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akiiyamashun · 1 year

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Okamura stopped in the doorway of their room, robe open in order to reveal the pale gold colored lingerie set she wore. "I went to one of the shops that stocks Western clothing specifically," she explained, smiling with child - like pride. Her fingers cupped beneath her breasts to accent her next point. "I haven't bought a bra off of the rack in . . . since I got these enlarged, I suppose. Normally there's nothing shaped for my size ; luckily, there's a good stock online these days."

The heiress squeezed her chest, laughed softly, and then moved to their bed. She climbed into it gracefully, happy to claim her favorite seat on top of the moneylender. Even when he was laying down, she still considered his lower torso and lap area hers to use as a chair. Okamura studied her nails : pink, basic, just a touch too long. This artist would learn her preferences in time, she was sure.

"There was a little girl today who stopped me and asked if I wanted to buy flowers," Okamura continued. "She could be Midori-chan's twin, ichigo. Evidently, her mother owns the business. It's only the two of them. I hate flowers in the house . . . so depressing. Of course I didn't purchase anything, but I did give her all of the yen in my purse. They found me after they closed up, when I was drinking coffee at that cafe I texted you about. Apparently, we're all going to lunch tomorrow. My new small friend insisted."

The heiress stopped fussing and met Akiyama's gaze. "It's almost like home," she said quietly with a slight smile.

After a moment, Okamura brushed her waves back over her shoulders. She leaned forward, hands planted on either side of her lover, and sighed. "Listen to me, ichigo. I haven't stopped talking since you came home. Tell me about you. What was this handsome face up to all day, hm?"

unscripted asks . always accepting

The moneylender had a book in his hands - an old paperback edition and which clearly had belonged to other people first, but was nonetheless successful in holding his interest. Akiyama had always enjoyed reading in bed before sleeping when he was younger, and that habit had been picked up again in the hopes of helping him achieve a more regulated sleep schedule (if only for the benefit of their new life in Yokohama).

However, the very strangely disturbing and yet compelling read of that tome by Mishima Yukio was doing a superb job at keeping him wide awake; Akiyama was repelled by several incidents in the book, but couldn't put it down. Perhaps it was similar to the feeling of watching a trainwreck, but in print - however, all it took was his wife's voice for the spell of the book to be broken without any effort.

The thing was closed and placed on the bedside table - from that moment onward, he had eyes only for the figure of his beloved heiress in a lingerie set that was decidedly new (he knew; these were the things that his brain really paid attention to). Akiyama moved no muscle as the blonde approached, an easy grin taking up residence on his face as Okamura placed herself over his half-naked torso and his hands went to her legs by default, holding the blonde there and appreciating the softness of the skin underneath his palms.

(Impeccably scented, too; there was never a second that he didn't think he would be happy to die with his senses overloaded by everything that made Okamura Azumi so fundamentally her.)

The news about the way she had so freely given all the money on her person to a street vendor caused his grin to earn a softer, tender side; the relationship of his wife with money had always been a complicated one, but their own entanglement had caused the heiress to re-examine a few things. Not without a great deal of pain and guilt sometimes (just like Akiyama had experienced, however under more drastic circumstances), but the loan shark was always thrilled to hear about it. Little by little, the woman of his dreams was turning into the one for many common people around, too.

For entirely different reasons, of course - but to see the woman who believed herself to be nothing much beyond her appearance and material possessions realizing just how good and kind she could be was a lovely development. Okamura Azumi was much more inside, and Akiyama was glad that the precious side of his wife was now getting confident to shine more frequently.

"Uh, me? Nothing much, really. I didn't make friends like you did, my star," Akiyama chuckled when the topic of conversation shifted to him, a soft and airy chuckle getting out as he adjusted under Okamura's comfortable body weight and clearly at peace with the rather predatorial position she opted to take - a queen on her throne, a lioness pouncing on defenseless prey, a goddess bestowing favors to a loyal worshipper... All these were proper descriptions of how the moneylender felt where his abilities to resist the blonde were concerned.

"I was out doing some detective work today - there is something weird going with Yokohama real estate prices and apparently that is not a good hobby to have; I ran into the occasional thug here and there," the loan shark grinned up at Okamura - it was his way to reassure her that all was well, despite the asses kicked and the bones fractured earlier; really, Akiyama did not enjoy fighting, but sometimes there was so much he could do with words and charisma alone.

