#ah fuck these curved lines i quit

[4o4notf0und]

Sir. Lieutenant Crosby? –I’m sorry, son. \\ Bubbles Payne. Navigator. –No record.

[lazitoelgato]

If anyone wanna read the tags is free to do so jsjsjshsjs

Take responsibility for your own actions

[fawnpires]

TORN ON YOUR HEART — KÖNIG.

(in short: a concept about your husband, könig, wanting to ruin his pretty wife - and her pretty makeup.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: poorly google-translated german, husband!könig, slight dumbification, size kink & difference, body worship, soft dom!könig, manhandling, face-sitting, possessive sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, stomach bulge.

"Let me ruin that makeup off your face, mein kleines reh." his accented voice muffles from underneath you.

With his large anatomy in contrast to your much small-scaled body, it was without a doubt that the flat palms of his hands secured at the flesh of your thighs could keep you right where he wanted you to be. The veil of your husband's hood had been pushed up to a right enough amount to where his hooked nose had been exposed as well as his mouth where there was a visible scar starting at the right side of his lips that curved upwards to his cheek and possibly even up into his eyes — which were still shrouded behind the covering veil of his face, only two eyeholes teared in them to reveal the hazy blue irises that peek up at you when you were currently situated at his exhibited mouth.

"Köni! Mmph, baby... it's too much." Your voice comes out but nothing but a sole tone of a quivering tone, bare thighs sheen with sweat at this point while your chest rises and falls with each heaving breath. A mind fogged of entirely him and the pleasure he brings upon you, it causes you to have lose track of time; meaning that your trembling figure has rested on König's face for quite some time, but an obscured head of ecstasy forbids any kind of coherent thought to cross your head about anything outside of this dome of rapture. "I can't do a lot more, m'sensitive..."

"Awe. Come on, liebchen, don't be like that." König said, giving a small pause in between his words to lap more at your soaking cunt which he positions himself underneath; the warm muscle of his tongue causing your eyes to willingly roll back in your head while your thighs squeezed at his masked head with a bit more pressure, a faint squeal leaving your mouth from the mere pleasure of it all. "Just hold back a little longer, then you'll get your big reward, okay? Can my pretty girl do that for me?"

Voluntarily, you nod your head all of desperation to his words — nothing but absolute commitment to make the larger man underneath so proud of you in the moment. At your non-verbal response, a faint phrase of "süßes mädchen" came muffled below you as the motions of his tongue became more rapid without breaks. One of his hands had combined with the movements of his mouth, a circling thumb pressing on the nub of your clit which only sent your mind into a more in-depth condition of personal ecstasy. Your head was now fully thrown back, vulgar sounds of moans and whines falling from an agape mouth while a heated sensation began to birth at your lower abdomen. One of your hands plants itself right next to the bedsheets nearest to where your head laid while the other had a flat palm to his hooded head, your fingers twitching as I had started to lose myself more.

"König, fuck!" You whined out in a more high-pitched tone than intended, pools of sweat sticking to the soft material of your laced bra — chest puffed out which only pronounced on how heavily you were breathing, giving König the view of a lifetime; your breasts cradled above in the feminine-designed cloth of your bra, white and lining with a lace trim around the edges. The more his tongue sloppily lapped at your drooling cunt, the more that familiar sensation grew in intensity at your lower abdomen; the one that felt all tingly, like sparks were threatening to explode right there and now.

His eyes linger onto the soft plush of your breasts before peeking through your thighs up at your face before speaking: "Ah. That's it, kleines Reh, lose yourself to me." the man mumbles into your soft skin, palming at the flesh with his larger hands as the ministrations of his tongue could only speed up without break. The sensation at your lower abdomen approaches towards an end the more his tongue slid up the puffy lips of your cunt, bumping up right against the nub of your swollen clit along with the tip of his nose. Small whispers and mumbles of praises, which were barely audible, came from König as some sort of accommodation to the reach the final stage of an orgasm — he knew you were sensitive, and he knew damn well that the useful combination of both his voice and larger touch could make you easily fall compliant to him; your brain easily so stupefied into a state of only existing bliss.

By now, the tears that brimmed at the slightest corners of your eyes were ruining over the mascara that tinted your lashes — faint black streaks rolling down the sides of your face, the whites of your eyes mostly visible as they rolled back into the inner barriers of your head. Your hips had started to grind down onto his mouth while your trembling body had begun to get more responsive to him. "M'god... I'm gonna cum..." you whined out softly into the air, voice slightly hoarse from all the noises that creeped up your throat.

"Oh, you're gonna cum?" König asks, feigning a mocked innocence with a now more huskier voice and a growl to it. "Then go ahead, nobody is going to stop you, schatz." he adds on with a slight hiss, his hands moving from being wrapped to your thighs up towards your hips, then the soft skin of your stomach, then to your bra-confined breasts. He pulls off the delicate fabric and tosses it over to the floor, leaving you now completely bare above him.

Given his confirmation you don't hesitate to oblige with them — your body trembling a little more violently as you succumb into the tingling sensation that had expanded inside of your lower abdomen, pouring out without delay as you felt your orgasm finally burst into reality. Both of your hands moved to grip the bedsheets established at his head, holding them between your fingers in a near death grip while you rode out your climax. After a duration of a few more lasting seconds, you come down from your high; body coated in a light sheen of sweat, mouth widened to catch your breaths, and your grip loosening up at the sheets. Your head tilts in a downwards angle to get a better look at your mountain of a husband, steadily moving yourself down to sit on his bare and sturdy chest to gain a better perspective of his face.

König hadn't even given you a chance to catch even the slightest view of the aftermath of himself before his hands were back to your hips against, forcing you off his frame. He moved to lean up against the headboard, still holding you hostage in his more stronger grasp at your waist until he settles you in his lap. In his head, he almost thought of you as a fragile doll while you found placement on him; so much smaller in size, so easy to move around without a struggle with his more substantial clutch. His then leans into you and presses his mouth up against yours in a swift movement leaving you no time to think, breaching your mouth with his tongue that still had the aftermath of your orgasm residing there. Fingers trailed up the inner section of your legs before tickling at your thighs, slowly moving upwards to your sensitive cunt. His index and middle finger drag a slow line up your puffy lips, causing you to moan softly into his mouth while your tongue shyly wraps to his.

Those two fingers of his decide to no longer exist on the outer region of your cunt, plunging inside instead in a stretching method. A gasp is earned into his mouth as your body falls frail against his chest, back slightly arching at the sudden pressure inside of your aching cunt. You felt his fingertips drag at your inner walls the more they pumped in and out of you; it had first started off slow and careful, but they increasingly grew a little more violently with desperation. Your makeout session with König had gotten more heated and explicit, his tongue crowding your mouth and tasting every crevice that he could possibly reach to. His free hand held you steady on his lap easily as he took note of your hips bucking at the movements of his fingers pumping with more brutality. He can't help but chuckle to himself at your needy condition as he found it quite adorable, the sound resonating within his chest.

As he withdrew his head back from you, a thick line of saliva bonded at his tongue and had been shared into your mouth in a sloppy manner. He continues to move his fingers in and out of you without stop, your body squirming as your head was angled to look at him — but never breaking off eye contact with him. König grips that one side of your waist a little tighter, fingers speeding up to an intense rate while your inner thighs were now soaking of your leaking pre-arousal.

"A-Ah... König. Please, I want you." You whined out underneath your breath, the constant stretch of his fingers opening up your cunt was a bit painful but it didn't take long for them to subside into a stinging pleasure.

"You want me, do you?" He asks in response to your whining request, but never allowing his fingers to falter from their built rhythm.

You took a few seconds to pant out before replying. "I do, please... want you to fuck me."

Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him, a sudden primal urge listing at his necessities. His exposed, scarred lips give you a smirk — one without teeth, but showing a smug kind-of expression to them even if you couldn't fully view his full face. He slowly extracts his fingers from your cunt before moving to the only article of clothing that was on his body at the moment, his pants. Underneath where you sat on his lap, his hand found the buckle of his belt and undid it from the hoops of his tactical pants. There was a distinct noise of a zipper coming undone as well as the rustling of pants to get off. Without even looking down, you felt it; there was no separation of fabric between the two of you anymore, just bare skin. Bare and sweaty skin against each other.

His erected cock rested against your inner thighs, only fueling the amount of eagerness you had that had lead up into this situation. Hands were placed at both sides of your waist while he guided you a little up above his lap to turn around and lean up at his chest, hovering over his cock. He lowered you just the right amount so your cunt could rub up against the head of it — smearing his precum around your swollen lips and clit, more wetness starting to pool down your thighs. König elicited a deep sigh and you bit your lip, full-on whimpers escaping past the bitten flesh.

"Want it so bad, oh, please..." The words slipped out into the usual whine of your tone, nails digging into the skin of your palms at the sense of his precum soaking your cunt. "Need t'feel you inside of me..."

"I know, mein Reh, and I will." he responds through a quick breath, carrying on with moving your hips so that your cunt was rubbing up against the head of his cock. "Don't worry that head of yours, my pretty little wife will get what she wants."

Those were his last words before sheathing himself entirely into your smaller anatomy, the more extreme stretch of his cock compared to his fingers had made you squeal out at the first thrust. You squealed as you felt him fill you up, make you full; allowing your cunt to swallow him up until he was right at the base. He was warm when sheltered in your inner walls, but you had felt you were being impaled in a good way. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, starting off with slow yet powerful thrusts that made a loud squelching noise — but it wasn't long for him for his carnal wants to take over, slow thrusts becoming animalistic and eager. You supported yourself laying at his chest while your head slightly sloped back to rest at his shoulder, moans leaving your mouth at his vicious onslaught on you.

His fingers imprinted tightly into the skin of your waist as grunts began to emerge from behind his veil, his hips moving quickly against your soaking cunt. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as curses in his native language were muttered under his breath, muscles already layered with a sheet of sweat while pounding into you. His cock brushed up against your cervix with each of his pushes, inner walls pulsing as you savored the moment. Skin slapping against skin and personal sounds of ecstasy had started to reverberate against the room's walls, a divided choir of unadulterated material. His movements got more aggressive, more quicker as the both of you were left with no room to speak anymore; only grunting and moaning, incoherent words along with wet skin smacking so delightfully in a connected way.

You felt his hands transport from your waist to cup your breasts, still keeping you in a solid hold if you had wanted his fucking to continue. Large palms kneaded at your flesh while his head at your shoulder was turned towards the side of your neck, pressing small kisses there while he proceeded with splitting you open on his cock.

"This pretty body is alles meins, you hear me?" he manages to get out between grunts and heavy breaths. "Nobody else, just me... it will always be me." It's not like his words were some heavy lie to use you for your body, but they were genuine and came from his heart; the beauty of your anatomy was truly a treasure to him, and god consider him the luckiest man alive to have a woman possessing such angelic features as his wife.

"Mmhm, yes, all yours." you said through a foggy head full of rapture, head cocked to the side to give König better access to your neck.

His lips formed into a smirk at your words before he grabbed at your hips again, kissing and sucking marks of love into your neck while he pounded into your cunt; feeling himself on the brink of a climax as his grunts grew heavier, more pronounced with your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Your moans grew in volume as you felt a familiar heat start to ride at your lower abdomen, back arching into a curve off his chest as you slightly leaned your upper half forward — basking in the severe intensity of this moment. A more saturated wetness starts to drool down your inner thighs and onto his lap, the skin of his thighs glowing in your abnormally dripping arousal.

König moves one of his hands to the sweep of your stomach, taking notice of the obvious bulge that swells through the soft, sweaty flesh. His fingers inch their way on top of that protruding bump which appears more prominent each time the head of his cock pushed up against the barrier of your cervix, pushing against the area. Your eyes widened at the almost overbearing feeling, more arousal dripping down your thighs.

“-Eep! K-König! Hngh, please.” you said in a whining voice as you could only writhe against his touch, eyes glazing of tears that sourced from an overwhelming arousal, a second climax forming at your lower abdomen and threatening to spill over any second now.

“Mein gott, you’re so tight.” he growls, thrusts becoming less steady but more hostile; fingers pressing down harder on himself that showcases through the skin of your stomach. “Mmm - Scheiße, doing so good, almost there.”

It was a fact you weren’t going to last once he spoke those very words to you — his husky voice, his nonstop thrusts assaulting at your cervix, and his mouth presses wet saliva-soaked kisses to your neck; you couldn’t help but spiral into your second orgasm of the night, squirming at his lap and allowing everything to pour out. It was wet, everything was wet — his lap and bare muscular chest, your legs, the sheets of the bed. Your naked back was pressed to his chest as you immediately felt weakened by the experience. Soon enough, his own release followed your own and you felt every inch of him in your guts.

Your stomach was warmed and full, both of your skin sticky and blanketed with sweat. While he rested at the headboard, your head was idle on his shoulder — taking in his natural scent while you could only gaze absentmindedly at the sharp features of his face. He adjusted his head to stare back into your eyes, his left arm slowly coming to pat and wipe at your messy face with his thumb; streaks of mascara staining that thumb in an almost clay-like material, the sight causing him to chuckle lowly.

