#i have to admit i was pickpocketing

[ciceroandlucien]

Cicero, you look like me when I am woken up!

[on-leatheredwings]

Sleepover

Yandere! Damian Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

romantic > summary: During a sleepover, Damian makes his first foray into infatuation. > word count: 1605 > [ a/n: i just love writing from the yandere’s point of view! Damian is 19 or college-age here. honestly not much plot, just musings~ i will try to write from the Darling’s POV next time hehe.]

This must be love.

“Wow, Damian… I’ve never noticed but your nails are so pretty,” you compliment, satisfied with the boy’s upkeep. Damian feels his heart thrumming against his ribcage. You are holding his hand. 

Not for the first time either, but the thrill never fades. 

If this had occurred a year ago, before Damian learned of how casual (generous, even!) you were physical affection, he might have dumbly stated, “You’re holding my hand.” Instead, he simply thinks it, on loop, in one long string. 

You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand.

Unbeknownst to all this, you simply paint his forefinger with a stripe of green so dark it looks black. 

“If we’re going to do this, it’ll be by my rules,” he had said. 

In reality, if you needled him any harder, he would’ve accepted pink nails with glitter on them. Who cares? There wasn’t anyone who dared to make fun of him at school. Not to mention, it’d be obvious to everyone that you painted them. You'd be marking him as yours, essentially. And at night… well, Robin wears gloves.

“Hn. How so?” Damian asks with feigned coolness. Mainly because he wants to hear you praise him. In your hushed, awed voice. When he dreams, you often sound like that. (And he quickly pushes that thought away.)

You look at him pointedly, grinning. Oh, he’s not so slick. You acquiesce to his whims anyway.

“Your cuticles are impeccable and your nails are finely trimmed… I’m impressed. Don’t you do martial arts, too? Crazy they aren’t more dinged up.”

Martial arts. That was supposed to explain his abnormal strength and fighting capability, the one time you saw him nearly break a man’s wrist for trying to pickpocket you. 

You accepted the excuse with only a little suspicion.

“It’s simple grooming.”

A catlike grin forms on your face. “Hm~ I don’t knowwww… Seems like you may be trying to catch the eye of a girl – you know, girls look at stuff like that.”

Damian frowns. 

He’s infatuated but not delusional. He’s aware this ‘sleepover’ is pretty platonic on your end. After nails, it’ll be skin care. Maybe you’ll even do your makeup and take goofy pictures with him. You’ll laugh and platonically huddle against him during a movie. You may doze off on his shoulder while he’ll be committing your every dewy, moisturized pore to memory. 

Because of Damian’s (self-admitted) social awkwardness with your peers, you think that gives you some sort of elder sibling-esque edge on him. You are the social butterfly, leading a naive, but well-meaning social pariah through the perils of young adult life. You don’t know you are so much more naive than he is, and he adores that.

Rather than addressing the question, he snorts. “When are you going to turn on the movie?”

You hum, completing his nail’s first coat. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” You grab the remote and press play. You continue painting, gingerly admiring his long, golden brown digits. Damian preens at the attention. 

As the movie plays, you pause often to look up and gape at the screen. It’s a horror flick, and boasts an abundance of cartoonish gore. While a bit more sensational than something he’d put on, he likes your dark taste. An annoying teenager gets their head hacked off with a chainsaw. You laugh and Damian feels his heart sing. 

There’s a chime that rings through Wayne Manor, and he has to bite back a groan.

“Pizza’s here!” you cheer. You begin to get up when Damian whips out his card in an instant. 

“I’ll pay.” To his delight, you gape in surprise, cheeks warming. 

“Oh… Thanks, Damian!” You never quite get used to him paying for things, but you at least know by now not to argue. You grab his credit card and – thank God – your fingers brush against each other. It sends the most pleasant trill down his spine. “Since you’re paying, I’ll go bring it! I won’t be long.”

A corner of his lips quirk. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it gets back to this room at all.” You stick out your tongue on the way out.

As soon as he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall – such clumsy, loud steps – Damian’s attention falls to the messenger bag you threw to the ground of his bedroom. He knows your diary is in there. (In his mind, he can hear you protest, It’s a journal!)

He’ll be quick. He flips open to a random page, and he already is laughing at your writing style. There’s little care for capitalizing letters and full of what you explained are “emoticons”, despite being handwritten. He flips to today’s entry, half-finished.

February 01. 

there’s a guy in class who’s pretty cute… one may even say HOT xP

Damian’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he won’t allow that neanderthal anywhere near you. At least, not again. Yesterday, you told him that your crush had smiled at you. Brushed fingers with you when passing papers. In the only class you have without Damian.

(Also, “your crush,” he scoffs. What a juvenile concept. You and Damian share something much deeper. His feelings for you are not so trivial.)

The semester is still young. Damian can pull any string to land himself in your anthropology class.

The rest of your entry for today (and the past days prior) isn’t anything notable except for when he’s mentioned. 

stressful day, but at least i have tonight with damian to cheer me up. he’s seriously the best …. i should tell him more often !!! (but it’d give him an even bigger head)

He doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile splitting his face. 

Damian’s keen hearing catches you striking up a conversation with Alfred in the kitchen. Despite your promise, he knows you will, indeed, take long. You love talking to everyone, even in passing. It’s an admirable quality, and one he envies.

He unlocks your phone and rifles through some messages of yours. He uses his own phone for documentation purposes. What else is there to do… He spies your jacket on his bed.

There is a shameful thought and Damian’s heart skips a beat. It is… frankly, it’s humiliating as a concept. Yet he’s enticed. It’s your jacket, after all. He brings it to his face delicately and inhales, almost shyly. Once he catches the familiar scent of your body wash, however, he allows himself to breathe it in. After being lost in it for a few seconds, he rips it away. 

Only to see his father standing in his doorframe. 

He knows what this looks like. Damian knows what this looks like. After years of working with the man, Damian can hear his thoughts as if they were his own, as they happen. 

Damian just smelled your clothes. Even if it was investigative in nature, he could’ve retrieved a sample some other way. Someone’s personal journal is open on the floor. A phone that he knows is not Damian’s is unlocked and displaying text messages. All these things are splayed out in a circle around him. It’s uncharacteristically messy of him, as well. Damian’s own phone is actively on his camera. Was he taking pictures? And most notable is the absence of you.

In summary? Damian must have some interest in you. And by this sloppy job, it’s quite emotionally charged. And at his age, it’s likely romantic.

Damian’s skin rises to what feels like a boiling heat. What is Father going to say? He can’t stop him – he can’t. Damian doesn’t even want to talk about it, let alone be reprimanded. A feral need to escape bubbles underneath his skin. Despite the panic, he channels years of League training and hardens himself. 

Bruce watches his son’s expression morph from dazed, to fearful, to steel, in real time. From Damian’s seat on the floor he offers his father only silent defiance. Bruce knows his son, his darker needs that stem from his cruel childhood. And perhaps he should’ve expected this to happen someday. Bruce exhales, eyes closing. When they reopen, his slate-grey eyes are firm and hard. 

“No one gets hurt.”

And by that, Bruce means no one dies. Because Bruce and Damian are Batman and Robin – they’re all in the business of hurting people. People who deserve it, yes, but it’s still hurt. Pain.

Damian feels immense relief. He wouldn’t have killed his father – he’s not that boy anymore. But a life without you seems similarly unbearable. Damian feels… shaken. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done. He also feels grateful, that it didn’t turn out any other way. 

His eyes drop to the jacket he holds in a fist.

“... Yes. Thank you, Father.” Bruce’s gaze lingers, but he leaves wordlessly.

This encounter reminds Damian of who he is. He is a detective, vigilante, assassin, and creature of stealth. He can’t be this careless, even if he knows you won’t notice. 

Damian returns your belongings to their place, exactly how you left it. Diary back in your bag, jacket to where you were lounging, your phone underneath a pillow, because you carelessly tossed it aside. You’ll inevitably begin to look for it and he’ll grin once he places it in your hand.

You finally return to his room, two pizza boxes of deluxe cheese (for him) and pepperoni (for you) in your arms. You laugh sheepishly. 

“Sorry for the wait, Dami.” His heart skitters at the nickname.

“It’s fine.” Your eyes glitter with excitement and optimism and purity. He finds it hard to look away, you raining down a gaze like that upon him.

“I was waiting for you.”

[deadghosy]

Hello ! I wanted to ask if you can write a Hazbin Hotel x male!reader that is like a raccon please ?

Ignore it if you don't want to write it !!

(Unconnected, but I really love your writing. You have a real talent for this)

Sure lol! I also wanted to make them have the animal spirit of a raccoon so here you go! 🦆💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X RACCOON! READER

prompt: a ex-thief wants redemption to see his family

You stole shit..like lots of it to the point even your ex-teammates calls you a raccoon for your ability to steal like crazy. So when one of your teammates killed you because of they were jealous you got so much jewelry…. You fell into hell grumbling piss at seeing your ex teammate shoot you before you died.

You dusted off your outfit to fuckin' see you are a raccoon. (You can imagine reader to be a cubby raccoon or your body type 😘) but you gotta admit it fitted you as you looked to see an ad for a hotel that talks about redemption. You didn’t wanna stay in hell any longer as you smell the flames in your snout. So you go over to the hotel.

You stay at the hotel for months, getting the trust of the hotel staff as you live there. Charlie introduces herself in her dreams to you, making you feel at least as you should help her grow in her dreams of the hotel that she’s making out of this.

So you nod, accepting your be part of the exercises she does.

You either was given a red outfit just like Charlie and vaggie or just a black fit to match your mischievous personality. 

I can see reader literally just trying to wash their hand from the sink as Charlie pick them up and helps you wash your hands thinking you can’t change heights.

Lucifer picked you up because you’re the size of a raccoon so you kind of found it funny until you grow up in size as human size. Never in his life has Lucifer dropped a person so quick as you chuckled. 

“EW A RODENT” “EW A SHORT PERSON”

There was so much silence that the silence was loud as Lucifer gave you a “that’s not nice D:” face as you shrugged.

Raccoon! Reader and penguin! Reader would be cousins 😭

Like literally these two animal readers would be those cousins trying to get a sleepover by their moms.

Angel would probably set you up to steal from Valentino…I mean shit Italians stick together☝🏾

Niffty likes to groom you if you are in your raccoon size. Don’t run, you can’t out run Niffty and her cleaning tools ‼️

I can imagine you and sir Pentious being slight mutuals as you go through peoples trash bins and just collect metal for Pentious making Pentious give you something in return.

A cute headcannon is that you sometimes stick your tongue out when drinking something other than gulping it down.

Husk had gave you some water because you were dehydrated. And this man raised an eyebrow seeing you drink it like a cautious animal. Okay so maybe husk did pet you on your head as you were too busy drinking the water.

You are a slick bastard, you would literally pick pocket people without them even knowing it. Hell, you died with a talent because of this. But it’s sometimes hard to break bad habits.

I headcannon you bit a resident that tried to pickpocket off of you. You definitely gave them rabies with your sharp teeth as they started to spazz and pass out. Leaving you just standing there like. “Did I do that…😨”

I can see raccoon! Reader just being thrown by Angel when he wanted to catch some sinner who tried to take his drugs (pilot reference) and you got on the sinners head and fuck up their face🦆

It was definitely giving “PIKACHU, I CHOOSE YOU!” 😭

Okay so I gotta admit…I headcannon raccoon! Reader to have dug in the trash bins only to get scolded by Charlie as you had a banana peel on your head

I can see raccoon reader also having the personality of rigby, but more of a mature side to it a little. If you know what character I’m talking about hit me up 😘😍

As much as you seem playful and dumb at time, you’re really smart when you wanna be smart. You literally outsmarted Alastor at chess once which made alastor’s eyes widen at you.

I deadass headcannon raccoon! Reader to have like some kinda of accent. Probably Italian, but make it heavy and attractive. 😭🦆

But like if raccoon reader is Italian imagine the secret talks you and Angel do away from the others 😭😭 just two Italian boys planning world domination

Alastor doesn’t have any options on you other than you just stealing his cane makes him pissed off.

You stole his cane for a talent show down stairs that Charlie made. You were doing comedy until this mf grabbed the scuff of your neck and forced you to give it back.😭

STOP CAUSE YOU PROBABLY GOT LOCKED IN A TRASH BIN ONCE AND IT TOOK THE WHOLE CREW TO FIND YOU IN 2 DAYS😭😭

“Ewww…welp found them Charlie!” Alastor said picking you up over his shoulder with a wide grin as he slides down the dump stash.

You are in charge of the lost and found section of the hotel as you just go in room and find shit. I mean you would love to keep them to yourself but Charlie and vaggie knew you would try to steal. So that’s why they made you in charge of lost and found.