"I found this nice senbei shop, though. Apparently it's been with the same family for years... Best one I've ever had in a while, I feel like going back and taking you with me next time," he asked, a hand moving to touch the silky and lovely tresses of golden hair of his wife, finding Okamura's neck and resting his palm against the back of it just so he could guide her forward gently, a kiss following when they were close enough.

"But you're right, my love. It does feel like home, doesn't it?" the moneylender laughed softly, "At this point, I'm half-expecting to walk into Kiryu-san one of these days."

#iii. answered #rosegoldandsequins #dyn. (okamura - the goddess)#v: dreams cannot be killed #I may need to give this a proper tag later #the spin-off of the spin-off verse haha #(also for funsies - he was reading a disturbing book by Mishima set in Yokohama!)

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firstinline · 1 year

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--- @stingslikeabee queried: "I can't believe this," Melissa's voice was sincerely distraught and her movements slow, careful. The way she acted was not dissimilar of a mother experiencing severe, unexpected grief at the loss of a child or something equally tragic, despite the fact that there was nothing so dire happening in reality. All she was doing was removing the pot where a plant had been from one of Priest's tables, carrying it over to him with a profoundly accusatory glance in her honey-colored eyes. Melissa then raised it to his eye level (he was taller than she was, particularly without heels) as if to emphasize her frustration, and then unceremoniously dropped the thing into the trash bag near them on the floor, the pot joining many other items which had not been salvaged from the deep cleaning of Priest's apartment. At least he was present this time instead of being surprised with his childhood friend sorting his stuff and abusing her spare key powers. "You killed a cactus. That's a new low even for you, Shy," the madame aggressively pointed towards the bag, now hiding the corpse of the cactus victimized by Priest's terrible plant-keeping skills as if she was somehow its representative in Midgar, "You should say some words for the poor plant. I thought at least a cactus would survive here but looks like I cannot trust you with anything that is not plastic."

------ADMITTEDLY THE TIME he spent at home was significantly less than any one person probably should. he’d learned a long time ago that purchasing perishables had not been an ideal move, and his refrigerator stayed mostly empty (save for a jug of filtered water & some steaks that had been vacuum sealed and frozen in the low freezer) in an attempt to save money. if anyone knew the state of his home ... and how abandoned it mostly was ---it was melissa. boxes from his move still remained pushed in the corners of the living room and bed room, and the only alternating things were his shampoo, conditioner, and body soaps on the shower shelves. he took better care of his rotating stock of suits than he did himself, really.

the cactus, admittedly forgotten entirely, was promptly brought to his attention. if he wasn’t careful he’d get a needle to the face - but the turk only blinked slowly at the withered, dried up thing before it was dumped away into trash bags he had no memory of placing. (and for good reason, melissa was far more diligent in her efforts to tidy than he was, though his apartment resembled something more of a well-windowed cathedral for how empty it was).

“ i haven’t been home in two weeks. ” it was a weak argument, but his voice didn’t waver at the accusation. it was the truth, too. he’d fallen asleep on the couch in director tseng’s office more than a few times, upright with some paperwork in his lap. eyes followed the line down to the bag that her finger provided, and when he moved to step over the bag it was rather unceremonious, “ may odin keep you. i have steaks in the freezer, if you’re interested. ” he bee-lined for the kitchen, ducking beneath the low frame and peering at melissa through the open half-wall. “ what do you want me to say, lil? they taught me how to kill things, not care for them. i put it by the window and watered it before i left. you said cacti were low maintenance. ”

#iii. answered #stingslikeabee #skskdjfsidfj #THIS IS GOING TO START A FIGHT

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yawnderu · 4 months

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hi, i've only discovered your writing recently but i can't even explain how much i love it 😭 it's like that one anon who i think said that it feels very real, like you're getting 4k ultra hd 8d view of the scene lol 🩷

i really like your bimbo reader posts but i also sort of enjoy seeing them from this point of view that's like.... "this is not his gfs """"constant"""" style but he just lets her be in this kind of persona sometimes because it's relaxing to let him do all the work and thinking for her from time to time".

i hope this makes sense 😭 thank you for writing something that's this cute and wholesome i just love it

Thank you so much sweetheart, this is really lovely!! 😭😭😭<3

Yeah!! I totally get where you're coming from!! She's not exactly dumb, it's actually quite the opposite. I'd like to hc her as a girl who managed to get into a very good university and is studying astrophysics simply because she liked watching stars as a child. She's not dumb— just a girl who grew up extremely sheltered and hasn't seen the world through the eyes of someone who has had a difficult life, like Simon.