“Oh, süßes Reh. Who knew you could be even more gorgeous with a ruined face?” he whispers in a hoarse voice, giving you a small smirk which pressed to one side of his lips - leaning in shortly to press a small, gentle kiss to your cheek.

[readychilledwine]

A Debt Paid in Full

Summary - Your father shouldn't have sent his prettiest daughter after refusing to pay his Tithe

Warnings - this is unhinged and kind of dark, virgin reader, younger female/older male, manipulation, smut, beron is... surprisingly giving and slightly charming but arrogant. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding Kink, beron

A/N - You all asked for it. Please don't ask for more. I feel dirty 🤣

The Whore Home Masterlist

“Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?” Being circled by the High Lord of Autumn had to have been the scariest thing you had ever experienced. “Is that why Daddy sent you? Does he think a nice pair of tits will buy him time to pay his tithe?”

“No, my lord,” yes, you thought instantly. “He is just busy over looking the land and farms. He apologizes for sending a female in his place, but you know how we are when it comes to business.”

Beron seemed to smile as he studied you again. “I imagine you already know you are only useful for certain,” he paused, looking over your frame again, a true smile forming at what he saw, “activities.”

“My father taught me my place, yes.”

“How old are you?”

“302, my lord.”

“And unmarried?” He tisked slightly. “And unpresented to the court as an available female?” He circled you again, a new dangerous light gleaming in those eyes. “Why?”

You took a deep breath. “My mother needed me home to help with my younger siblings, and now that they no longer require me, I am a spinster per our standards, my lord. I am not a viable option for marriage.”

“But you are for fucking. Or for a second wife. A pretty little toy to keep around when someone's lady refused to come warm their bed.”

“Ah, a second choice. How very desirable. I will stay unwed. Be the village witch.” The statement was out before you could stop it. Beron paused midwalk, looking at you with those dark eyes and his brows raised. “I apologize.”

“You are lucky you are very, very beautiful.” A hand went to your light red hair. “Your spring court mother did you quite the favor. Her fair blonde hair mixed with red. You are a unique treasure.”

An odd feeling set into your stomach at his constant compliments, at his hand twirling your hair, his body so close to yours you could feel the fire that ran within him.

The Autumn Lord was by no means an ugly male. He had produced 7 beautiful sons, each one resembling him but with their mother's eyes and hair. He was fit, body lined and cut with muscle you could make out under his fine tailored clothing. 

“I believe you and I could reach a compromise, y/n. Regarding your father's discretion.” The sinking feeling of what he meant hit you as a hand trailed your lower back. “Your father knows I collect beautiful things, and you, little fox, are a beautiful thing.”

“Are you attempting to seduce me, my lord?”

“Is it an attempt when I can smell it clearly is working?” Beron walked you back to the wall, a hand resting on your hip and the other going behind your head to protect you from impact. “Is this what females dream of? A fae lord to whisk them away from their troubles, shower them in luxurious gifts and clothing?”

“I just dreamed of being taken away. The rest did not matter.” Beron smirked at the words, something that should have made your skin recoil but instead caused heat to settle between your legs. 

“Let's make a bargain, little fox. You stay with me, be my little second wife, and your family never pays a tithe again.”

Your eyes widened at the offer. It was a sacrifice you could make. What was your life in exchange for the safety of your family with your father's choice to ignore the tithe collection. Beron was handsome, the Forest House was beautiful, but he was cruel. “I want to be treated well.”

Beron hummed. “You will be, if you stay in line. Keep that pretty mouth in check. I was kind today. I will not always tolerate your attitude, though.”

The hand resting on your hip began to trail to the curve of your ass, the hand previously resting behind your head now, allowing him to lean into you and cage you into his body and the wall. “How soon?”

“Tonight. I have never been known to be a male with patience when I want something.”

“Why marriage? Why not just my maidenhood?” The question seemed to spark something in him, eyes growing darker and the scent of arousal being to consume every breath. 

“Why would I allow something so pretty to slip between my fingers? Especially when I didn't know I would be the one to ruin her? Yes or no. My tolerance for your questions is wearing thin and I can easily just drop you off as I have my eldest arrest your father.” 

What was your life, in exchange for the safety of theirs? “Yes.” 

That one word was all it took for him to pounce. Lips finding yours and dominating a heated kiss. He winnowed you from the room, taking you to what must have been his personal suite and walked you back to the bed. His hands roamed everywhere before picking you up and placing you on the softest bed you had ever dreamed of. “How attached to your dress are you?” The kisses moved to your jawline as he awaited his answer. 

“I'm not.”

“Good. I will give you a thousand more.”He burned every thread from your body, groaning at the newly exposed skin, so soft and untouched. Untested and unexplored. “I think your father knew I'd be weak for you. Your younger sisters had been presented to my court and married off, yet here you are. Hidden away because you were his most precious gem.” 

All you could do was whimper as soft thumbs ran over your nipples. Pinching them lightly. His lips ran to your neck, feeling like a trail of fire as they did. Every inch of you became so sensitive that you broke out in goosebumps. He stopped at a spot that made your back arch, sucking the skin there until you were sure you would bruise before continuing his path down. 

When he finally reached your breasts, he stopped temporarily, scooting you up the pillows a bit more before removing his crown and placing it on head. “Be a good pet and hold this for me.” You couldn't help but to laugh, but that quickly turned into another moan. “So responsive.” The praise quickly shot to your core just as a hand did, running along your soaked folds with an arrogant laugh. 

Every kiss, every lick, every gentle touch on your core had you mewling for him, back arching as you whined. When one finger pushed in and curled up, hitting a spot in you that you would have never found before immediately pulling it back out . “And such pretty noises.” You couldn't help but grip the sheets, praying to any God who would listen as his kisses continued lower until he settled between your legs. 

“Perfect. Just absolutely perfect.” Beron was oddly gentle, kissing your thigh. You could have died when he first licked at your core, growling as he did and nudging that precious bundle of nerves. 

“Beron,” you whispered almost in warning, fingers gripping the sheets tighter. 

“Ssh, relax.” He continued to motion again, setting your nerves a light and making you cry out at the foreign feeling. He continues then, slow methodical licks. Watching from lust filled hooded eyes as your back arched, as your mouth fell open, as your nails dug so deeply into his mattress your knuckles turned white. 

When his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking light as his tongue pressed into it, you saw stars. Then his fingers, his damned fingers pushed back inside of you, stretching you out and preparing you for him. It was all too much, yet not enough. He used his free hand to pin your hips down, leaving you with no escape from his mouth. 

Your stomach started to feel tight, and your mind became hazy, core clenching at the now two fingers pushing in and out, scissoring and dancing on the sensitive spot you have only read about in novels. You went barreling over the edge quickly, feeling him smirk on your core as you screamed for him. He pulled his mouth away, keeping his fingers deep inside of you, working you open for him. 

You had not even noticed him remove his clothing using magic, but he was bare before you. Scars littered his muscled chest and shoulders. They danced along his back and ribs. They were a reminder of his cruelty born in a place of hatred for his own father, his own upbringing. But for some reason, now of that matter, as he kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “Give me one more, y/n. Cum on my fingers before you get my cock.” 

He increased his rhythm, holding your head up to keep that golden crown resting on your head. His experience was quick to bring you over the edge again, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he did. 

He also kept your eyes on him as he used your slick to lubricate his cock, kept your eyes on him as he centered himself. And he kept your eyes on him as he pushed in, watching your mouth fall open again as the burn from being so full took over. Watching in sadistic glee as you whined and moaned. He barely gave you time to adjust, letting go of the back of your head in favor of pounding into you over and over. 

Now you truly could have died. You could have died with a smile growing on your face as he pulled out before forcing you to take all of him back in, making the pain quickly turn into a burning need as the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. He moved your legs, placing one over each shoulder and fucking so deep into you that you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. “So tight, pet.” His voice was breathy as his head fell back in pleasure. “Such a perfect cunt.” 

His thrusts became harder as he watched your face, trying to figure out what you liked. And a sudden gasp shifting to a wail of pleasure told him exactly what it was. Over and over, he hit that spot inside of you, the one he had found earlier with his fingers. His eyes almost seemed to roll as you grew tighter, clenching and twitching around him, swallowing him whole.

“Perhaps I should breed you as well. Make sure this pretty pussy stays mine.” Your body responded before you verbally could, gripping him higher and thighs beginning to shake. “You like that, don't you? Like the idea of being used, being bred. Fuck you're perfect. So fucking perfect.” His fingers found your clit again, massaging the swollen bundle of nerves as he buried himself into you. 

Completion found you again, ripping you so deep into pleasure as you milked his cock that you couldn't help but to fall into a silent scream. Beron fell over after you, heat passing through the room as he did and intensifying everything. He allowed your legs to fall from his shoulders. Catching himself on his forearms above you, he sat and watched as you came down from the high. He studied you like a new toy, plotting and planning what he would do to you. “Yes,” he spoke more to himself than you. “You will be quite fun to keep.”

Beron Smut Taglist:

@secret-third-thing

[starr666]

Cw: submissive!idia shroud x fem!dom!camgirl, whip usage, slight embarrassment kink?,

Minors dni

By scrolling past the line below, you are consenting to seeing nsfw content

————————————————-

Fem dom cam girl reader x Idia Shroud

He lost the bet— Idia Shroud, Gloomurai— the forever anxious, introverted, gamer boy, who’s only stroke of confidence comes from his smarts or his expertise in the world of gaming— had lost the bet to her. His best (and only) friend had beaten him at a new fighting game that came out, loser had to do whatever the winner says…and who knew that it would lead to his best friend having him laying on her luxurious bed with nothing but a cover over his shivering body and high quality cameras covering the different spots in the room, y’know, for perspective. While she stood at the edge of the bed, body adorned in black lingerie, royal blue bows accenting the corset-like middle, and fishnets her curves more defined than ever. She looked down at Idia with rope and a leather whip in one hand, gently swiping it across the other gloved hand and some rope tucked under her arm. An assortment of dildos that were compatible with her strap’s harness.

“A loser’s debt is quite deep, isn’t it, Gloomurai~? Now be a dear and wave to that camera for me, hm?”

The blue haired man attempted to further hide himself under the cover to hide the ends of his hair turning a bright pink, but as soon as his arm was up, she briskly made work of him with the rope, arms behind his back in a beautiful style. She pressed down onto his back and he immediately knew that meant for him to have his ass up for her and the cameras to see, and the next thing he feels is the whip making contact with his ass.

crack

“Since you dont know how to follow directions, you won’t be able to touch me through this whole process…now, go on, look at that camera riiight in front of you and tell them why you’re in this predicament.”

His head lifts to look at the camera that showed his face and he is already struggling to stop himself from drooling from the first hit

“I-I- l-lost tHe bet—” he stuttered out, his voice slightly cracking from the pressure

CRACK

“Louder, less stuttering.”

“A-ah~, yes ma’am— I lost the gaming bet to you.”

“And what does that mean for you?” her tone dropped, the words almost coming out in a hush but still loud enough for the microphones to pick up on

“That I…have to join your cam show for the day-“

“Good boy~.”her gloved fingers were already covered with lube and she wasted no time pressing her middle and ring finger into his ass, already meeting his prostate and feeling him clench in pleasure.

“Oh you poor thing, have you been anticipating such an opportunity with me? You’re already clenching around me~”

“Mm~N-no- ma’am.“

slap

“Are you sure? Because mistress doesn’t like liars” her other hand was wrapped around his throat, the statement was growled into his ear

“O-okay…m-maybe a little bit…”

another slap to his ass was made and he let out a screechy moan

“Cut the shit, you’re my biggest donor, aren’t you~”

his hair turned completely pink as he realized that she knew from the beginning…but he didn’t find much time to bask in such a thought after she added another two fingers, which were essentially sucked in by his needy hole

“Tsk…tsk…tsk, what a pathetic slut. Might as well make it worth your while, top donor~”

He tried to keep it quiet but the microphones still picked up on his gulp and whine that followed shortly after he no longer felt the fingers in his ass. Before he gets the chance to ask what happened, he groans as he feels a sudden fullness take over him

“Ohmygoditssofuckingbig” he whispered under his breath

“Oh…you think that’s big darling? This is just from my starter pack…I’m going to fuck you until you can truly call me your top donor~”

A/N: hehehe, get it, like a top who is also a sperm donor-

[amaranthine-enihtnarama]

Les Petits Morts (Marquis de Gramont x Assassin! F! Reader)

(Cat and mouse, do-they-want-to-kill-each-other-or-fuck-each-other, enemies to lovers, two psychotic mfers flirt)

taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose

warnings: freaky behavior, blood k!nk, knife play, violence, what y’all came for (🤨), reader is lowkey a brat hehe, marquis doms ofc bless up, mentions and brief moments of violence, build-up, more story than necessary probably. Romance⁉️

Part Two is here!