You and Angel once went on a hot girl shopping spree..well actually Angel brought you along since you two bond very well. You two legit bought shades together while Angel dust went shopping with you behind him holding his bags.

I headcannon raccoon! Reader to have a locket of his mom in his pocket at all times because before going to bed they kiss the locket and wish their mom a good night.

Charlie learnt you liked being pet from your head to your back as it helps you sleep better. She squeaks at your rare cuteness as she hears you let out a few cute snores.

You stole from husk making him grumble looking for his wallet only to see you come back whistling holding a bunch of groceries.

“Let me guess, you stole my fuckin' wallet?” “Whattt me stole whooo?” You said with a smirk putting down the groceries for husk as he grumbles snatching his wallet from you.

Husk and you have a weird friendship dynamic. It’s like you two hate but like each other. So it’s basically frenemies

When the angel fell down and came to fight, what did you do? Bitch you stole their heaven bucks and dead angel’s weapons. If you can’t beat em, wait for them to die😍

Adam literally seen you stealing money from tel he angels and was going to kill you when he felt his pockets…HIS WALLET WAS GONE?! HOW TF DID YOU TAKE HIS WALLET?!

“THAT LITTLE THIEVING SHIT TOOK MY WALLET?!” “ BUT SIR! THAT IMPOSSIBLE?” “NO SHIT!” Adam retorts at lute as Adam grumbles seeing your figure run away

After Adam had died, you ran his pockets…😭 devious ass shit-

The hotel crew just gave you a shocked looked after you stole half of his possessions.

You and Angel dust literally just be chilling and mess with husk a lot 😭 so now husk got two Italians annoying him lmao

Sir Pentious doesn’t like you because of how you sometimes sneak into his room or lab and steal some of his stuff just so you can have a little stash of something to remember the good old days when you were alive.

Sooner or later, you had given Pentious his stuff back remembering your mom might be in heaven. You miss her cooking.

I imagine raccoon! Reader to be a mama’s boy🤨☝🏾

You’re so use to playing dead as a raccoon, as you literally played dead in front of husk and angel making them scared you actually died….yeah you told them it was a prank and they got mad to the point they locked you out of the hotel.

“GUYS! LET ME IN DAMNIT! IT WAS JUST A JOKE! FELLAS?!”

[twola]

If At First

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

I’ve had this one cooking for a while. This is definitely projection, and written for those of you (like me) who didn’t have a softie of a cowboy to guide you and take care of you through your first time. Let’s rehash some trauma from twenty years ago!

If you had only known the way to get Arthur to pay attention to you was half a bottle of whiskey and entertaining marks in a crowded saloon, you would have done this years ago. But no, you’ve been pining away for him like some lovesick girl, watching him come and go, completely aloof to your infatuation. He's always been pleasant, noble even - for an outlaw, he’s the closest thing to a gentleman you’ve seen in your life. 

You had jumped at his request to go into town - he had mentioned there was a glut of gullible men just waiting to be pickpocketed by a pretty girl. 

But now, now, there was enough booze in his system and aggravation in his blood that he stole you away from your third mark of the night, pulling you straight out of the man’s lap as you flirted shamelessly to lighten his wallet.

Arthur, gruff, rough, lonesome Arthur pulls you toward the back of the saloon against your yelping and questioning until he pushes you against the wall before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I can’t watch you in any other man’s lap no more.”

A full-body shiver shoots straight through you to your cunt.

“Upstairs. Now. You ain’t gonna be in anyone’s arms but mine.”

Your heart is beating a thousand miles an hour. The two of you stumble up the stairs, his greedy hands all over your body - grabbing your ass, squeezing your waist, fingertips digging into the fabric. At the landing halfway up the stairs, he turns toward him and catches your lips, you cannot help but moan into his mouth - this, this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with a man. You feel the long, hard line of him against you and you shiver with anticipation when he pushes you again to finish the climb up the stairs and down the hall to the room procured.

The door slams behind him and he immediately pulls at his gunbelt, unwinding it from his hips and letting it fall to the floor. Two large hands on your hips push you toward the bed. You whine into his mouth and he groans in return.

“Get on your knees on the bed, girl.” He grits out as he feverishly pushes his suspenders down his corded arms.

You hike your skirts up and shimmy your bloomers to the floor, stepping out of them as he grabs you, spins you around, and walks you the three steps to the bed before pushing you to climb upon it. 

You catch yourself from falling completely, but Arthur’s greedy hands hoist your skirts up and over your hips, baring your rear and cunt completely to him as you’re bent over on your hands and knees on the hotel bed.

A swipe of his fingers against your core finds you wet, and you shiver against his touch. He grunts in approval and you hear the rustle of his pants as he desperately digs his cock out. You can hear him spit into his palm and the slap of skin on skin.

Oh god, oh god, this was happening, it’s happening.

One big hand of his grabs your hip, and you shudder when you feel the tip of his cock press against your folds, swiping up, down, then finally catching at the rim of your cunt. His hand leaves his cock and moves to your bare skin.

“Been thinkin’ bout this more than I’d like to admit.” Arthur hoarsely whispers as he squeezes your hips. 

You want to scream that you’ve been dreaming of this for so long, and you for a moment wish he would turn you over so that you could see him.

The head of his cock presses inside you.

You yelp into the pillow. He moans aloud as he continues pressing in, a force of muscle that can’t be stopped.

Oh, it burns. It hurts. Each inch of him he insistently presses inside you feels like he’s tearing you apart. He’s big, he’s so big. You bite down on your lip hard to stifle the yelp of pain that wants to escape you, but you cannot help the watering over of your eyes as he works himself in until his hips press against your rear.

Tears drop to the pillow beneath you as you grip it tightly between your fingers.

Unaware, Arthur hisses in pleasure, “Shit- you’re goddamn tight-”

As he pulls out to fuck into you again, he gazes down to his cock reappearing out from your body.

He frowns.

A faint red ring of blood encircles the base of him.

“You still bleedin’ from your monthlies? Y’alright?” He rubs at your hip gently.

And at that show of gentleness, of affection, the sob that you’d been holding back under gritted teeth wrenches its way out your throat. Arthur pulls himself immediately from you, causing you to gasp out in pain again, and his hands are all over you. Soft, gentle, reassuring.

He turns you so you are lying on your back in the bed, in the tangle of your skirts, he pulls them down to cover you.

“Honey- honey what’s wrong?”

You sniffle, eyes averted from his gaze and he comes to a realization. 

“Jesus-” he immediately tucks his still-hard cock back into his trousers and moves to sit on the bed next to you, reclining back enough to brush a wayward hair from your cheek, “You ain’t never done this before, have you?”

Ashamed, you squeeze your eyes shut over the next round of tears and nod your head.

“Shit - Christ, what a bastard I am.”

Your eyes shoot open and you clutch at him as you feel him go to sit up from his reclined position. Weaving your hands into his workshirt, you bury your head into his barrel chest. 

“No, no - no, please, I’ve ruined it all,” You cry, mortified, heartbroken. He’s all you’ve ever wanted and now he’s going to leave you and- “I w-want you so much-h, I've wanted you for so long.”

“Sweetheart, I ain't gonna hurt you.” He draws his fingers through the hair at the crown of your head.

You shake your head into his chest, “Arthur, please.”

Arthur pauses, one of his hands pressing against your upper back, holding you to him.

“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right, okay?” He presses his lips to your temple. You nod, still clutching at his shirt, as if he were to disappear if you were to let go.

“C’mere, sweet thin’.” 

He leans over you and the two of you roll over until you’re on your back beneath him. Looming over you, he shimmies his pants down his hips to rest on his thighs. 

“But-” You pipe up as he climbs atop you again, his hard, long cock bobbing with his movement. He moves to gather your skirts up again, baring your cunt to him. 

“Ain’t gonna go inside. I’ll take care of ya-” Arthur looks down at you and you nod meekly, fully opening your legs to him. He presses your hips together and your breath catches as his cock settles between your folds. A roll of his hips and-

“Oh-”

A rumbling laugh comes from his chest as fondness exudes from his being. “Y’ like that?”

Another roll of his hips. His length pressed against all parts of you - against your weeping opening, against the hooded bundle of nerves that makes you keen.

You're unable to answer him in words, your breathing heavy with each slide of his length against you. Your hands grab greedily at his shirt.

Your arousal overflows. With those gentle thrusts against you, Arthur’s cock becomes coated in your wetness- along with both of your inner thighs. He grunts as his wet skin slides along yours. 

“Ar-Arthur-” you whine, pawing at his shirt. He pushes himself up to sit on his knees and starts to unbutton his shirt, looming atop you. His cock, blood darkened and steel hard, weeps from the tip, a testament to his own want.

“Lean up f’r me.” His voice is rough as he sheds his workshirt and tosses it to the floor. As if magnetic, your hands are drawn up to his chest, broad and hard, his pale skin dotted with scars.

“C’mon, darlin’,” Arthur urges, and you sit up as he works the buttons of your blouse open. Your shirt is peeled down your arms, and one large hand engulfs your breast through your chemise.

“I’m gonna touch you now, make it easier-” Another kiss to your temple, “You tell me if it hurts, alright?”

He pulls your skirts up to pool them around your waist. You nod and lean up to kiss him. You open your mouth to his and your tongues press together as his thick trigger finger slides in between your folds, tracing the seam of your body until he comes upon your opening. 

Arthur slowly, gently, presses inside. You moan, deep from your throat, as he slides his finger in and out of you, his thumb brushing against that bundle of nerves. 

Time is irrelevant. All that you can feel in the world is the rocking of his hand into you, all that you can hear is the rough timbre of his voice muttering into your hair - good girl, that’s it, gettin’ ready f’r me.

You're barely coherent when he pulls his hand from between your legs and starts to undo the ties of your skirts around your waist.

Arthur yanks your skirts down, and you shimmy your hips to allow him to pull the fabric from your body. His greedy hands do not stop there: your cotton chemise gets tossed over the side of the bed, leaving you lying nude atop the sheets, laid out for his hungry eyes to devour.

“Want to try again?”

“Yes, yes please-” you beg as you sit up. You see a half smirk cross his face as he fiddles with his trousers, his arousal not one bit lessened. He stands up and shoves his pants and drawers to the floor before returning to the bed, the both of you completely bare.

“Arthur -” You whisper meekly as he settles himself once again between your legs, pumping his cock. He notches the head of his cock at the rim of your cunt, and pauses, finding your gaze.

“Don’t worry, ‘m gonna treat you right, sweetheart.”

And he presses inside. You’re still sensitive from before, and your nails dig into his biceps as he litters kisses upon your brow with each inch of himself he gently works into you.

“A-Arthur-” you crane your head up to look down between you, to where your bodies meet. Down your heaving bosom and soft belly to the cradle of your hips, where your legs spread around him. Down his chest, following the trail of dark wiry hair from his navel to the chestnut curls at the base of his cock. Curls pressed up against your own, all of him sheathed inside of you.

“Like seein’ that?” He chuckles fondly, placing another kiss on your forehead as he joins you, gazing upon where your bodies meet.

It’s like you’ve been struck dumb, all you can do is nod and close your eyes as your head hits the pillow again. Being filled with him - it’s, it’s everything. All the things you dreamed of alone in your bedroll at night - they could not possibly measure to the real thing. 

Arthur lowers himself to his forearms, covering you with all of him. You feel small beneath him, all six feet of muscle and sinew, but being so engulfed makes you feel warm and wanted. Shielded off from the world, if only for this moment.

Before you can stop yourself, the words spill out of your mouth as you clutch at him, afraid to let him go.

“Please don’t let this be only once.” You whisper as you squeeze your eyes shut, afraid of the heartbreak of him leaving you once he’s gotten what he’s wanted from you. 

“Look at me.” His hand tips your chin up and you are forced to look him in those river-blue eyes of his.

“You’re gonna move your things into my tent when we get back,” he orders, and rolls his hips in a full and heady thrust, your breath escapes you as you swear you feel him in your guts.

“And you’re gonna be in my cot, beneath me every night.”

“Arthur -” You gasp as he continues, starting to fuck you with the force you knew his body contained. You're smothered in him - his broad chest brushing up on yours, his muscled arms caging you in - his narrowed waist and strong hips moving against yours. 

Faster, harder, more - he gives you it all, he gives you himself. He gives and gives and gives.

Your vision whites out as you wail, clenching down on him, and whilst you have come before on your own, it’s completely different with your cunt stuffed full of his flesh. It’s so much more.

“There she is, there’s my girl.” He croons, his praise melting into a groan, fisting the sheets on either side of your head as his rhythm falters, his cock pistoning in and out of you desperately as he chases his own completion.

