#Obsidian Vyke

[mintmatcha]

thinking about how obi responds when he actually sees reader wearing his scales as earrings for the first time.

he thinks he's not good enough for her- so, to see her so casually and proudly wearing his scales around like that? feelings.

Obi slides a small box across the lacquered table. You had almost forgotten your request since the months had passed, but the memory is fresh i. your mind when he flips the lid and presents two polished scales, shining in the morning light.

"I'm sorry for the delay," he smiles, "I wanted you to have only the best."

His nose crunches as he talks, an extra wiggle that not usually there.

"I made sure they were for the same spot, so they'd be similar sizes." His voice is bright yet nervous as he clings onto the box, rounded claws out and digging into the velvet sides, "I'd you find any imperfections, let me know. I'd be happy to find a better shed-"

You slide your hands over his and ease the box from his grasp. The familiar glean catches the light and you can't help but smile; it does feel like you own a piece of him now- something you can hold forever.

"These are perfect," you say.

"You-" he swallows, "I'm sorry, my dear, you have to say you accept them. It's silly, I know, but it's tradition, so-"

"I accept, Obsidian." Agreeing doesn't fill you with butterflies the way it did with Adam. Instead, it fills you with a sense of bliss, a calmness you've never known, "I accept these and you and whatever comes with that."

"My fawn. I-" he stumbles over himself, trying to find words that just won't come. "Thank you. I promise to court you properly and truly."

You marvel at them for a moment longer, a hum on your voice. Courting: it's official.

"Don't feel obligated to display these," your partner says suddenly, "Our relationship is still strange to a lot of people - Men and Dragonborn alike. I don't want you to put yourself into an uncomfortable situation just for my benefit."

.

That night, it takes only a little work to string the scales into metal hoops. They hang slightly uneven, but you barely care; they catch the firelight so beautifully that you can't stop looking at yourself. Ego has never been your strong suit, but these make you feel gorgeous. Upon further inspection, they are scales from his nose; small and absolutely perfect ovals, you recognize the spot that you kiss every day.

You can barely sleep that night; you scramble to the door the second day the sun begins to crest, hoping to beat Obsidian downstairs, but instead you find him in the hall. The dragonborn is shirtless, towel in hand as he notices you.

"Is my fawn looking for a morning dalliance? I would be happy to -" Obi freezes midsentence, struck. You can't hide your smile; you erupt into giggles as you prance over to him, cupping your new jewelry in your palms.

"Do you like my earrings?"

Obsidian drops his towel to reach for you. The Draconic rolls off his tongue so quickly that you can't even try to keep up, the rolling peaks and clicks nonstop. The almond pupils of his eyes are blown out, wide and swallowing all light as he pulls you close against him. Kissing is a bit difficult for him, so he resorts to the traditional dragonborn act of bumping his snout into your neck. He pushes and kneads and nips, too overwhelmed to stop.

"Obi!" you whisper-yell, trying to avoiding waking the other Inn guests, "Obsidian! I can't understand you!"

He quiets then, but continues purring.

"I am so lucky to be yours, my dear," he whispers, "So, so, impossibly lucky."

[lordsrot]

@lrdvyke ❝ you have a knack for ominous statements. ❞

"Ominous?" He inquired, humored by such a claim made, the shift in his tone telling. Perhaps the corpse blood was rather inauspicious by nature. As the nature of his very being was anything but whimsical and welcoming. No, he was nothing more than an ill-omened, rotten and disgraceful thing--- yet divine nonetheless. Agravaine regarded Vyke with a glance, those bright hues of his studying the knight with an expressive tilt of his head. "No, no... Merely truthful."

"However, the truth can often times be frightful," idly the Lord gestures as he speaks, obsidian and jeweled hands presenting themselves from beneath ghostly white robes. As though he was offering the other something. Like a shadow reaching out from beyond a thick fog. "Truths none wish too hear. Wish too know or remember. Truths that cannot be understood. Comprehended. The truth can be ominous itself."

There was pause. The silence settling nearly palpable. There would be a grin of fangs and sharp teeth if not for the stoned faced mask that conceals him. Yet, the timbre of his words and a chuckle cannot hide him, "Or perhaps I do, as thou suggest, have a knack."

[mintmatcha]

I am not immune to insecurity! imagine going to obi’s brother to have him help you learn to at least understand draconic and hoping and praying that if Obi ends up finding out, it doesn’t start shit

I think despite his charismatic ways that Obi is VERY jealous and insecure.

When you first ask Jasper to teach you, he just gives you a look, tongue just barely stuck between his teeth, then his wide eyes narrow. Obi has journeyed into town for the day, searching for spell components and some solitude, leaving you alone with his twin.

The matte dragonborn grumbles to himself as he processes this request. If his face was softer, his lips would be pursed to thought. Finally, he chirps.

"You wish to sex talk with Obsidian?"

Your mouth pops open with a gasp. You're no prude, but you certainly weren't prepared for that question to come from Jasper, especially with such a chipper tone. "No!"

Jasper tilts his head the other way, letting you twist under his stern gaze. It's difficult to discern how he feels about you; the language barrier is one thing, but Jasper is also a tease- he's constantly nipping you and his brother, giggling at his own antics, and manhandling his way through both physical situations and conversations.

"I just want to say basic things," you explain quickly. "You know, like 'hello, how are you, I love you-'"

Jasper interrupts you with such force that you jolt. The split second of fear fades and you realize he's laughing. Unlike Obsidian's rows of pearly teeth, Jasper's are jagged, broken and cracked in places, and it makes him look fierce even when smiling.

