cheeky-little-pup
Pannie
27 - she/her - French - @halsinshoney on Twitter
321 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
istanbul-apartments-blog
Untitled
shams000
𝚂𝙷𝙰𝙼𝚂
screnerph-blog
help! i need somebody
somehowwriting
[hiatus time cause uni hates me]
francoanglo
Franc O. Anglo
Text
This is a total non-cacon, but this idea has been driving me crazy for over 3 months and I decided to go ahead and draw it xD
This is Raphael and Tav's baby 🥰
448 notes
·
View notes
Text
How would Astarion react to a sex repulsed Tav for reasons kind of similar to his own? 🤔
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Timelapse of my recent Astarion in roses painting!
645 notes
·
View notes
Text
warming 18+ fem!reader, 1.2k
Some half-lidded doze before dawn breaks and you must only be sentient because you await him subconsciously, as prey awaits a looming predator on the hill.
-
early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so.
inspired by this anon!!!
wc: 1.2k
cw: 18+, cockwarming, fondling, breeding if you squint so hard, fingering, afab reader, if there are errors no there aren't
You sincerely know you don’t hear him before he approaches, and yet the dip in the bed doesn’t startle you. Some half-lidded doze before dawn breaks and you must only be sentient because you await him subconsciously, as prey awaits a looming predator on the hill.
He has to know.
Your heart has to have given you away, no matter how unaware you are of the thrum nor how you try to temper it. It’s a gentle awakening as the birds begin their early song from rag-woven nests on their roofs outside the window, despite the world still being a few dark hours away from the burgeoning break of a new sun.
You quietly wriggle back, closer to the backboard of your tavern bed; and lift the covers by the far corner for your cool-chested lover to slide in under at your side with his usual thieves’ ease.
Astarion settles swiftly. Captures you in a few silent smiley.
A few moments of a still embrace before he takes the quilt and lifts it over the both of your heads, only to hold your face in one deep sleepy kiss whilst he melds himself to your sleep-warmed figure. His head rests on your inner arm, your other wrapped around his ribcage, while his own both capture your torso in a reverent grasp.
He’s tried to warm himself, you can tell.
He’s been under his own quilt. Your heart warms at it, so he can try and ensure his stony embrace isn’t quite so shocking to your system - but there’s little he can do to give himself heat that doesn’t involve you, and it’s something he knows as well as you.
You bow to kiss his curls and he shuffles in closer with a yawning sigh.
“Hungry?”
“Famished, my love.”
Rumble tones. You offer your inner arm from under his head and he smiles dopily against the soft skin, planting languid kisses along the flesh as he sounds out the basilic vein and rouses it to stirring.
You wish you could see him in the early din. Watch as he worships your simple flesh. He’s divine, face of the gods; beautiful and sincere at your heel.
When he has a secure lock on the vein and dips with little warning into a razor bite, it’s not as jarring as it otherwise can be. As when you offer him your neck after a long day of adventuring. It’s almost balmy to succumb to him like this, to know you have a few hours to rest after providing for him to feed with your beloved newly-warmed like a lamb in your arms.
The pain is still searing, of course; a wincing burn enough to cause strong discomfort. He reaches up under your half-gone sleepshirt and palms gently at your breast whilst he feeds in a familiar calming motion. The skin there is soft and heavy, pleasurable to the both of you when he grabs gently and holds you; thumb seeking a nipple to rub at, to pebble at his touch.
You can hear his suckling above anything the world has to offer, the deep numb in the blood rushing to your head. The precision of his latch. The slightest wiggle of incisors in your butter-soft flesh; the swallowing of spit and the thick metal of your blood, the quiet whimper growling of his groans against skin.
There are a few pained moments offset by his touches to your breast, where the intensity of his bite gives way to the delirious haze of bloodloss and you’re ecstatic in the hot thrum of your heartbeat.
To give him his morning blessing. To allow his stomach the freedom of hunger for few precious hours.
When he mounts your thigh you know he’s nearing the end of his feed, cock hard under his sleeping linens which loosen with each sleepy rut of his hips on you. By the time he’s finished his length is wholly worked free and beginning to leak his own nectar against your own sleepclothes.