If you thought he was handsome before, now, as you lay sated beneath him, he’s goddamn beautiful. When he comes, the lines around his eyes vanish, his jaw falls open and all of the tension in his body, all of the stress, all of the worry - it’s all released.

He groans, deep from his chest as he extracts himself from you and clutches at his cock with one hand as hot streaks of white splatter across your inner thighs, your lower belly, and in the hair of your mound. With the last drips of his release, he breathes out heavily and the relief, as fleeting as it may be, overtakes him before he collapses atop you. 

Even with his body wrung out, he doesn’t smother you with his weight but merely presses against you as he pants, his breath loud in your ear as you wind your arms around his neck. Your fingers interlace in the short ends of his hair, cradling his head to your bosom for a moment.

He rolls onto his side, taking you with him. You bury yourself into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you to pull you into an inescapable embrace. 

You smile against his skin before pushing yourself up on your elbow to look him in the eye.

“When can we do that again?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Vox Machina reacting to gn crush telling him/her that they had been told by their crushes that they're not good-looking and interesting please?

Vax thinks that’s an utter bollocks statement to make, especially since it was coming from someone you had feelings towards.

This absolute sweetheart would sit by you under a blanket of stars and keep you company until he thought you were ready to get back on your feet and show the fucker what they were missing out on.

‘They speak the universal language of bullshit.’ He’d say, which made you laugh in how he worded it. ‘I’m being serious! They don’t fucking know what they’ve missed out on, so don’t be too sad because they knew you were out of their reach and didn’t want to admit it out of their own pride.’ He adds as he allowed you to toy with his dagger

‘Still hurts though.’ You murmured as you tossed the dagger into the air and catching it by the handle as it comes down again. Vax frowns before nudging you in the side playfully.

‘Hey, it may suck now but sooner or later we’re going to look back on this and laugh at how much of a loser they were and how much better off you were without them to tie you down.’ He says and you look at him deeply before smiling. ‘Yeah they were a bit bland featured to be honest.’ You shyly admitted as vax laughed.

‘They’re bland as fuck and you are not, they’re a cunt and your far better then to let that twat have any ounce of power over you in any aspect, oh we can go see if I can pickpocket the bastard for everything their worth? Would that cheer you up?’ Vax asked as you mulled over the idea in your head, but it didn’t take long for you to want to see chaos ensue and you were quick to agree.

You and vax then ran off into the night like two giggling idiots, feeling a thousand times better then you were before.

Vex

‘Oh sweetheart that isn’t true, far from it.’ She’d say as she holds your face, wiping away your tears from your cheeks.

‘Then why would they say it.’ You said as you looked to her for answers within her eyes and Vex couldn’t help but feel her heart crack for you.

‘They’re not worth your tears, none at all if this is how they’re going to make you feel all the time.’ Vex told you as her bear companion huffed and cuddled into your side, sensing your sadness and distress and you were quick to run your hand through their fur in silent thanks.

‘I guess I shouldn’t have expected so much from them to begin with. After all nothing is set in stone.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But it still hurts regardless.’

‘And it will my dear, it will hurt but sometimes it can motivate us into going the path we were meant to all along.’ Vex replied as watched you and trinket interact with hope in her heart that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be alright in due time.

‘Thanks vex, I really needed to hear that today.’ You tell her, only for trinket to huff as you laugh and ruffle their fur, ‘and yes thank you too trinket, thank you for the emotional support.’

Trinket huffed again but this time in triumph.

Percy wouldn’t know how to comfort you at first but would find it easier to just let you air out your grievances instead.

‘They said I’m bland and unappealing! Only to then call me childish when I showed that I wasn’t happy being called such, claiming I can’t handle the truth.’ You groaned as you fell in to the empty chair that awaited you. ‘What a fucking joke.’ You murmured.

‘What they said is uncalled for and rude on all accounts,’ Percy said calmly, ‘they claim it’s true but from the stories you’ve told me about them, they’re the most boring and unpleasant person to ever engage in a conversation with without feeling the need to bring up your topic of the weather.’ He adds and you snorted at his sarcastic tone.

‘Yeah, they do tend to find the most boring things and talk about them for hours, how I thought that was attractive I’ll never know, blinded I guess.’ You shrugged as you both began to shit talk about your former crush and nitpick at their every aspect with scrutinising detail.

‘They cannot tie a cravat properly to save his life.’ Percy quipped.

‘They avoid taverns because they don’t like the liveliness of them, nor the rowdiness.’ You add.

Percy scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘Pretentious prick.’

You jolted forward in your seat towards him as though you were going to tell him a secret. ‘He’s not even from a well known enough family for that Percy’s they just wanna act like they are.’ You swore you saw Percy smile before he hid it behind his hand.

‘How embarrassing.’ He mumbles.

‘I know right?!’ You exclaimed as throughout the night you and Percy spend most of it together and shit talking the rejection away.

Keyleth would immediately try to disprove this by taking you out to her garden and showing you all the flowers.

‘Why am I here keyleth? To show how unappealing I am in comparison to pretty flowers?’ You asked.

‘No! I brought you here to show that every flower within my garden is no less loved than the other, all of them are watered and properly cared for regardless of how they look or what they smell like.’ Keyleth replied as she made you look at the daises, lavenders, chrysanthemums, water lilies, thistle, roses, Lilly of the valley and many more as thought they were a kaleidoscope of beauty in all its forms.

‘They are indeed all beautiful in their own unique way.’ You mumbled as you brushed one of the petals of a rose. Keyleth smiled as she put her hands on your shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

‘All flowers are loved by someone and you will find someone who will love you just as much as a Gardner loves their flowers.’ She reassured you in a sweet yet calming voice. ‘For you are worthy of love just like these flowers and you’ll find them, it just takes a little time and patience to happen. So hold on tight because someone is out there looking for the prettiest flower; you.’ She finished and you smiled back at her, resting your hands on top of hers, feeling reassured.

‘Thanks keyleth, I really needed it.’ You replied.

Grog

‘Well they’re stupid.’ He’d say in response.

‘but what if they’re right?’ You asked, defeated. ‘What if I am boring and unappealing?’

Grog huffs. ‘Bullshit. You’re far from either boring or unappealing, they’re just weak shit and cowardly because they know they can’t handle someone like you.’

You’d lean into his side and smiling softly. ‘Thanks for cheering me up Grog, I really needed it.’

‘No problem buddy.’ He smiles as he pats your head as a moment of silence passed between you two. ‘So…do you wanna fuck up some bad guys to relive the stress?’ He then asks and you smiled at him.

‘You don’t even have to ask.’ You tell him as you both set off to kick some ass.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Just a little turned around.

Honestly, it wasn’t as if Y/N was defenceless.

It just so happened that on this one damn day, some asshole had managed to pickpocket her pouch. Not her wallet (that was back at the hotel), not her phone, just her money pouch, which contained the currency of the foreign country she was in. Being prepared and somewhat responsible, Y/N had only put in a day's worth of money into that pouch. In fact, it amazed her how he hadn't gone for her passport or even her phone. No, just the thing that would be most inconvenient for her.

Staring a hole into the ground, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead in an attempt to calm herself down and gather her thoughts. She had chased this slippery bastard all the way to this street where he turned the corner and into a dead end. Then he-, wait.

Y/N straightened up and her eyes darted around frantically. Where was she?

Nothing was familiar. A cafe on the cobbled stone street, a flower shop and a bakery. None of which she had seen before.

Wonderful, now, as well as having no money in a foreign country, she was bloody lost.

“Fuck me dead and sideways till Monday morning.” She huffed, while once again rubbing her forehead with her hand. Honestly, at this point, nothing could particularly get worse.

“That coul’ be arranged!” An accented voice called out from behind her. Scottish perhaps?

“Has a mouth on her.” Another replied in amusement while another voice just grunted in acknowledgement.

Y/N turned around to spit back a witty retort that quickly died on her lips.

“Uh..” She stuttered out intelligently.

Three men, each a prepossessing sight. One was wearing a cap, a blue denim jacket and some black jeans. He was brown eyed and dark skinned, nothing short of a model. His friend was leaning on him, crossed arms, a short mohawk, blue eyes, scruffy looking beard and a cheeky looking smirk. He donned a biker jacket with the small Scottish flag where his breast pocket would be and seemed to be wearing dog tags over his grey t-shirt. The last of them was a hulking man dressed fully in black, his face was obscured with a face mask akin to those of celebrities, however his presence was less of a star and more intimidating. Almost menacing. Maybe he was their bodyguard?

Y/N shook her head and replied,

“Yeah no thanks mate, I’ve got a bit on my plate at the moment, maybe in another life?” She nodded at the three before turning back around and walking towards the coffee shop.

“Oi, Bonnie, we can help ya if ya need. Besides, yer lookin' a bit peely wally.” The man with the mohawk called out.

“What the bloody hell are you on about mate.” Y/N asked, bewildered clearly not understanding the Scottish man's accent.

“ He thinks you look pale.” The large figure behind him rumbled helpfully.

Y/N blinked,

“Is he saying I look sickly?” She turned around and glowered at the man.

“No love, what we mean to say is, you look like you need some help?” The man with the baseball cap stepped forward carefully, as if not to spook her.

“Well, unless you’ve got a tracker dog, a body bag and a large metal pipe, I don't think you’re going to be much help to me.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

“Tha’ can be arranged bonnie.” The mischievous looking man grinned, stepping up while the man behind him followed while giving a non committal grunt.

“I’m Kyle, the annoying one is Johnny and that’s-”

“Simon.” The masked man grumbled while the other two threw a quick look at the third man.

She wrinkled her nose.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you.” She nodded at the men before sighing, “Alright, I’m here for a holiday, trying to feel out if I wanna move out here for work. I was just takin’ a look around when some asshat came up and fell on me and grabbed my money pouch.” She spoke quickly, somewhat embarrassed that she was admitting to three strangers that she had been duped so easily.

“Ah lovie, unless you remember what he looks like or what he was wearin’ s’ gonna be hard for you to get it back. Do you remember how much you had in there?”

She shrugged, “It was meant to get me lunch and dinner before I checked out of my current hotel to find another one. The rest of the cash is in my hotel room.” She hung her head and sighed.

“Honestly I just need to find my way back and then I can sleep over things. I can skip a meal or two.”

“Gonny no dae that!” Johnny exclaimed, “Yer look like yer already skippin’ meals lass. We’ll take you to lunch and dinner! We got nothin’ ta do anyways!”

The one dressed in all black, Simon was it? Grunted out an agreement.

“You ain't gonna find much around here. You’re not far away from the military base.”

“Whaddya you say love? Let us show you around?” Kyle hummed, cocking his head akin to a begging puppy.

Y/N quirked her lips in thought. Would it be a smart move to let these strangers escort her around? Was she hungry enough to make a questionable decision?

“Well…”

“We’re not strange men, we promise miss.” The taller Brit offered.

“That's exactly what a strange man would say LT.”Johnny quipped, earning a light bonk on the head from the taller man.

Y/N shoulders relaxed when they saw the playful display of banter between the men. Surely this meant they were safe. Right?

[duckybuiltwrong]

Christmas Carol- Platonic Y. Batfam

Chapter 1

CW: Decaying skin (not that descriptive, it is a ghost of a dead person.), hints at past abuse or neglect.

A cold and dark night is something that strikes fear into most of the criminals of Gotham. Running around this close to Christmas day was bountiful. Pickpocketing people with money that was meant to be spent on presents for their loved ones. This caused most criminals to take the chance, either to be caught by the Batman or come home with dollars on dollars, if the right people were robbed. Luckily for the criminals, Batman was not out on the streets. Oh, no. The indestructible, the unbeatable, the world’s greatest detective and father, was out of commission. Unable to work, clearly and terribly-

“I am not that sick,” Bruce held a firm face to Dick, as his eldest slowly led him away from the batcave, giving his siblings a quick nod to go ahead and start on their patrols, “I am not saying that you are dying. I am just saying you need a break. It is a low fever that can get worse-”

Bruce interrupted the young adult, “I am aware of how fevers work, these nights however,-” The young adult shot right back, “Can be handled by the rest of us- which is more than enough.” Dick said as he pressed the button to the elevator, letting Bruce get on as Dick stood in the elevator door, “I already texted Alfred, he should be giving you medication sooner or later. Please, actually get some rest and not try to be a hero for the next few nights.” Dick pleaded with his puppy eyes and Bruce was too tired to fight Dick on it, “Okay, only for the next few nights.” Bruce would never admit it though, Dick and him both knew that.

Resting, however, was not going to his own bed. No, for Bruce, it was going to his office in his own home and working. He was resting, his body could get the rest it required. The ache in his limbs and subtle headache would not slow the hero. Of course not, Batman never slows, but Bruce Wayne does. 

