#i know he will not sting me unless he must but i do not want to take that chance!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

underdark-dreams · 7 months

Text

It's finally here, all 7k words of it 👀 Thank you for everyone who read chapter 1, and waited so patiently!

[ch1]

Birds and Bees - Ch.2

Rolan isn't usually the type to accept help. In his defense, Tav is very persuasive—and he is very, very desperate.

Tags: Tailplay, Oral Sex, Biting, NSFW | Word Count: 7.7k [Read on AO3]

Rolan didn’t appear again for the rest of the day.

After their awkward exchange this morning, Tav felt she might be somewhat to blame. She tried to recall the bits of Tiefling etiquette she’d picked up from the Elturians; perhaps touching his tail had crossed some sort of line? Either way, the gesture seemed unthinkably forward to her now.

Then again…Rolan was the one who’d coiled his tail across her desk like that, its tip nearly brushing her hand as she wrote. She’d never seen him do anything like it before. If she didn't know him so well, she’d have found the move almost flirtatious.

At shop’s close, Cal took charge of locking up the front. Tav caught sight of the large iron keyring he carried and realized that it must be Rolan’s. So his brother had checked in on him today, at least—that gave her a modicum of relief.

Lia pitched in to help wipe down all her equipment and carefully fill the many waiting bottles with her cooled elixir. Tav held her tongue from repeating any of the worries she’d made after Rolan during the day—but it seemed her silence was just as damning.

“Stop fussing,” Lia repeated firmly. “Rolan’s just overdue for a rest. I mean, you saw his face.”

“I did.” Rolan had never been the type to slow down or show weakness easily. To Tav, the fact that he’d willingly taken himself to bed worried her more than anything. “Just promise you won't let him turn down a healer if he needs one?”

“If it comes to that, which it won't,” Lia said down to her work. “I promise we’ll find someone, okay?”

Tav kept her tone teasing as she packed away the sealed bottles in their crate. “Hmm, yes…if only you already knew someone with some knowledge of healing.”

Lia let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, you’re the last person Rolan wants to see right now.”

The sting of those words took Tav by surprise herself. Lia caught their edge too; she pulled up with a grimace, letting a few drops of antidote dribble onto the desk. “Shit, Tav, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Tav replied, making a fuss of sealing up the filled crate. The thought made her feel rather less than okay, which she didn't want Lia to see. “I think—I don’t know. I feel like I did something rude today, anyway.”

“Oh?” Lia’s tone was light, but she allowed a conspicuous pause to stretch between them. Tav pushed through a twinge of embarrassment to turn to face her.

“Lia, what would you think if I touched your tail?”

Lia glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “What, right now?”

“No, just—say I did by accident.”

Lia straightened to take a thoughtful inhale. “I mean…it depends on the context. You and I are friends, I wouldn’t think much of it. Unless you grabbed it up by my backside or something,” she added with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. If I’m walking somewhere crowded, lots of people might brush against it unless I’m careful.”

Tav had moved around to reset the rest of her clean glassware as she listened, feeling marginally relieved by the explanation.

Then Lia paused her work again. “Are you saying you touched Rolan’s tail?

“You what now?”

With impeccable timing, Cal skidded to a stop at the edge of the conversation, a heavy lockbox under one arm.

Tav glanced between the two of them. “Yes?” The word came out as a question somehow; her mouth went dry as they stared at her. “Like you said, I didn't think it was a big deal. He laid it on my desk while I was working, so I just kind of—” She mimed a little picking-up motion with her hand.

The siblings exchanged a significant look with each other.

“What?” Tav felt her face burning and knew the color must be noticeable to either of them. “How does it being Rolan’s tail make it different?”

Cal turned back to her with a frown. “What do you mean he laid it on your desk?”

“I don't know, damn—clearly I’m no expert!” She flailed her arms out a bit. “I just turned around and it was sitting there by my hand, all right?”

Another shared glance.

“That explains it,” Cal decided. It earned him a swift pinch on the arm from his sister. “Ow, hey—”

Tav looked between them again, trying to translate. “Explains what? Seriously, if I offended Rolan somehow, I want to kn—”

“You didn’t,” Lia cut in firmly. “This one here's just an idiot. It’s harder to control your tail when you're sick or tired, and Rolan’s been both, that’s all. I'm sure it was a mistake. And he shouldn't have minded you moving it,” she finished with a decisive nod.

