breath he takes before he actually speaks to you is one that sends anxiety surging through your bones. For all you know you’re about to get murdered by this man–but his mouth quickly closes again in a slight reconsideration of his thoughts.

“You’re having trouble in your apartment,” he starts and you cannot help the irritated roll of your eyes. You are so very unwilling to hear a lecture from him at, oh, let’s say, one o’clock in the morning.

“You cannot sleep anywhere, and of course you talk to me about it.” Silco’s volume hovers just under normal speaking levels, a low, tired roll of thunder that resonates much more gravely and indignant than usual. He sounds confused, an emotion it never occurred to you that Silco could express, him being so knowledgeable all the time.

“You refuse the offer of my office couch.”

“Because I couldn’t sleep on that brick if my life depended–!”

“You refuse the offer of my office couch.” At your interruption, Silco’s voice raises noticeably above normal speaking volume, not quite loud enough to be disruptive, but certainly enough to make you stop talking.

“And when I open up my personal space to share with you, something I have never been fond of doing with anyone–less, my damn employees–and I lend you my bloody clothes, you assault me with my own bedware in my own bed!”

Not another second passes before you give up and throw the covers off yourself, marching towards the door in your tank top and shorts.

“Where are your other pillows?”

Silco is up in half a second, rubbing his temples in agitated circles.

“You will not touch another pillow,” he hisses, “bloody weapons in your hands.”

You scoff, “I’m not going to hit you again,” but Silco does not relent.

“How am I supposed to trust you after you’ve just hit me? I should throw you back out into the office for all of thi-”

“Just give me two fucking minutes!”

Silco is stunned–you are stunned–but he acquiesces.

“They’re in that closet. Three or four more.”

He holds out a finger towards a set of paneled doors. His cheeks are red hot with anger, that fiery red eye almost searing a hole into you, but he doesn’t say another word.

Soon, you’re hauling all of the pillows you can find to Silco’s bed and pile them up on the pillow he already had, building a hefty lump that he just glares at in befuddlement. He doesn’t ask you what it’s for, but the crease in his brow is enough for you to explain.

“If you sit up while sleeping you’ll stop snoring.”

Silco is deadpan, “I’m not sleeping on that.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not sleeping period while you snore like a fucking ogre.”

Silco sneers, “Neither of us will sleep if you’re slinging pillows like a bloody troll.”

Holy shit. He just said that.

You’re speechless. No matter how badly you want to respond to Silco, to throw shit back at his face, to call him names and all other matters of foul derogatives, you’re at a loss for words. Instead, you simply climb into bed and roll away from him, hoping Silco catches the stubborn silence you’re making a point with.

Silco scoffs, and doesn’t say a word more. Soon, the light is turned out and Silco is in bed too.

As the room settles into a peaceful quiet, you can’t help but notice that Silco doesn’t toss away the pillows.

#silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #slow burn #just go to sleep #JGTS #lilith writes #medic-simp #mdni

[puppetmaster13u]

Slowly rotating combining my cryptid omegaverse Gotham (where they can swap and switch between secondary sexes and if you stay in Gotham long enough your scent starts to disappear as well) and my Dragon Curse Gotham (Originally a DP crossover but probably wouldn't for the main AU) prompts. Into its own Au.

Where Gotham can change into dragons, and it's like the One thing they all keep secret from Outsiders. Everyone has three forms depending on the secondary sex they are at the time, while children have a form similar to a parent just, more stone-colored for camouflage. If that makes sense.

So normally I'd make world-building from scratch but I'm not drawing dragons from scratch for this. Like three for each character ever? Ehhh, sorry not happening lol. So I'll probably use Flight Rising or something similar to come up with things to base their dragon forms off of.

Anyway if you're here, hope you don't mind ramblings lol.

Everyone in the world is either Alpha/Beta/Omega/Delta but Gotham is cryptid-like in that they can change their secondary sex at will

The longer ones family has been in Gotham the quicker while newcomers might take months for a single shift 

Newcomers’ scents will also begin to disappear like a delta’s but continue to have a 2nd sex

Secondary sexes are a mixture of body parts, scents, and aura, almost akin to psychic bubbles around someone that shows mood and other information 

Most second-sex puberties come in around the age of twelve, though the semi-sexual half doesn’t come in until the age of seventeen on average 

It’s a well-kept secret of Gotham having a more benevolent curse of people becoming dragons