"You love Obsidian?" he says. "Real?"

You've never said it out of before, but of course you do. There's not doubt about it. "Yeah."

"Real real?" he presses.

"Real real."

"Hm." Jasper chews on this-- literally. His cheek hollows as he munches down, sucking in the flesh with an awful, spitty nose. Then, he stops and clicks his teeth together as he stands, towering over you.

"I will teach you, but not words for Obsidian." His scales catch no light. "Our mother does not know Common. You learn for her."

[mintmatcha]

Obi is now my everything💕 I love him so fucking much. Please just give us some little head cannons or something with obi. It been a rough week and I just need my dragon boy to comfort me😭

Winter has settled into the land. In the upper levels of the dungeon, frost has settled into the stone work. You can feel it through the padded bottom of your tent, nipping at your skin and refusing to warm.

The muffled shuffle of fabric rouses you just enough to take note. It's almost morning, the sun has just started to tinge the air. Obsidian is the last person on guard for the evenings- it must be him shuffling around out there. Before you can ease back to sleep, the buttons to your tent snap open and the icy wind pools in.

"You're letting in the cold," you whine, even as you open your arms. The flimsy tent is barely big enough for you, let alone a wide shouldered dragonborn, but Obsidian manages to worm his way in. He hooks a leg under yours and lets his weight slowly creep down, finding his place in your embrace.

"Forgive me. You're just so comfortable," he grumbles into your skin. His breath curls into the air as he sighs. The scales of his cheek press against your neck, smooth and uncomfortably warm. When he eventually pulls away, you'll have the texture of him embossed into your skin.

"You're just so warm," you murmur back. Dragonborns run hot; you can feel it through the blanket, warming you enough that sleep threatens to take you once again. "You can't stay here too long - the others are gonna talk."

"Mmm," His sharpened teeth nip into your shoulder, just the quick thought of teeth. "Let them whisper."

[mintmatcha]

can we get some rouge facts? pretty please 🤲🏼 she’s v interesting and i know nothing about d&d so i’m a little clueless about her role in the team. love your world building btw

— 🪐

cw: cisfem reader, reader has a set background and personality, MENTIONS OF GROOMING AND ABUSE!

"Why don't you join them?"

The fiddle swelling and dips and the dancers do the same. You watch where your friends have blended into the crowd, their elbows crooked into the arms of strangers as they prance about. The alcohol has wiped away their inhibitions, but only strengthened yours.

Obsidian has left his partner on the dance floor and returned to you, arm outstretched. He must have seen you watching him and misunderstood that forlorn look in your eyes as something else.

"I'm alright here," you dismiss with a laugh.

"Let me teach you." Obi gestures again, "Or is our fearless leader afraid of the dance floor?"

He hums along to the song, hitting none of the correct notes. Even when he's making mistakes, he's undeniably charming.

"I'm okay, really." You try to laugh again, but the sound is tight in your throat. The crowd spins and laughs and jeers and the sound of it all stuffs your ears. Obsidian steps towards you, closer than a friend should be, with a chuckle on his lips.

"I insist."

Your stomach sours a bit and you aren't sure why. This is familiar in ways you don't want to admit. "Obi, not tonight."

"I simply wish to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room," His fingers loosely wrap around your wrist, but the pressure makes your mouth go dry. There's an ache, deep in the narrow of your bones, radiating out as he lightly tugs, "Come, it will be-"

You rip your hand from his with all the force you can muster. It's much too forceful-- you end up smacking yourself and knocking over your stein. Beer fizzs and bubbles across the waxed bartop, spilling down and over your legs.

"I said no." Your voice aches with the way to rips from you, "Why does no one listen to me when I say no?"

Obi's face drops. Green eyes wide with shock, he simply watches as you push off from your stool and weave out through the crowd. You bump elbows with a poor halfing halfway out the door, only offering the briefest of apologies.

The crisp night air brings you a bit of clarity, but it aches in your lungs. The cotton of your shirt suddenly feels much too tight and you cant help but tug on the edges to free yourself.

You're aware of being followed. It's like a stray dog, tailing behind you just fair enough to avoid any possibility of retribution. He continues until you stop and settle, sitting in the dew soaked grass. It doesn't matter- you're already soaked.

Obsidian stays quiet for a while, rubbing his sleeve against his nose sheepishly.

"Can I sit with you?" he says after a while.

You glance up at the dragonborn. The spot he rubbed is significantly shinier than the rest of his scales, catching the moon shine as he speaks. Your anxious settles just a bit at that; it even tugs a smile onto your face. You pat the ground next to you and the man settles down on to his knees.

"I am sorry," Obi says after a moment, "I should not have pushed you."

You're very aware that wasn't a normal reaction. The shame makes your stomach curl. "It's alright."

"Clearly, it was not." He rubs his snout again, "I should have listened to you."

He places his hand gently on to your thigh- no pressure, just reassurance. "I'll listen now, if you want to speak about it."

The truth is heavy on your tongue. You know better than to speak of it, and yet:

"Adam saved me. I know that," you say carefully. Your husband is always the elephant in the room, waiting to be addressed, "He took me off of the street and gave me a place to live. I'd be nothing without him-- I know that."

Obsidian prickles a bit at that, just the slightest flash of teeth, but he doesn't interrupt.

"He'd bring me to galas. The prettiest dances you've ever seen. I'd wear the nicest dress I could find and he would dance with me until my feet bled from those god-awful shoes." You flex your foot. The thick leather boot barely gives to the pressure.