So in the study, where the Grandfather clock that belonged to Thomas Wayne and so forth sat, ticking away. The walls are lined with books or photos. The main one being a family portrait with its own space. Bruce in the chair as everyone from Dick to Duke surrounded him. Even Damian had stood still for it. Despite being raised by assassins, he still moved around like a child.

Bruce sat at his desk. His leather seat under him as he was in a white undershirt and blue plaid lounge pants. The room was lit by his desk’s lamp, the fireplace, and a scented candle. The same scent his father and him used to get every year, it was Bruce’s favorite.

As Bruce sat at the desk, his trashcan next to it was being filled with snotty tissues. Bruce was going over some of his company’s paperwork. Looking into charities, programs, and branches of his company. Using his computer to check the money spent and earned. Bruce knew it was early night, it got dark faster in these days of winter. The time should have been nine or ten o'clock, but as Bruce sat there, the grandfather clock struck. Bruce knew it was probably going to stop around the ninth to tenth ding but no, it went for more until twelve were given. 

As Bruce turned to look at the clock, he was confused. Bruce turned to the clock on his computer to see it was off, but staring at his face was not his. No, on the black screen of the computer was a ghostly figure. Bruce shot up from his seat. His feet planted firmly under him to hold his body up, the figure on the computer was gone. Bruce could not think much of it as a sudden, freezing, gust of wind hit his body. A shiver cruel and hard crawls up his body as the same gust of wind carries his paper off his desk. The gust alone was not what caused such a violent shiver to hit him however, no. It was the sound of the gust, it sounded like a distant wail.

Bruce sighed as he wrote it off, he was paranoid. A ‘worry wart’ as Alfred always called him. Bruce went around his desk to get the paper when another gust surrounded him. But instead of the quiet wail, it seemed almost louder, like a whisper in his ear. It sounded so heart broken and it made him a bit sick to his stomach. Bruce grabbed the paper and stood up tall, before marching over to his studies window. He was going to see who was crying outside of it, it could be a gardener. But when he opened the curtains abruptly, only the city stared back. Seeing the window completely locked and closed made Bruce think that something was not right. So as he closed the curtains again, he was spooked when the clock struck again. But it never stopped at one, no. It went all the way back to twelve.

The light from his desk started to go out as another harsh wind swept the room. The papers on his desk go flying. The fireplace crackled wildly and harshly before going out. The bulb on the desk lets out a popping noise as it too went out. Only the candle sat, untouched. But Bruce went to pick the papers up quickly. He watched as a zombified hand reached from behind the desk, reaching for the candle. His gut twisted as the index and thumb finger of the hand pinched the wick, the light leaving the room.

It did not stay dark though. A glow came from a figure now standing in front of the family portrait. Their hair was long and flowed with unseen or felt wind. It was a woman, the dress was a dead give away. But instead of it being a regular woman, she was decaying. Even as her back was to Bruce, he could see her arms and feet, flesh peeling off and muscle seen.

The chains on the figure also caught his eye. A chain trained from a children’s book to under her hair, a chain on her neck. Shackles on her wrists and ankles. The weights to those were other child related things. A teddy bear, a mostly ripped drawing, and a hairbrush were the more prominent things.

Bruce could see the light surrounding her, it was a cold blue. Lonely and sad, but as he watched her. The figure moved, not to him or towards the painting. No, their shoulders shook with force and they hunched forward. Their weighted hands holding their face as they let out a sob. As the figure cried, Bruce finally lets out a breath, but it came out as a puff of air. The type you could see in freezing temperatures. Bruce did not notice how cold it had gotten until then. Bruce needed to understand why this figure was in his home and what they wanted. 

Bruce stepped forward to talk to the ghost but his foot crunched on one of the weights on accident. A sudden tune came from the weight, a music box that had Winnie the Pooh on top of it. He was in a dancing pose as the figurine spun in a circle. Bruce could not dwell on it for too long because right after, the woman lets out a mighty scream towards Bruce. Bruce backed away on instinct as the woman glared at him. Her body turned around now and the light turned from a cold blue to a purple. It was dark and stung Bruce’s chest with a heavy weight of fear…no, it was anger. Rage. Bruce realized it was not his but her’s. She beat him to breaking the silence, “You dare break another thing of theirs?” She accused Bruce. 

“Of whose-” Bruce tried to speak but the woman looked horrified and  fearful, to angry and torn. The sides of her cheeks were held together by muscles. Her collarbone was poking through a sliver of decaying skin. “DO NOT ACT AS IF THEY ARE NOT KNOWN! THEY ARE YOURS!” She wailed. Bruce quickly knew he could not get anywhere with a woman who was this hysterical…woman? Maybe banshee, better suited the cries and wails coming from her. “Mine? Who is mine?” Bruce tried to calm the situation even though her feelings were clouding his. He wanted to cry so badly right now because of her. “They are not even in the picture.” The woman sunk to the ground as she sobbed. She looked over her shoulder at the photo. Her tears were the colors she reflected. Falling to the ground in a blueish purple to only dissipate after hitting the ground. The woman stood shakily. Her legs looked as if they would cave out from under her at any minute.

She took shaky steps to the painting which filled Bruce with sudden fear. The woman reached for a tear and started to touch the painting before Bruce could stop her. The tears burned into the painting as she drew precisely. A figure being drawn fast as the tears on her fingers seemed to have their own mind. So only a few seconds later, did the woman back up to look at the finished product. “Who is-” Bruce started as he stared at the unfamiliar person the woman drew onto the painting. 

The woman turned to Bruce as the books on the shelves started to shake and fly. Some only shake and others stay on their shelf. “You forget them?” The woman asked, so heart broken. “I entrusted them to you and you forget? Our baby?” The woman stepped closer to Bruce as he took a step back, “I am sorry-”

“Our Y/n- YOU FORGOT THEM!” She screeched the grandfather clock dung multiple times again and again, going past twelve. Bruce tensed up, “Y/n? I do not know a- I do, yes.” Bruce spoke suddenly to the woman. She seemed to relax at this. Looking down at her feet to the books. “You have no children's books.” she stated as she looked at her feet. Bruce nodded even as she could not see him, “Yes, I have no need for them.” She just clenched her fist, “They needed them at some point, did you buy them for Y/n?” The woman spoke and Bruce tensed again, he never realized he had relaxed with the energy from her glow. “They never asked for-”

“They should not have to.” The woman snapped at him. “INJUSTICE! YOU DO THIS AGAINST A CHILD AS THEIR FATHER! YOU SHOULD BUY THEM ANYWAY! YOU HAVE THE MONEY TOO.” The woman wailed as she marched to Bruce. She took one of the weights, which was the teddy bear on her left wrist, and picked it up like it weighed a boulder. Using it to throw it at his chair behind his desk. It went through his desk and landed in the chair, she used it to yank the chair against the desk until the chair moved the desk from her force in a quick motion. As she did, she screamed at Bruce which caused him to fall into his chair and she climbed onto him. Moving to clutch his chest, “our deed has done this to them. We did not love each other and now they are punished for it. Cut from our cloth only to be treated like its own garment. They were not prepared.” The woman looked at Bruce, they met eyes before she looked at his lips. “They were such a delicate piece of fabric, I should not have held it so thoughtlessly.” She moved to kiss his lips. Bruce was sitting there in complete shock and confusion. As she kissed his lips she looked back into his eyes. He was being kissed by the ghost of a corpse. 

“They are invited down from their room every Christmas, they just do not-” The woman pushed off of Bruce as he spoke. “DO NOT POINT BLAME FOR OUR INJUSTICE!” The woman grabbed at her face as her nails dug into her skin. Taking some off with her frantic flails. “DOWN FROM WHERE?! THEY HAVE LEFT! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE ONE THING TYING US HAS LEFT THE SAFETY OF YOUR HOME! Or what should be their safety. You shall be their downfall with your inactions.” She glared as tears fell. The room was freezing and the glass of the candle started to freeze over. The woman stared at Bruce as she suddenly seemed to break again with a wail. “You, you shall be punished Bruce. Three. Three but not me. You have three ghosts to see. Each of the cold and dark of night. To when the clock strikes twelve shall you see. Tonight and the next of it and of that one. I hope you suffer while alive and learn. For if you do not and you still live like this, you shall die like me.” And with that, the lights flickered and her glow disappeared, leaving him all alone with his thoughts and beating heart. 

He lets out a sneeze at the sudden feeling of his nose running. But as he looked for a tissue, the papers that were on the floor originally were back in their spots on his desk. The candle and fireplace back to their warm fire. The desk lamp was no longer out. The clock went back to its original time of 10:13, it was still the night of the twenty-first. The books were back on the shelves. But the painting, as it was back to its original sight, seemed so bare and empty. “When did they get that big?” Bruce whispered under his breath. You used to be at his knee. Yet the ghost, of what seemed to be your mother, drew you as a young adult. A knock on the door signified that Alfred was here for what was probably the first round of medications. Alfred had been close to you, right? Maybe he could answer these new found questions that had just surfaced from Bruce's mind and guilt.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Billy x thief reader 👀 she tries to pick pocket billy without knowing his reputation which only leads to a flirty confrontation. Love your writing smm 💕

Takes two to tango || Billy the Kid x reader

A/n: i love this request, keep them coming!!!!! and thank you anon <333

Warnings: none?

Wc: 673

Billy the Kid masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

Santa Fe's sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues over the terra cote streets. You, adorned in a vibrant red dress that swayed with each sway of your hip, glided through the lively crowd. Your h/c hair framed an innocent smile that could charm even the sternest of faces, a charming and strikingly beautiful young woman whose smile hid secrets, a façade concealing the nimble fingers of a pickpocket.

The people of Santa Fe were oblivious to the danger that walked among them. No one suspected a pretty lady like yourself with a twinkle in your eyes, adorned in jewelry, to be a master of the unsavory art, pickpocketing.

Your charm, your grace that rivaled even the most high status ladies in society was your greatest weapon. Your targets were carefully chosen, and you would distract them with a captivating smile, witty banter, flirtatious charm, and the subtle dance of your nimble fingers.

One fateful day, the town buzzed, a cloud of dust announced the arrival of a lone cowboy. He had an air of mystery about him that drew your attention, a charm that rivaled your own. His rugged features were hidden beneath the brim of his worn hat, his piercing blue eyes surveyed the vibrant scene, taking in the sights and sounds of Santa Fe with a cool confidence.

Unable to resist the lure of a new challenge, you sauntered over to him with a coy smile, your hips swaying subtly with each step. "Well, hello there, stranger. Santa Fe welcomes you," you greeted him, your voice as sweet as honey.

Billy, drawn in by your beauty and charisma, reciprocated with a smile that revealed his dimples, tipping his hat. "Thank you, ma'am. Quite a lively place you got 'ere," his gaze locks on you. "Santa Fe is quite something, I agree." You softly chuckle, your eyes scanning him.

"What brings you here," You tilt your head, letting charm take center change. One corner of his lip tips up, his eyes drifting to the side for a fleeting moment as you inch closer to him.

You engage in conversation as Billy responds with equal enthusiasm. As you spoke, your fingers moved with practiced precision, exploring the edges of his pockets. The marketplace provided the perfect cover, its chaotic ambiance camouflaging your subtle movements.

You reveled in the thrill of the heist, confident that your charm would keep him blissfully unaware. Billy, though new to Santa Fe, was no stranger to the art of survival. His instincts kicked in as he felt the subtle graze of your fingers, and with a swift motion, grabbed your delicate wrist with a slight smirk.

Surprise flashed across your features, but you quickly composed yourself, turning the encounter into a playful interaction. "Well now, what do we have 'ere?" Billy's voice was low and velvety as he spoke. "A charming lady with a mischievous side."

You chuckled, feigning innocence. "Oh, you caught me. I must admit, you're quite perceptive, cowboy. Maybe I just couldn't resist the allure of a handsome cowboy like yourself," Billy's gaze lingered on you, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

Billy chuckled, releasing your wrist. "Well, darlin' you've got nerve I'll give you that, most folks 'round here just tip their hats and move on," You tilt your head coyly to the side at his words.

"I'm not like most folks, and you're not like most cowboys," you arch and eyebrow at him. "Tell me, darlin', what would drive a lady like you to such daring efforts?"

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you responded, "Survival, perhaps," You shrug, Billy's laugh resonated through the air, a deep and hearty sound.

"Well, you've certainly made my day more interesting, ma'am. But I reckon you should find a more honest way to make a living," A challenge flickered between you and the handsome outlaw, an unspoken understanding that there was more to both of you than met the eye.

"They say there are two paths that a women can take; marry, or whore yourself," You began, looking around before you fold your arms. "Tried whoring," Billy's lips part, "but that only made me realise my self-worth more," Your eyes fall down onto the grown at your feet where you kick a rock.