His arousal instinctively gives way to your own. You feel yourself growing pliable under his kisses whilst his fangs leave your flesh.
“You feel good, sweet one?” You murmur into his hair, and he nods slowly in response whilst slowly humping your thigh; erratic movements as he instinctively searches for the warmth of your cunt.
“Thank you, perfect thing. Turn for me?”
He palms at the soft flesh of your ass under your sleepclothes as you give way to him.
The moment you turn to face the wall he has you locked in his arms, one hand groping still at your breasts whilst the other works its way to your trousers and aids you in wriggling free of them by holding them open.
When his now-warm hand reaches round your front to finger lazily at the apex of your slit, the low groan of laughter in him gives way to small trembles. You can feel the nectar he coaxes free with ease, wet in wait of him.
“Warm me while we rest?”
His voice is little more than a lusty whisper in your ear as he fiddles with the pebbling bud at your breast, hand at your honeyed cunt held still as you gently hump it in search of friction.
“Gods yes. Please.”
Your left leg gives way to him easily as he takes his newly-wet hand and lifts your inner thigh, lifting his burning cock from where it drips down onto the bedlinens and nestling it in the gap just where your sex ends.
He humps at your slit for a few moments in a fevered search of relief, the bulbous head of his cock delicious in the slick friction it offers. You want nothing more than for him to sink deep inside you and to keep him there forever with your violent spasms.
When he does give you your deepest desire, you feel yourself melting. Fingers losing their tension as you curl into yourself, his tip breaching your hole in the most sinful of delights; dipping in a few shallow thrusts as he hitches your leg at his hip before sinking in one deep push to the hilt.
He’s big. Angry in sheer lust. His cock settles deep and he lets a delirious groan before you tap his arm in silent laughter. A room full of sleeping bodies and you’re indulging like this, as you have been for the past tenday. It feels beyond sinful. He bites at your shoulder with a huge smile and a deep breath.
You could die happy, you reckon. Him inside you, shuffling to ensure the comfort of your limbs without being held by him. He’ll remain hard for a good while yet with no friction and the reassuring weight of him inside you is fast becoming your favourite feeling in the realms.
“I love you.”
It’s a quiet announcement to your shoulder, and the satisfied groan that follows is anything but.
“I love you, too. More than you know.”
His lips leave your neck as you angle your head in search of a kiss, and he’ll be damned if he leaves you hanging.
When he pulses inside you as your lips meet, tip filling your womb with prespill at the deepest part of your core; you can’t recall ever being happier.
“Sleep now, sweet thing. I’ve got you.”
And wrapped in his arms, buried inside you; you believe him.
Gods, you believe him.
743 notes
·
View notes
Text
Betrayal :<
Gortash and Karlach, sometime a decade ago.
(Baby Karlach without all her scars and tattoos and metal implants… 🥺)
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
i don't think about anything else these days :')
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
My fave is problematic TO YOU. I don't give a shit tho
33K notes
·
View notes
Text
Needed something low stress so I ref’ed a pic of Kathony from season three promos, put Ros in Gale’s jimjams because I’ve seen some cute art of Galemancers dressed thusly, and messy hair Gale lives in my head rent-free
706 notes
·
View notes
Text
“I .. we all… the .. the orb… what have I done… I was ready to .. to kill us all…”
“Shhhh my love, you didn’t. We’re here, and you’re safe.”
Gale’s grip tightens as he looks up as the first rays of dawn, the first breaths of a new day, hitting Tav’s watery eyes. “I would have condemned the the brightest of stars to death. What a fool I have been….”
Really bummed we didn’t get a sad Gale/panicked Gale after moonrise towers. No matter! Here’s my rendition of what that could’ve looked like for any galemancers missing the angst 🥹 Anyone feeling inspired enough to wrists a fic?? I’ll trade you some art!
949 notes
·
View notes
Text
Posting random bg3 sketches until I become relevant in the fandom ✨
Sadstarion hours 🫶
3K notes
·
View notes