"I hated them. I hated every minute," you say, "I'd beg him to let me stay home. I'd //beg.//"

You close a hand around your own wrist. Your body has changed over the years, almost to the point of unfamiliarity, but the pressure of a palm against the inside of your wrist always snaps you back to the brittle age of eighteen.

"And he still made you go?"

Eighteen was the first time you started measuring your steps, walking in the shadows to avoid drawing his attention. Eighteen was the first time love felt sour on your lips.

"All anyone would ever say to me was that I was so lucky to be his wife. How he loved me so much." You take Obi's hand from your leg and intertwine your fingers with his. The span and width of his grip are so much different than anyone else you've ever known. "And all I wanted to do was tell them how scared I was of him.'"

"Why didn't you?" He's asking, but its not a question. It's a door, open just enough to let you keep going. "Someone surely would have listened."

"Where would I have gone?" You almost laugh at how ridiculously pathetic you sound. "I didn't have friends, and he was the closest thing I ever had to a father -"

Obi's grip stiffens, and you know you'd made a mistake. His eyes narrow and he knows//.

"Father?" he repeats, voice dark, yet trying to stay even, "He wasn't-- you--- what do you mean by father?"

Those sharp, kind eyes watch you, unblinking, as if he closes his eyes, you'll disappear.

"What do you mean by that, my dear?" he repeats, much softer.

The bar behind you clambors with din, the night is rich with the cicada song, and yet you feel like the world is so, so quiet. All of your words feel earshakingly loud.

"He didn't pursue me romantically until I was eighteen," you whisper, "But Adam took me into his home when I was thirteen."

You brace for what's coming. The anger, the disgust. By the time you realize you've closed your eyes, the silence has stretched out too far. It takes an effort to look at him and face the music.

Obi doesn't seem mad, he's just... sad.

"You were just a child." His voice is so brittle, "I-- Why didn't anyone protect you?"

You wish you knew the answer.

[mintmatcha]

I talked a lil about Obi's twin but he also has an older brother who is even bigger

[mintmatcha]

mintyyyy now that you told us about obis conversation with his twin im even more curious about what he was saying to rogue in draconic when they were intimate 🥺

He didn't say anything particularly elegant but he was praising reader and talking about his feelings for her.

[mintmatcha]

Kinktober: Monster Fucking

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

After months of adventuring with your party, you can't help but be curious about a certain dragon born....

cw: cisfem reader, Monster fucking, OC x reader, fantasy racism (someone is not nice to dragonborn), biting, slight mention of bleeding, fingers in holes

PART ONE OF TWO

a/n: A very special thanks to @tyga-lily, who talked with me about her little dragonborn and made me fall in love with this concept and to @saetyrn9 who came up with his name :)

"The bath is free, Obi."

For how much a night costs, the room is nothing special, but any inn with running water is heaven sent. It’s been almost two months since anyone in your party has slept in a proper bed and your body can feel it. Simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious at this point; sleeping on down is going to feel obscene.

"I'll be quick." Your party mate stands with a grunt, the day heavy on his joints. You almost want to tease him, but after this adventure, your knees are screaming too. It's hard enough for you to throw yourself on to the bed

Despite knowing him for the greater part of a year, you always forget how large the dragonborn is until he’s next to you. Towering over you with delicate horns and ridged crest, Obsidian Vyke -Obi, to his friends- is all black scales and teeth. The air crackles around him the way it crackles around all sorcerers, subtle yet wild, so it’s unfair that he’s also built wide. Thick biceps and a barrel chest: no magic user should be that muscular.

"Take your time." You watch him as he moves around the room, dipping around the singular bed and pulling his sleeping clothes from his travel sack.

"I'm sorry about this," Obi says, peering over his shoulder, "I know I'm not as nice to room with as Kiri."

The two other members in your party had been fast friends-- unfortunately, they were also quick to become lovers. Usually, that did not pose any issues to the group, but tonight, the inn only has two rooms available. It seemed cruel to separate the lovebirds, so you and Obi agreed to cohabitate for the night.

"I don’t mind sharing a bed with you." The idea gives you butterflies, this flitting, nervous energy. You trust the man with your life-- fuck, he’s saved your life in battle -- but something about sleeping next to him makes your skin goosepimple. "As long as you don't snore."

His eyes narrow in a smile. "I'll try my best."

The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair.

It’s not that you don’t want to share a room with him. In fact, you think you want this a little too much. You're absorbed with all of his movements as he primps a bit, adjusting the hem of his shirt so it sits properly, running a palm over his crest, sliding off his traveler's boots. If you're lucky, his shirt will be next and you can catch a peek of the toned spance of his stomach.

"My lady," His teeth flash in the fire light, pearls against the deep, dark opalescent hues of his scales, "You're staring."

"Ah, I'm sorry!" He’s one to talk; you’ve felt his gaze following you for weeks now. That's the only reason you're thinking about him and his body.

And, using that logic, he's the only reason you bought that bodice ripper last week, the one starring a pretty red dragonborn and his human lover--

"Is there something in my teeth?" Obi teases. That earns him a giggle, but, when you don't respond, he exhales through his nose and moves closer. "We're rooming together tonight, so if there's any tension between us, I'd rather-"

"I heard a rumor," you blurt out.

He goes pale. "About me? What did Thyrll tell you?"

"No, about dragonborns in general."

Relief relaxes his features.

"And you just want to know if it's true?" There's a click in his voice as he laughs, something strange and inhumane, "It's okay. You can ask. Let me guess- I eat poor little gnomes? I enchant humans with my-"

"Is it... inside of you?"