Vincent de Gramont had made a grave miscalculation when it came to her. He knew the moment he’d laid eyes on her that he was in danger: her wide, brown eyes shining golden in the rising sun, her fragrant hair swooping over one shoulder, letting the skin of her neck catch the light, and, as she’d finally stepped before him, that haunting scent of jasmine and gardenias, the radiance and bohemian ease she exuded; he was immediately disarmed from the knowledge that she was a killer. She was a slippery figure, shrouded in mystery, in fear. No one knew where she came from, but everybody knew of the story of how she earned her freedom. A young girl, bloodthirsty, filled with fire, tearing open the throat of the Marquis to whom she had been promised, her bloody mouth pulled back to bare a glimmering smile in the face of her freedom. Still, she remained in her former line of work, even more dangerous with her years of being outside of The Table’s shadow.

La Belladonna is what they called her, and she gave no name. She smiled at him, gaze twinkling something wicked. He maintained composure, of course, but he couldn’t break away from that haunting, doe-eyed gaze of hers. He’d expected a woman, but not one like this. He’d imagined a savage before him based on the story that had always been told. Not someone so beautiful, so graceful…so enchanting.

“Bonjour, Marquis,” she greeted, “I do hope you didn’t mind the early morning.”

“I did.”

She laughed, turning away and taking a seat against the wall.

“Well, that’s just too bad.”

She checked her nails; a crimson manicure. Her eyes flitted from it to him. He was confused by the expectation in her gaze. He’d never once seen that look in anyone’s eyes before (except, perhaps, from one of The Table).

“Won’t you have a seat,” she questioned.

He cleared his throat, glancing over to one of his men then slowly moving over to the barrel next to her. She admired the horses with a small subdued smile, then turned to him with a sigh. He surveyed her, unsure what to make of this so-called dangerous killer. He was quite sure he’d met worse. He moved to speak, but she cut him off.

“So, Marquis, why exactly do you require my services?”

“They say you’re the best,” he responded cooly.

Her lips curved into a bemused smile. “They say we’re all the best. Why me specifically?”

He gave a slight smile. “You are able to go unnoticed. Become invisible. I want someone invisible.”

“And why is that? Don’t you have Caine? He’s the best.”

His smile fell. Her eyes widened slightly with the thrill of his upset.

“What? That’s practically public information.”

“In that case, I suppose you already know the answer to your own question.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” she corrected, tapping his nose with a slender cigarette holder and a bright smile, “I know you want John Wick dead, I know you want those aligned with him dead. But I know you not only have Caine, but the entirety of The Table’s resources at your disposal. You don’t need someone like me; you don’t require someone so subtle, it’s certainly not your style. You are fortunate enough to have to ability of using sheer force to achieve your goals.”

She took out a cigarette, placed it in the holder, then put in between her lips. Despite himself, he stole a glance at her mouth, taking in the slight purse of her lips as she lit her cigarette. He watched smoke puff from between them.

“So…what is it you want with me?”

He met her eyes, sitting back. “You’re very observant. Good job.”

Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance, creating a tiny crack in her mask. She gave a slight smile, blowing some of her cigarette smoke at his face.

“Hm.”

He stood, brushing his nose off. “You’re right. If we were looking at this in the short term, I don’t need someone like you. But I am not thinking of the short term.”

Her eyebrows rose in interest. “I’m not a kept puppy, Monsieur de Gramont. I’m sure you recall my exit from the Table. I wouldn’t recommend becoming my boss.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“For my price, I think you are.”

She held his gaze for a moment, finishing her cigarette. She tossed the butt onto the barrel, then gave a light chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.”

She stood, raking her fingers through her hair.

“I apologize, but I’m afraid I’ve wasted our time. I suggest getting some extra sleep while you can.”

Vincent watched her turn away with unease, swallowing as she started to leave. He shot a look to the men at the door, then walked after her. He moved to place a hand on her shoulder but she turned swiftly, pressing her cigarette holder into his chest, pushing him backward.

“Do not grab me, Monsieur. I cannot be bought. Only hired. I do not make deals, especially not with men like you. There is not a price you can name that would change my mind.”

“I’m quite sure the prices I can name are beyond anything you’ve heard before.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re quite arrogant, Gramont. It’s endearing, but not enough to hold my attention. Goodbye.”

Vincent watched as she turned to leave, but soon slowed down, then halted to a stop. A pressure lifted on his chest. She tilted her head, twirling the cigarette holder between her fingers.

“Do you really want to offer up two perfectly fine men for the slaughter? Just for a silly little price?”

“I would prefer to avoid bloodshed altogether, mademoiselle.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Whoever told you I am a patient woman was misled you, Gramont.”

He smiled. “Whoever told you I am a relenting man did the same.”

***

Milan, Italy.

Belladonna sat back in her chair, taking a long drag from her cigarette in its holder, crossing her legs with a smile. After several months of hide-and-seek with that pesky Marquis, she’d finally shaken off some the men he had tracking her, and killed the rest. Now, she finally felt like she could just breathe, sit back, relax, enjoy her espressos and afternoons by the sea, and then, when she fancied, a night at the opera. As luck would have it, they were performing her favorite; Madama Butterfly.

She poured herself a glass of champagne as the lights dimmed, and as she took a sip her phone buzzed. Her eyebrows drew together in annoyance; she made it clear to her team not to contact her, lest they risk her being tracked again by one of the…

She frowned, reading the text. It was in french, from a sender with no number.

The Italian sun has treated you well, Mademoiselle.

Her shoulders tensed, but she kept her cool. How did he find her? And why the hell did he follow her here? She was quite sure she’d made herself clear with the last two men she got rid of: do not bother me again, or you’ll end up looking just an mangled as them.

Darkness swallowed the theater as the curtains rose, and Belladonna felt a pit form in her stomach. She’d never felt so troubled by anyone as much as she had by this man. He was bull-headed and inescapable—with all of the ability in the world to keep her in his sights. Discretely, she glanced around the balconies in her view, but only saw strangers. Where was he? Where was the son of a bitch this time?

She put out her cigarette harshly, trying to keep her composure. After finishing her glass of champagne, she sent a message in response.

You’re toying with your life, Gramont.

I could say the same for you.

She rose an unimpressed eyebrow, twirling her cigarette holder between her fingers. She set her phone down with a heavy sigh. He just had to ruin everything, didn’t he? Bothering her during her jobs, and now during her time off. Her phone buzzed again. With a clench of her fist, she ignored it.

As she paid more attention to the opera, her mind wandered. Her six-foot-four shadow quickly evaporated into a tiny shadow in the back of her thoughts, and she admired the gorgeous costumes of the singers, the swelling and rhythm of the orchestra, and rested her cheek on her fist in awe as the soprano playing Madama Butterfly began her aria Un Bel di Vedremo.

She could remember the first time she’d heard it; she’d gotten it as a gift from a lover in a period of innocent youth that had become alien to her. The lover she lost as a sacrifice of that innocence. Despite herself, her eyes grew misty from the memory. She watched the soprano’s wistful gaze, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and as she reached the peak of the aria and the orchestra swelled, Belladonna could’ve sworn she could see the singer’s eye’s glistening along with hers.

The music of the aria faded out, and she quickly wiped her eyes as the lights of the house rose. She rose to her feet, glancing around again. Her heart jumped at the sight of a tall, brown haired man in a three-piece suit leaving one of the booths. She hesitated to get worked up—every man she’d laid her eyes on had a three-piece suit on, it didn’t have to be him. Maybe she was just in denial. Although she’d never want to say it, the Marquis was successfully beginning to wear her down.

She dialed a number on her phone. The call was answered before it could ring.

“Yes?”

“The Marquis is here in Milan. There may be some of his men at the opera house. Kill them, would you? Be thorough with it. Wherever they may be crawling about. And leave me a change.”

“Of course, right away, ma’am.”

She hung up, scanning the audience again before leaving her booth. She slipped into a women’s restroom, entering an out-of-service handicapped stall and quickly removing her dress and opening the duffel bag tucked between the toilet and the wall. It was a pity she wouldn’t get the pleasure of enjoying it, it was a lovely piece. She admired it on the hanger with a sigh, tugging on a bulletproof jumpsuit and zipping it up, adding elbow and knee pads. She laced up her black military boots, then unzipped the duffel bag, placed the dress and heels inside, and pulled out the pair of pistols under the false bottom, placing the magazines in the sides of her boots. She slid a pair of blade into hidden pockets in the lower back of the jumpsuit, then tugged on a beanie and a black face mask.

She pushed the duffel bag back in its spot, then stepped onto the toilet, opened the air vent, and with a hop, grabbed onto the ceiling and pulled her way up inside. Her knee and foot made dull impacts with the metallic interior of the vents as she pulled the door up.

She pulled out her phone, going through her messages to find the blueprints one of her navigators had sent. She stalled on a message from that numberless contact, the one she’d ignored before.

You look beautiful in that dress, Bella.

A frown formed on her face at the message. It wasn’t the first of these messages she’d read in these days. Messages occasionally complimented her ways of eluding him, how a pair of earrings complimented her honey brown complexion, how bloody a mess she’d left behind. Still, none were as direct as this one.

Beautiful, she thought. It conjured up an odd feeling, imagining him saying such a compliment. Perhaps if he wasn’t such a foolish nuisance, it might’ve even excited her a touch. She quickly went to the blueprint of the vents and started to crawl towards her escape.

After a sweaty fifteen minute excursion through the vents, Belladonna finally jumped down from a window and landed on a cushy pile of discarded wood. She didn’t allow even a grunt as she got to her feet and rounded the corner, finding a grey-suited body lying in a pool of her own blood a few feet away from her bike. Her cushy hotel was no longer an option, so she had to relent for the secondary location she’d had set up. The only bother would be the chilly night ride.

///

Montemarciano

She’d made it the country house by dawn, and the sun was preparing to break through the horizon. Exhaustion pulled on her limbs, demanding she collapse directly into the earth as she made her way to the door. She let her shoulders slump as she rested a hand on the door. This place was quite literally in the middle of nowhere. She’d made sure it was no registry or map. Yanking her beanie and mask off and taking a deep inhale of fresh, crisp air, she went for her key behind the false brick when a creak sounded inside the house. Belladonna froze, gripping the brick in her hand.

It couldn’t have been the Marquis, but it could’ve been someone else even more dangerous. She stayed in a crouch, crawling towards the back door and seeing it ajar. Her eyes widened, and she pulled out a pistol. Gently, she pushed the door open and slid inside, crouching against the wall like a statue, eyes scanning the living room. There weren’t many places for an intruder to hide.

In the blue light against the curtains, she watched a large figure pass through the room and right by her. The figure entered the bedroom, and Belladonna placed the brick down silently, getting onto her feet.

She slid through the door, watching the figure in the darkness. They sat at her desk, staring out of the modestly sized window as more blue light filtered through the linen curtains of the dark room. She flicked on the lamp. The figure turned and she fired without hesitation, watching as they tumbled to the floor. She leapt over the bed, planting a foot by the stranger’s head and placing her weight into the knee that she dug into their shoulder. The figure had covered their face with their arm and swiped it blindly at her, but she easily knocked it to the ground and trapped their wrist under the heel of her boot.

Cooly, she held the gun to their face, pressing harder on their wrist. A familiar voice swore, letting out a grunt. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Gramont,” she remarked quietly, making out the face beneath her.

He was breathing heavily, eyes darting between the gun and her face. She turned off the safety.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now,” she said.

“Many will come after you. Worse than me,” he said breathlessly.

She smirked, shaking her head. “I said a good reason, Monsieur. Don’t waste your breath.”

He looked at the gun, then to her surprise, smiled a bit. He rose his eyebrows.

“Come now, Bella. Haven’t we had fun these past months?”

“I thought you’d be better at bargaining.”

“If you really intended to kill me, I would be dead by now.”

She paused and tilted her head.

He made a good point.

With a grin, she added. “I really intended to kill you, Monsieur, I would’ve killed you the morning we met.”

She moved the gun away from his face.

“You came here alone.”

“I came to deliver something to you.”

He tried to sit up, but she doubled down her weight onto him.

“Certainly you don’t think I intend to harm you?”

She studied his face, then chuckled. “Not alone, no.”

He let out a breath as she rose to her feet, stepping away from him. He sat up, watching as she trained her gun onto him as he stood. Vincent fixed his hair and his suit, gesturing to the door.

“It’s in the living room.”

“Mhm. Ladies first.”

With his trained on her gun, he passed through the door and she followed silently, pointing it at his head. She flicked the light switch on as they rounded the corner, and lamps lit up, revealing a spare but cozy living room. He chuckled, turning to her.

“Very cute, Bella.”

She didn’t answer, only held the gun to his face. He turned back around, going to the coffee table. There was a large black box, along with two other boxes. One appeared to be a shoebox, the other a mystery. Caught off guard, by gifts, Belladonna’s grip loosened on the gun. She squinted in confusion, almost wanting to laugh.

“What…”

“Your gown tonight was lovely, but it can’t be worn again after you left it in that filthy bathroom. I thought I would replace it for you.”

“…the fuck…”

He stepped towards her, and her gun returned to its leveled aim reflexively.

“…Is wrong with you?”

