#roguish cat

[roguishcat]

Honeycomb

Summary: Astarion had a brilliant, fool-proof plan. And nothing, especially not a piece of honeycomb, would get in the way.

A/N: My brain is running on almost no fuel. There probably are mistakes and misspelled words. Kindly tell me if you notice anything. ❤️I would like to make this into something longer in the future, maybe finally try my hand at writing something steamy. Would anyone be interested in reading something like that? Let me know.

Tags: sexy Halsin, annoyed Astarion, some suggestive themes.

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Oneshot, 1.2k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

She was doing it again. Staring at that- that huge oaf of a druid as if he was the most fascinating thing ever.

Astarion scowled. The problem wasn’t even that she was attracted to Halsin. Because one would have to be blind or a complete liar to say that the druid was nothing to look at. What annoyed him that the druid could command all Tav’s attention after she had a taste of what Astarion had to offer. Having spent a mind-blowingly amazing night with an earth-shatteringly gorgeous vampire, Tav should not be eye-fucking others around the campsite!

And yet she was. Granted, she was not the only one who could not look away. Even Shadowheart seemed to be enjoying the show, murmuring something to Karlach which had the tiefling nodding and licking her lips.

And how did it start you may ask? Well, it started with a piece of honeycomb.

Tav, being the sweet, caring, lovable fool that she was, worried that Halsin did not feel welcome when he first joined them. They were fast approaching Shadowlands, meaning that they would soon leave behind the lush greenery of the forest in favour of the grim dangerous landscapes of the cursed lands near Moonrise. Although the thought was unsettling for everyone, Tav was worried about how a druid, whose comfort for some reason that Astarion could not possibly fathom mattered to her, would fare being stuck among all the death and destruction.

And what about Astarion, hm? Did she think about him? Oh, no! Because apparently he was not at the top of the list of her priorities. And that was… irksome. And Astarion showed that he was annoyed in the healthiest, most obvious way possible. That is, ignoring Tav and brooding. Which for some reason was not getting quite the reaction that he was hoping for.

But yes, the honeycomb. He did digress.

Tav found a large piece in the afternoon and proudly presented it to Halsin with a radiant smile, who accepted the treat with thanks, his fingers brushing Tav’s as he took it out of her hands. And therein lay the problem.

Halsin’s fingers.

Because apparently no one told him that one was not meant to eat with his hands, especially in such a scandalous way!

Halsin’s hands were sticky with honey, fingers glistening in the light of the fire as he sucked each digit clean like a man starved. Tav was transfixed, blush dusting her cheeks, spoon suspended in midair because she forgot that she was, in fact, eating in favour of the pay-per-view show that she had the front seat to.

Astarion gritted his teeth. Surely the druid could not be that oblivious? Surely he was doing this on purpose? Well, whatever his game was, Astarion could not allow this to continue. Because no matter how dishonorable his intentions for Tav were, he was definitely not done with her. And he would not be done with her at least until she and the merry band that called her leader marched into the city, slaughtered Cazador and defeated all foes that got in the way of their de-tadpoling. Then, and only then, he would think about dismissing Tav. If he so chose.

With that in mind, Astarion grabbed a bucket full of water and marched across the campsite, making his way for Halsin. It was time to put a stop to this.

“There. You might find it easier to clean up this way, hm?” he mocked, thrusting the bucket into Halsin’s hands.

“Thank you, Astarion. How thoughtful of you,” Halsin nodded, confused and not quite understanding what got the vampire so annoyed.

“Anytime,” Astarion huffed, pivoting on his heel, and making his way towards Tav, who finally noticed that the stew dripped off her spoon and onto her lap.

“Tsk, such a messy pup,” he scolded playfully, “why don’t we get you out these dirty clothes and into something more comfortable?” he leaned closer to her ear, letting his breath ghost over the shell.

His breathy invitation was quite lost on her, however, as at this moment Halsin chose to pour the water onto his head.

It was Tav’s squeak and wide eyes that made Astarion snap his head in the druid’s direction, ruby eyes narrowing as he released a growl at the sight that had Tav’s undivided attention.

Rivulets of water running down pectorals, getting caught in the grooves in the skin between the rolling muscles, and then down, down, down-

“Why does that druid never seem to have a shirt on?” Astarion hissed, finally having enough of this, and grabbing Tav’s hand to pull her away and towards his tent.

He could distinctly hear Karlach’s raucous laughter as the tiefling caught on to what got Astarion’s panties in a bunch, followed by amused sounds coming from the other companions. Astarion could not quite bring himself to care because he knew what his priorities were. And right now, it was high time to remind a certain someone what her priorities should be. Namely him and his needs.

Tav almost tripped as he shoved the flap of his tent aside, pulled her in and made sure the cloth slid back into place behind her. He, unlike certain someone, did not need an audience.

“Astarion? What happened? Is everything okay?”

Oh, that poor, oblivious, sweet idiot. If it were anyone else, he would be quite sure that she did all that on purpose, just to get a rise out of him. But not so. The look she was giving him now was genuine. All the more reason to keep this powerful, yet oblivious creature under his thumb.

“Nothing, darling, I am quite well. Just hungry, that’s all,” he purred, advancing on her step by tantalizing step, eyes locked on his prize.

“Oh! Of course! Sorry, today has been a lot, I forgot to offer,” she pulled the fabric of her collar aside to bare her beautiful neck to him, the imprints from the bite left after his previous feeding still visible.

Astarion licked his lips and pressed his mouth to her skin, delighting in the shallow gasp that she gave at the contact.

“As alluring as your neck is, my sweet,” he swept his tongue up the column of her neck and lay a tender kiss on the bitemarks, “I hope that there is more, much more on offer tonight.”

As he sank his fangs into Tav and felt her blood flow onto his tongue, Astarion soon found himself grinding against the swell of her ass, the hand that was not holding her in place sneaking to caress her breast. Which was when Astarion had to remind himself that he was doing this just to keep Tav on his side. It was simply a matter of convenience. Nothing more, nothing less. And this was certainly not something that he had to keep reminding himself of more and more as they progressed on their journey.

And yes, perhaps bedding Tav has been quite fun. She was a vision, with her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kisses parted as she moaned his name sweetly into the night. But that was just a perk. Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself a little, given the opportunity?

Yes, his plan was flawless. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

[ambercast]

luciana rivera attending the flower festival

[nova-rogue]

i wish there were more small, fast options for making like. $5. i want a little treat. but i lack $5. u see my dilemma

[smugglinbax]

Deja Vu...

@wildcatofgreen

Avalice...

That's what the locals called it, but to the galaxy at large? it was CR-B739 a world designated as still in development. There were rules about visiting such worlds and rules against sharing technology with said worlds. However Hex was not a part of those worlds that abided by those rules. He was on the fringe, and operated between the lines but, this was honestly more of a personal trip then anything else. He always took note of those worlds where tails and fur were common, places he could blend in and no one would notice. Avalice was just such a world.

So why was it that no matter how hard he tried he could not catch a break? He found himself in one bad spot after another as the two Bounty hunters were hot on his heels. He thought he'd hide here, it'd be a nice place to hide out! no one was gonna find him! But then these green suited bozos showed up and started asking questions. He felt like he recognized them, weren't those emblems familiar? He couldn't remember and the blaster shot went over his head as he ducked around a corner and SLAMMED into the green feline! but ever so nimble, he touched Carol's shoulders and spun with her keeping himself from falling and her as well! The cool metal of his hand touching her shoulder. His Hologuise failing for a split second as they came into contact.

Hex felt like he recognized her, just stopping to stare at her for what felt like forever. But a blaster shot made him push her across the allyway out of harms way, a spark flashing as it struck his right arm, bouncing off the cool red steel. He didn't have time to think about it he simply turned and made a break for it. A small contingent of Brevon's mechanized soldiers rushing past Carol in broad daylight and chasing after the stranger. No point in the hologuise he realized, so he focused on escape!

" AARRGG! never fails! someone is always shooting at me!? Just once i wanna go someplace and NOT be dodging blaster fire! "

His right arm was limp now, that blaster did its job, must have busted a servo! great just what he needed! Well nothing to do now but figure a way out of this mess!

" COME ON I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU PEOPLE! "

[shotmrmiller]

neighbor ghoap deciding it’s time to quickly put their plan into action once they get a taste of reader’s own sounds through the walls.

Brought home some guy off tinder, and they were seething the whole time. They heard the door slam, noting that the guy had left, and your moans started again. This time they were different, real, which just made Simon start laughing.

no cuz johnny almost bit through the skin of his knuckles in fury.

see, he's the one that's nudging at simon about how he needs to have you, even if it's the once.

(it's not gonna be but what simon don't know won't kill him)

simon is a bit reluctant because he's not used to sharing. what's his is his. period.

but johnny's got a honey mouth. he can spin straw into gold.

it takes a couple of deep throat blowjobs, and a few nights of murmuring directly into simon's ear as he gets fucked into the mattress to make simon see (his) reason.

and then you've gone and brought someone home. some bawbag that sounds like a cow about to breathe it's last. he feels rage, white hot, deep in his chest. his blood is practically at a rolling boil under his skin.

the last time he felt this angry was when they had makarov in the plane.

he can't even hear your sweet little whimpers you usually let out when you masturbate.

johnny turns to simon, who's absentmindedly cleaning his gun on the table and tells him to get up.

"make sure tha' feartie doesnae come back when he leaves, aye?" he snarls.

simon tips his head wordlessly. he'll let johnny order him around, just this once. the scrunched skin of johnny's nose as he bares his teeth in aggression is adorable.

he racks the slide of the gun and places it down with an audible clack, grabs his leather jacket from the chair and shrugs it on.

"does he need to disappear?"

johnny makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. "i dinnae care! just make sure he goes and stays gone."

simon moves quick- light on his feet toward him and fists his hair cruelly, forcibly craning johnny's neck back to lock eyes with him.

down boy.

"watch the attitude, or i'll be fuckin' it outta ya 'n there won't be anyone tell tha' imbecile t'piss off, yeah?" simon's voice rumbles with his warning.

if johnny had ears, they'd be pinned flat to his head. "aye."

he gives a soft slap to johnny's cheek. "good. i'll be back," and is out the door in seconds.

-

the next day, johnny corners approaches you in the lift, and rubs the back of his neck, feigning discomfort.

he watches your eyes widen, mouth gape in sheer horror as he tells you that he got no sleep, some guy couldn't stop caterwauling like a cat in heat last night.

oh, you look like you're about to burst into tears. he can't help but unabashedly stare at you. that expression is moving all the blood in his head south.

please cry. he'd come in his pants if you did.

the lift pings and the moment is broken, so johnny wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and does that he's always done best.

use his honeyed tongue.

"grab a tea with me? i promise to not bite." he walks out and steps to the side, extending a hand towards you.

he notices your hesitance, so he amps up his charm. johnny's lips curl into a roguish smile, the blunt edges of his white teeth barely visible.

"please? jus' a tea. i'll pay." simon's always said he looks best while begging.

you must seem to think so too, because you're sliding your much smaller, softer hand in his- fingers grazing the rings that adorn his hand.

"atta lass. we'll take a cab."

-

a few days later, johnny has the tv running in the background as he cooks dinner, when he hears:

'a man crashed into the bay, possibly under the influence...'

you're all theirs, now.

only theirs.

[btsvt-bar]

FEVER

pairing ꩜ journalist!mingyu x afab!reader x journalist!wonwoo

synopsis ꩜ a promotion at work, the new political reporter and a few bottles of wine. writing for a prestigious newspaper can be much more exciting than it seems. it all depends on who your co-workers are.

content/genre ꩜ frenemies with benefits, threesome, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are apreciated! lmk if you wanna be tagged on part 2 ♡

warnings under the cut!

part one | part two

warnings ꩜ smut, threesome, anal sex, oral (m. receiving), masturbation (f. and m. receiving), cum swallowing, double penetration, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex, sex in the workplace, voyeurism, tit sucking, jacuzzi sex, protected sex. lmk if i forgot something important.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

chapter one

The newsroom of the largest newspaper in the city of Chicago and the Great Lakes region was exactly what one could expect: true chaos. Phones ringing all the time, people talking loudly, papers scattered in the corners, journalists typing at full speed to deliver their articles in time… the place was a huge mess, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

You walk quickly among the dozens of tables scattered irregularly across the 6th floor of the building. Being the responsible for the entertainment and arts column, you needed to submit an unfinished article in less than two hours.