"Oh I know you're worth more than that, sweetheart." Billy steps closer to you, taking your chin in between his fingers which catches you off guard. The air crackled with a tension that transcended mere flirtation. The dance between pickpocket and cowboy had just begun.

"Seems you've got a talent for lightening a man's pockets," Billy remarked, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as you mirror him. You raised an eyebrow, "it's just a little something I picked up along the way. Keeps life interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Billy leaned against a wooden post, his gaze never leaving yours. "Interesting is one way to put it," he swallows, his eyes watching a family walk past, "most folks call it risky business, though," you lock eyes with him once again.

"Oh, but where's the fun without a bit of risk?" you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. "Besides, I've got a knack for it." Billy chuckled, shaking his head, "Well, ma'am, you've certainly added a twist to my day. Never thought I'd meet a pickpocket so......" he trails off, his eyes swept over you, a heat evident in the way his eyes drank your details, from head to toe before wetting his lips, "charming."

You stepped closer, the little space between you filled with an electric energy. "And I never though I'd such a handsome cowboy with keen instincts. Caught me fair and square." Billy's gaze softened, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"So, what's a charming lady like you doing in a place like this? There's gotta be more to the story." You sighed, as if revealing a secret. "Life's not always as pretty as it seems. Sometimes, a girl's gotta do what she can to get by."

His expression grew more serious, a subtle understanding passing between you. "We've all go out ways of surviving in this world." He sharply inhales, his hands resting on his hips. "Would you like somethin' to drink, ma'am?" He questions you with a subtle smirk on his lips as you bite your lip lightly, "Though you'd never ask," Billy cracks a smile.

[i-made-a-bg3-blog]

Look, it’s not like Astarion intended on becoming a Harper, it’s just - well, burglary and pickpocketing are a little more difficult when you can’t enter homes without an invitation or go outside during the day, and he’s grown rather accustomed to a certain elevated lifestyle. There are other places he could turn to for money: the city owes him an estate and a title at the bare minimum. But, there’s something to be said for self-sufficiency, and, though he hates to admit it, he wouldn’t make it through three weeks as a noble without being bored out of his mind.

The Harpers need warm bodies (or cold ones, as it were) to rebuild their ranks after Orin’s doppelgangers, and Jaheira’s a savvy old crone who never learned to take no for an answer. She pinpoints Astarion’s two weak spots: a heavy coinpurse and kidnapped children, street kids, the kind no one would miss.

They’re decidedly amateurish criminals, and it doesn’t take him long to track them down and dispatch them, messily and painfully. Four children sit huddled in a cage, and Astarion knows he must look every bit the monster as he picks the lock with hands covered in gore, but they don’t shy away in fear when he opens the door. One of them slips his chubby little hand into Astarion’s and refuses to let go until they reach the safehouse. It’s…odd.

“Good work, Harper,” Jaheira tells him after, and Astarion makes it explicitly clear that he’s simply an independent contractor, an expensive one. 

Jaheira just smirks like the witch she is.

So he contracts. He infiltrates the Guild (and feels insulted when Nine Fingers doesn’t recognize him; he’d like to think he’s rather unforgettable), foils an assassination plot or three, even teams up with Minsc and a turncoat Thayan to stop a gaggle of Red Wizards from doing…whatever it is they do. It’s a good business, he supposes. A hero’s reputation is a small price to pay for a hero’s coffers.

Jaheira’s wise enough to know when to hang up her blades, and it makes her more of an insufferable busybody than ever, which - somehow - becomes Astarion’s problem. First, it’s his own cell, then suddenly he’s the field contact for four others. He’s dragged to the most dreadfully tedious logistical meetings imaginable. The only reason he agrees to any of it is that Jaheira can turn an offhand comment and a raised eyebrow into the kind of challenge that itches beneath Astarion’s skin. It should be all too familiar and just as unwelcome, that burning need to prove himself, but it’s not. It’s different, perhaps, when he isn’t being set up to fail.

Jaheira passes away peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of one hundred and ninety-two, and Astarion’s convinced he can hear her grumbling about that all the way from the Fugue Plane. She would have rather gone out fighting, but, privately, Astarion feels like she deserved something gentler than bleeding out on a battlefield. He never did tell her how much he admired her (though he doubts she would have appreciated such open sentiment: ‘I did not realize I looked so terrible that you’ve already started my eulogy.’), but she must have known. He thinks he’s really going to miss her.

Right up until the moment Rion is handing him a pin and leading him to a library full of dossiers and documents. Then, he’s ready to cross the Astral Sea just so that he can bring her back and kill her again. Independent. Contractor. What part of that did she not understand? 

He goes home and locks the door with the full intention of ignoring every Harper that comes knocking. But Harpers are nosy little shits, and after he nearly disembowels one who surprises him by breaking into his house just to tell him the most idiotic plan to dismantle a smuggling ring he’s ever had the misfortune of hearing, he realizes hiding isn’t going to be an option. Besides, Astarion cannot be privy to such levels of incompetence and sit idly by. 

So he helps. Provisionally. Just long enough to find a decent replacement, and then he can wash his hands of the whole thing.

Unfortunately, it’s not as easy a task as he had hoped. Every potential candidate lacks something: consistency, creativity, confidence, the common sense to understand Astarion’s eminently logical filing system. It takes him three decades to accept that not only is he excellent at the job, but that he enjoys it immensely. 

When they make him take a title, he chooses Spymaster. It suits him - dashing, mysterious, questionably moral, because he’s never been a hero, and it would be foolish to pretend that he is.

They all call him High Harper anyways.

[tossawary]

Thinking about a "One Piece" AU, where all of the East Blue Strawhats have actually met each other before Luffy starts sailing. Because Nami and Zoro are both wandering pretty far, easily able to meet anyone, and Sanji is on the Baratie, which is also moving around and may dock at various islands.

So, let's say that the Redhair Pirates briefly dock near Syrup Village on their way back to Foosha Village, and young Usopp stows away so that he can go be a brave adventurer like his father. For a couple weeks, little Usopp and little Luffy are rolling all over town together like frolicking puppies, until the Redhair Pirates are ready to head out again and drop Usopp back home along the way (Yasopp is going to be in SUCH shit with his wife). Little Usopp goes back to tell everyone about this kid he saw eat a devil fruit that turned him into a rubber man, such that Usopp could use the other boy's fingers as a makeshift slingshot to fight off crocodiles! They had great fun trying to figure out Luffy's ridiculous new powers together and coming up with silly attack names.

And no one believes this story from Usopp because it's absurd. After a few years, Usopp starts to wonder if he actually made the whole trip up, if he's just lying to himself too, until Luffy finally shows up again and it's like the Spider-Man meme. "YOU," Usopp says, pointing with a trembling finger, until Luffy makes a noise like a squeaky toy and then tackles Usopp for the tightest and happiest hug anyone has ever seen.

Little Usopp meets little Nami at one point because she's just passing through, picking pockets, waiting for her next ship, and she steals from Usopp what she THOUGHT was money but actually turns out to be exploding paint pellets or something. So, a paint-stained little Nami turns on Usopp like, "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS???" because she's so shocked and angry about her cute new outfit being ruined, and he ends up apologizing (just full on sobbing) to HER for not being a good enough pickpocketing mark.

The Baratie docks at Usopp's island at some point to pick up groceries, maybe they got blown off course by a storm, so young Sanji meets young Usopp at a market stand selling spicy peppers. Usopp spins Sanji long and complicated stories about the flavor and rarity of the peppers, how he labored for many days through terrible dangers to pick them, and then someone else gets back to the stall and says, "Thanks for watching it for me, kid." And Sanji is like, "What?" And Usopp has to admit that he doesn't actually work there. He does know a lot about peppers, though! However, he was also lying a bit... maybe a lot...

Zoro meets Usopp and Luffy because he's hunting bounties through their islands. (Luffy falls in love INSTANTLY. I wrote another post about that.) The little Usopp Pirates become convinced that Zoro is a pirate invading their island, so they get Usopp to come "fight" Zoro, which ends up being Usopp guiding a lost Zoro (the kids set up so many fucking traps, he is NOT having a good time) to the nearest bar. They hang out for a bit. Usopp got a little tipsy. Usopp CLAIMS later though that he fought a ferocious, green-haired pirate who had swords instead of hands.

Young Sanji meeting young Nami is just a classic case of "you let that pretty girl have HOW MUCH in free food???" Zoro probably tracked a bounty to the Baratie at some point and got in a fight with the waiter; Zeff won't just ban the fucker because Zoro did actually pay his bill and Sanji HATES it. Zoro and Nami could have met at any point in their travels; they could have even had a navigator & bodyguard setup for a little while, before Nami ran off with all of some pirate bounty's treasure.

The Baratie usually wouldn't dock somewhere like Foosha Island, but they were in the area and Zeff wasn't such a fan of Goa Kingdom. Little Luffy wasn't even allowed in, but Sanji fed him some food out the back anyway, and Luffy decided then and there that Sanji was going to be his cook. Sanji said, "You are fucking crazy," of course, but no one has ever reacted to his All Blue dream like Luffy did. So when Luffy finally comes looking for him, Sanji still immediately says, "Fuck off, I'm not going!!!" but he's also smiling so wide at seeing this crazy kid again. It fools no one.

Nami probably went treasure hunting in the jungles there. She screamed at the top of her lungs when a 15-year-old boy dropped out of the trees and said, "Hey!!! What are you doing? Ohhh, are you treasure hunting? Can I help?!" (Ace has just set sail. Luffy is bored.) Nami could use the help, so she allows it, figuring that she'll find a way to trick Luffy at the end. But after their wacky adventure together, Luffy is like, "That was fun!!! You can take all of the treasure now, I don't need it," and young Nami doesn't say no but it breaks her brain a little bit. What kind of idiot says that the adventure is the best part and actually MEANS it?

So, they're all screwed by the time that Luffy sets sail. He's coming for them! He'll find them all eventually! ♥️

Alternatively: none of the East Blue Strawhats meet each other beforehand but they do all meet Ace when he sets sail. Has anyone in the world ever talked about their little brother this much??? This Luffy kid doesn't sound like a real person. And then two years later, they all run into Luffy and they're like, "Oh, shit, he's real."

[jesswritesthat]

Suna Rintarō: Timing

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.4k, fluff

• Your imperfect timing gifts you with information that leaves you looking back on your relationship with Suna.

Warnings: Cursing

>>>>——————————>

"Don't take this the wrong way..."

"Ya asked our honest opinion and this is it..."

"This might not be great to hear, but Suna likely won't accept yer feelings."

By all means you'd have to agree that you had the worst timing in the world right now, you'd perish before admitting it though, and decided to wait out the conversation.

Whilst his teammates were only being truthful, it still must've hurt to be told of a future rejection. It didn't stop you from eavesdropping from your spot outside the gymnasium though, as it sounded like they had more to say.

"Oh... I see. Is there a particular reason? Ah no nevermind, sorry for asking." Poor girl.

"Uh, well the truth is..."

"If ya haven't noticed it already..."

"Suna only has eyes for (Y/n)."

Oxygen was stripped from your lungs, body numb and remind racing a mile a minute. Dangerous thoughts circling your head that you hadn't even bothered to consider because why would you?

He only has eyes for you. Bullshit.

Realistically, the only things that could possibly have brought them to that conclusion must be...

———

Suna would sometimes put his wants before your own, even if it didn’t make much sense to you at the time.

“Hey (Y/n), you coming or what?” Suna called over alongside Osamu, despite you being invested in the paper pile on your desk.

“No, I’ve gotta finish these notes. See ya later guys.”

“Yeah bye!” Suna responded with a lacklustre tone.

It was until a second later, when he slumped in the desk next to you with a dramatic groan and phone in hand, did you realise the goodbye wasn’t directed at you but rather the rest of his group. None of whom had refuted his decision.

“What are you doing? Go home!”

“Too far, decided to wait for you so hurry up.”

Even if you’d just sighed and offered a sliver of idle conversation during your work, he remained by your side until you’d completed it with an odd mutter toward whatever he was watching. Only standing from his seat when you’d began packing and waited by the door for you.

“Thanks Rintarō, for staying.”

“Whatever. Wanna get some chūpet on the way home?”

———

You also knew his running route by heart, which made it easier if you ever wanted to catch him for something. Suna always slowed down to speak to you however, not once had he passed you without acknowledgement.

It just so happened one of these times was your birthday.

In honesty you hadn’t even realised you were on his usual route, you’d been wondering by with thoughts adrift, so much so that the rhythmic padding of footsteps behind you went amiss. At least until you saw a familiar figure pass and slow a few paces ahead, turning to you with a small smirk.