He smiled, pleased at her bewilderment, although she seemed a bit amused as well.

“What is wrong with a gift?”

“Oh, when it comes from you, several things.”

He chuckled, placing his hands in his pockets.

“We’ve been playing this game for a little while now, and I must admit that I see no end to it. So why don’t we talk it over dinner?”

“It took fourteen bodies to get to dinner, huh?”

He looked away almost bashfully, if his eyes could express such an emotion.

“I thought you’d be easier to kill, I’ll admit that too. And I believe tonight makes twenty.”

His callousness uneased her, but not as much as the glimmer that formed in his eyes when he fixed his gaze on her.

“Come now, is dinner so bad compared to these last few months?”

She narrowed her eyes. He smiled again.

“Think of it as a celebration if you want. Perhaps for your birthday? It’s this weekend, isn’t it?”

In an immediate shift, her eyes darkened, and without warning she flung a knife at his face that he barely evaded being mortally wounded by. Blood poured down his cheek as she lunged at him, knocking him against the wall, but this time he had his footing. He grabbed the fabric of her jumpsuit and whirled around to slam her into the wall with a grunt, but she quickly drove her knee into his stomach once, twice, then kicked him back with both legs, sending him crashing against the kitchen counter. The photos on the wall shook on impact. Before he could even recover she had him on the floor, and his mind quickly went back to the position she’d had him in before and he shot into action, overpowering her just enough to have her beneath him. Still, she was fast, and limber. It seemed like only a moment had passed when she’d locked her thighs around his neck and held his arm at a seemingly impossible angle. He gasped and coughed, feeling the blood pumping in his head.

“You haven’t really gotten your hands dirty like this before, have you Marquis?”

He felt around desperately, and found a saving grace sheathed in her boot.

“You’ve never had your heart race like this, feeling your life threatening to slip through your fingers.”

She twisted his arm further, and he snatched whatever he’d found out of her boot. Her laugh rung in his ears like a funeral bell.

“It’s unfortunate your first real fight turned out to be your last.”

He stabbed her in the upper thigh, and she growled lowly, her hold weakening. He moved in a flash, snatching the blade out of her leg and trying to force her onto the ground, but she began to shimmy backwards despite her injury. He grunted, grabbing at her until he’d finally pinned her down, when he saw her arm go out of his line of sight and something hard slammed into the side of his head. Despite his delirium he grabbed her arm as she hit him again, and forced it to the ground, getting frustrated grunt out of her as she struggled, but he had her.

He caught his breath, his muscles straining to keep her in place. Adrenaline was coursing through his body faster than blood as his sight cleared, and his eyes fixed onto her searing gaze. Slowly, he pressed the blade—a small one, to his surprise—against her neck, watching her swallow. Their eyes locked onto each other. Their blood rushed violently as their chests heaved. Vincent pressed his hand into her chest harder, keeping her firmly on the ground. Her eyes scanned his face with a curious glint.

“I’m not afraid to cut,” he said through puffs of labored breath.

She grinned. “I’m not afraid of cuts, rich boy.”

He dug in the blade, dragging it slowly through her skin. Her fists clenched but she gave no reaction this time. Her eyes only bored into his as the living room filled with warm sunlight. Crimson trickled from the cut, and he smeared it with his thumb as they fell still. He could feel her blood humming through her thundering pulse. Her skin was hot, alive. She watched him, then grabbed his arm, pulling him down with sheer strength. He tensed, preparing for an attack but she just held him by the lapel, a smile dancing on her lips as she leaned up slightly.

“Tell me,” she said quietly, “Has this become business, or pleasure, Vincent?”

His eyes seemed distant as his name left her lips. They drifted to her curved, full mouth, and then fixed onto her eyes. Wordlessly, he took his thumb from her neck and placed it against his tongue, watching for her reaction. She gave none. A challenge.

“Are you pleased?”

To his surprise, she giggled. Her body relaxed under his and Vincent’s head swam with confusing desires. What was this, now that he thought about it, what the hell had gotten into him to chase this girl for months? He looked at her face for answers, finding that same smile he’d seen the first time they’d met. What did it mean?

“Come here,” she encouraged, watching his eyes scan over her in a daze.

He looked at her. Her smile widened, and she beckoned him closer. But with what, he wondered, how could she command him so swiftly without words? Her eyes trailed down to his lips with what part him hoped was the same mysterious hunger that was bubbling up inside him. He leaned closer, breath fanning against her face.

“That’s right,” she said softly, reclining.

He leaned down over her, and for a moment there was stillness between them, a pull that seemed to magnetize them closer. Belladonna’s eyes widened a fraction as the feeling of it came over her, and she quickly head butted him with all the force she could muster. He groaned, clutching his head, leaving him completely vulnerable to her attacks. She managed to twist her way from beneath him, hopping to her feet and grabbing the knife that had lodged into the wall. She sniffed harshly, grabbing his hair and tilting his head up, pressing the point of the blade just below his chin. He stared up at her, eyes half blazing with unspoken fury, the rest uncertainty of what to expect next.

“You surprise me, Marquis.”

He tried to move but her grip tightened onto his scalp painfully. “Ah-ah-ah. I don’t think so. Unless you want me to drain your neck.”

With an even more furious stare, he relented. She grinned at his expression.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t expect you to put up such a good fight. The last one I dealt with wasn’t half as good a match as you. I’m impressed.”

A strange swell of pride bloomed in Vincent’s chest despite his indignation. She hummed thoughtfully.

“Dinner does sound nice, doesn’t it?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, struggled to swallow in her hold.

“I haven’t been on a date in a while,” she remarked, “Maybe you’ll show me a good time, eh, chéri?”

She let him go, stepping back. Before he could respond, her knee collided with his head. The world went dark.

He came to in the afternoon with the sun beaming down on his face. The back door was wide open, leaving only the sound of birds and the breeze flowing through the golden-yellow grass. He popped his jaw and sat up with a groan. She was gone. If it weren’t for the blood and the dents in the wall he’d have thought it were nothing more than a dream. But he could smell gardenias, he could still taste her on his tongue. He could still feel her racing pulse beneath his thumb, hear her voice. He inhaled deeply, unsure what to think of the feeling passing through him. He couldn’t come to a conclusion, but he recalled something that caused him to smile.

She’d called it a date.

***

Paris, France. Two days later.

She was reclined on a park bench, eyes shut, taking in the sun while her black dress sparkled. He watched her a couple yards away, finding himself rather daunted. She’d told him over the phone he’d know where to find her, and it had taken barely twenty minutes for her to be tracked down. Despite their fight, she looked radiant. Completely unscathed. It was inhuman.

His phone buzzed, and he frowned as he answered. It was her. He glanced up curiously, seeing she had disappeared. He held the phone to his ear.

“Dragging our feet? I’m not a patient lady.”

His searched around for her, but she’d vanished into thin air.

“Go ahead, you can ask…how the hell did I do that?”

He listened to her soft chuckle through the phone with surprising pleasure.

“Come to me, and I won’t make you wait any longer.”

“Awe, listen to that. You’ve been so good at finding me, this shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“You are impossible,” he sighed, turning to scan the park.

“Impossible? This just part of the fun.”

The call ended, and he stared at the phone with slightly furrowed eyebrows. He looked to the bench, noticing something fluttering and went over to examine it. It was a note. He unfolded it, reading sweeping cursive. It was in french, but he knew she’d written it.

Come and get me, chéri. I am a ghost with many faces.

Vincent smiled, eyes crinkling. He pulled out his phone, making a call that was quickly answered.

“Where is she now,” he questioned.

There was a pause. “Well…sir…”

“Mm?”

“It seems like she’s at a cafe.”

“Alright—“

“She’s also at the Notre Dame.”

He hesitated to answer, but kept his cool. “I…see.”

“And the Louvre.”

He moved the phone away, smiling to himself. “A ghost with many faces.”

“Go get her,” he instructed, “Each one.”

Belladonna’s game led him across the entire city. Well, his men, but still. They called him reporting of notes that read ‘warmer’, ‘colder’, or ‘come on, you can do better than that’. Each of her clones proved to be as slippery as the original, and it gave him a thrill and a more subtle concern. He was aware what she was telling him, their game aside. She was showcasing her manpower—how perfectly coordinated her operation was. She wasn’t just a mere assassin, she had built her own network. He’d suspected help, although not to this scale of control. It was clear to him, though, why she’s wouldn’t accept any price. Leaders can’t be bought. She’d left The Table and had somehow managed to build one of her own.

When the evening had rolled in, he simply relented trying to track her down. It was impossible, he’d accepted it. Standing outside the restaurant he’d reserved, he called her.

“Alright, you win. I give up. Where are you, I’ll send a car.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “No need. Just come in.”

“Have you been inside this entire time?”

“God, no. How boring would that be?”

She hung up. He shook his head, going inside. “Mon dieu.”

When he’d entered, she was there waiting, smoking with her legs crossed. Her lips were crimson red like her nails and her hair was curled to a dazzling perfection. Still, as he approached from behind, he could see the bruises on her back and shoulders. He stopped next to her, brushing her hair away from her neck, revealing the bandage over his cut. She turned her head, met his eyes. They glittered as she looked over his face.

“You know, if a date was all you wanted, a whole lot more of your men would be alive right now,” she said.

“Hello to you too, Bella.”

He brushed the bandage with his finger, earning a stare from her. She was smiling at him.

“Why are you here?”

She looked away as if to think, then locked her gaze onto him. “Why are you?”

He smiled in return. “I imagine we’re here for the same reason.”

His fingertips brushed down her neck and over her shoulder as he moved to take the seat across from her. Her eyes followed him, smoke passing through her rouge mouth.

“Well, then.”

She leaned onto the table, eyeing him.

“Do we really need to have dinner, or should we just get out of here and get straight to it?”

A wicked grin spread across her mouth as she surveyed him. He cleared his throat, but smiled.

“I went through so much trouble to get you that dress, I’d hate to ruin it so soon.”

She laughed. “Oh, you’ll ruin it, will you?”

He pressed his stare onto her. “I’ll rip it right off of your body and devour you.”

Belladonna took in his words, absorbing his stare in her deep brown eyes. Her teeth bared in a wide, shimmering smile.

“Not if I eat you first.”

Her cigarette burned out as they were served the first course.

She ignored the food, her eyes fixed onto him. Something about being under her stare made him feel stiff in his bones. The closer he brought her, the more it felt like reaching into a fire. Her gaze was always so predatory. It gave him a thrill of familiarity, and the chill of it, too.

“Eat,” he told her, gesturing to her plate.

She glided her finger over her wine glass, then shook her head slowly, eyes daring him.

“I don’t think I will.”

He paused in annoyance, but couldn’t help how pleased the resistance made him feel. It was plain on her face, she was playing with him.

“Don’t be difficult, now. We’re just starting to get along.”

Her teeth gleamed again. “Or what?”

The response made him pause. He set down his fork, processing what the woman who’d nearly killed him two days ago had just said to him. He leaned towards her slightly, a smile playing on his lips.

“Is that what you want, yeah? You want to be in trouble?”

A soft laugh made her shoulders bounce as she sat back. The toe of her heel nudged his leg underneath the table.

“That depends. What happens when I’m in trouble, Monsieur?”

“You don’t want to be in trouble with me, Bella.”

The warning only spurred her further. “Oh, but I love a little trouble.”

“All you American girls love trouble, don’t you?”

“It’s our middle name,” she teased, “So you’d better be as bad as you say.”

Her eyes flitted from her eyes to his face, zeroing in on his cheek. He was surprised by the warmth that seemed to emerge in her eyes as she leaned forward, tracing the cut in his cheek with her cigarette holder. A soft smile spread across her face. She almost seemed gentle.

“Such a pretty cut,” she muttered, “don’t you like it? A pretty cut for a pretty face.”

“You think my face is pretty?”

She chuckled softly at him, leaning further and caressing the slice with her thumb.

“Of course it’s pretty, chéri,” she murmured, “That’s why I made it mine.”

Wordlessly, Vincent took her hand. He could feel the slight callouses on her knuckles and the bases of her fingers that had been softened by manicures. He turned her hand, pressing his lips against her fingers and kissing her knuckles.

“Si tu me fais tienne, je te ferai tenir.” If you make me yours, I’ll make you mine.”

She turned her hand, brushing her fingertips against his lips, trailing a finger down to his chest. Her fingers wrapped around his tie, and she tugged it out of his vest, carefully pulling him over the table and leaning in for a kiss. His breath caught in his chest and his eyes fell shut from the feeling of her lips against his. With a rotation of her hand she tightened her grip and pulled him closer. He kissed her deeper, tasting a hint of champagne in her mouth and feeling her shuddering breath against his when she broke the kiss for air. She took in his intense green eyes and caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“Alors fais-moi tienne, Vincent.” Then make me yours, Vincent.

“Ah, I thought you were not kept puppy,” he said, a grin threatening to form on his face.

She yanked him, raising a brow. “I am not.”

He gingerly held onto the table with a laugh. “Then what are you doing here?”

Belladonna loosened her hold, dropping the tie and considering him for a moment.