The form is influenced by whatever secondary gender they are at the time

Unless they are children in which case their form is similar to whatever their parents’ might be, but a solid gray-black color that camouflages with the Gotham streets 

Gotham also has several animals & plants similarly mutated well, everything

Reality warping is also canonically an issue with an entire street disappearing every week & gravity around certain places being odd on certain days

So if You're a Gothamite you get to have a third dragon puberty where you start getting your adult forms and colors and all that stuff

Secondary sexes are a mixture of body parts, scents, and aura, almost akin to psychic bubbles around someone that shows mood and other information

The longer ones family has been in Gotham the quicker they can shift between genders while newcomers might take months for a single shift

Deltas are: People with no secondary sex, usually due to a medical condition that is usually hereditary, but can also happen from large damage to glands as a young child before presentation Unless you are a Gothamite, as every person who stays there for extended periods of time becomes scentless or a combination of scents/auras even if they’re another sex Children are sometimes wrongly referred to as Deltas even though the proper term is Unpresented 

So in other words, Gotham is Really Fucking Weird to the rest of the world. Some people might and probably would use it to transition though, also helped by the fact that there's so many scholarships in Gotham. I mean, look at how many of the rogues have PHDs.

Now the Delta thing is semi-important because for example Clark, as an alien, doesn't have a scent. Which mean he's very much Noticed the first time he's sent by Perry to Gotham. He's kind of confused as to why he's so welcomed compared to all the other Daily Planet reporters, but he's not complaining. And it gives him an excuse for his scent, as it is known that Gotham is in fact Like That when it comes to scent disappearing and other such things.

I would continue rambling but I need sleep at some point lmao Will definitely add more later tho

#batman au #batman #dc #dcu #prompts #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #cryptid gotham #Gotham is just Like That #Gotham Says Fuck Binaries lol #No clue what to call this au #Dragon Curse Au #Omegaverse Au #Gotham Hoard Au #Some prefer one gender but others freely swap #There are identity shenanigans galore with the batfam #remind me to elaborate later #cryptid batfam

[mylackoffaith]

Dragon's Dreamer - Part II

Summary: Daemon does not like Hightowers. Especially the perfect little hightower bastard girl, who was sleeping in his bed.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x modern!reader word count:1497 words

Daemon always believed the Hightowers were the epitome of dullness and arrogance, parading around as if they owned the Seven Kingdoms with their highborn noses reaching the heavens. The memory of the day he encountered the insufferable cunt—right after the death of his father, Baelon—still lingers vividly in his mind.

The day had been gloomy, the kind that matched Daemon's foul mood on the occasion of his father's funeral. The cunt had been going around, collecting congratulations for his new position as the Hand, and offering condolences with the same fake smile.

Daemon's patience, already as short as a summer night in the North, reached its breaking point. Frustration brewed within him like wildfire, and in a fit of dragon-worthy impulse, he decided it was time to put an end to the Hightower's act.

So, with the grace of a storm, Daemon did what any Targaryen worth his dragon would – he took Otto down, fists descending on the cunt's face.

His grandsire had been furious, as had been Viserys, but Daemon wore his rebellious spirit like armor. The scuffle became the talk of King's Landing, whispered in the shadows and shared over goblets of Arbor Gold in the Red Keep. Otto Hightower, the lofty Hand of the King, humbled by the Rogue Prince in a brawl.

The twit strutted around the Red Keep sporting a black eye like a badge of honor, and Daemon? Well, he earned himself a new moniker—The Rogue Prince. And that marked the beginning of the brewing feud between Daemon and Otto.

The feud continued, each encounter turning into a play. Daemon, with his smirk as sharp as Valyrian steel, takes a certain pleasure in needling Otto.

To this day, Daemon has no idea what his aunt Viserra had seen in the Hightower prick to bed him, but he figured it must have been some twisted sense of humor.

Now that he thinks about it, his aunt was fond of charity. Perhaps, in her charitable moments, she thought the Hightowers needed a dash of Targaryen blood to liven up their dull, highborn lives.

That charitable act resulted in the birth of the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, a bastard by name but cherished enough by Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and Viserys to be deemed trueborn. So much that the Hightower girl, while in Viserra's womb, was gifted a dragon egg from his grandsire.

Her arrival, however, bore a bitter sweetness. On the very day this Hightower girl opened her lilac eyes to the world, the realm mourned the loss of Daemon's beloved aunt, Viserra.

The girl's motherless fate left an ache in the hearts of the Targaryens, but Alysanne and Jaehaerys, in their grief, found solace in the babe with ginger locks and white streaks.