The dragonborn pauses at that, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

"Your..." You cannot believe you're about to say this, "Cock."

"Oh."

You scramble up, hands over your face as you head towards the door. You aren't sure where you're going to go in a nightgown, but anywhere else has to be better than here.

"Oh, I'm sorry! That was so rude of me."

A wall of muscle suddenly blocks your way. Those dexterous hands that you were admiring moments ago are now touching your shoulders, rubbing up and down affectionately.

"It's alright, my lady, I'm just... surprised." He smells like petrichor, something strangely earthy and yet unnatural clinging to his scales, and laughs like summer rain, "I think it's natural to wonder about different races, I just didn't think..."

His sharp eyes are dilated a bit, the pupils closer to almonds than slits as they bounce up and down your body.

"I've had my own... curiosities about others as well," he admits, "So, who am I to judge?"

Your spine prickles at that. Who exactly was he curious about? One of the elves in your party? The barmaid downstairs? Or is it you that the thinks about at night, cock in fist?

The dragonborn misreads the upset look on your face. "I promise that I am not cross with you. How about I answer your questions and you'll answer mine? No judgments."

You settle a bit. "If you're sure."

He smiles a draconic smile, all teeth and the smallest flick of his tongue.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm not embarrassed because my species is a bit different than yours."

You watch him for a long moment. He’s kind. A scoundrel at times, but kind. It's etched into his face, always reflected in his wide, chartreuse eyes.

"So, it is different,” you say carefully.

"It is."

“Very different?”

“When my cock is hard?” He says it so easily. Always proper, it makes you squirm to hear him curse, “No. But when I’m not, it is, in fact inside.”

"It's just... flat down there?"

"Yes- give me your hand."

You weave your fingers in between his without a second thought, but he just shakes his head and pulls away. Then, he takes your still open palm in his and brings it to his torso. The muscle there is just as firmed as you imagined and it's hard not to linger in once spot to appreciate it, Slowly, Obi guides your hand down, running it over the linen of his pants. Underneath, you can feel how it's slightly ridged with larger scales than the rest of his body and, subsequently, larger gaps form in between. It's just skin-- well, it's just scales. You're touching nothing technically intimate, but your heart races anyway, caught in your throat.

"See?" His voice has the edge of a tremble and, when you look up, you realize just how close you two have become. Practically chest to chest, his snout is only inches from your face, close enough that you can see how each individual scale slightly shifts in color as the fire dances. He seems to have realized too; dragonborn expressions are hard to read, but you don't miss how deep his breathing has become.

"It's nothing like touching a human, is it?" he mumbles, hand squeezing yours ever so slightly, “Not intimate at all.”

"Well." You curl your fingers up, clumsily feeling through the fabric, "Maybe a bit.”

The fire crackles in the fireplace. He breathes again, on the brink of a sigh, and you think he’s just as caught up in this as you are.

"Just a bit?" Heat radiates from him. If he were human, it'd be alarming, but instead there's a comfort to it. You're still warm from the bath, and yet you chase that heat, slipping your hand from his just to bring it under the waistline of his pants.

"More than a bit."

He's hot underneath it all, almost uncomfortable to the touch as you explore the space blindly. His eyes haven't left yours, his lids getting heavy with every prod and poke of your fingers.

A vertical line of soft, exposed skin catches your ring finger and his body jumps reflexively as you accidentally dip inside of him. It’s strangely dry, yet much softer than the rest of his scaled body. Despite yourself, you explore it a bit more, pressing in the same way you’ll be playing with your own pussy tonight.

"A-ahh--" The dragonborn sucks in a deep breath and you can feel his abdomen crunch under your touch, "Be careful."

"Did I hurt you?" you ask as you pull away.

His chittering laugh returns. His hands rest on the small of your back, not pushing, but not entirely platonic either. When he talks, the air tastes like distant embers, just far enough away, yet not close enough, "You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry."

“Are you sure?” you press, “You made a weird noise.”

“Very sure,” He dips low enough to press his lips against the shell of your ear, "You’d do the same if I put my fingers inside of you."

This time, the heat is coming from inside you, twisting and pulling with want.

"With your claws?" You manage to joke through your suddenly dry throat, "I might cry."

"I could cut them," His voice is rolling and low as his hands explore, one traveling up your spine and the other dipping the smooth over your ass. When they both reach their zeniths, they switch directions. The silk of your dress catches against his skin, pulling it up and revealing the fat of your ass to the air. "Nice and short."

His nails dig gently into your skin, nothing more than a nip, a test.

"You’re so soft, all over. Your body just gives when I touch it,” There’s a distant tone to his voice as he speaks into the curve of your neck, “Too delicate for me, aren’t you?”

You hum in disagreement and his teeth prove you otherwise. It’s barely a graze, but the nip against your pulse point drags a whimper from deep within you. Your companion chuckles, then coos with pity as he does it again, much, much kinder this time.

“Oh, you’re knock kneed and sweet for me,” The already blossoming bruises are soothed by a warm, textured flash of wet. His tongue is rougher than a humans, longer too, and it leaves behind a string of spit that is more viscous than any human’s. “Like a fawn. My sweet fawn.”

The hand that once explored him is trapped in between your bodies, unable to move, but you can feel something against your stomach: something hard, something thick. Too much cock for your human body, but, fuck, you’re going to try.