“You may not be able to make me your puppy, but you’re in danger of making me your woman.”

His eyes flashed, and a grin spread across his face. “It’s dangerous, is it?”

“There would be many who would start ringing a funeral bell for you if they heard the news.”

His gaze lowered to her lips. Vincent took her chin in his hand.

“Is that the price to make you mine? My life?”

“It would certainly be one I’d consider.”

“Then it’s the one I’m offering.”

She laughed, looking away. He turned her face to make her hold his burning stare. For a moment, her eyes softened. She seemed to hesitate despite how far she’d escalated the entire situation. But, soon after, she closed her eyes and placed another kiss on his lips.

“Then I’ll tell you again,” she whispered, “Fais-moi tienne, chéri.”

He kissed her firmly, letting out a sigh. “Come with me, Bella—now.”

The minute he’d gotten her in the back of his limousine he tore the slit in her dress up to her torso and pinned her to the ground, undoing his tie and holding her wrists together firmly.

“You’re not getting away this time,” his voice rumbled lowly, “I won’t let you get away.”

He bound her wrists together tightly, watching her skin chafe against its luxurious material. Her breath was trembling. Her skin was already hot for him.

His cock was already hard against her inner thigh—the string of desire had been tugging at him the moment he’d read that note. She let out a heavy sigh, pushing her hips up against him and lifting her arms over her head to drape them over his neck and pull him down to her. Their lips crashed together while her hips ground against him, and a soft moan spilled from her mouth into his as her body started to wrap around him. He kissed harshly down her neck, digging his fingers into her hips and pressing it back down onto the floor.

“Stay still—stay fucking still.”

A laugh bubbled in her chest. “Oh, you’re going to have to work much harder to keep me still, baby.”

He quickly removed his jacket and grabbed his butterfly knife from his waistband. He grazed her leg with the cool blade, admiring the flames of desire that sparked in her eyes from the mere contact. Delicately, he dragged the point down her inner thigh, stopping to watch how her chest rose and fell erratically. He guided the blade lower and lower over her hips, grinning at how they slightly bucked.

“Ah, you want it?”

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she gently pulled him back up to her lips. She opened her mouth against his with a moan, running her foot up the back of his leg.

“Just take me,” she whispered.

“Fuck, stop ordering me around,” he said, lips trembling against her collarbone as he laughed, “I might start to like it from you.”

“Then make me beg.”

He nicked the cut he’d made in her upper thigh, shuddering at the gasp she let out into his mouth. Without wasting even a millisecond he dragged his mouth down over her stomach—and ghosted over her cunt—to run his tongue along the weeping slice. He grabbed onto her as he made his way from the cut to between her legs. His lips brushed her clit and her body seemed to jump a little at the feeling. Vincent couldn’t control himself. He placed a kiss close to her aching core and relished in how her body seemed to quiver at the slightest touch.

“Look at you, so wet…”

He hesitated to leave her cunt alone, but planted a kiss on her hip and then sank his teeth into her, earning a yelp and a soft, lighter moan when he didn’t let up.

“Vincent,” she whispered.

He was close to getting what he wanted, he could tell.

“Yes, chérie?”

His fingers teased through the fabric of her lace underwear—she let out a soft mewl, making his eyes widen.

“You wear these lace panties for me, chérie? You were going to give it up to me that easy, like I already owned your little cunt?”

“Vincent…”

“Est-ce que c'est ça qui te fait mouiller, mon coeur, quand tu es en dessous de moi comme ci ? Quand tu sais que je peux faire ce que je veux de toi ?” Is that what makes you wet, my darling, when you’re beneath me like this? When you know I can do whatever I want to you?

She sounded almost anguished. “S’il te plaît, Vincent.”

“Ah, now I can get a please and a thank you? Is this why you’re so fucking disrespectful to me, Bella? You want to be punished like a filthy whore, then?”

“Oh,” she managed through weak laugh, “I’m definitely disrespectful because I’m a pompous bitch. Why do you think I’m the one that can’t be bought?”

“Mm, but you can be fucked, huh?”

She smiled widely, eyes falling shut.

“Only if they’re as pompous a bitch as me, monsieur.”

He moved away from her hip and went back to her cut, sucking on it hard enough to make a hickey. Her body arched at the sting of it and Vincent could feel her getting slick in her underwear.

“Beg,” he said, taking off the heels he’d bought for her, “Beg for me.”

The words left her mouth in a whisper. “Please, please, just fuck me.”

“Je ne t’entends pas, chérie.”

He closed his teeth around her waistband, pulling it taut and slicing the underwear open.

“C’mon, baby, please?”

“Don’t ask,” he instructed, “Beg.”

In his fervency he nearly pressed his mouth onto her as he tore the rest of the fabric off and laid eyes on her pussy. His teeth sank into his lower lip—this woman was going to be the death of him.

No. No. He had to take his time.

There was nothing guaranteed with La Belladonna, it was what they all said. He couldn’t waste the moment she was wide open and willing for him. He returned to her sweet lips, kissing her slowly, inhaling her scent. He kissed down her neck hungrily.

“Fuck, I need you,” she whispered, “Please, just fuck me. Please, please, Monsieur.”

“Mon dieu, you know exactly how to beg, too. How can one woman manage to push every single one of my buttons?”

“I’m not the only one with a type here, honey,” she said, smiling, “I get what I want, too.”

His hand snaked down to rub her clit—slowly, to take in her expression, her voice. She moaned, grabbing his hair, pressing her forehead against his cheek.

“Oh, god, Vincent. Please…please…”

His fingers slid inside her eagerly, curling and pulling back then thrusting deeper.

“Mm…Vincent…”

“Yes, baby, say it like that.”

His voice was soft against her ear. She melted into the floor of the limousine, her body easing against his hand, just they way he’d imagined it would.

“I knew you’d be a good girl, Bella, I just needed to give you a nudge—“

She gasped loudly at his fingers pumping harshly back inside of her.

“—In the right direction. Don’t you think?”

Her smile even shone in the feeble light the managed to get through the limousine’s tinted windows. She turned her head and kissed him. He returned it sloppily, his head pulsing with blood as his cock ached painfully. Her lips found his cheek, then his jaw, then her tongue grazed his neck, making him shiver. She closed her teeth around his earlobe and tugged harshly. He moaned into her hair, shutting his eyes. He needed her. He couldn’t even keep his head on fucking straight enough to tease her. Months he had to wait—months of clinging onto remnants of her scent, her red-stained cigarette butts and rivers of blood that trailed behind her—months that drove him fucking mad.

“God, you fucking woman.”

He tore his belt open, undid his pants and pulled his dick out, wetting it with her slick. He rubbed the head against her pussy, breath shuddering, mouth drying; he wasn’t sure if he’d survive making love with her, feeling the way his heart thundered out of his chest.

“Take me,” she whispered, “fuck me, Vincent.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He slid inside her gently, but once he felt her, he couldn’t be gentle anymore. His hips drew back and crashed into hers, making her groan loudly and move her hands back over her head. His thrusts were harsh, intense, but his hands slid into her hair affectionately. He kissed her skin like it was the first thing he’d ever tasted, her sweat tasted like sugar to him.

“Fuck, you taste like vanilla.”

Her hands returned to him unbound, and they slid under his shirt. She held onto him and wrapped her legs around his hips as her breath caught with each thrust. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hang on for him, to have this moment last as long as it could. His body felt perfect against his, his warmth, his scent, his taste. She’d only said words earlier—of course no one kept La Belladonna for long— but he seemed to be the man that just may have the ability—

“Put your hand on my neck,” she whispered, voice shaking.

His hand caressed her neck delicately. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. Yes, he just might be the one.

“Harder, please,” she whimpered.

“Anything, mon cœur.”

“Faster.”

Her voice was barely leaving her throat. Vincent’s hips moved quickly as he felt her tightening around him. He moaned again, sure his voice managed to reach outside of the windows.

“Fuck, you’re getting so tight, Bella, you’re going to kill me.”

Her nails dug into his back cruelly, pushing him even closer to the edge as the pain echoed throughout his entire back. He managed to reach down and rub her clit again, feeling how swollen it had gotten as her orgasm came closer.

“Come for me, Bella, come, baby,” he encouraged, his fingers working quickly.

She cried out, her voice breaking as she grabbed onto his shoulders. She was just at the edge, her mind was spinning wildly. Her words were unintelligible to him, he’d never caught onto Italian very well.

“Oh, mio caro, sì, sì, ah, cazzo, sì—“

Her legs tightened around him as he slammed his hips against her, watching how her mouth fell open, listening to her gasping breath.

“Sì—sì come questo, tesoro, oh…oh! Non fermarti, per favore, oh per favore—ngh—cazzo!”

He groaned as her pussy clenched around him and she let out a cry, her nails digging so hard into his skin they might’ve been drawing blood. He snapped his hips into her one last time and came—loudly—as he felt for her breasts and grabbed onto them, tried and failed to stay upright, then lowered, his body pressed up against hers.

They laid for an eternity, trying to catch their breath, trying to wait for their heads to clear. Vincent managed to move first and kissed her neck, inhaling the smell of her skin, feeling her pulse starting to slow down. She let out a heavy exhale, eyes opening.

“You are…”

She trailed off into silence for a moment.

“…Magnificent.”

Vincent chuckled, kissing her jaw softly, unable to speak just yet. She smiled.

“Ti terrò in giro per molto tempo, tesoro.”

“I don’t know Italian, Bella.”

She laughed. “I said I’m going to keep you around.”

They looked at each other, and he smiled.

“Oh, are you?”

“Oh yes, Monsieur…for a very long time.”

She lifted a finger, tapping his nose affectionately.

“You keep me, I keep you, Mademoiselle.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling softly. “That arrangement just might be acceptable.”

He smiled. “I’m glad we could finally settle on an agreement.”

Her laugh was weak, but her eyes shone with that sardonic humor that had charmed him so. He slowly pulled out of her, gently sitting her up.

“Come with me. I will take you home so you can rest. We’ll have dinner.”

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Lay on Hands

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ sub/dom, use of mage hand, power play, threats, dirty talk, groping, fingering (f!), restraint, p-in-v, roughness, porn w/o plot

In the early hours of the morning someone cant keep their hands to themselves...

-

"Sleepy," She moaned in protest against his roaming hands, nestling into his pillow.

Honestly, she should know better by now. To be so beautiful and in his bed.

That in turning away from him in her sleep the blanket would pull with her, revealing the delicous line of her hip, her waist. That curling her leg up would only flaunt the round curve of her ass. That the sweet lavender would still be caught in her hair from her bathing. That her underclothes, still dreadfully on, would tease at the edges of her hips.

Even in his camp shirt, the sight always making him hazy. The ruffle of the collar plunging into her cleavage.

Truly, how could he resist?

She sighed against him as his fingers traced the inside hem of her small clothes, hooking underneath. Not quite pulling, not yet.

"Astarion.." She whined into her arm, yet her hips pushed slightly into him.

"Such a delectable display," He murmured into the curve of her neck. "How can I not indulge?"

Ran his tongue light against the soft skin. Felt her shiver against his chest.

Turning onto her back to look at him, his hands free to new landscape. An unrestricted eyeful of how divinely his shirt hung from her curves.

Gave him a withering look, convincing no one.

"It's so early," His mouth burying into her shoulder, humming in agreement, body hovering over her. Fingers travelling, tasting. "Do you have no- ah!" A quick gasp as he thumbed over her nipple. "-decency?" She finished. Leg curling around his hip.

"Never." He smiled, fingers pinching lightly through the fabric of his shirt. "And you should know that by now, darling."

"Well then," She hissed into his ear, hand in his hair. Pulling. "You wont expect me to play fair then, will you?"

He groaned, hoping for this outcome. She was so easy to rile up. Teasing his throat in the vipers mouth.

Flipping quickly she straddled his chest, knees pinning his elbows down, his hands splayed next to his head.

Breath caught in his throat, this was new.

Her fingers drawing the line of his clavicle.

A sigh. Eyes alight.

"Volo."

The spectral hand appeared behind her back, invisible to him. Could feel a single finger trace up his thigh.

Eyes wide he arched against her, groaning, making her rise slightly.

An evil glitter in her eyes. "Already?" She purred. Leaning down onto his chest, chin rested on folded hands. Her full weight holding him. Watching.

"You conniving she-devil," He panted, the unseen hand running lazy circles over his bulge.

Turning her head slightly, a deceptively sweet smile spreading her face. "Oh? You want to play by the rules now?" Hand below palming him so lightly.

Rising on knees, rumbling into his ear. "When I'm just getting started?"

Giving him a quick vantage point between her legs, her ghost fingers wrapping tight around him.

"Fuck," He hissed. She sat back again, satisfied. Could feel the wetness of her underclothes against his sternum.

"Fuck what, my love?"

"Fuck you."

"Not yet."

The hand came up over her shoulder, pulling the collar of his shirt away from her long neck. Dancing along her pulse. Fingers splaying as she licked them obscenely. A line of saliva trailing from its spectral fingertips.