There's certain naivety that while it can be dangerous, she's been learning more and more about with Simon's help about stranger danger and trusting her instinct, but the girl is always surrounded by people who enjoy seeing her thrive and always teach her the things that her parents didn't.

I'd say in general she has a very good life, and now paired with Simon, someone whose entire soul wants to see her thrive?? She gets to turn off her brain and simply let him take control— he sometimes picks her clothes for her, dressing her up to the best of his capacity even when he's not a fashion guy.

This man has studied all her Instagram pictures because she's mesmerizing and he loves her that much, yet it also gives him the chance to more or less know what combinations she likes to wear. He still remembers the time she looked at him like he grew a second head for trying to make her wear dots and lines— but he never made that same mistake again.

They work surprisingly well together despite basically being on complete opposite sides of a spectrum, and at the end of the day, they work this well because they're both equally in love with the other.

Simon is level-headed and that gives her the chance to simply be herself without worrying about anything, he gives her a sense of security that she's never gotten with anyone else, while bimbo!reader gives Simon the love and affection he never even dared to think about. The main thing is that she looks and treats him like he's worth something how good of a soldier he is. Hell, she doesn't even know he's a soldier, she simply found the most brooding and intimidating guy and fell in love with him before she even knew it.

They both spoil each other a lot. Simon buys her things, treats her with patience and love, and generally treats her like the princess that she is, while she takes care of Simon like no other. She does face masks with him, gives him massages, does his manicure (trimming and cleaning his nails, putting lotion on his calloused hands), and is overall as patient as they come.

They're a pretty wholesome pair and quite honestly I enjoy writing about them a lot, the love they have for each other is fully pure and it makes me happy. :')

Sorry for going off here HJBEFJBHKFEHBKJEFHBJK I wrote too much but God, I love this pair SO fucking much

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

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justporo · 4 months

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This Astarion hc has been a constant brain worm for me for DAYS: F!Tav always wears her hair down, but one day he comes back from hunting to find her wearing it up. I honestly just love the thought of the joke of how scandalized he would be knowing that everyone can so clearly see her neck as if she's walking around naked, but when confronted about it, all she can do is laugh at how damn adorable he is <3

Oh, this is a sweet little idea, I like it!

"Excuse me, darling, but what do you think you're doing?"

You shrieked a little and lifted your head up from your book. You were sitting comfortably in the little window alcove with a little lantern and a cup of tea.

Nothing had given away the arrival of your beloved vampire who had been out of the city to go hunting for a good, fresh meal. Something he occasionally allowed himself to indulge him. It just unfortunately meant he was away for quite a while to get far enough from the city to not raise any suspicion.

You were both still pretty much in that phase of your relationship where even a couple of minutes away from each other meant a loving (overly cheesy) and yearning (overly dramatic) reunion. Which was why you were, at second thought, surprised why he had greeted you like that.

A few slow blinks were exchanged between you and Astarion while you tried to wrap your head around what he could possibly mean and he stood in the doorframe of your living room with his arms crossed over his chest, an inquisitive critical look on his face.

"What?" you simply asked after the silence stretching out between you and your brain still falling short of providing an explanation - not that had never happened before with your whimsical partner.

Astarion let his head fall back and stretched out his arms helplessly while moaning dramatically.

"Your hair, love! Dear Gods, what will the people think!"

He rushed towards you while your face became the paradigm of utter confusion. What did he mean, hair? There was nothing different about your - oh!

Something in your mind had connected successfully. Meanwhile Astarion had reached you and sat down beside you while slightly shaking his head. You could smell the forest on him.

"Wait do you mean because I put it up? I just figured because it's long enough again, I..."

"Aren't you afraid that our neighbours will gossip if they see you walking around like this, my heart?" Astarion asked eyeing you all sceptically.

"But wh-"

"I thought I had exclusive rights to seeing your delicate neck all bared like that," Astarion continued with more head shaking.

You stared at him for a long second, noticing the corner of his mouth twitching suspiciously. Then you burst into laughter.

"But you already have exclusive rights to my neck, love," you replied, rubbing a tear from the corner of your eye as you had calmed down a little.

Astarion was smiling now - mischievously. His eyebrow twitched, his eyes sparked at you. And then he grabbed you and pulled you close, covering up your naked neck with his hands.