The click of your white scarpins were practically inaudible over the cacophony of the room. A little out of breath, you arrive at your table and drop your red bag on the dark wooden tabletop with an audible thump, drawing Kim Mingyu's attention.

The black-haired man looks away from the screen in front of him and starts analyzing your outfit. From the pants tight enough to outline your ass perfectly, the refined silk blouse showing just enough cleavage and the small crucifix that rested near your throat. Mingyu lets out a sigh, he hadn't been with you in bed for three hours and he already wanted to drag you back.

"Did you lose something here on my desk, Kim?" you question in a mocking tone when you notice him staring. Of course you wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease him.

"Not really" he responds by getting up and slowly approaching you. A roguish smile tugs at his mouth. "You, on the other hand, lost a pair of lace panties at my place."

"Mingyu!" you shriek and slap the man's strong chest.

"Relax, darling. No one listened." he informs with a wink. "Would you like a coffee? You look tired, didn't you sleep well?"

The worst part of spending the night with him was his inflated ego the next day.

"You are ridiculous."

In a completely childish act, you throw him a middle finger. Mingyu laughs and leaves to grab a coffee for the two of you.

If one asked any Chicago Tribune employee who y/n y/l/n and Kim Mingyu are, they would, undoubtedly, say "the biggest rivals who have ever worked here".

The two of you had been on the newspaper's journalistic team since the beginning of college. You started together as interns, and since then fought like cat and dog. You weren’t sure, but you thought your enmity started with an argument in the archives room. You just knew that "hating" Kim Mingyu in front of everyone was as natural as breathing.

What most people didn't know was that you don’t replicate Tom & Jerry's behavior when you are alone. Protected from curious eyes, you enjoyed your time in a much more pleasurable way.

Literally.

You hated the term "friends with benefits" to describe what you had with Mingyu. Yes, you were friends outside of work. And yes, you had sex occasionally. But you hated people's need to label things, so you preferred to think of Mingyu as just a friend. The "frenemies" dynamic worked well, both sides were comfortable with it.

And that was enough for now.

"I already added sugar. Two small spoons, right? "Mingyu declares as he approaches to hand over the mug filled with steaming coffee.

"Yes, thank you." you offer a grateful smile and take a small sip of the dark liquid.

You weren’t even surprised that he knew how you had your coffee, you’ve had many breakfasts together.

"Good morning!" Yunjin, your best friend, greets you with a beaming smile. "Have you seen Dino?" the youngest questions as she approaches you. "I need to get a file from his computer."

You look back at your friend's table and notice his backpack on the sideboard, but the man himself was nowhere to be found.

"Lipinski asked him to go to her office about twenty minutes ago." Mingyu responds without looking away from the computer screen. "I have no idea why."

You frown at the information.

"Weird." Yunjin comments when turning on her own computer.

"He’ll be back" you state with a shrug.

"Is he being fired?" Yunjin freaks out.

"He wasn't fired. "Mingyu laughs, amused by the situation.

"And how are you so sure?"

Mingyu points something behind you. You turn your head in sync with Yunjin, and see Dino walking towards the three of you. And he wasn't alone.

The man accompanying Dino wore a black suit, white t-shirt and a dark blue tie with white stripes. He was taller than Dino by a good few inches and, even in a suit, it was noticeable that he took care of his physique and probably went to the gym regularly. However, what left you and Yunjin flustered was his beauty.

"Guys, meet our new political journalist." Dino introduces the man.

"Jeon Wonwoo." says as he extends his hand to Yunjin, who was closer to him.

"Yunjin, fashion and lifestyle." the woman introduces herself by taking his hand.

Wonwoo addresses you with expectation in his eyes. His eyes, you notice, are striking and intense. The kind that seems to be able to read your soul with just one look.

"y/n, entertainment and arts."

Suddenly, you feel like the room is too hot.

Maybe it was because of the man in front of you, who was undeniably handsome and seemed too good to be true. Or maybe it was his baritone voice. You hadn't expected the deep, husky tone that came out of his full, heart-shaped lips.

You bite her lower lip to contain a sigh and shake his hand eagerly.

"Mingyu, sports." His face contorts a little, as if he’d already decided that he didn't like Wonwoo.

"Nice to meet you all" Wonwoo says with a friendly smile and adjusts his glasses over his elegant nose.

"Your table should arrive tomorrow." Dino says, drawing everyone’s attention. "You can use mine for today, I'm going to do some field work and I'll be out all day." the youngest explains as he gathers his belongings and puts them inside his backpack. "Now, I need to take you to HR. Let 's go".

Wonwoo agrees and leaves his backpack on the table. The two head to the elevator hall with Dino explaining more about how the newsroom works.

"I call dibs!" you exclaim as soon as you’re sure Wonwoo can’t hear you.

"Hey, not fair!" Yunjin whimpers.

"You already have Dino"

"And you already have Mingyu."

"Dibs… on what?" Mingyu raises his eyebrow when asking. He wasn't even sure if he even wanted to know what the two of you were talking about.

"To fuck him." Yunjin responds as if it was obvious, gesturing with her hand at the same time. "The new guy is pretty hot, if you ask me."

"Your bad taste scares me."

Mingyu's handsome features contort into a frown. He knew he had no right to be jealous of you, but he couldn't help it. It was difficult, even more so when it directly affected his ego. The thought that he might no longer be the only one to have your attention made him slightly irritated.

"Are you jealous?" you tease as you give the man a knowing look.

"He's dying of jealousy." Yunjin says in disbelief. "I never thought I would see Kim Mingyu like this."

"In your dreams, darlings." he says with a mocking tone and goes back to work. "I need to finish my article".

You exchange a glance with Yunjin and you two let out an amused laugh. You take a sip of your almost cold coffee and risk one last look in Mingyu's direction.

The man was frowning and pouting like a toddler being denied something for the first time.

"Don’t be like that. I promise you’ll always be my favorite." you smile flirtatiously.

Totally out of character, Mingyu offers a shy smile.

"You make it sound so sweet when you lie to me" he snorts and you laugh at the comment, finding the whole situation funny as hell.

Everyone returns to their tasks, but the slight irrational jealousy remains in Mingyu’s thoughts. He lets out an unhappy sigh, feeling extremely stupid.

The brunette takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to refocus on finishing the basketball game schedule he needed to deliver. For now, that’s all he could do.

chapter two

It was Wednesday and the Chicago Tribune newsroom was practically empty. You, Mingyu, Wonwoo and two other journalists were the only ones there.

You feel like you’re being watched and look around, finding Mingyu staring from his desk, his bottom lip casually caught between his teeth. You could practically hear his mind engines turning.

You were very angry at him the night before. Out of jealousy, Mingyu was a total dick to you and to Wonwoo at the company dinner. However, after you shouted at him for around 20 minutes and he fingered you in the backseat of his car, you calmed down a bit. You still pretended to be mad, but you weren’t one to really hold on to grudges.

"I need your help in the archives room. "Mingyu says, shaking you out of your own thoughts.

"Is it difficult for you to find a file on your own?" you tease, tilting your head mockingly.

Mingyu smirks.

"It would be easier if the person who organized it had a decent system, my dear." he teases, remembering why you supposedly hated each other. The man gets up and says: "Let's go, I don't have all day".

You roll your eyes at him, but stand up anyways. He leads the way, and the two of you leave an unaware Wonwoo behind.

Mingyu opens the heavy wooden door and lets you get in first. The lights flickered a few times before stabilizing. Several silver shelves filled with white folders were scattered around the place, as well as some wooden tables and chairs. In the right corner, they had a copy machine and other stationery items that could help journalists' research.

You walk a few inches to the first shelf and only then realize that Mingyu didn't say what he was looking for. "What do you want to find?"

"Archives about the 1958 World Cup."

"Hm... I don't know if we'll have much on the subject" you state as you walk towards the shelves at the end of one of the aisles. "This is the stupidest thing to find around here, why would you even… " you’re cut off when Mingyu turns you around to face him.

He presses you against the low sideboard against the back wall of the room. Your eyes widened, not understanding what was happening. Mingyu runs his large hand across your cheek. He wets his lips, staring at yours eagerly.

"Is it okay if I say ‘shut up and kiss me’?"

You roll your eyes, but grab the man by his tie and pull him in for a kiss. Mingyu lets out a sound of approval, satisfied with your attitude. He lifts you and places you on the sideboard, positioning himself between your legs.

Mingyu raises his hands to your ass and squeezes hard, bringing you even closer. You tangle a hand in his hair, while the other one lightly scratches his nape just the way you knew he liked. Your tongues caress each other with dexterity, having already done this hundreds of times.

The kiss wasn't at a desperate pace with a hint of anger, like it was the last time you hooked up. It seemed like Mingyu wanted to prove a point. He kissed you as if he wanted to mark you as his. And you loved it. The world seemed to disappear when you kissed like that. An earthquake could happen, none of you would notice.

The man separates your lips and starts distributing wet kisses across your jaw and neck. You let your head fall back, giving him more space to explore. Mingyu opens the buttons on the black blouse you wear and notices you weren’t wearing a bra. He lets out a grunt as he raises his strong hands calmly; touching you gently. Too gently. You start to get impatient, knowing you didn't have much time before someone else showed up.

Mingyu wraps his lips around your right nipple, making you let out a soft moan. He gives it a few seconds of attention before moving on to the other and repeating the same process of giving small licks and pulling away with a gentle brush of his teeth. He kisses up from your boobs to your neck, his hands stripping you out of your black skirt in the same rhythm.

"You can stop there." you pull the man by his dark locks when he tries to give you a hickey near your collarbone. You hated being marked in visible places.

"Sorry…" the look he gives you is warm and without the slightest trace of regret. His swollen lips pull back into a sly smile and you roll your eyes out of habit. With no more time to waste, the journalist opens the button on his own pants while you take care of removing your panties.

And that's when you see him. If Mingyu turned his face a little, he would see him too.

Precariously leaning on a file box, two hallways away, was Jeon Wonwoo. His eyes widen when he realizes that you discovered him there. You bite your lower lip and wink at him, making it clear that everything was fine.

Wonwoo lets out a breath, which he hadn't even realized he was holding until then. The man didn't intend to be there. He had gone to the files room after you, at Lipinski's request. He didn't expect to find his coworkers about to have sex.

And he didn't expect to want to stay there to watch.

Suddenly feeling bewildered, Wonwoo backs up until his back rests against the white cabinets that were adjacent to the bookshelf that hid him. He brings his right hand to his forehead and presses the space between his eyebrows with his fingertips.

The room was too hot, the black tie suffocated him, the tailored trousers felt like a prison. A little desperate, he runs his hand through his hair, removing it from his sweaty forehead. Your low moans pull him back to the reality of where he was and what was happening just a feet away from him. He straightens his body, ready to get out of there.

However, he can't leave without taking one last look.

Mingyu hid his face in your neck as he fucked you in a controlled tempo. You hugged him tightly, with your lower lip trapped between your teeth in an attempt to contain your moans.

As if they were magnets, your eyes soon meet Wonwoo's again. You smirk, amused to know he was still there.

With his hands shaking, the man lets out a tortured sigh and walks away, leaving the room as quickly and silently as possible.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

"I need to say something." you declare as you try to adjust the black blouse on your body. It was completely crumpled, but whatever.

"Go ahead” Mingyu turns to look at you.