With that, Lia snatched up the filled crate from her with one arm and grabbed her brother’s sleeve with the other. Cal stumbled slightly as she pulled him along, but he wisely held his tongue as they headed for the back stockroom. The hinges creaked shut behind them both.

Tav was left standing alone in the cavernous interior of Sorcerous Sundries, beside the desks that she and Rolan used to comfortably share—not sure if she should feel better or worse.

—

The next morning, Rolan was once again nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t even conjured his projection the way he usually did when occupied with research in the Tower. It was a shame; the shop was unusually busy by midday, and Cal and Lia worked without pause. When she could, Tav left her alchemy just to lend a hand with customers or make runs to the supply room.

She found herself worried to the point of irritation. Was Rolan really so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a potion? Or accept healing from someone he’d claimed was a trusted friend and colleague? She tried and failed not to be hurt by it.

Then again, Rolan had always been the type to shoulder his way through awful things alone while firmly turning down help—particularly from her. His apprenticeship, most recently. The memory made her radiantly angry on his behalf even now.

“Shit—”

Tav jerked away from the flask and sucked on her freshly scalded thumb. She must have the ratios off again; this recipe wasn’t new to her, but the nuances had escaped her all morning. These sublimates shouldn’t get nearly so hot when mixed.

Might as well admit defeat and review the recipe before she wasted yet another bunch of black oleander. Surely there was a reference text somewhere in Rolan’s library?

Tav glanced around to the front of the shop. Cal was recording a sale at the front desk; Lia was chatting with a very large half-orc over near the conjurement runes. Things seemed well enough in hand. Tav damped the flame at her station and quietly took the stairs for the portal.

For lack of a better word: the library of Ramazith’s Tower was absolutely magical.

Tav stood breathing in the quiet afternoon sunlight, taking an appreciative look up around her. The collection must be the best one this side of Candlekeep, with all sorts of books on spellcraft, Weave theory, alchemy, religion, the history of Toril—just to scratch the surface. She could think of no hands more deserving than the ones its ownership had fallen into.

Just as Lia mentioned the other day, Rolan had clearly been hard at work reorganizing the place. She ran her fingertips over the books’ spines as she walked around the perimeter of the main floor.

She imagined Rolan with his robe sleeves pushed to his elbows, enthusiastically at work in his book stacks, and bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his passion for taming disorder. As she walked, she found her gaze drifting to the delicate staircase at the far end of the main floor. It spiraled upward invitingly.

She’d never been to the upper floors of Ramazith’s Tower—nothing past the library. Certainly she hadn’t stepped foot in any of the private quarters of Rolan or his siblings. She wouldn’t even know which door led to whose.

But her mind wandered readily at the thought of Rolan’s bedroom. What it might look like…smell like.

No doubt it was packed with shelves of books and scrolls, filled with the scent of fresh parchment and leather-bound volumes. That warm, bookish smell that seemed to be woven into his robes. The fresh hint of cedar from the way he kept his clothes meticulously cleaned and stored. And that other faint spice that she could never identify, but always picked up when he stood close to her.

The same scent that had filled her lungs with dizzy pleasure when he’d hovered close to her yesterday, chin brushing her shoulder and arm circled possessively around her waist—

She bit her lip as heat pooled between her legs at the memory. She couldn't help it—how very fucking nice it had been to feel Rolan’s elegant hands on her, casually and effortlessly touching, as if he was accustomed to touching her much more often and much more intimately.

It would do no good to dwell on that moment. If anything, the uncharacteristic gesture was just proof of how out-of-sorts Rolan must be feeling. He was her friend, and by all accounts, he’d been too sick to leave his room for days.

With a sudden burst of determination and a disregard for the consequences, she strode for the stairs.

Taking the curving ascent so rapidly left her dizzy. Tav planted her boots on the landing for a moment, holding onto the railing while she took in her surroundings.

This upper hall was also quietly sunlit, filled with fine carpeting and oak paneled walls; but the atmosphere was somehow less grand than the cavernous library below. More intimate.

Two doors stood on both ends of the hall. Hazarding a guess, she stepped to the closest one on her left. Its heavy oak panels swung forward with the slightest touch.

Not a bedroom at all, but a bath—and a tremendously fine one at that. All the fixtures seemed to be wrought from polished gold. Underneath a towering stained glass window stood the deepest, widest clawfoot tub she’d ever seen.

As she gazed around, Tav caught sight of her reflection in a large glass above the sinks. Her hair was all frizzy flyaways from a day over her potion work. Indulging a bit of vanity, she paused to tame it with her fingers.