It had stung when there had been no celebrations for Daemon claiming Caraxes, but when the girl's egg hatched in her cradle, the old King and Viserys didn't put her down for days on end. The small room echoed with the laughter of a king and the coos of an infant dragon.

Daemon, still young, didn't quite warm up to the girl. In fact, he harbored a dislike for her. She seemed to steal away the attention that was once solely his.

Before her, Daemon was the youngest Targaryen, the darling of the family, and now, this Hightower girl had shifted the spotlight. It wasn't just his favourite aunt Viserra he lost; it was the undivided focus of everyone around him.

Days melted into nights, and the halls of the Red Keep echoed with the laughter of a king and the coos of a dragon-blessed child. While Daemon brooded over the lack of attention, the little Hightower girl grew up under the watchful eyes of her Targaryen kin.

Jaehaerys, in his grandfatherly pride, declared her the "realm's jewel" when presenting her to the people of King's Landing. But for Daemon, she remained a constant reminder of what he was compelled to share—his place in the sun, his family's gaze, and the undivided attention he once claimed as his birthright.

Pious and pretty, she was the ideal princess of the Red Keep, a vision that Jaehaerys delighted in showcasing. To the people, she became a prized possession, a radiant gem adding luster to the Targaryen legacy.

Yet, for Daemon, her brilliance cast shadows over his own accomplishments, leaving them diminished in the face of her grace.

Whenever Daemon voiced his discontent to Viserys, his brother's response was a dismissive eye-roll, steadfastly aligning with the girl. Daemon found himself pitted against the perfection she effortlessly embodied, his protests falling on deaf ears.

To make it worst, Caraxes, Daemon's dragon, seemed infatuated with the girl's dragon, Stormsong—a stunning, pure white dragoness with hints of pale blue that could steal anyone's breath. Painfully, Daemon found himself conflicted, for, despite the rivalry, he couldn't deny the beauty of Stormsong.

It was downright comical how Caraxes would gallantly soar across the skies, hunting for prey like a knight on a quest, all to lay the spoils at Stormsong's feet.

The absurdity reached its peak when Stormsong, regal and nonchalant, would casually accept Caraxes' offerings. No grand displays of gratitude—just a quick nibble, a dismissive flutter of her massive wings, and a return to her stoic disinterest. Caraxes, the poor love-struck fool, was stuck in a loop of hunting, presenting, and being ignored.

"She's just one dragon, Caraxes, not the damn Queen of Love and Beauty." Daemon had tried to convince his blood wyrm.

Caraxes rumbled in disagreement, his gaze never wavering from Stormsong, who was being groomed and licked by her mother, Dreamfyre. Stormsong was a dragon version of the little Hightower, if there ever was one.

The peace was short-lived as Stormsong grumbled at her mother, pulling away. With a soft thrill, the dragoness took flight, her wings cutting through the air with grace that made even Daemon paused momentarily.

But he quickly shook off his distraction, turning to confront his blood wyrm. "Do not even think of—" Daemon's words were abruptly silenced as Caraxes took flight in pursuit after Stormsong.

Caraxes was nothing if not determined. It was embarassing to see his dragon reduced to one of those pitiful lovers in those books Aemma reads.

Everything in Daemon's life was affected by the girl. A constant thorn in his side. The Hightower girl, despite being a bastard by name, had the uncanny ability to steal the limelight.

Stumbling in after a night of indulgence in the finest wines, Daemon was greeted by a scene that would make even the most seasoned warrior question reality. There she was, the little Hightower, lying in his bed like she owned the place, completely in the nude.

Daemon, not one to be easily flustered, blinked a couple of times, wondering if the wine had played a trick on him. But no, there she remained, sprawled across his bed in all her ginger-haired glory, softly snoring like a dragon who'd had a few too many sheep for dinner.

A mix of confusion, irritation, and a hint of amusement flickered across Daemon's face as he surveyed the unexpected guest. Can he have one day where this girl doesn't create havoc in his life? Apparently not."

"Did you lose your way to the sept and mistakenly wander into a dragon's lair?" he quipped, his tone a blend of sarcasm and genuine curiosity. The girl remained blissfully oblivious, undisturbed by the chaos her mere presence was causing.

Daemon considered waking her with a nudge or a shout, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the situation or the wine still coursing through his veins, but he found himself oddly captivated by the sight of the girl in his bed.

Just for tonight. He can deal with her for one night.

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