You gasped and your lips parted as your pulse immediately jumped into a gallop under the touch of his cool, smooth palms.

"Maybe, my dear, but I can't just let other people see you like this. Looking like a snack!" as he pulled you even closer and he his face was directly above yours.

This man, there was always hunger within him.

He leaned in until his lips almost touched your open ones quivering in anticipation. But then he quickly shifted, opened up his hands and softly let his teeth graze over your neck - right where your pulse was thundering.

"Maybe I still have room for some dessert."

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 #poro answers #poro drabbles

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crimsonbubble · 6 months

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Belly bulge/cum inflation with astarion pls 👀🙇‍♀️��

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, marking, creampies, cum play, fingering *not proofread, just pure horny

[I stared into the abyss as I wrote this]

kinktober masterlist

MINORS DNI!!

It’s a mess. An embarrassingly large yet arousing mess.

Your body shivered and writhed atop his sheets. Your body is littered with hickeys and love bites all over, covering your neck, chest, hips, and thighs. Astarion hovered above you, breathing heavily as he tried to burn this image into his mind.

His hands gently caressed your hips, pressing feather-like kisses across your collarbone. Astarion pulled away from you, not knowing how to react as he watched how his own sticky mess leaked out of you in thick globs.

His hand moved on its own accord, collecting the mess and spreading it over your throbbing core. Astarion pressed the palm of his free hand to your lower stomach, pressing down as he carefully slipped his fingers into you again. More spilled out of you, soiling the sheets even further.

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion smut #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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loviatarsluv · 26 days

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Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now.

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him.

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances.

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone.

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise.

Though, he could hardly blame him.

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her?

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her.

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain.

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night.

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically).

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her.

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed.

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t.

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his.

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him.

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp.

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return.

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being.

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock.

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction.

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh.

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?”

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche.

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s.

Firebolt. No, no.

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.”

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.”

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow.

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted.

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her.

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed.

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her.

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised.

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation.

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight.

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips.

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.”

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench.

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches.

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment.

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?”

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center.

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars.

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now.

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it.

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle.

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing.

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression.

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him.

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent.

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face.

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.”

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll.

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details.

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak.

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed.

“What the hells is wrong with y—”

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes.

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him.

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault.

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones.

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space.

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure.

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands.

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.”

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate.

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.”

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body.

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time.

Gale as a lover was no different.

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head.

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly.

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her.

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them.

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more.

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby.

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him.

I need to suck your cock. Please.

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection.

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet.

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness.

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy.

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls.

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his.

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic.

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger.

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.”

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can.

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate.

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.”

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat.

Home. This felt like home.

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare.

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning.

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest.

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Gale, I’m gonna—”

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.”

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating.

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had.

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further.

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight.

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed.

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.”

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.”

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest.

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship.

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy.

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.”

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber.

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anamelessfool · 2 months

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How about little Terzo showing off a really cool rock he found??

I went a LIL overboard with this one but I'm feeling pretty good today. Check out my relevant fics under each comic!

I have no idea why these are blurry but oh well FREE ART ON DEMAND take it or leave it

My fic "Maestro" with 16 year old BOY WIZARD Secondo & 11 Year old FREE RANGE CHILD Terzo (Ao3 Link, Gen)

My fic Ribbons & Ties Domestic Fluff(ish) Terzo x Omega (AO3, T)

I have seen everyone's requests and I will go thru them as I can. Also, I have the right to not do what I don't want to do.

#ghost fandom #the band ghost #ghost band fic #papa emeritus iii #my art #ask answered #terzo x omega

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akiiyamashun · 1 year

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“I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see you again.“

Star Trek: the Next Generation starters . accepting

Akiyama closed the door to the audience chamber with more determination than required for that gesture; his expression was not one that indicated a peaceful state of mind either, and his entire body language denounced the frustration and irritation coursing through the veins.

It was strange - in many ways, that simple movement of turning the doorknob and placing himself on the other side of that threshold illustrated beautifully his new life. His left hand unconsciously moved to the top of his uniform, undoing a couple more of buttons and leaving some room for his skin to breathe, like the man had been on the verge of suffocating despite all the oxygen around.