“Bet you’re even softer down here.” A singular clawed drags over your bare ass, searching for underwear that isn't there and your body trembles with want, “Oh, look at that, shaking like a leaf. I bet you’d melt if I-”

A sharp knock at the door scrambles you two apart. A moment passes and the sound almost feels imaginary, but then it happens again. You smooth your still wet hair and try to gather yourself, heading to the door in a hurry. Somehow, the dragonborn is more flustered than you. His scales are physically ruffled and his usually stoney brow is creased. He can’t blush, but you swear you can see his face alight as you swing the door open.

There stands a familiar elvish figure, with dark straight hair and the prettiest of smiles.

“Kiri!” you exclaim. She’s a natural beauty, like most elves. All legs and sharp angles, she’s a good head taller than you, leaning over with almost a condescending grin. She’s so beautiful that you almost hate her for it.

“I am sorry to be a bother, rogue.” She speaks in Elvish and the dragonborn’s head tilts slightly side to side, like a dog who hears his name, as he tries to listen. “I came to thank you and the sorcerer.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Your Elvish is unnatural on your human tongue, “We are fine here.”

“My lover thanks you too,” she winks and giggles. She’s over a hundred years older than you, and yet still head over heels like a schoolgirl. Elves might live for thousands of years, but they take hundreds to mature. “We will not be sleeping much tonight.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to gag, biting back a smile, but then Kiri grows serious.

“If he scares you, please let me know,” she continues.

“Obi?” you say, “He’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m sure he is, but those teeth! Like needles. Braver than me, sleeping next to a monster like that.”

You glance at your dragonborn and he looks away before you can meet his eye. A disappointment settles in your stomach. Monster is such an ugly word for a pretty man. Everything about him is charming and refined, from the way he speaks and the way he walks, to the way he shines his scales when he thinks no one is looking.

“That’s rude.” You’re quick to reply. Kiri grew up around only her own kind and their ideas-- she doesn’t always know what’s uncouth or offensive because of it, “Don’t say such awful things.”

“It seems like he’s already gotten hungry.” She jerks a chin to your shoulder. You reflexively reach to cover it, only to pull away when the spot feels wet. Blood speckles your fingers- not enough to warranty any worry, of course, just the slightest graze of the skin.

“That’s not--”

“I tease, I tease!” she continues, “I know it is just a scrape. Can you imagine? To lay with someone who is all claws, fire and untamed magics! I-”

The man in question stalks in between you two silently. With a towel in his arms and a chip on his shoulder, he stomps by with a snort of his nostrils.

“I’m going to bathe.” His Elvish is worse than yours, but it's enough to make Kiri’s face drop. The worst part is that he doesn’t sound angry-- you could deal with anger. Instead, he sounds heartbroken. “I don’t mean to be frightening.”

You both walk him stalk down the hall until he disappears around a corner. Kiri swivels to look at you, bewildered. “Since when does he speak Elvish?”

PART TWO

[mintmatcha]

I loved part two so much😭😭

Gib more Obi pls

Draconic works more like a melody than it does a language. It's tonal, drifting high and low as the two dragonborns speak, each word rolling into the next. It lingers in the air, unrushed and growled, pushed from the back of the throat in ways you're not sure your body could ever recreate. Sometimes, the conversation seems to have an edge of anger and it sets your body on guard, but then Obsidian dissolves into laughter and you relax.

You shouldn't be on edge anyway; the dark scaled stranger isn't //actually// a stranger. Jasper Vyke towers over his brother even when seated, but the strong angled spikes and ridges to his face are almost identical. His eyes keep flickering to yours as he talks, no hint of humor present on his stony features.

"You stare." Jasper jerks a chin to you.

"I'm sorry," you say, turning your attention to the campfire. "I didn't expect you two to look so similar."

"Well-" Obi covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but it doesn't hide his smile, "We are twins, my lady."

Meeting Jasper was completely a coincidence. Crossed paths led to a surprise family reunion and now the man sits at your fire, gnawing on the leg of some poor animal he hunted earlier. From stories and your brief interactions, you knew the two would be vastly different people--

You didn't expect that to almost share a face.

"We are, uh-- How do you say in Common?" He can speak Common fairly well, Obi told you once, he just prefers his Mothertongue. It's a point of pride.

"Identical."

"Indentical," Jasper repeats, "Obsidian is the smart one. I am the pretty one."

He flexes a bicep and the muscle coils under the skin. You hate to admit that you do find it attractive-- not as attractive as you find your partner, of course, but it does make you sit a little straighter. If Obi notices, he doesn't seem it mind; he's too busy watching his brother with narrowed eyes.

"I don't think you are identical at all," you say, "Obi's so much--"

"Smaller!" Jasper laughs, leaning in close to nudge you with his elbow. "So much smaller. He is the runt."

"I guess so," You agree with him, but you sense that may hurt your partner's ego, so you keep quiet, "But you are also different colors."

You touch Jasper's arm, running a thumb across a patch of scales. It's no wear near as soft as Obsidian's; there's a dry grit to the texture, closer to shark skin than anything else.

"Obsidian is iridescent-- your scales are matte," you say, "They don't shine in the light at all."

"You like my scales?" Jasper asks, chest puffed and a purr on his voice. He scooches in closer to you, leg pressed against yours, "I will give you one to keep."

Obi snaps his jaws together so forcefully that you jump at the sound. Both of you swivel to face the man. His muzzle is furrowed wildly, so much so that his fangs show to the gums. The air shifts and you can almost see the way magic crackles about him, wild, powerful, and raw. "She has plenty of scales, brother."

An anxiety builds in your chest. You aren't sure where this conflict came from, but you sense you did something wrong.

"Obi, it's fine, I like--"

Obi's attention snaps to you. "If you wish to have a scale to carry I will give you as many as you desire. You do not need anyone else's."