You open and close your mouth several times, unsure of how to start the sentence. As someone whose job was the use of words, you were definitely failing to communicate.

"I didn't want to talk when we were... " you interrupted the sentence, implying what they were doing. "Wonwoo saw us."

Mingyu stops trying to straighten his messy hair and looks at you suspiciously, as if you had just told him that you knew which numbers would be drawn in the lottery.

"And that’s a problem because…?"

"Why aren't you nervous about this? "you question, finding the man’s reaction weird.

You tilt your head, analyzing the man in front of you. He was strangely calm for someone who had just heard that the new nemesis had seen naked the woman he had been jealous of a few days ago.

"What do you think he's going to do? Go out and tell everyone he saw us here?" he rolls his eyes and tucks the hem of his white blouse into his pants. "As if."

"Of course not, you moron. I thought you would freak out for another reason."

"And what reason could that be?" Mingyu asks, holding your chin with his long fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"Nevermind."

Mingyu shrugs, it was in his best interest to leave that subject aside. You try to adjust your black skirt, unzipping at the back to make the process easier.

"How much did he see?" Mingyu asks himself as he leans against the sideboard, waiting for you.

"I don't know when he arrived, but I saw him before you... oh, you know."

"Before I fucked you?" Mingyu laughs loudly and you slap his chest, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Who knows, maybe he learned a thing or two…"

"You are annoying, Kim Mingyu." you let an amused smile escape your lips.

You turn around in a silent request for help from the man, who zips up your skirt.

"And you love it, my dear" Mingyu kisses your neck as he carefully pulls the zipper up. "Now, move that beautiful ass of yours. We have deadlines." he gives you a playful slap on the butt before heading to the exit.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

© btsvt-bar, 2024

m.list ♡

read part two!

tags ꩜ i hope you liked it so far!

@asscoups17 @wonvsmile @porridgesblog @gaslysainz @thepoopdokyeomtouched @sunset-sana @coupsgfsstuff @stagefrjghts @wonuwonder

[politemenacephd]

Baby, its cold outside

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader (+18)

You arrive home after walking through a storm, and Miguel offers to warm you up. Fluff 💗 Smut

‘Hey! Babe, I’m home!’

You instinctively called up as you slipped through the front door to your apartment.

Your hands were freezing. Outside this apartment a winter storm was raging at its fullest, and your hands were chilled to the bone. You’d foolishly forgotten your mittens, despite Miguel’s insistence, and had gone out with only a small scarf and coat.

Your head was damp, your hair soaked, and your shirt was so wet it was stuck to your skin. You could feel goosebumps on every inch of your body, a deep chill that ran through to the soul.

‘Ah, shit…’ you mumbled while stretching and clenching your fingers. They felt stiff, and rigid, almost like they were stuck in cement. You watched them clench and unclench a few more times before glancing around.

No one had replied.

For a moment you felt your heart sink, as the continued silence seemed to imply that Miguel must be out, but right as you were losing hope you heard the distinctive heavy steps of your favorite man plodding down the hallway.

‘Mi amor? Hey, there yo—oh, ay Dios mio- did you get caught in the storm?’

Miguel whipped from affectionately soft to concerned as he rounded the corner towards you. You could see his sweet smile faltering as you came into view, shivering and smiling as best you could.

‘No! No, I’m- it’s fine! It’s fine’ you insisted. You raised both hands instinctively as he approached, trying to play off how chilly you were, only to

Miguel paused about an inch from his body, his head tilted down to look at you. The floor was physically wet beneath your feet, as your coat dripped and your sodden hair hung about your wet forehead.

‘Oh, mi amor—come here.’ With a sympathetic sigh, Miguel drew you in to his chest.

‘No, no—Mig I don’t wanna get you wet—’

You squeaked as he pulled you in regardless, gripping you hard to his chest. His strong arms squeezed you tight as he ran his hands up and down your back, and he let your body soak his shirt through until a tiny little artistic imprint of your body was pressed into the fabric.

Despite your complaints, you melted in his grip, your eyelids fluttering. He felt so, so warm. He must have been taking a nap before you got home…

‘Mi amor… There, there. Pobrecito’ Miguel cooed softly. He let his thumb rub up your waist one or two more times before he finally pulled back, fixing you with his soft red gaze.

‘I’m not a baby, Mig’ you replied with a slight scoff.

‘No, no. Not a baby. A damn fool is what you are’ he said in his sternest voice, to which you rolled your eyes again.

‘Fool- what are you, my dad?’

‘Depends. Do you need a strong masculine figure to tell you what to do?’ Miguel teased, his voice getting a little lower as his lips tilted into a roguish, handsome smile. You snorted.

‘Oh my god- you’re so corny!’

‘Mhm. Okay, just- say that again, but without your teeth chattering this time.’

As Miguel spoke he lowered himself, letting his lips brush your forehead. He chased you as you tried to avoid his gaze.

‘Hey! Ven aquí, ven aquí!’ he chuckled.

‘Be nice or I’ll go back out in the rain!’ you insisted right back, only stopping your little circles when you realized you really were still shivering up a storm. Miguel took the opportunity to nab you, letting his strong, rough hands wrap around your waist.

‘Alright, enough. Come on. Let’s get you in bed before you get sick’ Miguel insisted, and without even waiting for a reply he lifted your body and threw it over his shoulder. To him you barely weighed as much as a cat, and he’d happily pick you up and throw you around all day if he could.

You squeaked as you hit his shoulder, and were left dangling over his back as he carried you confidently through the house. You flushed as you realized he’d also grabbed just a little bit of your ass as he walked. He considered that his payment for his chauffeur duties.

Miguel carried you to the bathroom and tenderly helped strip your clothes aside, even when they stuck to your skin like latex due to the rain. Your shirt came off with a wet pop after he physically had to tug it, and once naked you really felt the cold hitting you fully.

You were shivering as he turned on the hot water in the shower, and when he touched you he could feel the goosebumps. His eyes softened up even further, like a sad dog, and he tutted lightly as he lifted you into the shower next.

‘Podrecito’ he whispered in your ear once more.

He allowed his arms and shirt to get soaked as he helped warm you up beneath the water, turning the heat and pressure up until the thundering water felt like a warm, full-body hug over your skin. You sighed, audibly moaning as your skin tingled at the heat, and the heavy pulsing jets massaged your sore muscles into bliss.

He gave you a quick wash with the soap bar for good measure, ensuring you were soft and clean, once again taking a few special liberties.

A kiss on the wet cheek, a little too much time spent soaping up your thighs and chest and belly, a few soft squeezes as he washed it away. You’d shoot him a knowing glance and he’d coyly smile back, the lines in his chiseled face creasing as he’d shoot you a sly wink. Every time you’d just get flustered and look away once more, much to his delight.

Only once you were fully warmed to the bone did he lift you from the shower and wrap you up in his fluffy robe, one that caused you to get bundled up like a burrito. You stood around with floppy sleeves nearly twice your length and a hood covering your entire forehead as he chuckled at the sight.

‘You look good in that’ he murmured. ‘Oh, I wish I’d brought my phone. I’d love this as a picture, I’d make it my background.’

You could only stick your tongue out at him. ‘If you dare, I’ll get a picture of you snoring tonight and make that my phone background. I’ll make sure everyone sees it too. You won’t be Mr. Perfect and Flawless then, will you?’

Miguel chuckled again, a beautiful husky sound that made you shiver. ‘Aw, no, come on. I’m always Mr. Perfect and Flawless to you, mi amor, eh?’

As he leaned in you buckled and flushed. ‘… Yes, you are’ you admitted, and with a louder chuckle he scooped you up into his arms.

You were carried back to your shared bedroom in that fluffy robe. He didn’t even bother to put you down and take it off; he dumped you onto the soft, squeaky mattress and yanked the robe so that you rolled out of it, chuckling the whole time as you yelped with delighted surprise.

Your breath was catching as he clambered into the bed beside you. His weight caused you to bounce nearly an inch into the air, and the sight of him kneeling on the mattress to tear his shirt over his head made your heart nearly explode.

He was so goddamn beautiful.

With a yawn he stretched out his gorgeous, perfect pecs before sliding down beneath the sheets and dragging your body towards his own.

You were pulled beneath the duvet like hapless prey dragged beneath the waves by a shark, smothered in sheets and thick fabric, until at last you came to rest in a spooning position with Miguel utterly surrounding your body.

He mumbled soft little nothings into your ear as he nestled you against him. ‘That’s it, mi amor, shh, shh… Mi corazón, eres tan hermoso/a…’

The moment you got beneath the sheets you sighed.

The heat of his body began to penetrate your skin, leaving you with a light tingling sensation. You nestled right into the sweet heat of his chest, the softness of his rounded, hairy chest. All you could hear was his slow breathing as it stirred your hair, and the pounding of rain against the window.

‘Mi amor’ you mumbled back. ‘Mm… so, warm…’

You nestled in against his chest and allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

Miguel watched you resting in his grip. You looked tiny in his arms, as nearly anyone would with his impressive height. He’d always been insecure about his height, terrified of hurting people, but with you… With you, it felt… Good. He felt protective. He felt strong and stable.

‘That’s it. You rest up’ he murmured softly. ‘You rest up.’

You were still shivering a bit, even now, with a scattering of soft goosebumps on your upper arms and thighs, but Miguel was attentive.

Bit by bit his warmth reached you, permeating deep until it felt like a glow in your chest, and soon you were slowly drifting in and out of sleep. Miguel, too, felt his eyelids growing heavy, as you both bathed in the warmth.

You felt his abs and pecs against your spine and neck, slowly moving you with every tender breath. He felt your ribs moving beneath his huge hands as you sighed. The rain continued to pound outside, while inside, you forgot all memory of ever being cold at all.

You slowly drifted off together, slumbering lightly while the sun set behind the storm clouds.

It was while you were spooning beneath the sheets, tucked against each other in that sweet embrace, that you felt something gently nudging at your back. You shifted and blinked a little.

‘Mm…’

Then you felt it again, right up against your rear, and your eyelids fluttered open. You knew that feeling all too well.

His hefty bulge was straining beneath his loose pants, his member gently throbbing against your bare ass. Your body reacted so fast that it made you dizzy.

The moment you realized he was getting hard against you, your insides quivered. You felt your face burning, your muscles tensing and your core aching as it twisted. You tried to cover it up but it was painfully obvious that you’d noticed, as your hips shifted by an inch or so.

Miguel purred and pulled you closer. He was clearly still in the grip of a light sleep, probably dreaming something improper.

You’d intended to slowly pull away, letting him calm down on his own, but you didn’t want to wake him up. Plus… Oh, god it felt good. When you moved, and felt it throb against his loose pants, the tip twitching with need as it felt your warm rear squishing it.

‘Mm...’

Miguel let out a soft, sleepy moan, and he made another lazy thrust at your behind. His shaft was getting more erect with each throb, the tip pushing up and between your ass cheeks even with the thin fabric of his pants between you. You almost melted into a puddle.

‘Ah, yeah… Yeah…’

Miguel let out another soft, half-mumbled moan as his erection grew to full size. You felt it shifting between your folds as it got too big, lightly inching between your thighs until it was practically kissing your vaginal entrance.

‘Tan mojado/a, mi amor… me encanta…’ Miguel mumbled. He started moving ever so slightly, just sleepily rocking his hips as if searching for relief even in sleep, prodding his thick member at your sensitive folds. You squeaked.

You could feel how wet you already were, how tense you were, torn between what to do. You felt the fabric getting wetter and wetter each time it rubbed up against you.

You shifted a little and felt it throb for the millionth time, right on that sensitive spot, and unable to stop you moaned.

‘Miguel—’

You blurted his name in a desperate whimper, and suddenly Miguel grunted. You froze as you felt him shift, lazily moving himself an inch or so as he realized what had happened.

‘Ah… Sorry, can you- can you feel that?’ he whispered. You gave a shy little nod.

‘Ah, y-yeah.’