Akiyama Shun, Federation commander and 1st officer aboard the Tojo, had just formally cut all relations to his family. Once a proud and dedicated member of the organization and yet another prodigy of his family line, the discussions held within the chamber behind his back had finally put an end to that path. Not that he had been unwilling to stray from that course already - working alongside Daigo and his crew had taught Akiyama much.

But now, after having cleared his captain's name before the selected panel of judges and inhaling the air outside, it was hard not to replay the conversation with his father; the way he addressed a single child with so much contempt and no regard for his life or well-being and pondered only about his slightly unkempt appearance (one button out of place, longer hair now they didn't make port so often to see barbers) as if Akiyama Shun was not a human with feelings, but some sort of trophy to be paraded before his colleagues.

The fact that he was there to defend Dojima Daigo, a Federation-wide pariah, did not help; particularly where there was no way to punish the captain without blatantly disregarding the current regulations in place, which was something Akiyama knew from the beginning. His smug grin and the tone of each 'your honor' delivered to the judges had indicated as much, but there was so much the local arbiters could do in face of sarcasm.

Akiyama finally propelled himself forward - one step after the other, until the movements became automatic and he turned a corner, finding Daigo coming from the opposite way. The captain smiled softly at his first officer, fully aware of the reason for his presence within the building - the two no longer were at odds with one another, but their banter (now playful) remained in their private meetings.

"I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see you again," Daigo chuckled, but upon seeing the rather trouble expression on his commander's eyes and the unconvincing grin that followed, the captain placed a hand over Akiyama's shoulder. "Shun - are you alright? Is it the hearing? I hope you know I understand the consequences of my actions and that there is no pressure for you to-"

"Daigo," the younger male said, then laughed a bit while pressuring the other to not jump to the worst conclusions so fast, "Dojima, listen to me. You're fine, you're cleared from the charges - I'm pretty convincing when I need to be and you were not technically wrong. Relax," the first officer explained, and although Daigo's expression indicated some sort of relief, he was still visibly concerned.

Particularly when Akiyama's free hand moved to his jacket and all the buttons came undone - the piece hung open, showing the fitting shirt that was worn underneath and a look that most people exhibited only at bars, holodecks or during off-time, never at the Federation headquarters. Chuckling at the captain's raised eyebrow, the commander placed one of his hands over his superior's shoulder, mimicking Daigo's action from earlier.

"I just joined the exclusive club for kids with asshole dads, that's all. I was kind of hoping you had some pointers - maybe over a beer? There used to be a good place a couple of blocks down the street where all cadets went but I never did because I was always studying my ass off. I probably missed out on a lot of fun back then, so if you're willing to indulge your first officer..."

Daigo didn't say anything right then - his lips were pressed into a thin line and he examined Akiyama with a clinical look, but soon enough there was undeniable warmth and understanding flooding from the captain's dark irises. Nodding, he merely tapped the other man's shoulder twice and offered him a youthful grin, taking the lead and undoing a couple of the buttons of his own uniform - work could wait.

Friends were important, too - they both learned it the hard way.

"Remind me when we're back in orbit - I'll give your membership card of our little association," Daigo joked in relation to Akiyama's comment from earlier, "Our support group for kids with less than optimal parents is every week, over poker. At the rate our ranks are growing, someday the Federation will send some therapist our way."

#iii. answered #dojimakaichou #dyn. (daigo - the chairman)#v: space the final frontier #I combined a bunch of things here #(plus a joke at the ending with some foreshadowing 8D)#I just like them being bros a whole lot

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squash1 · 8 months

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choose your fighter:

gansey — strengths: crafts, being bossy in a cool way, 9 lives like a cat, ability to morph to fit any situation. weaknesses: crippling anxiety, has melt downs like a toddler.

adam parrish — strengths: pretty much good at everything, would rather die than do something imperfectly, part magical forest. weaknesses: pride, part magical forest.

ronan lynch — strengths: diffuses tension easily, loyal, can literally dream shit into being. weaknesses: creates tension easily, a lack on impulse control, depression <3

blue sargent — strengths: sensible, can make an outfit out of anything, good in a crisis, living breathing battery. weaknesses: pride, can’t kiss people, five feet of stubbornness.

henry cheng — strengths: can throw one hell of a party, can rally a team & talk anyone into anyone. weaknesses: talking about emotions.

noah czerny — strengths: currently unkillable, creative thinker, loyal. weaknesses: is dead, easy to possess.