They switch to Draconic again, sharing a low toned conversation. Obsidian may be the smaller brother, but he carries himself with a force that has Jasper quickly backing off.

"Forgive me," The larger brother says to you suddenly.

The apology doesn't make you feel better. The seasick feeling in your chest grows more unsteady and you choose to remain quiet for the rest of the night. It's not until later than night, when Jasper is deep in sleep and snoring like thunder, that Obi approaches you again. He moves his sleeping mat closer to yours, testing your reaction, then moves again.

"Are you cross with me?" he whispers.

"You frightened me a bit," you admit just as softly, "I get unsettled easy after Adam."

Elaboration isn't needed. There's a twitch of a sneer on Obi's face when you mention him, but he mellows out again after.

"I'm truly sorry, my fawn. My anger was not focused at you," he says, "I will take care not to react like that again."

He extends a hand and you take it with a squeeze. The unsteadiness inside you quells just a bit.

"Jasper was trying to court you," Obsidian says after a bit, "And it scared me."

You forget Obi - silver tongued, charismatic Obi- is self conscious about so many things. Did he really think his brother would swoop in so easily and win your heart?

"I didn't realize. I thought he was just being nice."

"Exchanging scales is a dragonborn custom. It's my fault for not explaining it to you," he sighs, "I just..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. You don't need him too. You just squeeze his hand again, stronger this time.

"Why have you never given me a scale?"

"I did not think you would like one, my fawn."

"I want two," you say, quickly, "I shall turn them into earrings so they are always with me."

"They are not jewels," he chuckles, "They will not make very pretty jewelry."

"I disagree."

Obi doesn't respond, but you can hear the soft clicks of his purr, building in his throat.

[mintmatcha]

I miss obsidian vyke so much mint, I think about him all the time 😩😩😩😩

How dare you make me obsessed with him 😭😭

he does little stretches in the morning when he wakes up and his voice box trills really high like a bird sometimes ....

[mintmatcha]

OBSIDIAN VYKE!! 🥹

i squealed aloud. like !!!! I HELPED WITH THAT. EEEEEEEE~

FUCK THATS WHAT I FORGOT HOLD ON

[mintmatcha]

im so fucking dramatic I literally haave the most popular dragon boyfriend on the market: Obsidian Vyke

I miss having OCs that play with other Ocs

[saturnsorbits]

Mint not only made me a monsterfucker with this piece, they made me fall in love with him too.

An absolutely stunning dive into an original, D&D inspired work, Mint proves that their talent is unshaken in the face of originality. Creating one of the most intriguing and engaging characters, they have firmly cemented Obsidian Vyke at the centre of our hearts with this first installment of a two part piece.

We open with the scene setting. Our party, four strong, has come to rest – a fact we learn as Reader confesses that 'simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious... Sleeping on down is going to feel obscure.' It is with this ease that we settle into the piece, sinking into it much like our Reader and Obi will into that down mattress a little later on. Mint uses both their wonderful descriptive skills, as well as the power of omission to create this little world. By focusing on the small, finer details and exposing to us the sensory and emotional qualities relating to their characters – they negate the need of overly excessive descriptions, allowing instead for the audience to fill in the gap and use their imaginations to fill in the blanks left in the setting. This is a wonderful technique and works to involve the audience in the piece, while also cutting out the unnecessary parts of the piece that could weigh it down.

With this wonderful setting, comes more insights into our characters. Although, we are immediately introduced to only two (Reader and Obi), the comments of the remaining party provide a myriad of clues that expose the rest of the piece. We're told of 'the two other members in [the] party... [becoming] fast friends... [and] quick... lovers', which not only entrenches us further into this world, while widening it, but provides a few very interesting hints. From this singular line, we learn of the other party members, true, we're also made privy to the potential sleeping arrangements and the alignments of potential romantic entanglements. Which leads us perfectly to: There's only one bed.

Mint's discussion and description of the dragonborn is stunning, leaving little to be desired. There is a romance there, one that can be felt both in his movements and words as we learn more about this wonderful man. The description of him undressing is endlessly intimate and delicate, both making us fall in love while describing the essence of Obi wonderfully: 'The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair...' It's sexy, endlessly and it's easy to see what has peaked Reader's interest.

This same atmosphere is continued, enhanced and highlighted as we reach the scene in which curiosities rise. The battering of humour as Obi pokes fun at the rumours often spread of dragonborns, of him 'eat[ing] poor little gnomes', and 'enchant[ing] humans', which is quickly turned on its head with a sense of deepening intimacy as he confesses that he's 'had [his] own curiosities.' Mint truly knocks it out of the fucking park here, wrapping intimacy and romance and comfort into a wonderful package that proves beautifully drowning as we watch these two literally explore each others bodies – Obi's comment that Reader would 'do the same if [he] put [his] fingers inside' one of the defining moments at the pinnacle of this.

This piece is flawless and another piece of proof that Mint is one of the most astounding writers we're lucky enough to have here. Their control of atmosphere and character work is second to none, and here they are able to truly show off that talent. And damn, is it something to behold.

Kinktober: Monster Fucking

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

After months of adventuring with your party, you can't help but be curious about a certain dragon born....

cw: cisfem reader, Monster fucking, OC x reader, fantasy racism (someone is not nice to dragonborn), biting, slight mention of bleeding, fingers in holes

PART ONE OF TWO

a/n: A very special thanks to @tyga-lily, who talked with me about her little dragonborn and made me fall in love with this concept and to @saetyrn9 who came up with his name :)

"The bath is free, Obi."