‘Ay, mierda— Disculpa, mi amor’ he mumbled again. He was nestled into your hair still, his arms wrapped right around your waist as he groaned softly. ‘I tried to—I can move back, if you want, I just… You feel so good.’

You felt it throb again as his thumb moved back and forth over the bare skin of your waist. You felt your clit throb in response, beating like a heart as your mind wandered into dreamy little fantasies about his cock and what you wished it would do.

‘Ah—no, no, it’s fine. I gotta stay, close to get warm, right?’ you said softly.

You were sure you heard him grunt. You could almost feel his curiosity, the silent way his mind was turning as he tried to judge if you were implying what he thought you were implying. You just stayed still.

‘… Do you…’

Miguel stayed still, and while his body language was gentle and patient, his cock was anything but. You felt that thick shaft straining again, letting out a slight pulse like a heartbeat against your rear. You felt his pants were slightly wet now. God, he was already leaking. He must REALLY like this.

You were a sleepy mess right now, but, you weren’t so sleepy that you wouldn’t maybe enjoy just a little dry humping from that beautiful man…

‘… Yeah’ you whispered desperately. ‘Yeah, it’s okay if you wanna keep going.’

‘You’re sleepy, mi amor’ Miguel whispered right into your ear, his full lips and strong nose brushing the side of your face. His features turned up into a tender mask of concern to hide his deep, primal, absolute determination to grind against you.

You just chuckled back, your sleepy lips parted into a sigh. He admired those same lips from above you. They were so soft… so plump. So cold. He’d do anything to bite them…

No, no. Miguel gently slapped himself internally for getting carried away.

‘It’s okay’ you repeated gently, and to prove it you gently squeezed your thighs, tightening the grip around his shaft. His eyes rolled back like he’d just seen heaven. God, you were so soft, so tight, so warm. Perfect little angel. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

His hips bucked of their own accord, moving back and forth, grinding into your clit, and you moaned. That sealed the deal.

Miguel pulled back just to wrestle his pants down, leaving them hung loose around his thighs. His fingers found your hips and squeezed, dragging you to him.

‘Shh… you can keep resting, and- stay warm, under the blankets, just… l-let me, relieve myself before I fucking explode’ Miguel rasped.

You lay back and let him gently hoist your leg up, his hips scooting over the sheets until he was perfectly lined up to press in. He tested the waters, kissing and breathing on your shoulder as he edged his member up, feeling the soft flesh give away, before—

‘Mm, yeah-‘

With a low, heavy grunt he let the whole shaft slide right in, stretching out and stuffing you until your breath caught. He barely gave you a minute to settle before he started pumping, just lazily bucking his shaft in and out by a single inch, letting that fat cock bulge in your belly.

‘Mm, mm- good, good, there you go. Lemme just… Yeah, lemme just feel you.’

Miguel’s gruff, husky words were warm as he breathed them against your bare shoulder, as were his sweet moans. He was a loud lover, even in this sleepy state, as were you.

You moaned for him, and you tugged on the sheets and bit your lip, huffing and tensing tight around his cock as he lazily pumped it.

He was taking his time too, almost massaging your cunt with it, moving idly back and forth for minutes upon minutes. He went until your clit was swollen, until your slick had pooled and was dripping down his balls onto the sheets, until you were almost blissfully dumb with pleasure.

He kept his face in your hair as he went, breathing in your scent. He fucked you until you were barely coherent, and without even really putting in any effort at all.

Every so often he’d decide he wanted you to cum, and he’d make sure you did. He’d lower his finger to gently circle your swollen clit, whispering in your ear that you were his, all his, his good little puta/o, so wet and soft and stupid for going out in the rain, needing to be punished, and in barely a minute you’d tip.

You came a few times as he moved, and each time he’d stop afterward to kiss you and stroke your hair and soothe your trembling, post-spasm body, but he’d never pull out. Never. He’d let you warm his cock before moving again, gently pulsing back and forth.

He’d go all night if he could, and you’d let him.

[comatosebunny09]

Scenarios I can’t help thinking about [ ft. Asarion Ancunín ]

Following a fun shindig filled with wine and merriment and glittery things, you and Astarion wander into the hallway for a break.

The noise of the party fades as you walk side by side, your fingers idly brushing, and you both nudge each other like two enamored adolescents.

You, warm-faced and smiling like a fool, back toward a stone wall, hands clasped behind you, gazing up at Astarion. The candles in the wall sconce swaddle you both in their sensual glow.

“A lovely way to end the night, ey?” you muse from the tips of your toes.

Astarion studies you for a beat before angling himself closer. His hand presses against the wall beside your head, a smile taking possession of his lips as they pan in.

“Well…I can think of other ways I’d like to conclude my evening,” Astarion croons, fingers creeping over your hand to guide it to his lips for a tender kiss. Your gazes interlock—Astarion’s sultry and yours inquisitive—as he kisses a trail up to the hollow of your shoulder.

Astarion exhales slowly, rooting his nose against your neck, the air thick and dizzying. He husks, “Care to indulge me, my love?” nuzzling along your jawline, little puffs of air huffed against your already fevered flesh.

Your legs nearly give way beneath you. And no, it is not a consequence of the wine.

“As much as I enjoy seeing you on your knees,” Astarion purrs, his grin shit-eating and his eyes half-slit like Cheshire Cat as he peers down at you, “I don’t want you straining yourself for little old me, love. Though I do appreciate the gesture.”

You scoff. Roll your eyes as you finish tying Astarion’s boot, tucking your smile into your armor. What a cheeky little shit he is. You return to your full height after tapping his ankle. You wipe your hands on your thighs, turning away from Astarion.

“You must be a riot at galas,” you say, your voice aching with a grin.

[ Inspired by this lovely piece by @primopinku ].

Behind a goblet of viscous, red liquid, Astarion seethes.

He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair, legs crossed and nostrils flaring. He watches you with silver brows pinched and his canines digging into the lip of his cup. The metal of it bends beneath his crushing bite.

You’re beautiful. An ethereal being amid a sea of socialites all putting on a facade of elegance. You stick out like a sore thumb in your humble garb. Yet you effortlessly command the presence of everyone around you. Your kindness and airy laughter fill every nook and crevice of the ballroom. But that isn’t what has Astarion out of sorts.

He strangles the stem of his chalice, a scowl nestling itself amongst his features. A roguish hand sits at the small of your back—curse your attire for exposing such a delicious slither of skin. It’s slimy as it kneads little circles into your flesh, easing southward ever so subtly towards the curve of your bottom.

You kept shrugging out of its clutch with a nervous titter whenever it crept back onto you. Whenever gnarled fingers slid along the notches of your spine. But this imbecile wouldn’t take the hint. Tonight would surely be his last amongst the living due to his boldness.

Astarion moves without thinking. Tears through the sea of partygoers, gasps and murmurs of Your Majesty muddled by the rage pumping in his ears. He snatches the duke’s hand off your back. Twists it until bone crackles, and the man hisses with pain.

“Unless you want to lose this forever, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

No one could touch his royal advisor and get away with it.

masterlist

[pursuitseternal]

“Don’t hold your breath:” hot spring smut with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night:”

Astarion x Reader | E | 2K of underwater oral

🎨 By @snowfolly

Summary: The Mountain Pass is cold at night, you’ve found. And your newly taken Vampire lover has left for the night. But maybe… not to be alone… A note from him to meet him in secret, the end of your search, a bubbling, steaming mountain hot spring with more hidden than rocks beneath its water.

CW: Fem oral receiving, Vampires don’t NEED to breathe 😉, jealous!Tav, reassuring Astarion, wet cat hair Astarion

Ao3 link |ao3 series link |Masterlist

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You… can’t remember if you’ve ever seen a hot spring. Most things from your life before this tadpole seem hazy now. Well, frankly most things that happened before you took Astarion as your sometimes-lover are fuzzy. But given the winds whipping around the Mountain Pass as the sun setts and the heat of day starts to seep from the world, a hot spring sounds like just the solution. That merchant just up the Pass said you couldn’t miss it, that making camp close by was a wise idea since mountain nights are cold.

Really cold.

At least that part is true. Karlach was fine of course, warm and bubbly as she had gone to find enough firewood for an army. Although, given how big you all needed to make the fire to keep the feeling in your toes, you suspect it’ll last you the night. Gale cast some spell, trying his best to keep out the cool winds and lock in the heat from the fire, but not even magic could prevent the power and force of nature.

Yep, that was Halsin’s contribution before he shifted into a bear to sleep in the warm comfort of fat and fur.

But you don’t worry about any of them… your undead, eternally corpse-cold lover, however…. He had disappeared to hunt and hadn’t returned.

If he had a heart, he wouldn’t do this to you, at least you hoped. If he had a heart, or one that beat at least faster and kept his flesh warm, you wouldn’t feel so much worry gnawing in your gut. But no, his cold body would be shivering by now, unable to warm up, and you hope being undead means he will survive.

As the night grows more frigid with each breeze, you peek into his tent one more time, just to see if he has snuck back like the stealthy, roguish ass he is.

Sure enough, that fucker… he’s left you a note. Or he’s left someone a note, your heart leaps into your throat hoping that it’s for you… though he has been making such sharp and sultry banter with your Cleric lately… your gut squeezes tight with jealousy. Fingers snatch the note from his mess of a bed.

Just a single scrawled line… directions to head north and dip yourself in…. Darling.

You scowl, knowing full well it’s a term he throws around as freely as his smirks. The same words and smiles and raised brows that surely make your Cleric’s heart flutter too in that hot and suffocating way you feel when it’s turned so fully on you.

You take the note, after all, finders keepers, you smirk. That’ll keep him all to yourself, you chuckle inwardly. As you sneak from his mess of a tent, you can’t help but trace your fingers over that tight, flourishing script of his, the paper obviously torn from one of his many books.

Cute, you think to yourself, pulling your jacket around your shoulders tighter as you head northward up the trail. Aside from the cold, it’s not unlike your other trysts… a quiet evening, a moonlit path, and your heart rapping out of your chest to see him. Already you feel your stomach fluttering your cheek blushing hot despite the chill. You want this, smiling he wants it too.

You assume, the nagging thought slices your desire. You want to think those extra longing glances are for you… those flirtatious quips made for the others just to keep his appearances as a rake, even as he has begun to trust you more with his past.

But… the doubt still nags at you. The images of how your Cleric stares after him in his wake around camp usually. You don’t know if it’s lust or suspicion. Or both.

Before you can let your excitement sour too much, your feet almost stumble into water. The hiss, the steam, you nearly fell face first into the hot spring. This was it, you take in the scene with a hint of awe and a lot of excitement. “Well,” you laugh to yourself, “he did say dip in…” Peeling off your jacket, you hurry to strip off everything. Your skin prickles in the breezes, the wind softer where the spring is sheltered and warmer from the steam. His name is sweet on your tongue as you call for him, not waiting for a response as you let the bubbling, cloudy water submerge your body.

You hear nothing as you turn around the large body of water. It’s not deep, rocks lying beneath the surface at good heights to sit on and still savor the waters. Deep breathes in your lungs, eyes fluttering shut as you take a seat on the closest one, you wait.

But you swallow that slice of jealousy… what if he’s somewhere else with… someone else? What if he’s hiding, unready silent in the brush because you aren’t the conquest he was hoping to lure to this locale? What if…

Hands grip the backs of your calves, nails digging into your skin beneath the cloudy, fizzing water.

Invisible.

Unseen

But the touch is colder than the waters.

That touch pries you apart, pushing you back against the bank of the spring, and splitting your folds open. The noises you make are short and scared, the rush of adrenaline overpowering you as your reach for whatever is moving you under the water.

Fear lances through you, until your hands grip into familiar if wet locks, and a cool soft pad of a tongue starts to sweep up your thigh.

Astarion.

Your spasms of dread turn to disbelieving and nervous laughter. Your eyes still frozen wide as you try to watch him lick higher to your folds beneath the water. But you see nothing beneath the bubbling surface.