“Wow, I could’ve just robbed you and you wouldn’t even know.”

“You’re not that good of a pickpocket Rin.” Crossing your arms and rolling your eyes, you’d spoken proudly.

“Either way, you’re missing this.”

He’d held up a small pouch hung on his finger, your favourite colour no less, but you’re certain it wasn’t yours (regardless of your name written on it). You carefully took it from him with scepticism, even more so when opening it to find a small keychain. It wasn’t anything special by any means, simply something you’d happened to mention liking a while ago, nonetheless it brought a small to your face.

“Happy birthday (Y/n).”

You only nodded at him, sentimental smile growing a little wider when he returned the gesture prior to jogging off again.

———

It could also be that he’d usually find a way to drag you to their games, and often when his teammates asked you could give the most sarcastic responses with an unnerving amount of nonchalance.

“So Suna invited ya this time ‘cause…?” Atsumu insinuatingly inquired, like he usually did whenever he caught you after their matches.

“He needed someone to film the two of being idiots. Blackmail privilege y’know?” You casually shrugged, scanning for Rintarō briefly before returning your attention to a pointing and agitated setter.

“Alright, that’s a lie. I refuse to believe it, this is gettin’ ridiculous!”

“Hey (Y/n).” As of on cue, Suna appeared with a blank expression to which you replied with a welcoming smirk.

“Here’s your phone Rin, I caught Atsumus trip in 4k.” The signature device was handed over effortlessly, the two of conversing naturally completely oblivious to the shocked faces of Inarizaki.

“Great thanks, I’ll return the favour sometime. You enjoy the match?”

“Always, it’s nice seeing y—“

“(L/n) had his phone the whole time? Damn.” Aran commented with a hint of awe, though soon overshadowed by Atsumus’ booming outrage.

“YA JUST GAVE (Y/N) YER PHONE?!”

“And?” Came your confused voice, Osamu interjecting in this time.

“Yer not grasping the relevance of this are ya?”

“Blackmail is blackmail my friends~”

“I’ll send it you.” Suna smugly confirmed, the pair of you strolling off the court completely unaware of what his team had just cemented.

You still have that video actually.

———

…Or maybe it was the fact he’d join your side on the odd occasion when class was quieter, or in the mornings before everyone properly zoned in.

Usually the two of you could be found sitting in a corner looking like a dangerous pair with enough gossip to topple the school hierarchy at your fingertips. Other times you’d be sharing a screen commenting or intently watching whatever had garnered one of yours attention enough to share with the other…

"Psst, why are we spying?"

Immediately you'd pulled the intruder to your place against the wall, eyes remaining too focussed on the door to even check who it was as you gave a thoughtless debrief.

"A girl was going to confess but the team said Suna only has eyes for someone else."

"Oh really?"

"Shh! Be respectful or leave so she doesn't get embarrassed knowing people overhea—" By the time you'd recognised the familiar voice and turned around, it was already too late. God timing is a bitch.

"My teammates said that huh?"

"Rin."

"(Y/n).” Mocking mimicry. “Did they happen to say who?"

"…No.”

“You know, you get nervous when you lie.” His tone lowered dangerously, like he was plotting something menacing.

“I do not!” It was a hushed whisper, plan coming to fruition when he’d placed his palms either side of you, caging you against the wall.

“Then tell me (Y/n)…” His voice honeyed as he leaned closer to you with hazel eyes locked on yours. “My team didn’t mention that my eyes were only for you?”

Even if his words had brought a heat to your skin, you were quick to bite back, meeting him half way so that your noses were only a brush apart.

“SUNA!” However, you’d forgotten to hush your volume. “If you—“

Instantly the gym doors burst open, teammates and the girl rushing out upon hearing the angered yell of their conversation topic namesake.

“You really do have terrible timing (Y/n), don’t you?” Suna bemusedly muttered to you, pushing off the wall and sending a blank expression to the newcomers.

“See what we mean?” Atsumu gestured to the two of you for the girls’ sake, who seemed more panicked than anything.

“How long have you two been out here?! Did you—“

“Rintarō just got here, are you helping out with the teams’ practice today?” You kindly pivoted, hoping the tangent would provide her sanctuary.

“Ah, no I came to ask a question. I’ll be seeing you, thanks again!”

That left you and Suna walking past the remaining group into the gym like nothing had happened with an unspoken agreement to resolve this later. Whilst the third years would’ve left it alone, this did not quell the curiosity of their juniors.

“Hold up what was that out there?!”

“Yer were basically - I dunno! What were ya doing?!”

The Miya twins had cornered Suna, leaving you to admit guilt to Kita and Aran about overhearing the earlier discussion.

Rintarō released a bored sigh, rolling his eyes at the pair before answering as blunt as ever.

“You guys have worse timing than (Y/n), I was interrogating them.”

The pair shared a puzzled look, as did the other first and second years on the VBC whilst you only facepalmed. Of all times to wind them up…

“Eh? What for?”

“I wanted to know, if their eyes were as focused as mine.” It was cleverly worded, no one seemed to understand the ulterior motive but when you thought about it, you didn’t withhold your answer.

“Well duh! (L/n) ain’t completely blind are they?!” Atsumu commented after a moment of utter confused silence, Osamu shaking his head disapprovingly when flicking between Suna and yourself.

“You two… Yer really are something together ya know that?”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

A/N: Wasn’t entirely sure how to end this one so I left it open…

[mmgwritings]

RUIN ME, RUIN US

Characters: Kaz Brekker / Dreg ! Reader

Prompts: “I… I want you to touch me,” Kaz admits, while staring up at the ceiling, "There" cheeks reddening in an increasing show of embarrassment. (prompt created by @dumplingsjinson)

Warnings: Smut; Canon divergence; Obviously, I didn't proofread again; Masturbation; Oral Sex; NSFW; Really Long Text Sorry!

The streets were packed with people. Dazzled tourists, ravkan peasants, privileged and neglected children fought for space in the alleys with merchants, prostitutes and pickpockets - all the same, all too happy with the promises of the holiday. Nachtspel was an event during the Kerch year, in Ketterdam the party lasted for more than a week if you looked for the right club to spend money on frivolous pleasures.

This year people commented that the festival would last a month due to the visit of King Nikolai of Ravka, a tall man with a sarcastic smile who every now and then Y/N would bump into in the Slat - a place where kings didn't belong, that much she knew... at least not kings with a good reputation. The visit of the Ravkans was a promise of prosperity, King Nikolai and his entourage were in Ketterdam to bargain a spice trade line with the Council of Tides, a way of linking Ravka, Kerch and Shu Han in a triple alliance.

But it's interesting to think that King Nikolai is smart enough to also bargain with the real monarch of Kerch: Kaz Brekker. Y/N had not yet been in Ketterdam years ago when the Fold was destroyed, when a certain Ravkan prince needed the help of a small gang of thieves. But she heard about all this from Jesper, the Dregs' sharpshooter and part of Kaz's small retinue: the Crows. She also heard about the former king of Ketterdam, Pekka Rollins, and how Kaz made him beg, how he took everything from Rollins: clubs, indentures, friends in politics. Everything.

Well, almost everything. Kaz Brekker remains a mystery.

Y/N met Kaz a few days after arriving in Ketterdam, when he walked into the teashop she tended to. He needed a new waitress for the Crow Club, a seemingly simple job if the additional skill of the position wasn't listening to the conversations of some customers. She accepted, and here she is three years later. And she's dangerously involved with Kaz.

It all started very simply, they barely realized that they were spending too much time together. Y/N in the lounge, taking care of drinks or delivering envelopes to Kaz's office, or sharing a quiet living room in the Slat after everyone went to sleep.

One thing led to another over the years. A whispered conversation after the two drank too much, a longing look exchanged as they left for their posts at the Crow Club, a sleepless night on the building's terrace. But the moment they really realized, admitted, actually, having feelings for each other was when they realized that they needed each other.

For Y/N, their relationship was experienced at two peaks: the calm and comfort of knowing that they both loved each other and the turbulence and insecurity when dealing with Kaz's traumas. Y/N saw the way Jesper and Wylan, Nina and Matthias' relationship bothered Kaz, he wanted to be able to offer Y/N the same level of intimacy.

And that's why they've fought countless times. Silent wars where Kaz reluctantly tried to break up and Y/N pretended not to hear her boyfriend's stupid arguments. When Kaz tried to get away from her in vain, because Y/N always found a way to bother his heart with smiles, jokes and words of affection.

Kaz knew Y/N was patient. She was the best in his world. But, he knew that he needed to become a better man for her. What kind of relationship is this where he couldn't touch her without almost throwing up, fainting?

Y/N realized, just like she notices all the little things that make Kaz human, that he was trying to be more physical. Sometimes he would touch her hand gently, his fingertips gliding across her palm as if she were made of the most fragile glass. Other times he sat next to her on the window sill, too close that she felt his heat. Or when he suddenly decided that they would share the room, the same bed.

That was a difficult moment: Kaz gradually tried to stay close to her, until finally he managed to rest his arm on her throughout the night. But, all of this was done when he was fully dressed. Long-sleeved shirt, thick pants.

The kisses? Impossible. These took longer to go from merely touching lips to touching tongues. Let alone get lost in the moment. A kiss from Y/N would leave Kaz feverish, on the precipice between fainting from anxiety or lust. Sometimes he didn't even know if his trembling hands were a good or bad thing.

But it's over. Kaz, when properly warned, could get carried away. Y/N and Kaz occasionally had make-out sessions, one that left them panting, sweaty and craving for more. Wishing they were like all the other normal people, the ones they heard sighing in the dark alleys when they came back late at night from some mission. Those who occasionally locked themselves in the Crow Club bathroom and came out with a flushed face.

Would today be anything different? Y/N wondered as she went up to her room. Earlier, when she was still in stock at the Crow Club, Kaz spent time with her keeping her company while she counted the products. Y/N could tell he was a little nervous, but she didn't pressure him into saying anything.

So, he finally said a curt "Meet me in the bedroom later" and left for the office before Y/N could ask anything. And here she was, walking into the room and finding the sight of a Kaz Brekker sitting by the window, his eyes vacant into the night.

"Hey, how are you? Where's everyone?" Y/N said, taking off her coat and placing it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. When she arrived at Slat she noticed that it was strangely empty, even for a festival the house always had one or two people in the common rooms.

"Out" muttered Kaz "I gave them the night off." Then he finally looked at Y/N and there was something strange, it was as if he had never seen her in his life, as if he didn't know how to approach her.

"Cool… But, what happened to you? Did you want to tell me something?" Y/N said, approaching him slowly. Kaz sighed and held out his arms, an invitation for her to touch him, to hug him.

Y/N smiled, a gesture mirrored by Kaz, before surrendering to her arms. She was a little shorter than him, barely reaching her shoulders, the perfect height to fit in. Kaz placed a small kiss above her ear, a kiss that ended up trailing to her temple, her cheek, her jaw, the corners of her lips.

And then the famine came. The desire for more, much more. Kaz kissed Y/N's lips, a warm touch. Her hands, which had been clasped behind Kaz's back, moved up to his arms.

And then Kaz's tongue touched Y/N's parted lips strongly, a request, a promise. His tongue was everywhere: first sliding tentatively across her lips, then massaging, then sucking. It was so much more than they'd tried before, Y/N thought, as he nibbled on her bottom lip, pulling her closer into his arms, squeezing as if to make sure she was real.

Y/N didn't need to think much, she didn't want to stop and ask Kaz if everything was okay because, a second later, she felt one of his hands on her ass, groping. They had too many clothes on. Kaz wore a dark, velvety green vest over a white shirt with long sleeves buttoned over the wrist. The pants were black and made of thick material, the ones he usually wears in the invention. Y/N was already wearing a long blouse, the pants she wore were masculine enough to not receive more than two glances from Crow Club customers. But now, she wished there weren't so many layers between them, that the cloths would disappear.

Y/N's hands came up to Kaz's face with a caress, she wanted more than anything to slide her fingers through his hair… so she did, and he allowed it. His kisses were making her dizzy, fervent.

"Kaz," she whispered as he occupied his lips with a new target, her neck. The hands on her ass tensing in search of more, more closeness. "Slow down, Kaz," she protested.

Kaz listened and then stopped, looked at her with dark eyes, his face flushed and his lips red… lips that Y/N would never get tired of kissing. "I want you" he said "I want you to kiss me until you're sick of it, I want everything… more"

Y/N's heart lost a beat and then pulsed quickly. That was the kind of thing he said in her delirium, when she dreamed and woke up wishing she could just embrace the man who slept next to her. What else could she do upon hearing this request? She kissed him like she had never kissed him before, her fingers threading through his hair, down his neck, to his face.