For how much a night costs, the room is nothing special, but any inn with running water is heaven sent. It’s been almost two months since anyone in your party has slept in a proper bed and your body can feel it. Simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious at this point; sleeping on down is going to feel obscene.

"I'll be quick." Your party mate stands with a grunt, the day heavy on his joints. You almost want to tease him, but after this adventure, your knees are screaming too. It's hard enough for you to throw yourself on to the bed

Despite knowing him for the greater part of a year, you always forget how large the dragonborn is until he’s next to you. Towering over you with delicate horns and ridged crest, Obsidian Vyke -Obi, to his friends- is all black scales and teeth. The air crackles around him the way it crackles around all sorcerers, subtle yet wild, so it’s unfair that he’s also built wide. Thick biceps and a barrel chest: no magic user should be that muscular.

"Take your time." You watch him as he moves around the room, dipping around the singular bed and pulling his sleeping clothes from his travel sack.

"I'm sorry about this," Obi says, peering over his shoulder, "I know I'm not as nice to room with as Kiri."

The two other members in your party had been fast friends-- unfortunately, they were also quick to become lovers. Usually, that did not pose any issues to the group, but tonight, the inn only has two rooms available. It seemed cruel to separate the lovebirds, so you and Obi agreed to cohabitate for the night.

"I don’t mind sharing a bed with you." The idea gives you butterflies, this flitting, nervous energy. You trust the man with your life-- fuck, he’s saved your life in battle -- but something about sleeping next to him makes your skin goosepimple. "As long as you don't snore."

His eyes narrow in a smile. "I'll try my best."

The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair.

It’s not that you don’t want to share a room with him. In fact, you think you want this a little too much. You're absorbed with all of his movements as he primps a bit, adjusting the hem of his shirt so it sits properly, running a palm over his crest, sliding off his traveler's boots. If you're lucky, his shirt will be next and you can catch a peek of the toned spance of his stomach.

"My lady," His teeth flash in the fire light, pearls against the deep, dark opalescent hues of his scales, "You're staring."

"Ah, I'm sorry!" He’s one to talk; you’ve felt his gaze following you for weeks now. That's the only reason you're thinking about him and his body.

And, using that logic, he's the only reason you bought that bodice ripper last week, the one starring a pretty red dragonborn and his human lover--

"Is there something in my teeth?" Obi teases. That earns him a giggle, but, when you don't respond, he exhales through his nose and moves closer. "We're rooming together tonight, so if there's any tension between us, I'd rather-"

"I heard a rumor," you blurt out.

He goes pale. "About me? What did Thyrll tell you?"

"No, about dragonborns in general."

Relief relaxes his features.

"And you just want to know if it's true?" There's a click in his voice as he laughs, something strange and inhumane, "It's okay. You can ask. Let me guess- I eat poor little gnomes? I enchant humans with my-"

"Is it... inside of you?"

The dragonborn pauses at that, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

"Your..." You cannot believe you're about to say this, "Cock."

"Oh."

You scramble up, hands over your face as you head towards the door. You aren't sure where you're going to go in a nightgown, but anywhere else has to be better than here.

"Oh, I'm sorry! That was so rude of me."

A wall of muscle suddenly blocks your way. Those dexterous hands that you were admiring moments ago are now touching your shoulders, rubbing up and down affectionately.

"It's alright, my lady, I'm just... surprised." He smells like petrichor, something strangely earthy and yet unnatural clinging to his scales, and laughs like summer rain, "I think it's natural to wonder about different races, I just didn't think..."

His sharp eyes are dilated a bit, the pupils closer to almonds than slits as they bounce up and down your body.

"I've had my own... curiosities about others as well," he admits, "So, who am I to judge?"

Your spine prickles at that. Who exactly was he curious about? One of the elves in your party? The barmaid downstairs? Or is it you that the thinks about at night, cock in fist?

The dragonborn misreads the upset look on your face. "I promise that I am not cross with you. How about I answer your questions and you'll answer mine? No judgments."

You settle a bit. "If you're sure."

He smiles a draconic smile, all teeth and the smallest flick of his tongue.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm not embarrassed because my species is a bit different than yours."

You watch him for a long moment. He’s kind. A scoundrel at times, but kind. It's etched into his face, always reflected in his wide, chartreuse eyes.

"So, it is different,” you say carefully.

"It is."

“Very different?”

“When my cock is hard?” He says it so easily. Always proper, it makes you squirm to hear him curse, “No. But when I’m not, it is, in fact inside.”

"It's just... flat down there?"

"Yes- give me your hand."

You weave your fingers in between his without a second thought, but he just shakes his head and pulls away. Then, he takes your still open palm in his and brings it to his torso. The muscle there is just as firmed as you imagined and it's hard not to linger in once spot to appreciate it, Slowly, Obi guides your hand down, running it over the linen of his pants. Underneath, you can feel how it's slightly ridged with larger scales than the rest of his body and, subsequently, larger gaps form in between. It's just skin-- well, it's just scales. You're touching nothing technically intimate, but your heart races anyway, caught in your throat.

"See?" His voice has the edge of a tremble and, when you look up, you realize just how close you two have become. Practically chest to chest, his snout is only inches from your face, close enough that you can see how each individual scale slightly shifts in color as the fire dances. He seems to have realized too; dragonborn expressions are hard to read, but you don't miss how deep his breathing has become.

"It's nothing like touching a human, is it?" he mumbles, hand squeezing yours ever so slightly, “Not intimate at all.”