Arms wrap so firmly around your ass, pulling you just to the edge of the rock. Gritting your teeth together, you can’t fight the way your hips buck against his face, especially not with both his arms keeping you pinned in place, nose rubbing your hardened clit, tongue diving and swirling the circumference of your channel. That muscular tip strokes back and forth over that spot he loves to touch, that hot bundle of nerves just inside you. The sight of his head and curls is lost to your blurring vision, all is steam and bubbles and churning water as he consumes your own slick before it even reaches your thighs.

Heart racing, blood pounding in your arteries, you can’t catch your breath as you come apart so quickly, so readily on his mouth. But even as your thighs clench over his shoulders, his arms keep you trapped and his tongue keeps devouring you under that bubbly water.

Tongue sweeps to your clit, lips sucking and circling over that aching nub. Fangs catch briefly on your skin, a nick here and there, but the pain hardly slices through your bliss as he drives you even faster for a second crashing wave of pleasure. Your head lolls on the mossy bank, your legs shaking down the scars of his back, and your fingers practically pull his perfect hair from its roots. The stars in the sky are nothing compared to the ones that begin to blind you again, your climax approaching at breakneck speed. As your body wracks with bliss, his arm splashes away from your backside, only to dive his long, dancing fingers deeper and fuller into your cunt.

A scream tears from your throat, making the poor wildlife around you scatter in the underbrush. The walls of your core suck his touch in deeper, or force it out, you can’t tell, not with the way your body is practically boiling itself. You can’t catch your wind, the edges of your sight growing darker, your world starting to spin like when he sips just a bit too much from your body…..

And that’s when your eyes fly open, the realization hitting you in the same moment, same breath as you torque and buck in one more burst of heat and wet and spasms.

He hasn’t taken a breath for….

You force your body back in control, gripping him by his hair, his ears and jerking him towards the surface.

He breaks through the water like some mythical being, skin so white in the moonlight, smirk so arrogant and self-content…. “Hello,” he pants, catching lungs full of mountain air once more, “…darling,” he finally adds as those lust-dark eyes scan over your dripping body. His damp hair drips and droops adorably over his forehead, almost over his eyes. He’d be pathetic if those eyes underneath didn’t proclaim pride in how he had just eaten you right up.

Suddenly that hesitation as he looks you up and down, devouring you with his eyes in that silence… it makes that pang of jealousy return. “Not surprised to see me?” you prod just a bit, sweeping your arms in the waters, trying to slide down the pool as he begins to inch closer.

“Aren’t you surprised to see me?” he purrs, sweeping his now wet and unruly locks out of his eyes with both hands. That pale face practically glimmers with drops of water and radiates with unbridled arrogance as he licks his lips. “That was the effect I was going for this evening with you, my little treat. So tasty too…”

“I could have been anyone…” you huff just a bit. Rolling your eyes, you try not to squeak as he descends on you, arms bracing you back against the bank of the pool, body pushing you against the rocks and wall again. “I could be some poor unsuspecting female that happened to find your cute little note.”

“You're not just anyone, you know…. And besides, I would know the taste of you and you alone anywhere…” he licks his lips, almost smacking them like the predator he is, cleaning his maw.

“You mean…” your eyes dart to the bushes, as if looking to see if anyone else is hiding.

He merely shoves that leering smirk between you and the middle distance. “Who else do you think I would ask back here for a bite, darling?” He’s intrigued and concerned, entertained and worried in one swirling tone.

“It’s silly…” you decide to laugh it off, nevermind how he still closes in on you. Cool hands hold you, sweeping up your arm. One palm rests on your cheek, something unusually warm about his touch, unusually reassuring without a single snide remark.

“Is it?” he cocks his head, eyes searching yours.

“Well….” you tilt your head, looking down at the swirling, dancing steam over the spring.

“Tut tut,” he lifts your head back up to meet his gaze, “eyes here, my darling. And I’ll tell you just who has my interest…”

“Oh,” you feel tears sting, until he smiles at you with pure adoration.

“You see, there’s this female, headstrong and defiant and willful…” His thumb sweeps over your lip, his smile soft enough to let his fangs peek out. “…she has a habit of picking up strays, and making sure they are cared for…” His fingers trace over the ever-darkening set of fang-scars that form on your neck. “She makes sure they’re bellies are full and their every need is sated…”

That thick, hard, veiny length of his prods into your belly as he pulls you flush against his front.

“I’m quite fond of her every trait, internal and external,” he purrs into your ear, hands wandering over your body, your sides tickled by touch, breasts teased and pulled with just the right amount of force to make you gasp and smile. “And besides, my first thinking blood, she tastes more divine than anything I doubt I would find in this realm.”

You can’t wait for his silken voice to shut up, so you opt to stop all those nice words with your own actions for once. Arms wrap so tight around his neck, you pull those conceited, praising lips against your own.

“Tell me you like me…” you pant between kisses. His lips begin that addictive working over yours, the kind that steals your air and makes you swept off your feet and usually on your back for him.

“You know I do, my little treat,” he rasps back, a little roll of his hips against your belly as he laughs, “but don’t hold your breath for more of an explanation.”

[ravengards-rogue]

i think it's interesting that astarion has a tendency towards apathy. or at least, on the surface - this is the identity that he believes suits him best. that his roguishness and selfishness and otherwise immoral character is all born from apathy. it's always a song and dance, a show of who can care less. i can't speak much of astarion pre-spawn but post-cazador there is always this bitter cat-and-mouse game.

nothing matters except me. nothing matters except my safety, and the only reason it's worth concern is as it pertains to me. i do think some part of that's genuine. i think 200 years of vile abuse does that to someone and astarion, without debate, was once a very shitty person.

but then, astarion gets company. meets people who are annoying and heroic and silly and empathetic. he meets you - someone who is at some point willing to give his agency back to it, or has some interest in maintaining it. someone who at a baseline just respects him as an autonomous being. and then the mask of apathy, very quickly falls apart. the apathy, the anger, the bitterness - it's all there. it's still there, even when there's someone who cares for him.

but admidst the ending world there's. someone. just someone. and that's as little as it really takes to break astarion in such a particular way. and then you come to realize that he is actually so inconceivably far from infallible. there's something quite pathetic to him. to all of him. underneath of all that is such gripping and miserable loneliness that all it takes for him to care or want is something as basic as respect - you start to think of him very differently.

you see him for what he is which is afraid. always. perpetually. ingrained deep into his bones, terrified. the mask of apathy is worn with the explicit purpose of redircection. if astarion can convince you that he cares for nothing but himself, maybe he can convince himself too. maybe you won't notice all the ways in which he is broken down. maybe you won't notice the way he lingers in hugs and the way his voice breaks trying to assure you want him. maybe if astarion wins at this - nothing will be taken from him.

maybe, maybe - if astarion can play at apathy he can convince himself he doesn't want you love him at all. not once. he can convince himself that the warm feeling of your hands and the self-assured firmness of your love isn't something he wants to fall back on. maybe he can convince himself he'll move on when he outlives you.

maybe if astarion never shows that it all matters to him so much nothing will be taken from him again. what a poor defense mechanism though, really - because all of it seems to matter to him so much

[stellamancer]

(un)mentionables — fem!reader x satoru gojo

notes: real talk. i used to have this really cute light blue lingerie set and that was the inspo + aleks talking about gojo's massive dick ripping through lacy panties. that doesn't happen here, though, sorry lmaoo. uh. don't know what else to say. this is part of the infinite loop ficverse.

wc: 1.3k

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns or gendered language), suggestive situations but not anything explicit, pre-relationship (one day i'll write this established relationship fic for these idiots but not today)

You think you might as well be dead.

Ultimately, you have no one to blame but yourself for this; you should have known better than to let Gojo grab the spare water bottle from your overnight bag. In fact, you should have known better than to let him anywhere near your overnight bag. It’s not that you think him the type to just go rifling through your things without an ounce of respect for your privacy; it’s just that you know that Gojo has a knack for putting you in mortifying situations as if he’s being paid to.

“Well, well, well, what’s this?”

You whip your head around so violently that you feel a pulse of pain throughout your skull, but it is quickly forgotten when you see what this is. Gojo has certainly found the water bottle you’d offered him, but, somehow, looped around the bottle’s neck is a pair of lacy, sky blue panties that you’d haphazardly thrown into your overnight bag.

There’s little that you’d like more than passing away right here on the spot.

Gojo gingerly plucks your underwear from the bottle and shoots you a roguish grin, his eyebrows lifting suggestively. “Didn’t think you were the type to wear lace.”

You scowl and march over to him, hand whipping out to snatch your panties back from him. Surprisingly, he lets you, and you ball them up tightly in your fist. “You’re right, I prefer cotton.”

“Then where did those come from?” Gojo points at the bright blue fabric peeking through your fingers.

“How is that any of your business?” you snap.

“Just curious,” Gojo says nonchalantly. He’s still smiling though, and it annoys you.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” You roll your eyes as you toss the panties back in your bag behind him.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Gojo finishes the entire idiom. Of course he’d know the last half of it. “Since you’re saying that, does that mean you’re going to tell me?”

Your eye twitches as you weigh your options. Refusing is the most obvious and natural option, but Gojo is nothing if not persistent. He won’t shut up if he really wants to know that badly. You don’t know why he would, but then again, he probably just would pester you for the sake of being annoying. Sometimes, it’s easier to just give him what he wants so you can move on. So that’s what you decide to do, looking away as you admit, “...it had a matching bra that was really cute.”

Gojo is silent. Unnaturally so. You would have expected him to fire off some wise ass quip, so this response, or lack of, is actually a little unnerving. Starting to feel a touch concerned, you look at Gojo, and though you cannot see the focus of his gaze with that blindfold in the way, you can just tell that he’s staring at you.

You’re not sure if you should feel proud over the fact that you’ve rendered the famous motor mouth Satoru Gojo speechless.

It’s over in an instant though, as his mouth moves to finally speak.

“Show me.”

His voice is low, quiet, as if he’d breathed out the words without even realizing it.

A strange feeling runs straight down the length of your spine, leaving you breathless, the staccato rhythm of your heartbeat almost deafening you. That was unexpected; his words, his tone, all of it.

You gawk at Gojo, trying to figure what to make of it, and he is still in a way that he never is. His lips are slightly parted, and you have no doubt that he is still staring at you, but you cannot even begin to imagine the shade of his eyes right now. Is it the bright shining aquamarine of the sky? Or the dark glimmering sapphire of the sea?

You don’t know. You don’t know. You want to though; you want to know. You want to rip that blindfold off to find out. You want to memorize every shade and every hue. You want to—

When you realize where your train of thought is heading you shake your head, senses returning to you with a start. You don’t know how two words managed to hijack your thoughts like that, but you will have none of it. Back on track, you demand, “Why the hell would I show you?”

Gojo’s lips curve upwards into a familiar grin, and you’re secretly relieved that he seems to be back to normal too. “Feelin’ shy? We’re both adults here.”

You know what he’s doing, but you’re not playing that game. There’s a lot of things Satoru Gojo can goad you into, but this is not and will not be one of them. “That’s beside the point.”

“Thought you said it was cute,” Gojo says, not giving up.

“Oh, trust me, it is,” you respond. “But I’m not showing you.”

“Why not?”

“I— Gojo, you can’t seriously be asking me this,” you groan.

“I’ve seen you in a swimsuit before,” Gojo points out matter-of-factly. “Is there really a difference between that and lingerie?”

His question gives you pause. Technically, you see his point. Technically. But he’s not quite right. “You are not someone I would be showing my lingerie off to. We are not like that.”

“Meaning you showed it to that loser ex-boyfriend of yours?” Gojo asks flatly.

You actually bought the set after you broke up, but Gojo doesn’t know that. “And if I did?”

(Annoyance, white hot and all consuming eats a hole in Satoru's stomach. He doesn't get why he's so mad. It makes sense. It makes sense.