A sloppy kiss because they've never done it before. Hands roaming each other's bodies more than they dared before. Kaz was all hands. Tightly squeezing her ass or reaching up to her waist, pulling her closer.

Then, one of Kaz's hands went to Y/N's hair, deftly removing the ribbon that held the curls in a messy braid, while his other hand went down to her right thigh, lifting her leg slightly so that he could get closer... Saints, she wanted to be able to melt and merge with Kaz.

Y/N could barely breathe between the kisses, Kaz's lips were all she wanted, she wanted them all over her body, for him to mark her. Then he pulled her towards the bed, bumping into the table, tripping over the carpet and laughing a little at his clumsiness.

She sat on the bed and looked at Kaz, her face flushed and a slight smile on her face. The street light that entered the room bathed him in a warm, golden light, Kaz had never seemed more alive than at that moment. He was the most beautiful person Y/N had ever seen in her life. He looked so carefree as he rested one of his knees between Y/N's legs, his hand tenderly caressing her face and brushing away stray strands of hair from the front of her forehead.

"You're so beautiful", Kaz murmured, his lips resting a soft peck on the tip of Y/N's nose.

"I can say the same", said Y/N. Pulling him to the middle of the bed so he was on top of her. "There are so many beautiful things I can tell you now. But none of them compare to you, Kaz Rietveld."

She kissed his cheek, then his nose, his chin, his mouth. Her hand, the one that wasn't busy cupping Kaz's face, slid down his back, feeling the muscles beneath his clothes tense slightly, then, at the base of his spine, she pushed him slowly until their body was pressed together. Too many clothes, Y/N thought.

Kaz must have had the same thought, because he deftly slipped his fingers between the top buttons of Y/N's blouse. Beneath it there was nothing but skin flushed with desire.

Well, they've seen a bit of each other's nudity over the years they've shared a room, but it's never been this explicit. So raw. Kaz's eyes slid over Y/N's breasts, his fingers following his gaze to her nipples, touching tentatively, seeing how far they could both go. When her only response was a sigh of pleasure, Kaz opened the rest of her blouse and clumsily pulled the fabric from her body.

Mouths, hands, sighs, moans. Kaz offered and received caresses as he rested his mouth on Y/N's nipples, his warm tongue sliding, sucking and nibbling mercilessly. Y/N's hands didn't know where to hold on in the material world, they were in his hair, keeping him as close as possible, on his shoulders, on his arms, pulling him for more.

Kaz realized that his favorite sound was her moans. It was a sound that reverberated through his body like an overwhelming storm that made his heart palpitate heavily, that made his brain melt and that somehow, caused a pleasant pressure to rest in his groin.

Y/N was lost, she didn't know she was so sensitive there. Or maybe this is just Kaz's effect, his talent. When his mouth was on her nipples everything was perfect and horrible, she felt out of control, completely at Kaz's mercy.

When he stopped kissing her was the moment she hated him, but when he looked at her with a shy look on her face, Y/N loved him more than anything. What happened? Y/N wanted to ask, but there was no time, Kaz let out a low, guttural sound when he moved over Y/N, she felt, through all the layers of clothes that still separated them, Kaz's cock pressed against her.

A shiver ran up her spine. Y/N kissed him hard, tongue lashing over Kaz's lips, her nails scratching his arms, pulling him, feeling him. A wave of pleasure coursed through her body as her sensitive nipples came into contact with the raised embroidery of Kaz's vest. She opened her legs wider to accommodate him between her and Kaz's hand went to her ass, pulling her towards his crotch.

Suddenly, Y/N pushed Kaz away. Turning his body so she was on top, she then quickly took off her pants. She's sick of so many clothes.

Kaz was in awe, looking at her body as if it were some kind of miracle, as if some saint was descending from heaven with an offer too good to be true. Or like a demon, leading him to a path of no return. For the first time in his life he felt nothing bad happening, no repulsion, no aversion at the thought of touching someone. He just wanted more from her, wanted to take everything from her, touch her everywhere, but more than anything, he wanted her to touch him.

Their relationship was always smooth, they never talked about sex or about anything other than kisses, but they both wanted the same feeling of fulfillment that all other couples had. So, it was not without shyness that Kaz, completely vulnerable to Y/N, looked at her with pious eyes and pleaded.

"I... I want you to touch me," Kaz admits, while staring up at the ceiling, "There" cheeks reddening in an increasing show of embarrassment.

It was selfish of him to ask that. It was malicious, negligent, narcissistic, asking for pleasure when she was the one who should be adored. But Kaz was never much for bending, he was never pious.

Little did he know that it was what Y/N wanted most.

She smiled and kissed Kaz, her light fingers opening the buttons of his pants, slipping down to his cock. The feeling was very different from what she had imagined, Kaz was warm, soft, firm and… big. Very.

Kaz let out a strangled sound, his hands that rested on her waist fluttered slightly. "Everything is fine?" she asked, the movements of her hand stopped completely, but she didn't remove it.

"Yes," he sighed, closing his eyes in pleasure.

Y/N then moved her hand slightly up and down, gently squeezing the base, sliding the tip of her thumb over the tip of his dick. Feeling the cum spread in his hand. Kaz was discreet, he was trying not to get carried away, she realized, but she could hear the light moans that escaped his lips, she could tell that he was really enjoying it when he tensed his jaw, when he squeezed her ass.

Daring the limits, Y/N lowered Kaz's pants further, finally seeing him completely. It was definitely not what she had imagined. Kaz was very thick, the tip was a dark pink color that glistened with cum and had some prominent veins. She wondered what it would feel like in her mouth.

When Y/N gave Kaz a peck on the crotch, just above the pubic hair line, she looked at him as if asking if she could continue. His eyes were moist, as if it was a difficult task to contain all of his impulses.

“Please,” he begged, one hand caressing Y/N’s cheek. "Please don't stop" he moaned.

She then tried putting just the tip of his dick in her mouth, her tongue testing the taste of his cum, then, tentatively, she saw how much it all fit.

It wasn't much. She didn't have that much experience, she couldn't take his entire dick in her mouth without feeling like she might choke. So, she took turns sucking and licking, from the base to the tip, then, when she saw that he liked it, she held his balls and massaged them lightly. But she never stopped moving her hand in a tempting gesture.

Kaz was getting carried away. When he became very impatient with Y/n's slow movements he begged to be rough, when he felt her tongue passing over the tip, sucking, and looking at him, he let the moans, previously low, sound at ease. Damn anyone who listens.

Please, please, please, he said. Hip thrusting, his dick entering her mouth even more. Beg, Y/N wanted to say, beg for more and maybe I'll let you cum, fill my mouth with it, let you see how you ruin me.

So, when she felt his hip thrusts become more sloppy, when his moans were lost between his panting, Y/N sucked hard on Kaz's cock and felt, in the back of her throat, his cum pooling on her tongue, sliding down her chin.

When his orgasm ended, he was panting and feverish, his hair messy, beads of sweat sliding down his forehead, his cheeks pink. He was a beautiful sight. He was a beautiful mess.

As for Y/N, she was strangely shy under Kaz's longing gaze, feeling cum slide down her chin and drip onto her breasts. "Beautiful" Kaz said, standing up and placing a sloppy kiss on her lips, his tempting tongue lashing into her mouth, both of them tasting him.

"All mine", he whispered, as he pulled her to saddle him. Y/N felt his dick brush against her pussy. "And I want all of you. I want you to ruin me, ruin us."

[annebd]

winter warmers, day 11: ugly sweaters. ~700 words.

One day, Max is actually going to lose his phone for real, and he’ll be fucked, because he won’t put any real effort into finding it. He’ll just assume that Daniel has stolen it- again- and not worry about it until it’s too late, and then it’ll be lost for good, never to be found. Therefore, he needs Daniel to stop stealing it so that he can relearn the inborn human instinct of panicking blindly when he reaches into his pocket for his phone and discovers that it isn’t there, instead of just banging on the wall between their driver rooms and yelling for Daniel to give it back.

He’s explaining this to Daniel, who is sitting on the floor in Max’s living room, crossed legged with his back against the couch, one cat draped over his shoulder and the other batting idly at his shoelaces. Daniel doesn’t look as contrite as Max hoped he would when he started this speech.

“Oh come on, mate!” Daniel says, when Max glares at him. “You have to admit that last one was good.”

The last one, in this case, is a photo of Max that Daniel has crudely photoshopped an ugly sweater onto. He’s also added a set of reindeer antlers and a bright red nose to round out the look. And, more important to the issue at hand, the photo is currently set as Max’s phone wallpaper.

The whole thing started years ago. Daniel would casually pickpocket Max’s phone, change the wallpaper to something ridiculous, and then usually manage to put it back before Max even noticed it was missing. Daniel liked to time it so that he could send Max a text halfway through an engineering meeting, and when he’d take his phone out to check, he’d be confronted with whatever atrocity Daniel had set as his background and have to keep a straight face while GP talked sincerely about brake balance.

If Max is honest with himself, he doesn’t really mind. He has a hidden folder on his phone, disguised as an extra calculator app, that he saves all of the wallpaper creations to, before he changes the background back to his normal photo of the RB19. He likes to look them over sometimes, to see all of the ridiculous creations Daniel has come up with over the years.

But as much as it’s now a tradition for Daniel to steal his phone and change the photo, it’s also a tradition for Max to scold him about it and make him promise not to do it again. So, in keeping with tradition, he crosses his arms and puts on a stern voice. “No, Daniel. No more phone stealing. Or funny pictures.”

“Aha! You admit they’re funny, then. I knew it!” Daniel crows.

Max rolls his eyes. “Look. We’re going to take a nice picture instead, and then that will be my background, and you cannot change it. Okay?”

Daniel looks bemused for a moment, but nods.

Max slides down next to him to lean against the couch. He throws one arm over Daniel’s shoulder and pulls him in close so that all four of them- cats included- are in frame. He snaps a selfie and then checks to make sure it’s good. It is. His little family all in one.

Max taps at the screen for a moment and then the photo is set. His new background.

He expects that the photo won’t last much more than a day or two, and he’s right. Two days later, he picks up his phone to send a quick text and sees that the background is a terribly photoshopped picture of himself wearing a cowboy hat with a little GP in the background, twirling a lasso. He laughs, saves it to his hidden folder, and changes it back to his picture of Rocky.

What he doesn’t expect is later that day, when he casually grabs Daniel’s phone to check the time, and sees that Daniel has set the photo of them with the cats as his own background. He glances up and makes eye contact with Daniel, who gives him a shy look and then grabs the phone back, locking the screen and tucking it into his pocket. “What? It’s a good picture.”

Max just smiles.

[consistencynevermether]

Astarion x Rouge! Tav

A/N: I am, as the professionals would say, back on my bullshit. anyways here's another in my series of Astarion x a certain class 

part 1 (Paladin Tav version)- https://www.tumblr.com/consistencynevermether/730256251991310336/astarion-x-gn-paladin-reader-hcs-an-this-man?source=share

Bastard x bastard 

You two are absolute little SHITS together let me tell y’all that 

Your love language? CRIME. 

No but seriously imagine this- one of you had this plain steel ring, nothing special or anything just collecting dust at the bottom of your bags. Honestly, you don’t even remember which one of you it originally belonged to

When you first met, one of you had stolen the ring from the other to prove they were “superior with their hands” to the other. Eventually, it became a game between the two of you, every few days stealing this little trinket from each other. And bragging until the other stole it back. It didn’t matter whether either of you wore it on your fingers, around your necks, or even hiding it in folds of clothing. Neither could hold onto it for more than a week before the other snatched it up 

The most memorable little moment with this ring- once you had both gone on a late night walk, hand in hand. The moon's soft glow bathing you both in silver, it was like a scene out of a romance novel, especially when you leaned in to press your lips against his

And then- 

While he was distracted you slipped it off his finger and booked it. Immediately running as fast as you could, not daring to look back, laughing as you sped off with your prize

Unfortunately for you, Astarion happens to be a vampire spawn. Vampire spawn are quite physically inclined, and Astarion is pretty fit

What I’m saying is you made it a good 30 feet before getting tackled to the ground and had the ring wrestled out of your hand 

Honestly, though, you were laughing so hard you didn’t even mind losing the game, you were just happy that for a second your master plan had worked. 

Astarion complained about how his outfit got all dusty because of you, but you had heard him laughing right along with you when he had tackled you to the ground

Astarion won’t admit this, but that ring means more to him than any bejeweled precious jewelry ever could, because it connects him to you

Both of you claim to have the best set of knives and take every opportunity to show off to each other with your skills. Once you actually picked a lock with a smaller blade and you could swear it caused Astarion to be a little flustered. 