He moaned, hips thrusting into nothing.

Both her hands pushing her hair back, ribcage lifting. Eyes closed. Hand trailing down her neck, pulling the ties of his tunic, slowly unlacing with rough pulls.

Despicably hard below her, he thought he was going to go mad.

Only when the still slick hand cupped her breast, her fluid smearing a patch of transparency across the thin white fabric, did his resolve break.

"Please," He whined quietly, hands clenching near his ears.

Her eyes slid open, hand dragging across her other breast, revealing further.

"Please what, beautiful?"

Throbbed hard at her compliment. "Please let me touch..." His right hand straining against her hold.

She bit her lip, pretending to consider. The hand cupping up the side of her neck, running over his favorite spot to feed. Her low sigh against it.

She moaned, phantom hand running its thumb against her lower lip. Teasing inside. Making him wait.

Smiling wickedly at the flush of frustration climbing his neck.

"How can I deny those sweet eyes," She breathed, sliding back, releasing.

He practically scrambled over her. With a grunt, pulled her Godsdamned underclothes off. Fingers plunging inside her. Rough. Fast. Vengeful.

Her head fell back, already fluttering against his fingers. Mouth hot on her neck. His pace brutal.

"Oh Gods, Astarion," she panted into the curl of his hair, pulling her leg up into her chest.

He could only growl in response, fingers a flurry. Free hand gripping into her hair.

A pressure against his ear. Gods he had already forgotten about the hand.

Thumbing just like she knew melted him. His eyes flashed. Still she teases him.

"Darling," He warned, low. Fingers still punishing. "You're going to regret it if you keep this up."

Her eyes glittered. Bit a smile at him.

"Prove it." Phantom hand pinching.

Whispered, raspy. "I dare you."

Hooking her leg around his hip he pulled her up. Hand freeing himself, fast as lightning, he slammed inside her.

She moaned loud, back arched, choked out a little laugh.

His hips brutal, he rolled into her. Right hand pushing smearing circles into her clit. Left pushing down on her throat.

Her mage hand dissipating as her concentration broke.

A delicous little whimper left her and he smiled wide. Malicious. "There we go," He purred.

Already clenching around him, he hitched her up higher. Hitting that spot that made her mewl.

"Vith uns'aa isilme!" She cursed in Drow, so low he could barely hear. Oh he had her now.

"What was that, darling?" Pushed forward into her ear. Revelling.

"I said," She breathed, voice hot. Her hand gripping the back of his neck. Switching to Elvish.

"Arkhlavae tel'quiet salen illunathros."

Fuck me my moonlight.

He groaned loud, eyes pulling shut. Her words, the way her tongue danced over the syllables, driving him into her viciously. Hips snapping.

How did she always gain the upper hand?

"Siilens thar, alet nesh tel'quiet Veluthe.." She breathed into his ear.

That's good, come for me Beautiful.

Too much, his resolve shattered again. Hips stuttering, he was teetering over the abyss.

"Tet," Drow again, low, throaty. Could hear the smile in her voice. "Ussta xukuth.."

He was gone. Thrown over. Gripping her hips he lunged into her. A wet guttural sound ripping from him. Hips spasming. Biting down, hard, on her shoulder. Drawing blood.

Her legs wrapped strong around his hips, pulling him in even harder. Matching his relentless pace. Grinding him down.

Something between a whimper and a growl left him. Her hips merciless. Locked in.

No choice but to ride his high to almost insanity. Panting, begging moans, words lost. Oblivion.

Only when he was slumped comepletely into her did she stop. His breath a gulping gasp.

Gods it would take all morning to recover.

"What," He struggled out, her hands scratching his scalp lightly, just how she knew he liked. "What did you say?"

"Lovely." Pressing a sweet kiss into his hairline. "My heart..."

~

[cupidsredcollar]

Carlo x fem!Reader Nsfw Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)    Very casual and soft. He might read to you if he has the energy, and if not he’s very talkative, especially since he thinks his mind is a lot clearer. Emphasis on thinks…    Carlo smiles at you, his eyes like warm honey in the lamp light, “I was thinking about that old sweets’ shop we used to go to when we were teens.” His voice is very gentle as he runs his hand up and down your back in leisurely swipes.    You make a soft sound, “The one with the small portions that cost far too much? How could I forget.” You drawl, slowly sitting up to gaze down at him, wondering why he’d mention a place you both loath right now of all times.    You watch his eyebrows furrow before he grins up at you, “Ah no, that one closed down a long time ago. The one I’m talking about is just down the strip from the tap house. Why would I talk about the other one—whatever it had been called—with the shitty pastries…”    You giggle at him and shrug incredulously, “I don’t know, you tell me!       “Well I don’t know either, and now you’ve made me forget what I wanted to say.” He sighs with a soft laugh, still smiling up at you.    You shake your head at him, feeling him squeeze your bare hip as a way to tease you.        “I’m absolutely positive that whatever you were going to say was very interesting.” You snicker, watching him roll his eyes playfully.    He pulls you in by your hip, “It doesn’t matter anyhow, just come here… I want to hold you, maybe I’ll remember in a minute…”    In a minute he fell asleep with you pressed up against his chest.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)    Carlo can’t deny that he finds everything about you lovely and sexy, though if theres anywhere he finds himself touching and holding the most; it’s your waist. He finds the area perfect for gathering you up when he wants you close to him, his hands just fit there perfectly. Best of all, your waist is the best point to hold you by when he hugs you—cuddles you—makes love to you.    Next best place to touch you is your hips and ass. He can’t help it since it’s so cute and perky. He loves watching you walk around in your underwear and stockings. The curves of your back and waist make Carlo’s eyes drift down the lines of your figure until his eyes land on your ass. Your skins especially warm too, he just wants to sink right into you with his hands clutching you in any of those spots, it just feels so right.    He knows what you like on him too, he’s not oblivious, and he also appreciates the attention. Like when you press your face into his muscular back to hold him from behind. Time’s when you dig your nails in while he’s fucking you rough; and other times when you glide your soft hands up his spine to squeeze at his shoulders when he makes you cum hard.    Whether it’s because you like his strong muscles or the mere comfort it brings you to clutch onto something sturdy—he doesn’t mind as long as you keep touching him like that.    Carlo also finds it quite adorable when you search for his hands in any situation. Whether you’re looking to comfort or be comforted, it’s a sure fire way to melt his heart instantly just by taking his hand in yours. He especially loves when the pleasure you both share is so intense that you need his hand to ground you, searching for it so you can lace your fingers together. It just makes him feel very special, even though he already knows how much you love him it’s just another endearing reminder. You can read the rest on my: ao3 😋

[basilone]

Sometimes, someone in the groupchat pulls out a spicy prompt list and reminds me "you are on vacation"... 😂 With a thanks to @mercurygray, who not only shared this but suggested Benny/Darlene and "risky places" for me to get back into the writing game. Warning for explicit sexual content applies.

He remembers her best on cold nights like these, when there’s ice forming on the windows and the room’s already gone quiet before lights out. It isn’t difficult to summon her voice to his ears once One-Eye’s sniffles have died down and Perrault’s cough has subsided. To remember how she sounds, sing-songing in his ear about all the things she’d like to feel, gasping and moaning and always pleading for more. To recall, sharply, that she gets crasser than Lottie when she’s really close, right until her voice fizzles into a soundless shattering that has pulled him over the edge too many times to count.

It takes more effort to summon the rest of her, though he still collects enough fragments that have him burrowing deeper under his blankets in an effort to find a warmth similar to hers. As always, her many freckles dance at the front of his memory – how often he has traced them with mouth and tongue, to the point where she laughed about him connecting all her dots – and the flush of her skin against his follows suit. Harder to pin down is the memory of her hair, because the colors of sunrise and sunset that gather in her curls are difficult to find in a place like this.

He remembers following the curves and lines of her as though he was already painting her in his mind. She’d gotten impatient once or twice – Ben, she’d said, voice catching, stop teasin’ me – but she’d somehow seemed to know how much he’d need to draw her forth in her eventual absence. He recalls a smattering of goosebumps beneath his fingertips, from that early morning when he’d half-undressed her amid their supplies. She’d laughed and cursed at him until he’d wrapped his jacket around her shoulders to keep her warm.

This is how he remembers her. Sitting atop a couple of crates, because he’d picked her up and carried her to that good enough seat. Long red hair spilling out of her braid, curling over his leather jacket, soft white lace peeking out from under her unbuttoned shirt. Soft huffs of breath in his ear as he'd drawn her close. His hands moving her skirt up, stroking her thighs, grinning just like he does now about how she’d instantly spread her legs more and had pulled him flush against her.

Ah know how to fix that freezin’ you got goin’ on there, Ben, she’d grinned back, once she’d quit shivering under his colder fingertips. She’d taken his hand just to prove the point. Had pressed it between the apex of her thighs, cotton of her underwear already turning wet beneath his touch, watching his face all the while. You just gotta slip your fingers into my warm cunt, how about that?

This, he’s got no issue remembering. He forgets how hungry he is when his mouth fills with the memory of her lips and tongue, tasting sweet with a little twang of something spicier underneath. He forgets the chill of this room long enough to recall how hot she’d felt around his fingers, squeezing down and turning impossibly wetter for it, how her breath had stuttered in his ear once he’d found the proper motion. Remembers, too, dimmer but still present, how her hand had undone just enough of his uniform so she could wrap her fingers around him in turn. He knows how it felt purely because he hears her smug voice in his ear – gonna use my mouth next time while I stroke your cock, get ya spillin’ down my throat so fucking fast – and feels himself harden simply at the memory of her hand languidly stroking him while his fingers moved along with every gasp she uttered.

He remembers her best when he recalls the risks. Spilling over her hand and bare thigh with soft grunts, coming to his senses just in time to clap his own hand over her mouth as she'd pitched into a near-scream of her own. Her grinning down at him, again wearing his jacket and not much else, using the tall grass in a barely-concealed effort to hide the fact that he was inside her from the rest of base. Him tugging her panties aside some other time, lifting her to rest her back against the trunk of the biggest tree on base, half-undressed himself in a way that’d have earned him a hell of a chewing-out from the brass if they’d discovered them like that. Pressed against her in the shadowy twilight, her hand warm on his cock, laughter twinkling out of her at his inability to keep quiet about how good it felt.

He turns on his side in the dark and shuts his eyes before the rest of her floods in. Before he recalls what it is like to be inside her proper – feel her warm and wet around his cock, hear her pleading for him to spill inside her just once just this time just take the damn risk Ben – but not before he summons the memory of her whispering ah love ya, Ben, ah really do into the quiet of his heart.

[causewayguy]

Hi! I am Naomi and I will be taking you around my new house today. Cum on in!

Living Room

This is where I entertain my guests, usually by seducing them with my ultra short dresses or shorts. Of course, I go commando so I can flash my pussy lips to the guests sitting on the one piece opposite me while those sitting left and right of me can see down my top at my big big mammary glands. Since my 2 darlings, my neh neh become so big I lazy wear bra. So my guests always get to enjoy my boobies jiggling and bouncing in front of them. If you lucky right, you may get to see them pop out of my top also. Ooops 😉

Lights

I guess the main feature of my living room to point out is the lights, where I wanted to incorporate the feeling of ‘cum’ into this living space. All the little crystal pieces symbolize the cum you guys either painted on my face or shot down my throat. So every time you guys look up, you will be remembered of what is cumming later on and hopefully fill up your balls more. Waaaaa, so fast ah you? Just now your penis still medium sized only, but after I explain this to you, now my hands also cannot fit across it. So hard to hold now le….

Dining Room

This is where I feed my guests delicious food, desserts and me. I would lay on the table like this, food placed all over me for the guys to eat straight from my naked body. Utensils are provided but the guys usually go barehanded to grope every part of my smooth silky body. After the main course, the guys would move to dessert: my lactating double Cs and my juicy pussy. Ahh mmhmmmm…yes…just like how you are licking and parting my lips now. Please please please fasterrrr-ahhh!!! Hmm…I take a lot of vitamin C’s recently, so my juices should be quite sweet, don’t you think so?

Hidden Room

The whole idea of having a simplistic carpentry is so that I can keep my BJ room hidden. Tada! After the tease in living room and the meal in dining room, a lot of my guests are tired and need some release. Like this lor, I pull you by your boner inside then help you out of those tight tight pants *piaaak* and making sure you see your hard cock bouncing off my face. I am always very horny after getting ‘eaten’ so my guests will benefit from my *gook gook gookkk* deepthroats in here. This is the most common room used by my guests and myself so I prioritize the design and feel if this by putting tiles and mirrors. Like this *slurp slurpp* you can enjoy the surround sound effect *gcckkkk* as I choke on your big cock and you can see me 360 degree enjoying your cum as you unload your first load into my mouth.

Staircase

Now let me take you upstairs. The stairs are slightly dangerous because I wanted it to be glass and curving upwards, like what I had in my mouth just awhile ago. So you better stay close to me hmmmm ya like this, so I can lean back on your body for more stability. Lucky sia, you got a hard and long ‘handle’ for me to hold and grip. Thank you….