You'd dated that lame excuse of an assistant manager for nearly a year, so it would make sense if he'd seen you—

Splayed beneath him. Disheveled. Exposed. Sky blue lace hugging your hips. A soft smile playing at your parted lips, kiss swollen and hungry for more, begging for more.

God, Satoru wishes he—

His entire body feels hot. Satoru's not sure if it's the rage or something else.)

"You and him aren't like that anymore, so I don't see the problem," Gojo says with a shrug.

If you could kill Satoru Gojo you would do so in a heartbeat. "Gojo, don't be ridiculous."

"Can't help it; it's my speciality," he says, cheekily sticking his tongue out. He tilts his head to the side, and though you can’t see directly, you can just imagine the expectant look in his eyes.

"I’m not showing you.”

Gojo pouts. If he thinks that’s going to convince you, he may as well quit his job as a jujutsu sorcerer and start a career as a stand-up comedian. “Do you really think it’s fair to let dumb losers see the supposedly cute lingerie when super cool and strong sorcerers like me get left in the dark?”

“Life’s not fair,” you dead pan at Gojo. Though it’s not like someone like him would really get that. “And he’s not a loser, you are.”

“Oh, so does that mean you’ll let me see?”

“I—” You start before grumbling. This is getting nowhere. At this rate the both of you will be bickering back and forth until the end of the night and you, for one, would like to have dinner (not with Gojo). “You know what, fine. I’ll show you, but if and only if, we run across some freaky-ass curse that melts clothes.”

You think your proposition is impossible. In fact, you're sure of it. So much so, that you think Gojo will call you out on it.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he grins with eager childlike excitement. "Really? You serious?"

You don't get his reaction. He does know that the chances of that happening are basically one in a bazillion, right? But then again, Gojo is a complete weirdo so you don't question it. Shrugging, you answer. "Yeah, sure."

Finding said freaky-ass curse that melts away just clothes sounds damn near impossible, so you don't see the harm in agreeing. There's basically no way you'll run into one, meaning no way you'll be giving Gojo an eyeful of your cute lacy sky blue lingerie.

You find out that Satoru Gojo must be the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet, because you end up eating your words two weeks later.

gojo why are you so pathetic lmao.

[roguishcat]

Yours, if you'll have me

Summary: He found the letter on the ground between his tent and Gale’s earlier this morning. Not thinking much of it, Astarion swiped it, hoping to get a piece of juicy gossip. Gale having a secret admirer, how fun! He didn’t realise that the contents were meant for him. And from their unanimously elected leader, no less!

A/N: If you want to be tagged for future oneshots and long fics, send me a message or leave a comment. :)

Rating: Teen, for some very mild suggestive themes. Otherwise, just fluff, pure fluff.

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Oneshot, 2.5k

Setting: Act II

I hope this letter finds you in a better state of mind than yesterday. I wanted to tell you this in person, but I guess it is easier this way. I don’t think that I could say this to your face, so I will allow myself to be a coward.

I have admired you from afar. And not for the more obvious reasons, such as how comfortable and cared for you make others feel. Because, truth be told, I admire you most for your courage. You’ve suffered so much, but you did not lose yourself to the pain, you carry on against all odds. You are a wonderful, amazing person. I just wanted you to know how special you are. You deserve to live; deserve to have everything the world has to offer. You deserve it more than anyone. So, this isn’t a love letter, but a letter of appreciation. Because these are the words that someone should have told you a long time ago. And I hope this letter will allow you to see yourself the way I see you.

Tav

Astarion gulped, his fingers shaking a fraction as he re-read the words. He found the letter on the ground between his tent and Gale’s earlier this morning. Not thinking much of it, Astarion swiped it, hoping to get a piece of juicy gossip. Gale having a secret admirer, how fun! He didn’t realise that the contents were meant for him. And from their unanimously elected leader, no less!

She must have dropped it accidentally, or perhaps was scared off when she was delivering the message in the middle of the night. Sounded just about right for a closet hopeless romantic that Tav was.

Astarion knew that she possibly harbored some feelings for him, it was inevitable that she would fall for him, seeing as he made quite an effort in nudging her oh-so-casually in that direction. The accidental touches, the flirty remarks, pulling her flush against him when an arrow whizzed past her. You know, the usual tactics.

What he didn’t expect was this. This was more than just a bit of fun. More than just two consenting adults spending a few nights together. And he was not sure how to feel about it. Perhaps he succeeded in making her fall for him a little too well. He was just that good, apparently.

He watched Tav as their group walked along the dusty road leading from the Githyanki Crèche and to the mountain pass which they would take to Shadowlands. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. She smiled at him, but did not seek him out on purpose, seemingly treating him the same way that she would treat any of their companions. With the same warmth, the same caring.

Astarion scowled. He didn’t realise how good an actress she was. He always assumed that she wore her heart on her sleeve, but apparently it was not so. Because this was definitely not the behaviour of a person in love, not from his experience of those who claimed to love him over the years that is. And he had plenty of experience when it came to lovers.

This is not a love letter.

Oh, please. Why be so subtle about it? Where were the exaggerated, pretty flowery words? The proclamations of undying love? And whatever else that she would come up with. He would accept it all quite graciously. As it was all part of his plan, of course.

Perhaps she thought that her feelings were not reciprocated and sought to shelter herself from pain. Yes, that had to be it. Well then. He would allow her to shield herself from heartache and not mention the letter at all. Because that was the gentleman-like behaviour that probably was expected in such situations. Not that he was a gentleman, but he imagined that teasing Tav about it would not be the smart thing to do if he wanted to stay in her good graces. Because there were plenty of others who would take her off his hands in a heartbeat. Of that much he was certain. Most members of their group propositioned Tav in one way or another.

Astarion smiled smugly because as far as he was concerned their feelings didn’t matter. Not now and not ever. As long as their pretty leader only had eyes for him, he had nothing to worry about.

The Shadowlands were quite aptly named, as they soon found out. They fought their way through the screeching, howling masses of foes and finally reached the glimmering semi-transparent dome that enveloped the Last Light Inn. Choosing to camp outside and not take up lodgings within the inn itself came with its downsides, but at least being away from all the Harpers afforded a semblance of privacy.

“Astarion, come join us,” Tav said with a smile, getting ready to have dinner with the rest of the group. She shivered involuntarily, not that she felt cold. All of them felt as if they were being watched by something, the condensed darkness rolling and moving menacingly just beyond the thin shell that was protecting the inn.

“I am not sure I care for idle chatter around the campfire but do carry on if you wish. I will see you later, my dear,” Astarion said with a distracted smile, wanting to have a little time for himself before Tav came to him.

It was a routine of sorts that they fell into, her coming by his tent in the evenings and the two just spending time in each other’s company. Sometimes she stayed the night, sometimes she went back to her own tent. It was quite casual. Or so it seemed to him until he found that blasted letter.

And sure enough, she came to his tent just as the others turned in for the night. Astarion was reading, or at least pretending to read at this point.

“Can I confess something?” she plopped down next to him.

Oh. He knew this conversation was coming, but he was still caught off-guard.

“Well, of course. I am all pointy ears, dearest.”

“Gale wanted to talk to me today. I knew what it was about and I- I told him that I was not interested. I didn’t even realise that he liked me that way up until today, it kind of seemed like he was still in love with Mystra. Or at least not ready for a new relationship.”

Astarion scoffed. Gale’s pining and artless flirting with Tav, or rather at Tav, did not go unnoticed in the camp. Of course she would be clueless. The sweet, inexperienced Tav. Well, not that inexperienced now. She did spend several mind-shattering, unforgettable nights with him, after all.

“Actually, there is another reason I am glad that he said nothing until today. A while ago, when we first started travelling together, I wrote him a letter which I never sent.”

He froze.

“Did you now? A love letter?” Astarion commended himself on sounding nonchalant because he felt anything but. He did not want her to keep speaking but could not think of anything to say to make her stop.

“No, nothing like that,” she laughed. “I just- he told me about the orb that day, about how he was prepared to die to make it all right. So I wanted him to know that somebody cared. But it was just a silly letter, I suppose. I am glad that no one saw it.”

“It was not just a silly letter,” he swallowed, his throat feeling tight. “At least not to me. I found it and I- I thought it was meant for me.”

Tav looked at him wide-eyed and unblinking, her hand coming to rest on top of his.

“It’s not a big deal,” he laughed, trying to brush it off as inconsequential, “you really should label these things better in the future, darling. I- do excuse me,” he suddenly had the urge to be elsewhere, anywhere but here.

It was stupid. It was completely idiotic. Yes, the letter was never meant for him, and sure, those words were meant for another. It was not a big deal, really. In a way, it made everything easier. Their trysts would come to an end, true. Tav did not seem experienced enough to take on more than one lover. And even if she offered, there was no way that he was sharing her with Gale.

The worst of it was that on some level he knew that those words were never meant for him. He was always admired for his looks, never for more than his looks. It was foolish of him to assume that Tav was any different. That she would want something more with him.

He came back a while later, finding Tav gone and a letter set neatly on his pillow. He picked it up and reluctantly opened it.

Dear Astarion,

I didn’t know much about you until very recently, when you finally started opening up about your past. But now that I do know, let me tell you how I see you.

You are the most aggravating person I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Truly, I don’t understand you at all sometimes! You can be hurtful and condescending, and I never quite know what’s on your mind.

Well, this wasn’t exactly a good start. Astarion almost didn’t want to read on, but his damnable curiosity compelled him to continue. He wanted to know what else she had to say.

And do you know what’s the most annoying thing about you? How you leave without letting me finish what I had to say! Because if you did stay, I would actually finish confessing about how much I care about you.

I can’t say that this is love, although I’m not exactly a great judge of that, I’ve never been in love before. But I think about you all the time. About how much I love seeing you smile. Not the fake come-hither smiles, but proper real ones, the ones that reach your eyes.

I love seeing you in battle. I think I’d be too much of a coward to say it to your face, but seeing the intensity and ferociousness with which you wield your rapier is just so- (Okay, I’ve just reread that line and I know how you’re going to smirk and make fun of me for writing this, but there’s no way I’m crossing this out).

He snorted. Wield his rapier. He would have to remember to tease her about this later.

I love how meticulously you care for your things, taking such pride in your appearance. Not that you need to. You are the handsomest, most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but you probably already know I feel this way. When you are around, no matter how much I want to pay attention and focus on what others are telling me, my mind wanders as I think of you.

I love it when you let me stay in your tent and I get to hold you in my arms as I fall asleep, it feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Although there is the small issue of the tadpole, the Absolute, and all other murder-happy bastards that are hunting us down, somehow in these moments when it is just us two, I feel safe.

I know that you probably don’t feel the same. You said so yourself, that this was just a bit of fun. So, this isn’t a love letter. I don’t want to pressure you into anything. But these are the words that I should have told you a while ago, even though I know that my feelings will not be reciprocated.

You deserve more, so much more that I can offer you, but, if anything, I hope my words will allow you to see yourself the way I see you.

Yours, if you’ll have me,

Tav

Astarion licked his lips and folded the letter up with shaking fingers. He was not used to this. This raw honesty and emotion. But then again, what else did he expect from her? She was a foolish, silly creature, so careless with her heart. Because falling for him and trusting him was an objectively stupid thing to do. He was almost tempted to march straight to her tent and tell her exactly how much of an idiot she was to write him this- this- He wasn’t even sure what to call this.

He allowed himself a humorless laugh. Because he knew that he was being a coward. The ball was in his court now. She did her part, and it was up to him to tell her how he felt. But tell her what exactly?

She stated it quite clearly that she did not expect anything in return. The sweet, selfless fool that she was. She just wanted him to let her care for him. It wasn’t much to ask. In fact, it was the bare minimum. It was much less than she deserved. Yes, the right thing to do now was to smile, thank her and tell her that they had their fun and it was time to end this. They were best of as comrades in arms, as friends. Sure, Tav would be upset for a while, but not for too long. There would be many who would most enthusiastically offer to warm her bedroll and more.