"Well." You curl your fingers up, clumsily feeling through the fabric, "Maybe a bit.”

The fire crackles in the fireplace. He breathes again, on the brink of a sigh, and you think he’s just as caught up in this as you are.

"Just a bit?" Heat radiates from him. If he were human, it'd be alarming, but instead there's a comfort to it. You're still warm from the bath, and yet you chase that heat, slipping your hand from his just to bring it under the waistline of his pants.

"More than a bit."

He's hot underneath it all, almost uncomfortable to the touch as you explore the space blindly. His eyes haven't left yours, his lids getting heavy with every prod and poke of your fingers.

A vertical line of soft, exposed skin catches your ring finger and his body jumps reflexively as you accidentally dip inside of him. It’s strangely dry, yet much softer than the rest of his scaled body. Despite yourself, you explore it a bit more, pressing in the same way you’ll be playing with your own pussy tonight.

"A-ahh--" The dragonborn sucks in a deep breath and you can feel his abdomen crunch under your touch, "Be careful."

"Did I hurt you?" you ask as you pull away.

His chittering laugh returns. His hands rest on the small of your back, not pushing, but not entirely platonic either. When he talks, the air tastes like distant embers, just far enough away, yet not close enough, "You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry."

“Are you sure?” you press, “You made a weird noise.”

“Very sure,” He dips low enough to press his lips against the shell of your ear, "You’d do the same if I put my fingers inside of you."

This time, the heat is coming from inside you, twisting and pulling with want.

"With your claws?" You manage to joke through your suddenly dry throat, "I might cry."

"I could cut them," His voice is rolling and low as his hands explore, one traveling up your spine and the other dipping the smooth over your ass. When they both reach their zeniths, they switch directions. The silk of your dress catches against his skin, pulling it up and revealing the fat of your ass to the air. "Nice and short."

His nails dig gently into your skin, nothing more than a nip, a test.

"You’re so soft, all over. Your body just gives when I touch it,” There’s a distant tone to his voice as he speaks into the curve of your neck, “Too delicate for me, aren’t you?”

You hum in disagreement and his teeth prove you otherwise. It’s barely a graze, but the nip against your pulse point drags a whimper from deep within you. Your companion chuckles, then coos with pity as he does it again, much, much kinder this time.

“Oh, you’re knock kneed and sweet for me,” The already blossoming bruises are soothed by a warm, textured flash of wet. His tongue is rougher than a humans, longer too, and it leaves behind a string of spit that is more viscous than any human’s. “Like a fawn. My sweet fawn.”

The hand that once explored him is trapped in between your bodies, unable to move, but you can feel something against your stomach: something hard, something thick. Too much cock for your human body, but, fuck, you’re going to try.

“Bet you’re even softer down here.” A singular clawed drags over your bare ass, searching for underwear that isn't there and your body trembles with want, “Oh, look at that, shaking like a leaf. I bet you’d melt if I-”

A sharp knock at the door scrambles you two apart. A moment passes and the sound almost feels imaginary, but then it happens again. You smooth your still wet hair and try to gather yourself, heading to the door in a hurry. Somehow, the dragonborn is more flustered than you. His scales are physically ruffled and his usually stoney brow is creased. He can’t blush, but you swear you can see his face alight as you swing the door open.

There stands a familiar elvish figure, with dark straight hair and the prettiest of smiles.

“Kiri!” you exclaim. She’s a natural beauty, like most elves. All legs and sharp angles, she’s a good head taller than you, leaning over with almost a condescending grin. She’s so beautiful that you almost hate her for it.

“I am sorry to be a bother, rogue.” She speaks in Elvish and the dragonborn’s head tilts slightly side to side, like a dog who hears his name, as he tries to listen. “I came to thank you and the sorcerer.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Your Elvish is unnatural on your human tongue, “We are fine here.”

“My lover thanks you too,” she winks and giggles. She’s over a hundred years older than you, and yet still head over heels like a schoolgirl. Elves might live for thousands of years, but they take hundreds to mature. “We will not be sleeping much tonight.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to gag, biting back a smile, but then Kiri grows serious.

“If he scares you, please let me know,” she continues.

“Obi?” you say, “He’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m sure he is, but those teeth! Like needles. Braver than me, sleeping next to a monster like that.”

You glance at your dragonborn and he looks away before you can meet his eye. A disappointment settles in your stomach. Monster is such an ugly word for a pretty man. Everything about him is charming and refined, from the way he speaks and the way he walks, to the way he shines his scales when he thinks no one is looking.

“That’s rude.” You’re quick to reply. Kiri grew up around only her own kind and their ideas-- she doesn’t always know what’s uncouth or offensive because of it, “Don’t say such awful things.”

“It seems like he’s already gotten hungry.” She jerks a chin to your shoulder. You reflexively reach to cover it, only to pull away when the spot feels wet. Blood speckles your fingers- not enough to warranty any worry, of course, just the slightest graze of the skin.

“That’s not--”

“I tease, I tease!” she continues, “I know it is just a scrape. Can you imagine? To lay with someone who is all claws, fire and untamed magics! I-”

The man in question stalks in between you two silently. With a towel in his arms and a chip on his shoulder, he stomps by with a snort of his nostrils.

“I’m going to bathe.” His Elvish is worse than yours, but it's enough to make Kiri’s face drop. The worst part is that he doesn’t sound angry-- you could deal with anger. Instead, he sounds heartbroken. “I don’t mean to be frightening.”

You both walk him stalk down the hall until he disappears around a corner. Kiri swivels to look at you, bewildered. “Since when does he speak Elvish?”