Study

Welcome to my study! One of the things I like about this space is the glass doors so it brings in a lot of natural lighting and also let’s me expose my beautiful body when I work naked. Come let me show you how I like to sit at my desk naked while going through my daily works. And guests like you sitting on the 2-sitter sofa can enjoy the unrestricted view of my pussy as I spread my legs like this. And the gap between the glass legs is for you to crawl and – uhhhhh, tease me… Come we go master room.

Walkway

Adding to the glass house concept, everything here is see-through. So my neighbours can enjoy my nude, well-fucked body every morning and night. Sometimes I get my guests to line up while I moved from one male to another sucking them dry. But today you will go straight to the master room.

Master Bedroom

So finally, we are in my bedroom. I put a lot of budget into the bed, beddings, pillows to get a great night rest after my hot, steamy fuck sessions (day or night). My bed is memory foam so please fuck me harder until tonight I also can remember our fucking. I am yours for 1 more hour on this bed, without my top and pants, so faster come to Mummy…. Yes, I give you permission to raw me, baby… Uhhh fuckkk you bigger than yesterday’s guest, filling me up so well. Am I as good as your fantasy hmm? Is my pussy as tight as you imagined? Squeeze my beautiful C cups now! Use it as your love handle and pump me harder baby! Arghhhh, I cannot hold it anymoree, feeling like cumming already baby…just…mmm…let…mmm…me cummmm~

Eeewww...why you lick my armpit? I already so sweaty le. Hehe your ‘di di’ still so hard and full of cum ah. Fuck me sideways now with my legs closed. Let you feel syiok syiok…. Uh uh uh… your rock-hard cock is spoiling my pussy so gooood. Feel my pussy clamping down on you.

Noooo why you stop?? Okay, I turn over now, please just put your cock back inside. Yesss, I can feel your hard dick inside me! My pussy so hot now! Ram me, ah ah, ram me harder! Ahhhhh, oh my god! Yes yes yes, so goood! No need, just cum inside meeeee! Haaa haaa hhhhaaaa.

I cummed so hard baby. Just now my whole body was shivering and shaking from your fucking le. One of my better fucks in a looooong time. See?! Fuck me until I stain my bedsheet. All your cum leak out to my pussy liao.

Master Bath

Bathroom – Eh agains?? Wait wait, let me catch my breath awhile la. Come, I bring you some place more exciting. See my bathtub so big, like someone…. My turn to return the favor, I want to service your ‘da da de xiao di di’. *slurp slurp slurp* Waa now your cock taste so much like me mmm mmm mmmm. Hehe you very naughty ah, hit my face with your hard meat. The sound so disrespectful…

What you doing! Ahhhh , softer softer… I still sensitive baby. Slowly fuck me against the glass. Let my neighbours see my big boobs smashed on the window. Let them see how horny you making me. Uh uhh… you still so strong after so many shots… I like… Yes yes, make me scream louder for my neighbours to hear me! Come come cummmm! You shoot another full load in my pussy, not scared I pregnant ah? Hehe. Don’t worry, another baby means my boobs will up-size again lor… 😉

Driveway

Thanks a lot baby, hope you enjoyed my house tour. I sure enjoyed it a lot. I need to go pick my 2 little darlings now. Hopefully no little sister or brother growing in my tummy la right?

Hehe. I think we need another house tour after I replace the toilet light. See ya!

[strangenewwords]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by the lovely @kcscribbler regarding the WIP's I'm currently working on.

Hahahahah OH MY GOD THERE'S SO MANY.

Also I have a new rule where I write chaptered fics in full before publishing because that'll take the pressure off yay.

I think the two that are most prominent in my mind (other than McSpirk Month, and the handful of amazing ideas y'all inject into my brain) are impulse, my role-swapped Spirk, and emotionally compromised, my super whumpy Spones/Spirk/McKirk (It really is all of those things separately). That one turned into a fucking UNIVERSE thanks to @ncc1701ohno.

IMPULSE

The sound of voices carries from around a row of plants. Orchids. It’s the first moment he’s noticed them, dozens of them kept in fastidious arrangement. Leaning forward Jim makes to reach for the closest one, the tips of the fingers of his right hand just barely brushing against the silk of the petals. 

“Please, do not touch them.” Spock’s directive comes as he steps around the corner, hands clasped as always behind his back.

He looks different than Jim’s ever seen him. He’s draped in robes, but they’re not the formal things he wears to official gatherings or the stark tunics of their uniforms. He looks good. Almost vibrant. Vulcans exist with a line of tension that runs through them, like being strung up by piano wire, and Spock’s has been cut. As a result, his shoulders are slightly more rounded and the cant of his chin is not quite as sharp.

“Sorry.” Jim steps back from the plant, offering a gentle curving of his mouth. “They’re beautiful.” 

Spock stops before him, a professional distance away, and observes the orchid Jim had just barely grazed as if checking for damage.”It is of no concern.” Satisfied, he straightens. “It does not appear to have been harmed.

It was obviously of some concern, or Jim could have kept on petting the damn thing. Instead of pointing that out, Jim just puts his hands in his pockets.

Oh neat, he’s got pockets. He’s wearing jeans. He hasn’t worn a pair of those since he’d been enlisted in Starfleet.

EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED

“Tush ah nask dey kod lu.” Nope. That wasn’t right. “Turshah naz va koddle.” Okay, so Leonard's not doing well at this.

He swallows rough, feeling it as red rushes up his neck. Sarek, for his part, remains patient and unbothered, waiting for Leonard to get it right.

It takes a moment to psych himself up as he repeats the words in his head yet again before trying a final time. “Tushah nash-veh k'odu.” Each is spoken with precise articulation, fighting against the gentle curves of his accent, and it takes all of Leonard’s failing brain power but he gets it.

He thinks.

Sarek inclines his head lightly, reaching for the tea which has been set out before him. 

“As you are of my house, the informal is more fitting.” Leonard isn’t. Not yet. It makes something in him twist for Sarek to already consider him so. “Tushah nash-veh k'du.”

“Tushah nash-veh k'du,”  Leonard repeats, that same fierce intention focused on each and every syllable.

“And I grieve with you, Dr. McCoy.” Sarek sips at the tea and, well, he doesn’t pull a face. But Leonard can see the tiny tightening at the corner of his mouth. He’s gotta be exhausted or Leonard knows nothing would escape at all.

tagging @twinkboimler, @ncc1701ohno, @introvertia, @flippyspoon and @spock-in-awe in a totally non pressure way to see what y'all are up to (because we all know it's gonna be amaaaazing).

[tsumikiwrites]

UNEXPECTED BLISS

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Smut!, Rough sex, top! Byakuya, begging, mikan cries lol

Note: this ship doesn't exist lol, but I love the idea

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Tsumiki gasped and moaned shamelessly, pinned against wall of the CEO's office. Her body writhed underneath him as his teeth sank into her neck.

"you're quite intriguing, Tsumiki." Togami gives a sly smirk. "I'm sure you can tell me what's been keeping you so occupied." His mouth slides from her neck to her shoulder, and he nips at her flesh playfully as he speaks. His lips are soft, warm, and inviting. His eyes hold amusement in them as she squirms under him. "Why are you so eager to give me what I want?" Togami questions, looking down at her through blonde lashes as he kisses down her collarbone, nibbling on a tender spot there before continuing downwards to the hollow below her breastbone. It is a sensitive spot that only Tsumiki knows about.

She let out a pitiful whimper. “I don't know.” She murmured softly, closing her eyes and letting his lips slide across the top of her breasts, over the curve of her rib cage. “It feels like it’s been ages since I've been touched like this..i- I want you t-to fuck me hard. Show me what your cock feels like!" She moans as he bites on her hipbone, making a noise akin to that of an excited puppy. He chuckles deeply. His smile was smug, yet playful.

"Oh my darling..." Togami breathed, moving his head up and away from her skin. His hand reaches for his pants, tugging them off quickly and tossing it aside somewhere behind them. "My darling...You've no idea just how long I've wanted to do this. To fuck you senseless right here."

The blonde says with fervor as he stares down at her, all traces of sexual innuendo gone from his gaze. Only lust remains as he grins deviously at her once again before he begins to press kisses along her chest, pausing to gently suck on one particularly sensitive spot right above her navel. Tsumiki groans and arches into his touch, arching her hips upward as her hands grip at his shoulders. The pressure on her breasts increases as he continues kissing his way down until finally, his mouth comes in contact with her clit as he sucks her, his tongue flicking against the bundle of nerves repeatedly. His finger slips inside of her easily as he pumps them Slowly,causing Tsumiki's back to arch and her hands to grasp onto his hair more tightly.

Tsumiki lets out a loud moan, the sound muffled by Togami's hot mouth, "I Wanna fuck... Fuck!" She cries loudly. Tears prick at her eyes as she feels herself coming undone under him. She wants him to make love to her...but he doesn't stop. He doesn't even slow down as she begins to cry in earnest, begging him to please stop. "Please Togami! I need you!!!" Her voice cracks. "You're too good, too beautiful to be stopped, to be left unsatisfied!!"

He smirks up at her, stopping his fingers in their rhythm and giving her a wink. She sighs in relief.

He pulls away with a laugh. "I am going to make you scream," he promises her before lining up his cock with her hole. "If only every day were as pleasurable and fulfilling as this." He mutters darkly before slamming inside of her.

She gives him a shaky smile as tears continue to roll down her cheeks, wiping away at them. "Tha-aha~nk you." She says through a broken moan. It is painful being filled this way... but somehow, it also feels amazing and so, so freeing. Her arms come to circle around his broad shoulders, holding tight. A pained whine escapes past her lips as he slams inside of her again, harder. Her head falls back against the wall. It's agonizing, but in a good way.

Togami grunts slightly, thrusting deeper than usual in an effort to reach the deepest point. "Yes...yes... Yes~" She cries, clenching around him, trying to get more of him in. The movement is painful. "Ah...ah! Ah-- AH!" Her eyes flash gold as he slams into her again, harder. He grunts louder, his movements becoming faster and more aggressive. She cries out at another sharp pain, this time hitting the walls of her vagina rather than a specific part of her body. She screams out louder when he starts to move faster, pumping inside of her. She whimpers when he slams deeper, her muscles spasming. "Togami... Please…" She begs him weakly. "Come inside me… please…" He still does not slow down or relent.

In response, he grabs her thighs firmly with his hands, hoisting her body up to situate her knees between his own, and thrusts roughly inside of her, causing her to gasp loudly with each new strike. He thrusts faster and harder now, grunting with satisfaction as her walls tighten and contract around him. She cries out his name over and over, clutching desperately at his arms, unable to help her cries with her nails digging into his skin. He growls angrily against the crook of her neck, his breath ragged as he pounds inside of her. She can feel his balls brush against her rear.

After several minutes of pure bliss, Togami pulls out of her with a roar of exertion. His face is flushed. She feels warm beneath him. Her body trembles. There are still tears rolling down her face. "Good girl~" He purrs, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

[lovingdilfs]

Don’t be embarrassed baby (smut)

I broke my tooth and my phone… connect the pieces:)

Warnings: 18+ content, p in the v, fingering (maybe idk)

You rubbed your legs together to cause some kind of friction, you sat there in the Living room with your husband on the other couch. Both reading books. Yours had began to get a little more interesting , with each sentence you read. An embarrassing feeling had built up inside you, causing you to blush a bit of the book. Elvis started to notice that you couldn’t quite sit still with your legs, as they rubbed up against each other. Elvis put down his book and looked over at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is everything okay?" he asked, noticing your fidgeting. You nodded, trying to play it off as nothing, but Elvis could see right through you. "Are you sure? You seem a bit...distracted," he said with a smirk. Feeling embarrassed, you closed your book and confessed to him what was going on. "I'm sorry, I just can't seem to help it. This book I'm reading is getting a little steamy, and it's making me a bit...flustered," you said, blushing even more.

Elvis chuckled and walked over to where you were sitting, sitting down beside you. "Here, let me see that book," he said, taking the book from your hands. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes widened in surprise. "Wow, I had no idea this was what you were reading," he said with a laugh. You playfully swatted at him. "It's not that bad," you protested. Elvis chuckled and hovered down towards you. "I didn't say it was bad, just unexpected," he said with a smile. "But if it's making you feel this way, then maybe we should explore those feelings a bit more," he whispered against your open mouth. You responded by pressing your lips firmly against his, the two of you kissing with a hunger that had been building inside you. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of skin, as your own hands ran through his hair. As the kiss deepened, you could feel the excitement growing inside you, a fierce heat spreading throughout your body. You pushed Elvis back against the couch, straddling him as you continued to kiss him with abandon. Elvis moaned softly, his hands roaming lower as he began to caress your curves. You could feel his arousal growing, pressing against you through his pants, and you ground yourself against him, unable to resist the pleasure. "goddamn little mama, that book-" you cut him off because how embarrassing how turned on you were because of a book "shut up and fuck me".