And thus, armed with the noble intent of letting her go, Astarion stood and opened the flap of his tent. The camp was quiet, all lights were out, even the light in her tent. But Astarion could hear the staccato of Tav’s heart, no doubt turning restlessly in her bedroll, wondering what he thought of her confession.

He slipped quietly into her tent and lay down next to her, strong arms snaking around her middle and pulling her close. He buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath before moving it aside to lay a kiss on the back of her neck. He felt her release a shuddering breath and gradually relax. And apparently it was just that easy. They didn’t have to say anything. And whatever noble intentions of letting Tav go to a more deserving lover he had prior to coming to her tent were now squashed by a selfish desire to have her all to himself. He was never a benevolent, altruistic person in the past, so why start now?

Tomorrow.

He would tell her tomorrow. All of it. About his plan, about his great, foolproof plan that fell through so spectacularly. And then he would hope that she would have him even after knowing the full extent of his deceit. Because although this was not love, it couldn’t possibly be, he wanted to find out where it would lead them. He needed to find out what this was. And if this was his only chance of findings happiness, he would be damned if he let her go to another.

@ayselluna

[arachnixe]

Small Minded

They say there are powers—unfathomable and unnamed—buried deep within the earth. Boons and banes and spirits and seductions call to the ambitious, but I've never known of someone actually finding one until now.

What does one say to a dark sorceress on the cusp of her victory?

My knight, so loyal and brave, wheezes and gasps for breath within his broken armor. Our roguish friend, normally so quick witted and talkative, lies silent and unmoving in a pool of blood. I don't have the strength left to heal either of them.

"Let it sink in, Princess. I've won."

She has. I bow my head in defeat.

"The Godsblood is mine."

It hovers within her reach, an unshaped carmine gem formed of the crystallized blood of whatever forgotten god was buried here. The sickly sweet scent of its power, like rotting fruit, fills the air.

"With it, I shall wield ultimate power."

Yes, the power to remake the world according to her whim, to raise mountains from the sea or to sink cities into the abyss at her pleasure, perhaps even to rewrite the laws of space and time if she desires.

"At last, I will depose your father and rule all of Rutennia in his place!"

I jerk my head upright and stare at her in disbelief. "What?"

The sorceress Velle grins like an idiot. "You heard me, Princess. Your whole kingdom will be mine."

My face must betray my feelings, judging by the way her confidence falters at my reaction. "You've claimed a power like this, and all you can think to do with it is take over this kingdom?"

"Your father—"

"Yes. I know." I wave off her explanation, disinterested. "He didn't see your worth, you wanted to show us all, I get it, but if all you wanted to do was rule Rutennia, you could have just courted me and then poisoned my father!" I scrub at my face in frustration and suppress a scream. "What small-minded ambitions!"

That throws her off balance. "Small minded? I won! I'm getting everything I want!"

"And what you want," I retort, "is a single grain of sand on a beach." I ball my hands into fists and stalk toward her, outraged that my friends died for so little. "You are a cat who stole a siege engine to catch the mouse that once eluded you. You wouldn't even know what to do with the kingdom once you had it."

Velle barks an indignant laugh. "As if the king does!" She casts a hand toward me, magically halting my approach. "No, he has others handle all the administrative duties so he can simply bask in the worship of his subjects!"

"And when the people don't worship you?" I ask through gritted teeth, "because trade with Melland and Istow has completely halted without their kings' cousin sitting our throne?"

"I'LL MAKE THEM!" She makes a tugging motion in the air, yanking me forward to shout the words in my face. "With the Godsblood I can make my subjects dance like puppets at my command! They will all kneel before my throne."

This close to the gem, the scent fills my senses. It leaves me feeling lightheaded, giddy, almost delirious, even. It draws an inappropriate giggle out of me before I can retort. "Build a doll out of cloth and sticks. Make it kneel. Put worshipful words in its mouth. It will mean just as much. Personally, I got tired of playing with dolls at age eight."

Her face reddens. "You think you can trick me into giving up my goals? You think you can convince me this power is worthless?"

"Worthless?" I cackle. "The power of a dead god, worthless? No, only the things you imagine doing with it are worthless. You want to know what you should do with all that power? I'll tell you."

She leans forward, obviously curious.

"Istow's ports give it mastery of the sea and trade we need," I explain, as if to a child, "but we don't need them if we bring the sea to us. Flood their plains, drown their whole nation if you'd like, but take that bargaining chip away."

Some dim, distant part of me says I shouldn't give her ideas, but every inhale of the intoxicating aroma of Godsblood fills my mind with visions of what that power can do. Why can't she see it as clearly as I do?

"Melland," I continue, "is weak but well defended by the terrain. Pull the mountains down onto their capital, swallow their impregnable fortress in a new chasm, and their resources become ours."

Velle's eyes light up with understanding. "Yes, yes, you're right!"

No, no, no, even I'm still thinking too small. Like a petty warlord with a mere weapon. But this is no weapon, it's the power of a god. I take a deep breath and focus. I need to be thinking like a god.

"No, why set our sights on conquering our neighbors," I muse aloud, "when there's a whole world out there to reshape? We don't need what they have. It's not a zero sum game anymore."

Judging by her face, I've lost Velle again, but I don't care. My thoughts race. With every breath I take, my vision crystallizes.

She doesn't need to understand. I don't speak for her to hear; I speak because I must. "A perfect world, answering only to me. Every river, every pebble, the mountains and the seas, the very stars in the sky, all mine…"

"No." The sorceress shakes her head and tightens her grip on the magical restraints holding me in place. "The Godsblood is mine. I found it. I got here first. You lost."

She sounds so petulant, so small. Velle doesn't understand power, not really. She's merely a spurned court magician who deluded herself into thinking she was more, not someone with the will to rule.

And this is no inert stone. The heart's blood of a god demands to be wielded. It demands the will to wield it.

It was mine the moment I decided it was mine.

Without transition, the stone is already in my hand. A twitch of a thought tears Velle's restraints to pieces, no more than a cobweb caught on a boot.

She's screaming, shouting something, flinging spells my way, but my attention falls instead upon the crumpled figures of my dear companions.

With a thought, I am no longer next to her. I stand beside my knight, seeing him inside and out. His body is a trifle to mend, and like wiping dust from a windowsill, I smooth away the injuries. With little effort, I scan the thoughts within his mind, and… oh, what useful secrets lurking within! Many ways to control this one if he chooses to resist me.

My thief is dead. I refuse to abide that for the only one I recall who could consistently make me laugh, and a god deserves a jester even more than a king, right? All it takes is a touch to reignite the spark of life and bid the soul return to its body; funny, I always imagined resurrection to be a more difficult process.

Last of all, my sorceress. I don't need to read her thoughts to recognize her profound denial of the reality of this situation. She flings chaotic bolts of fire and lightning and ice at me, howling threats and curses that mean very little.

If I want her as my high priestess, I should impress her more.

We stand in the middle of a great empty ribcage, and yes, I think a god-bone crown would suit me. Brittle ribs bend like supple grasses, shrink and weave themselves into an ornate crown to rest on my head. I crush the Godsblood gem in my fist and direct the shards to implant themselves in pleasing patterns within the bone.

Velle ceases her assault. I watch her delusions melt away upon witnessing me destroy the gem. The light of understanding dawns within her mind that my power is entirely mine, never to be stolen. A god-bone collar snakes around her neck as gently as a princess's gloved hand, and I can taste her complete surrender.

The whole world also aches for my touch, but it will have to wait just a little longer for my design to perfect it. There are many more boons and banes buried within this graveyard world, and I'll need every last one if I wish to extend my reach beyond even the stars.

And my first three worshippers still need training.

[nova-rogue]

i am once again reminding people that fat cats aren't cute. "beauty standards" are a human societal problem and do not exist for animals--if a cat can't perform their normal functions (running, jumping, climbing) then you are actively harming your cat. your cat should have a visible waist behind their ribs. cats will *always* beg for more food and "act hungry" because it is a survival instinct (worrying where their next meal will come from--they can't rationalize the way we can). it is your responsibility to not over-feed your cat and provide them with at least 10 minutes of activity per day for the sake of their health.

[ashyyslashy]

faustian bargain - marquis vincent de gramont x f! reader (john wick: chapter 4)

synopsis: To clear your debts to The High Table, you agree to a proposal by the Marquis to live with him as his partner.

warnings: language, sexual content (p in v sex, choking), semi-toxic relationship dynamics

word count: 2.8k

a/n: the john wick lore makes my head spin!

You stared into the weathered face of the man on the portrait before you, tucked away in a private corner of the Marquis' expansive gallery. The wrinkles and creases bore the weight of years of suffering, the lines of his face hard set in permanent anguish. You often imagined them as a collection of sins etched onto his aged features. Sometimes, you found yourself likening the image to a Picture of Dorian Gray. You would wonder whether the Marquis' misdeeds had marred this painting instead of his own self, leaving his striking handsomeness intact, and he’d hidden it from view.

The portrait reminded you it was too late to regret the changes that had taken place; only to find a way to cope with them. You had become used to seeking refuge in your thoughts amidst the entrapment of your existence. You would conjure whatever you liked to make this engorged mansion seem less stifling.

You had made an off-hand comment to the Marquis once, that you felt like a cat in a cage without enough room to stretch its legs.

He had chuckled, with his own catlike eyes boring into yours. "Mon amour, you are only bound by your own pride and reluctance. Laissez-vous être libre."

In seeking freedom from The Table, you traded one form of enslavement for another. For some unknown reason, the Marquis had taken an interest in you upon your first meeting. So he offered you a choice: join the fruitless battle to kill John Wick or stay with him in his home until it was all over, in some sort of twisted romantic scenario. Whether he was driven by boredom, liquor, or pure schadenfreude, you were unsure. Regardless of his motivations, you knew there was really only one correct answer if you wanted to live.

"I'll live with you," you'd told him. "But what is it you really want from me? No bullshit."

"The companionship of a beautiful woman, is all. Is that truly so wrong?"

His full lips formed into a roguish smirk.

You should have known there'd be a catch. You didn't simply live in his mansion - you were confined to it. Even with supervision, you weren't allowed to leave the property. As a result, you desired his presence in order to fill your solitude, developing a sudden and unexpected connection to the man. It was shocking how quickly your resolve to spite him faded. He became your lifeline, your connection to the outside world. And despite your best judgement, the more time he spent away, the more you yearned for him.

You hated his brand of intoxicating hedonism, the luxury items and expensive food he lavished upon you to win your favor. But you wore the designer dresses he laid out on your bed and drank the aged wine that was served at dinner.

You felt like you were betraying what you stood for through your infatuation with him. You resented yourself for growing so dependent upon him. Every touch you shared, every pent-up moment of sexuality - and there were few and far between - sent a flood of guilt rushing throughout your body. You'd wanted to escape The Table, but had only gotten yourself in deeper by fraternizing with the enemy.

The worst part of all was that he assumed a total indifference towards you. He would only provide you with the occasional caress or kiss on the cheek and any coy allusion he made to romance or sex in conversation was carefully veiled. He was forcing you to make the first move, and you wished so strongly that you could shatter his confidence by refusing to make it.

But at the same time, your resolve was wavering - every part of you was consumed by a flaming desire for him, steadfast in its absolute power.

You knew you had to do something to extinguish it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The clatter of silverware resounded throughout the dining room, forks scraping against fine china.

You'd been fixated on him all night. Your eyes were glued to the veins flexing in his hands as he grasped his utensils, the curve of his lips when he brought a forkful of food to his waiting mouth, the tensing of his sharp jawline as he chewed.

Every time he met your gaze, your nerves stood on end. The meal seemed to drag on, and no matter how much you ate, nothing could fill the gaping pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was just the two of you tonight, and the air felt charged with electricity.