Sharing clothes? Sharing clothes. Listen, I'm just saying, will you let your vampire boyfriend burn up in the sun or will you lend him that nice new cloak you just got? Yea, that’s what I thought now it’s joint property. Dw tho it all evens out when you steal one of his nightshirts (it’s the comfiest thing ever, and not just because it always faintly smells like him) 

You guys definitely do couples' heists together. Sneaking, pickpocketing, lockpicking, running from the law, it's all in a day's work for the most shifty couple in Faerun. One of you might distract a lord while the other snuck into his vault to retrieve some valuable magical item. 

Ok but in all seriousness, y’all must be the most ethereal couple around. Imagine seeing two people glide over the rooftops of Baldur's gate, each jump almost like steps to a dance they both know by heart. Flitting around each other like ribbons in the breeze, one with soft silver hair and the other face obscured by their pitch-black cloak, hood pulled up and rippling in the night air. They dance across rooftops, swift as shadows, graceful as spirits, never touching, and yet somehow the rare onlooker knows they are meant to be a pair.

Some bard has definitely written a song about that last bullet point I promise you. 

You two probably had a million cons just waiting to be used. I imagine during your time together trying to get rid of the tadpole, you would both talk late into the night, bouncing ideas off each other, throwing out ideas of different tricks you could pull on the unsuspecting. Some genuinely clever, most just absurd attempts at making the other person laugh.  

If you ever actually got the chance to you it though? Oh ho HO. let me tell you how this went down. Your party had gotten into a situation, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. But by a bout of bad luck, someone had started harassing Karlach and at the same time, Lazel had started yelling at a guard, hand on her sword, inches away from striking. The party needed some sort of distraction, and luckily you both had just the thing. 

Astarion had grabbed the nearest glass of wine and splashed it on you, then putting on his best offended face he anguished, “How could you cheat on me?!?! And with my own BROTHER!?!?” That sentence made everyone's head snap up, including the guards as you both laid the theatrics on thick. You kept this act up with Astarion for a good 10 minutes, with fake tears and dramatics from both of you. At one point on the spot, you made up that he had slept with your mother and it was revenge, and the crowd was extremely invested, people taking sides, guards trying to calm down the chaos. But hey you're fake out worked, Karlach and Lazel were able to sneak away quietly and you had both given the distraction of a lifetime. Shadowheart disapproves.

Occasionally the two of you will talk in Thieves cant to each other when you don’t want the party to overhear certain conversations. Originally you were both probably talking about important things like strategies and debating about how to go about getting rid of the tadpole. But now you kind of both just use it to piss off Lazel a little. 

Ultimately you two really understand each other on a deep level, you really are 2 people with one mind. And together there's a world of adventure out there for you both, and infinite fun magical items for you both too “acquire”.

[chaotic-starlight24]

I see you have requested hc requests for a pair of outsiders characters. Dally and Darry please?

Thanks so much for the request :D Dally and Darry it is!

Warnings: Spoilers, Angst towards the end

When Dally first showed up in Tulsa as a scraggly little 13 ¾ year old, Mr. Curtis told Mrs. Curtis and Darry to look out for him. So Darry tried his best to take him under his wing. Dally actually warmed up to him though it took a while. He saw him as an older brother of his own. But he never admitted that out loud since that almost always ended badly for the “older brother” of the situation.

They drifted from each other for some time though because Darry thought Dallas was becoming a bad influence on his brothers. Mainly the time when Dally fell back into the hood he was in New York. So Darry would try his best to keep Pony and Soda away from him (much to Soda’s sadness). After a couple arguments with Dally, Darry told Mrs. Curtis about his concerns. And she changed his point of view on Dally and just about every hood on the east side. It made him realize that Dally was a scared kid who had to toughen up or die. So Darry started to go a little easier on him.

Darry is actually one of the few Dally trusts. They butt heads from time to time but they also know they can lean on each other if really needed. 

Dally tries his best to help out Darry from time to time. The problem is that Dally isn’t exactly the most responsible person. Like he’ll offer to let Pony tag along with him and Johnny so Darry can get some time to do whatever, but that does mean Pony may or may not know how to gamble. Dally’s trying his best, guys.

Darry is one of the few to have heard about Dally’s siblings back in New York. Dallas hasn’t gone into a bunch of detail but most of the gang doesn’t even know Dally had a family. So for example, one afternoon Dally was just hanging out while Darry was sorting through Pony’s report cards and Dally just kinda laughed to himself, “You know, you remind me a lot of Henry.” “Who?” “Oh, nobody… He was my brother, he uh, he tried his best to get us all through schoolin’. But I neva cared much for it.”

One night while the gang was all hanging out, Dally overheard Darry talking to Two-Bit about Paul. Darry just says something like, “I miss him sometimes, but he’s not the same person anymore. I’ve heard some of the nasty stuff he’s said about me and my bro-“ That’s all it took for Dally to go storming out of the house to find Tim and his gang. Paul left his party to discover his brand new wheels missing from his car. Darry woke up in the morning to discover some real nice tires on him and Soda’s car. Dally was honestly ready to just steal Paul’s car altogether but Tim convinced him otherwise.

Before Dally really became a part of the gang, Darry wanted to help him out to find somebody who just matched his vibes. He knew Tim from random parties and from Two-Bit so he was just like “Maybe they’ll get along!”. So he took Dally for a walk and told him about this guy he thinks Dally will like and Dallas was just like “One second.” and pickpocketed a guy who walked by. That guy immediately turned around and started cursing him out and causing a fight to break out between them. Darry just stood there because “Aw crap, that’s Tim!” Darry very much believed he just gave Dally his first enemy. But after fighting they complemented each other’s fighting style and started talking. Darry left them to it and walked off.

Someone in Tim’s gang taught Dally how to drive. Darry heard Dally was learning and was like “Ok! How about you show me what you know!” Dally took hold of that wheel and Darry mentally noted to never drive with him again. Dally has since gotten a bit better but also hasn’t exactly made major improvement.

Darry tried to pick him up before Dally got similar in height to him. Dally immediately started squirming and cursing like an angry chihuahua.

Dally followed Darry and Two-Bit around a lot when he first became a part of the gang. Sure he really connected with Johnny, but it took him a bit. Steve, Soda, and Johnny were a trio that had grown up together and same with Darry and Two-Bit. So Dally was kinda the weird middle ground between them both friend and age wise. Darry and Two were always welcome to have him around but Dally still tried to keep up that cool guy persona. So on the days Darry didn’t have practice, him and Two-Bit would be walking around, chatting and laughing together. Then Dallas would be trailing a couple feet behind them, hands stuffed in his leather jacket just kinda walking along with them.

When Dally died that was the first time in a while since Darry has felt pure rage. Everything in him wanted to throw everything he had at the cops, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good. Instead he had to see Dallas lying cold on the ground. And not in a peaceful way or anything. It tore Darry apart inside to see this kid like this. This kid he has looked out for since he came to Tulsa. This kid his brother had brought into the gang. This kid who followed him and his best friend around for the first couple months. This kid who dealt with so much pain and hurt yet hid it away from his surface, keeping up with his persona. His persona that so desperately wanted to be older than he actually was, the version who could take all that has hit him. And now Darry watches as they drag a white sheet over the body and haul him away. 

[sserpente]

A/N: What if you accidentally pickpocket the wrong person? What if that person… is a rogue vampire elf who will demand something in return? Something… red? (Astarion's not ascended in this one)

Words: 1180 Warnings: mentions of prostitution

Your stomach was rumbling. How many days had it been? Three? Four? Truly, it had never been this bad before. Ever since Gortash had become archduke, the city was drowning in chaos and misery. Benevolent and generous people who’d usually slip you a coin or two walked on now, avoiding your quiet pleas to spare some change for a starving woman.

You didn’t want to do it but what other choice did you have but to pickpocket people? In the dead of winter, merchants rarely left their food out for too long and the taverns were not busy enough to slip your hand into a bag or two.

The streets were your best bet now that the sun was retreating and lit torches threw their warm light on the cobblestones, creating eerie shadows wherever you looked. Your victim would have to be someone rich, someone who could afford to part with currency. Someone like… him. Heavens, he was gorgeous.

A noble, for sure. He was elegant. Full white hair, pointy ears indicating he was a high elf, no doubt… clean and sophisticated clothing. Surely his pockets would be full and he wouldn’t miss a couple of gold coins disappearing to fill your belly with food tonight.

You approached, snaking past a passer-by to wait for the right moment. The elf turned… giving you just enough movement to dip your fingers into the small pouch attached to his belt. One, two, three, four… five gold pieces should be enough to buy yourself a warm meal tonight and perhaps some bread to feed you for the days to come.

“Why, you insolent little…” Panic washed over you when he spoke with a start. The elf’s gaze met yours as he flipped around—red orbs boring into your own, anger flickering in his. His hand snatched your wrist in a tight grip before you could yank it back and flee.

“You have picked the wrong target, darling.”

“I’m sorry… s-sorry, don’t… don’t tell the Steel Watch, please! I’ll leave.”

But it was a different kind of hazard this stunningly beautiful elf was radiating. Red-eyed elves were rare in itself but there was something else—something that told you that you had just made a very grave mistake in provoking this particular stranger before you.

“The Steel Watch?” The elf laughed. “I have no interest in reporting you to the Steel Watch. But in all honesty… you could help me out with something else.”

He was charming—more than you would have liked to admit. There was a sweet tone of seduction in his voice that went down like honey, so much so that you almost wanted to agree with him. But if there was one thing you had sworn to yourself, it was that you would never sell your body to ensure your survival.

“I… no. I don’t do… that.”

“What?” Anger appeared on the elf’s face. No, you realised… it was actual appalment. “I didn’t mean… I am talking about your blood, dear. You smell delicious.”

The thought of him being a vicious murderer on the hunt for the next thrill crossed your mind like a slap in the face—but your theory was rapidly disproved when he flashed you a disarming smile. Fangs. He was a vampire.

Your eyes widened, fear now fuelling your body more than the adrenaline ever could. You twisted your wrist, desperate to break free from him. But the relentless hunger had made you weak.

“Now, now, darling, no need to be scared. I am very, very… nice,” he said slowly, purring each and every word.

Dragging you after him before you could utter another word of protest, he slipped into the shadows and a dark side alley. A rat fled as you stumbled against the wall, abandoning the rotten carrot it had been gnawing on.

“I told you, I’m sorry. Please… don’t kill me,” you breathed out.

“Kill you? I’m not going to kill you. I just need a little taste. I was going make do with a drunk tonight but this… this is much better.”

He sighed when you squirmed, resulting in his large body pressing you even further against the brick wall. Your dirty dress scraped against the rough material. You lifted your head, biting your lower lip.

“How about this? You let me have a little nibble and in exchange, I’ll let you have the gold pieces you were going to steal from me. I’m not much for charity but I can work with a little… transaction.”

He would… was he serious? You blinked at him, surprised at yourself for even considering his words. If you accepted, would this truly be any different from selling your body in more intimate ways?

“I promise I’ll be gentle. You won’t feel a thing.”

“You know, most vampires would have ripped my throat out already,” you said. Your voice was a little shaky but you stood your ground. You had no choice, after all.

The stranger smiled. “I’m not most vampires, darling. Besides, I’m only a spawn, so you should consider yourself lucky. So? What do you say to my little proposition?”

“I…” Your stomach growled again, making the decision for you. “F-fine.”

“Excellent. My name is Astarion.”

You told him your name with a stutter following his seductive smile. Each and every muscle in your body tensed when he leaned forward, brushing your hair out of the way to reveal your neck to him.

One moment you could feel his hot breath against your skin, in the next you felt his sharp canines breaking it to draw blood. He’d held his promise. The initial pain subsided so fast that you questioned whether it’d been there to begin with. His mouth closed around the wound he caused, sucking your life essence out of you sip after sip after sip.

It felt… good. You’d expected it to be uncomfortable, to be dancing on the edge of unconsciousness or even death but this… perhaps he’d been just as hungry as you. Perhaps he’d been just as desperate as you. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Your eyes fell shut as you gave in to the soothing sensation. Astarion moaned against your neck, a wordless sound of approval of your taste. You couldn’t help but feel flattered when he finally pulled away and licked his lips, a small trickle of blood staining the right corner of his mouth.

“Hmm… thank you, darling. That was…”

“Astarion! Astarion! Where the hells did he run off to now? I swear if he’s stealing scrolls from Rolan again, I will…”

The vampire rolled his eyes all the while you kept catching your breath from this unusual and strangely… erotic experience.

“I’m coming, Gale. Gods, the man is a nuisance.” He paused. “I shall hope to see you again, darling. You were delightful.”

Astarion slipped away gracefully, leaving you to sink down against the wall but before he did, he gently placed the entire gold pouch he’d been carrying in your palm with a sly smile.

Against all reason… you were hoping to see him again too.