Elvis pulled you closer, kissing you deeply as he rolled over so that you were beneath him. You wrapped your legs around him, and his hand began to gently touch you down towards your needy cunt. You could the wetness down your legs, his fingers tapping the fabric of your panties, making you twitch underneath him. "oh baby, you gonna be the death of me" he said while feeling the wet pool leaking through the fabric. with no warning he slipped your underwear to the side and pushed two of his fingers inside you, curving them in the best possible way. Your eyes widened in the shock of surprise at the pleasure he made you feel, you moaned quietly out in the room, trying not to make noise. "nah ah, down hide those pretty lil'sounds baby" he said, curling his fingers once again, causing you almost scream out his name. "perfect" he whispered to himself. The state of you being so needy for him, was a pleasure to his eyes, "Elvis... baby I need you" you panted out, "You have no idea how amazing you look right now," he said with a curved smile on his lips. He pushed down his pants, to release his rock-hard cock, the sight of him would always leave you breathless. He ran his thumb over the precum you had caused, the sensation making him groan out by being so stimulated. he stroked himself three times, before lining himself up with your throbbing entrance.

With a hard thrust, he was deep inside you, stretching your walls out. The feeling of your walls slowly adjusting to him and him filling you up, touching every single spot of pleasure made you both moan out in relief at the hot pressure. He slowly began to thrust his hip into you, at a faster pace. Your nails dug into the skin of his back while moaning out his name, while he gave you the needed desire. His hand trailed down your body, stopping right at your lower stomach, pushing gently down at it to feel himself moving inside you. The feeling of himself pushing down made you tighten around his cock, making your walls milk his cock tighter. You both were so close to the edge but you wouldn’t give in not already, you pulled him down by the neck to kiss him more passionately. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip, inviting yourself into his warm mouth. His breathing was heavy, leaving a small moan in your mouth with filling him up with your tongue. “Elvis” you whispered against his hot breath “mhm” a heavy hum was all you got in response “I’m gonna cum” you said, “do it, baby, make a mess all over my cock while I fill you up”, he began to slowly rub your clit, and that was all you need to let go of the tension that had been built up in you stomach. “Oh fuck baby!” You screamed out while your walls tighten around his cock, and the sight, tightness and sound’s coming from you, were the things that pushed him off the edge. He covered your walls, heavy breathing against your soft skin, collapsing into your chest. You surrounded him with your arms, keeping him in your embrace for a while, before he slipped out of you, leaving you only with his hot release inside you.

[selkiefinalist]

bookstore au please !!! matthew/sasha maybe? ik you’ve never written them but i think you’ve mentioned being interested? if not, then whatever pairing strikes your fancy 😊

Babies aren’t into the Iditarod. Probably. Which is fine, because Matthew can’t remember the name of that book, anyway - the one Ms. Pelund read to his class in second grade, about the guy and his dogs running the big race in Alaska.

It’s just the one book he can consistently remember, is all. He’s read other books. Probably. Like, all the way through, cover to cover. Not just googling shit to get through a test or an essay. He knows he has. But Brady and Emma’s baby shower is coming up, and they’re doing that thing where they asked for baby books instead of cards, because of course they did.

Which is why he’s here, at some book store in Fort Lauderdale - the GPS said it was the closest one, but books line the store from floor to ceiling, and there’s art on tables, and everything smells old and expensive, and he is definitely not in the right place.

“Can I help you?” A guy in a red plaid shirt materializes out of nowhere, his name tag and helpful face - nice face, good shoulders - broadcasting how much he’d like to help Matthew find the book of his dreams.

Matthew doesn’t dream of books. But fuck, he’s been acknowledged, so he can’t just duck out the door now. Plus book guy - Sasha - is hot, and is also giving him a not-so-subtle once-over as he waits for him to respond.

“I don’t know,” Matthew says. “Honestly, I doubt it.”

Book Guy Sasha’s face barely flickers, the corners of his mouth tightening and releasing. Could have been a smile, or a frown. “You are here for book?” He’s got an accent Matthew can’t quite place, but it sounds good coming off of his tongue.

He sighs and gives in. “Yeah. A book. But, like. A baby book? I mean, a book for a baby? That hasn’t been born yet.” Book Guy is staring at him, all inscrutable dark eyes, so he stuffs his hands in his pockets and keeps going. “My brother and his wife are having a baby, and they asked for books —“

“Ah,” Book Guy says. “Baby shower. I know this.” He turns to fully face the books on the shelf in front of Matthew, studying the titles as if he doesn’t work here. “Probably not the erotica section, then.”

What the fuck. He hadn’t even been paying attention, really; more wandering the bookstore at random, too swallowed up by the intense out-of-place experience to notice where he’d ended up. Whatever. There are two kinds of people in life: the ones who get embarrassed by their many stupid choices, and the ones that double-down.

“That’s for later,” he says, and wills himself not to flush. “Baby book first. Then, you know. Other stuff.” He flaps his hand at the shelf. He’ll be leaving with more than one book today, apparently.

Hot Book Guy Sasha arches a brow. The curve at the ends of his mouth is definitely a smile, this time. “Usually it’s the opposite, no? First comes love…”

Matthew laughs, loud in the quiet store. “Do you have kid books in here?”

HBG Sasha tilts his head towards another section of the book shop. “Of course. The children’s literature is over here.” He starts walking and Matthew follows, careful to keep his eyes at two and ten, or whatever the equivalent of responsible gaze management is. Sasha fills out his jeans. It’s hard not to notice. “Is there a particular edition you are interested in?” He stops in front of a shelf of books - clearly used, spines not quite as brightly colored as Matthew had imagined.

“I’m sorry?”

Sasha gestures gently at the shelf. “We have a 1903 Jack and the Beanstalk in very good condition. Or perhaps the 1928 Puss in Boots would suit better?” He pulls out a book with an illustration of a cat in boots on the cover.

Is Hot Sasha for real right now? “How about, like, 2024 editions? You know, something that’s fine to get drooled on. Like, I don’t think my brother even knows how to rea-“

Sasha slides the book back onto the shelf. “Uh.” It’s the first time he’s seemed flustered. Matthew can’t relate - he’s been flustered since he set foot in this place. “I’m sorry, uh…?”

“Matthew.”

“Matthew.” Sasha straightens the shelf unnecessarily. “I don’t think we will have the kind of children’s book you are looking for.” He sounds disappointed. Or relieved. Fine line, there.

Okay this is when you get to choose your own adventure:

Option A. Sasha takes pity on him and makes a list of children’s baby books and points him to a different store. Matthew picks out a sexy book and Sasha writes his phone number on the receipt; Matthew finds it when he gets home.

Option B. Sasha is like “you came all this way here, let’s look in backstock just to make sure,” and it’s about the most thinly-veiled come-on that Matthew’s ever heard so he’s like “hell yes let’s look” and there’s frottage in the back room. Matthew buys Sasha a sexy book before he leaves and writes his own phone number inside the cover and Sasha unfortunately thinks it’s very charming even though the book is a rare edition in very good condition.

Option C. is like, “let me make you that list of children’s books and oh, also, did I mention my shift is over in fifteen minutes,” and Matthew goes back to Sasha’s place where Sasha ties him up and pulls his hair and tells him how beautiful he is and they both have a great time.

[hella1975]

im so normal about twice as many stars (raging screaming tearing my hair out i love it so much)

anyway do u have a reference or smthn for what zukos scar in it looks like?

AH IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT!!!

so there was actually quite a lot of research that went into zuko's scar in tams and while most of it is no longer relevant at all bc i went so off piste from the base material, im still gonna talk about it (also bc some of it might still come up in tams).

spoilers for the current tams chapters ahead!

so i got the idea for having zuko be branded bc i was looking into the five punishments of ancient china. so these varied a lot over time but one of these punishments was tattooing, and tattoo as a punishment was also done in japan (called irezumi). when i tell you i LATCHED onto this idea i was so fucking desperate to give zuko a tattoo let me tell you, but ultimately i knew i wanted it to still be fire-related, so i turned the punishment to branding instead. as for the symbol of the brand, i made that up myself but it was inspired by the fact dots/shapes were often used for these tattoo punishments. the reason i chose a crescent is purely for aesthetic choices bc the way i see it in my head looks so cool.

so that's an explanation that you did not ask for! as for references, i dont actually have any sorry? and i cant draw either so i cant even like sketch out what i see but i can describe it a bit more if that helps? i see the crescent a lot like this:

with the bottom 'tip' starting on his (left) temple, in line with the corner of the eye, and curves all the way around to his eyebrow (eyebrow slit zuko agenda), with the top 'tip' ending in line with the corner of the eye again (not actually on the corner though lol. like his eye was totally undamaged in this). imagine the flag of turkey but with an eye as the star.

[angelumcaedis]

The Red Means I Love You (894 words) by angelumcaedis Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate) Characters: The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Knifeplay, there's not actual sex but durge is getting off on it, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sadism, Bloodplay Summary: The Dark Urge (she/her, no description or name used) has a nightmare. Mild spoilers for the Dark Urge through Act 3.

(Highly recommend listening to the song of the same title which I had on repeat while writing)

Click above to read on AO3 or click through the readmore:

“I will make it good for you, I promise,” she panted, pupils wide, face flushed.

Astarion tried to lean away from where her knife lightly stroked his cheek, not quite hard enough to break skin - not yet. But there wasn’t anywhere to go - he was bound too tightly to this tree for him to do much at all.

“Darling?” he began, voice strained, “Not that I’m against trying something - different - but normally one has a conversation about this sort of thing first.”

“You will be the prettiest corpse I have ever had the privilege of creating, my love.”

There was something so precious in the way his eyes blew wide with fear, genuine fear, ears pinned back like the prey he was. She breathed in deep, scenting his terror, arousal shooting through her core.

Now, where to start?

She had prioritized immobilizing his hands, those clever hands, so deft and nimble and altogether too good what they did (picking locks, of course.) It wouldn’t do for her prey to wriggle his way free, so she had tied his hands up and far from each other.

This also created a conveniently spread canvas on which to work her art. And art he would be. Art was easy when you started with something as gorgeous as him.

There. She pressed the blade against his stark collarbones, tracing their outline as she cut, a thin line of red following in its wake. Astarion hissed, fangs on full display, an odd mixture of fear and aggression in his eyes. She grinned up at him.

“You’ve had your turn, and now it’s mine,” she said as she pressed her lips to the cut, tongue laving over the sliced flesh as she tasted her lover’s blood. He tasted of iron, old and rusted, not quite fresh as the truly living. But there was something there…

A thought occurred to her. She put the knife to her own thumb, drawing a well of red from her own flesh, and tasted it. Yes. There it was.

He tasted like her.

Her heart soared with giddiness. He was truly a wonder, and would make such an offering to her lord father. A sacrifice suffused with her own blood, the blood of Bhaal. Overcome with emotion, she surged forward and took Astarion’s face in her hands. She kissed him deeply, their blood mingling with their spit.

“Augh!” she stumbled back, hand jumping to her mouth. It came away covered in…. Well. More blood, specifically hers this time. “You… fucking bit me!”

“Oh come on, it’s hardly the first time.”

A hysterical giggle overcame her. Her beloved was so funny!

The blood was stark against the paleness of his skin in the moonlight. He licked his lips, staring her down. His gaze still held fear, but there was a spite in his eyes now - he wasn’t going to just lay there and let her have her fun.

That’s fine. She’s always liked the ones that play hard to get.

She surveyed him up and down, considering where to go, what to do, next. Ah yes. The legs. She admired those, and his speed on the battlefield. She knelt next to him and began flaying the flesh to highlight the curves of the thigh, peeling a thin later of flesh away just enough to expose the striations of muscle beneath. She could hear his sharp intake of breath, clearly trying so hard not to give her any satisfaction by offering her any sound. He stayed strong for so long as she carved first his left and then his right according to her vision.

She broke him when she set her lips against him once more, pressing kisses into the bloody wounds as she stood up slowly. A choking sob tore its way out of his throat, face already soaked with the tears he had shed silently thus far. She cupped his face in her hand, brushing a bloody thumb across his cheek.

“Beloved, I am making you even more beautiful. I only wish you could see it for yourself.” She knew he would appreciate it, surely, could he only see her work.

Astarion glared at her with furious eyes, red glinting in the moonlight. He bared his fangs and hissed, “You’re just like him. Like Cazador.”

Bile rose in her throat, burning the back of her tongue as she staggered back, his words like actual knives to her chest. She retched, falling to her knees on the forest floor as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

---

Suddenly, a cool hand on her back.

She startled, looking around. She wasn’t in the forest, her hands were not slick with blood.

There was vomit on her shirt, and a bit on the blanket as well. She was in a tent. Astarion sat next to her, alive and well, hands out placatingly. He was clothed, and his clothes were bloodstain-free. He looked concerned.

“Bad dream?”

She nodded, dazed. Her skin burned in shame as she realized her body was still tingling with energy - with arousal. Her stomach twisted again, but there was nothing left to expel. She got up on shaky legs, brushing off his helping hands.

She stumbled out the tent flap, mumbling, “I think I need some air.”

As she stalked off into the night, all she could think was: Gods, he had been so beautiful.