"C'est fini," the Marquis commanded suddenly, pushing his chair back. It dragged across the polished floor with a squeal.

As you always did, you stacked the plates and carried them into the kitchen, starting to wash them until the staff refused to let you help any further. You wished they would allow you to do more- you hated not feeling of use, and you disliked others waiting upon you. Your sense of independence was unshakeable, even here.

When you left the kitchen, the Marquis had gone, likely retired to his chamber. You were counting on that. You hurriedly crossed the house, taking deep breaths for what you were preparing to do.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your right knuckle and rapped upon the wood. You heard shuffling within.

"Who is it?" he called.

"It's me," you replied sheepishly.

"D'accord. Come in."

You slowly pushed open the door and stepped into his room. His bare back was facing you, muscles rippling as he leaned over to unbutton his pants.

Your cheeks grew hot. "Um- you know, you could have told me to wait and gotten dressed first."

He turned around, stepping out of his pants and laying them next to his discarded shirt on the bed.

"I was not aware you were such a prude."

You scoffed and mumbled something under your voice about "public decency", trying to hide the anxiousness creeping into your tone. He strolled past you with an air of nonchalance, naked save for his boxers.

"So are you going to tell me why you're here?" he continued after several moments, folding his clothes with all the ease of someone who's never had to do their own laundry. He slipped a silk robe over his body before pivoting towards you, his eyes boring into yours.

You let out a breath of air. "Um... I need to ask. What's going on here? With us?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. What is it you want from this?"

He shook his head. "Déjà vu. You have already asked me this. My answer has not changed."

"Sure. My company, huh?" You replied in an insinuating tone.

"If you are implying that I expect you to do sexual favors for me, do not worry. I would have asked by now."

"What a gentleman."

"Mmm. When I say company, I mean company, chérie."

"Alright. Well..." you stepped towards him, shaking off any lingering feelings of hesitance. "I think you're a coward."

He moved closer, a dark look crossing his face. "Oh, do you?"

"Yeah. You know, I hear a lot around here. And I see how you pull the strings to ensure that everyone but you faces John Wick."

His jaw hardened. "It would be wise not to involve yourself in things that do not concern you."

"See, but you being a coward does concern me. I mean, it must be why you're just biding time until I make a move on you. Since you won't be the one to do it."

You were playing with fire, taunting him like this. You'd know him long enough to become immune to his attempts at intimidation, however.

He treaded backwards, barking out a laugh. It was strange to see him lose his perfectly-maintained composure even for a brief moment.

"You think you know everything, non?"

"I know more than you think," you countered. "You didn't deny it, after all."

"So this was the purpose of the visit? You have come to lecture me for not being man enough?"

"No. I came to ask you to be honest."

"I am not an honest man, chérie. You should know that. So what is it you want me to say?"

You were aware you were about to give away the upper hand, but fuck it.

"It'd like to know if you really do want me."

He shook his head, lips pursed together in amusement. "And did you not just boldly declare that I do?” 

"Stop toying with me."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. "I cannot understand why you ask me this. If I did not want you, why would you be here? I have given you space, and you interpret this as a sign of cowardice. I did not think boldly pursuing you would go over well. My mistake."

"That's not what I'm saying," you retorted, an indignant cry escaping your lips. "I'm alone in this house most of the time, and when you are here, you treat me as if I'm invisible. I feel like the fucking toy that the spoiled brat refuses to play with."

"You believe this is how I see you?"

"Yes, I believe it," you spat.

He laughed again, the sound not as sharp as before, humorless.

"How wrong you are."

"Then tell me your side of the story.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on either side of him.

"I decided I would not send you to the front lines of this war with John Wick. I am confident I will win, bien sûr, but not without casualties. I did not want you to be one."

"Why?"

"J'sais pas. A feeling I had that I cannot explain. I just knew I wanted to give you a way out. I..." he trailed off. "I did not do it to taunt you, as you think. And I am not indifferent towards you. I thought that much was obvious."

"How wrong you are," you imitated.

"You are one to talk, chérie. You walk around as if you hate me and everything I stand for."

"I wish I did,” you replied ruefully.

His expression was unreadable. You approached him, standing over his form on the bed. Tentatively, you reached out to untie his robe, your movements slow in the case that he'd want you to stop. He stared up at you with unblinking eyes as you slid the folds of his robe to the side, revealing his bare chest. He shrugged the rest of the garment off, allowing it to fall to the floor. You slowly ran your hand across his abs down to his happy trail. 

"Do you like what you see?" he murmured, his eyes searching you for validation that you were surprised a man of his status would be asking for.

"I saw it before when you were walking around half-naked, but yes, I do."

Ignoring your sarcastic comment, as he tended to do, he gestured towards your own clothing. "Take it off."

You were too caught up in the headiness of the moment to protest that he'd phrased it as a demand. You pulled your nightgown over your head, and it joined the clothing pile on the floor.

Gazing at you intently, he placed his hands firmly on your waist and pulled you towards him. He took one of your breasts in his mouth and then the other in turn, swirling his tongue around your nipples. You dug your hands into his brunette locks as he peppered your chest with love bites, exercising his newfound lack of restraint. 

It was hypnotizing to see his guard go down, a hungry, animalistic fervor overtaking him. He was feverish with his movements as he pulled you to straddle him, his hard cock pressing against you. You tugged down his boxers and let the member spring free, admiring it for a moment before moving your hand in front of you to pump it up and down. You adopted a slow pace to offset his sudden frenzy, determined to leave him wanting more.

He slid backwards across the bed and you followed, your hands still working around his cock. He laid his head down on the pillow, looking at you lazily with hooded eyes.

"This must be how all of your fucks go, huh? You just lay down while the other person gets you off?" you teased while suspecting there was some truth to the notion.

"I'm simply fulfilling the role you've already carved out for me, non?" he retorted, reaching out his hand to smooth your hair back.

You spit on your hand and lubed up his cock, feeling the intensity of his gaze burning your face. You pressed down on his shoulders for support as you lifted yourself up into a crouching position, lining him up with your entrance. 

He sat up slightly, helping guide you onto his cock with eagerness. He sloppily buried himself inside you, and you began to create friction, bouncing up and down with your legs wrapped around him and your nails digging into his shoulders. 

You relished in the effect that your ministrations had upon him. He was a silent lover beside the occasional soft breath or inhale, but his pleasure revealed itself through his body language; his mouth gaped slightly open, eyebrows furrowed, head arched back. You couldn’t help but admire him.

The two of you moved in harmony, soaking in your collective loss of inhibitions as your pace grew faster. You’d caught yourself imagining this a few times late at night, cursing yourself as your hand crawled down to the hem of your nightgown. 

It felt so much fucking better when it was real. 

You scratched deep marks in his skin as ecstasy washed over you, climbing closer to your high, your walls clenching against his cock. Suddenly he was trying to move you off him, and the spell was broken as you looked down at him in confusion.

"Lay down on your stomach," he instructed, and again you bent to his will.

You felt his arm snake around you from behind, his hand clamping down around your neck. You went lightheaded from the sudden loss of oxygen, and a moan escaped your mouth as you felt him enter you again.

"Is this man enough for you, chérie?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he rammed into you from behind.

He was pounding you mercilessly, and you knew that to tell him to stop was to reveal further weakness. You moved to brace yourself against the bed frame, but his hands were on your arms, pinning you down so you were entirely at his mercy.

"Tell me I'm a fucking coward now," he challenged.

"You're - not - a - coward," you managed to choke out, his thrusts continuing to increase in intensity, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating throughout the room.

He hummed his approval, before taking ahold of you and flipping you onto your back. His left hand moved to play with your clit as the other returned to your throat. Your back arched in anticipation, your body tingling from the combination of his cock thrusting into you and the movement of his fingers.

"I'm gonna cum," you cried out.

"Ouais, cum for me."

Your body trembled under the weight of your orgasm. As soon as you'd collapsed back down, he quickly pulled out of you, letting out a guttural groan as he shot his load over your tits and upper stomach.

He reached his index finger into the mess, drawing a heart in the sticky liquid and completing with an arrow through the center. The juvenile gesture caught you entirely off-guard until you looked up to see the amused, self-satisfied expression on his face. 

He pressed his finger against your lips, gently nudging for you to open it. You took his finger into your mouth, sucking it clean.

The Marquis laid down beside you, his eyes roving over your body. You surveyed his in return, unused to seeing the skin that he always had hidden under layers of a suit. You half-expected him to tell you to get out, maybe even toss you a twenty-dollar bill, but he said: "Do you want to sleep here tonight?"

It took you a moment to process the question. "Uh- yeah, I guess I will."

"Très bon. I will get you a cloth to clean up.”

He rolled off the bed. As you listened to him rifle through the cabinets, you were hit with the realization that you'd crossed a line you couldn't come back from. You'd fallen into his trap and given yourself over to him, just as he'd always suspected you would. 

He returned to your side, handing you a plush washcloth. You wiped off the evidence of your clandestine encounter, but as he turned off the lights and pulled you under the covers with him, you knew it stained you somewhere deeper. 

When you closed your eyes, all you could see was the haunting portrait. And all that lingered on your mind was a deal with the devil. The Table still had its claws in you.

[thevalleyisjolly]

Headcanon that post-canon Caleb has never actually adopted a cat himself.  Rather, his friends are regularly gifting him a never-ending stream of cats, which over the years has included:

Schatz, a little munchkin cat from Veth, who delights in taking and hiding little trinkets around the house.  Many inkpots (not always empty), jacket buttons, and Dynasty-style earrings have been claimed for Schatz’ secret hoards over the years and she has no intention of stopping.

Dashilla, a gangly rescue cat with one eye from Jester and Fjord.  She appeared on their ship one day after they left port in Port Damali, and her favourite person in the entire world is Fjord.  They couldn’t keep her for allergy reasons, hence why she is now biting Caleb’s hand whenever he lets his guard down.

A fully grown moorbounder named Blümchen from Yasha, who bought her as a mount during a stopover in Asarius and really bonded with her.  Yasha returned home to Zadash with her; when the fantasy HOA objected, Beau joked that they should give Blümchen to Caleb and Yasha fully committed to the bit.

Charly, an absolutely enormous Norwegian forest cat which Caduceus found in the Savalirwood.  Spends his days climbing up to the roof to sunbathe and menacing all rodent lifeforms who so much as twitch a whisker in the cottage’s direction.

Motherfucker, a spotted cat from Beau.  Her name was originally going to be Professor, but Beau called her Motherfucker so much that it’s the only thing she responds to now.  Was found abandoned behind the Beaurebar one evening, and is the most affectionate cat in the world to everyone except for Beau (hence the name).  Also nicknamed “Pop Pop” because one simply cannot tell visitors that one’s cat is named Motherfucker.

A whole entire litter of kittens, also from Jester and Fjord, from a ship’s cat on a Stone’s Throw ship.  Their names are Brötchen, Pumpernickel, Knödel, Pfeffernüsse, and Spritzkuchen, and they came with a basket of the best (slightly stale) pastries from around the Lucidian Ocean.

Kaiser, the most regal stray that the streets of Darktow have ever produced.  Kingsley claims that the large roguish scar on his cheek is from Kaiser and that he needs someone to take this hellcat off his hands.  It would probably be more believable if Kaiser weren’t the laziest tyrant to ever claim the cat basket for himself.

Hansel and Gretel, separate presents from Astrid and Eadwulf respectively.  Hansel is both an apology and a bribe from Astrid for making Caleb the student counsellor at the Academy.  No explanation was given for Gretel, Eadwulf just knocked on his door one day, dumped a yowling tabby in Caleb’s arms, and left without saying anything.

Perle, a pure white cat who technically belongs to Essek.  Technically.  It’s just that he’s always on the move trying to avoid capture by both the Dynasty and the Empire, and he would really appreciate it if someone could look after his cat for him until things are a little safer?  Of course he would have to visit often to check in on Perle, and maybe his Zemnian friend too while he’s at it.