One of Rolan’s many endearing habits was his dedication to fastidiousness. Never a hair out of place, horns polished and shining, robes immaculately pressed—knowing him, with a bit of the Weave.

She must look like some sort of wild hedge witch by comparison. Tav had never minded life in the wilds as a wayward adventurer, even after the Elder Brain was felled to the Chionthar. It was part of what drew her to the career of a traveling alchemist.

But there were moments…most of them in this Tower, with Rolan and his siblings. Sharing a meandering dinner at a real table with actual chairs. Sitting with Rolan out on the starlit balcony, discussing blood alchemy over a glass of wine as they watched the harbor.

Tav forced her hands still and stared back at her reflection.

“What do you want?” She muttered to herself. The Tav in the mirror had no answer. But in her mind, one softly bloomed.

Over the past months, her feelings had tumbled forward faster than she could keep up with them. Seeing Rolan, talking with him about anything and everything, working beside him in quiet moments—she found those were the moments she looked forward to most.

His offer to turn one of the Tower’s empty vaults into a greenhouse for her. Essentially giving her a permanent place in his home, if she wanted it. Was it stupid to hope that he wanted more, too?

As she stood frozen silent in the confines of her lavish surroundings, a muffled sound came from her right.

She hadn't noticed the second door past the bathtub; presumably connecting to one of the bedrooms. She realized it most likely led to Rolan’s.

She stepped toward the heavy oak paneling and raised a hand to knock. As she did, more muffled noises came from within. Tav hesitated, questioning whether she should—then leaned in to press one ear to the wood.

There were the sounds of labored breathing, as if from pain or exertion. She strained her ear harder. There was something almost…rhythmic in it.

And then—she could swear—she heard Rolan's voice groan her name aloud.

A shock of heat ran through her chest, prickling up her neck and diving between the cleft of her legs. The rapid, hot ache at her core made her gasp out in surprise, then clap a hand to her mouth lest he heard. She felt her cheeks burning with realization.

Whatever she had expected to find by wandering up here…this had never been on the list. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Rolan, sweating and panting and desperate. And that thought filled her with overwhelming want in response.

Tav pushed herself back from the door with a jolt. She turned and ran, not knowing or caring whether the ring of her footsteps on tile carried past the door. Her pulse pounded against her ears as she rushed out of the room and back for the staircase.

Even before Tav’s foot hit the third stair, she knew she was headed for the Elfsong. And a very stiff fucking drink.

—

Day passed to night and back to day again in a feverish jumble. Like a vessel adrift in a vast ocean, Rolan was passed along wave after wave of searing impulse.

Had his ruts always been this overwhelming, and he’d just forgotten? Or was there something different about the drives this time around?

Even the little dignities were stripped away, one by one. He began by conjuring mage hands at first, but his concentration faltered too many times at the cusp. He finally just settled for his own grip. Desperate sounds rose in his chest each time he neared his next finish, the likes of which he’d never utter voluntarily.

And he quickly gave up on clothes altogether. He lay naked and spread-eagle on his sheets and tried to sleep when he could, before his demanding cock inevitably twitched back to life again. The fever turned his dreams shockingly lewd whenever he did manage to drift off.

By sunset, another strong wave of need was pulsing through his core, demanding his attention. Rolan lay back against his pillows and groaned open-mouthed as he stroked himself.

Even slick with oil, the friction between his hand and the raw, overstimulated ridges of his cock bordered on painful. His finish danced out of reach to the back of his mind.

With an impatient growl, he flipped over to his knees and snatched up a feather pillow, folding it into a sleeve for his cock. A crude solution—but with his first few thrusts, the cool softness of the silk caused a moan of relief to rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fucked his own pillow in a desperate chase for relief.

And behind his eyelids, there she was again.

Tav appeared there so easily now. He’d tried to fight it at first—ashamed to be using her like this, without her knowledge or consent—but he found that nothing satisfied his urges so well as when he pictured her on his cock.

So he closed his eyes and imagined Tav…pliant, eager, hungry. Legs spread and center dripping with desire for him. The shameful depth of his need faded away as he fantasized her own. How her eyes might shine as she panted and gasped under him, calling him by name and begging him to fuck her and fill her and mark her as his—

What would she sound like as he took her? He conjured the timbre of her voice, always warm and musical, now canting to a whine as the ridges at his base slammed against her with each thrust.

Pressure coiled rapid and hot at his loins. Rolan slid off the mattress with legs braced, the pillow cast aside, and tugged frantically at his stiff length again. His tail arched and flicked behind him.

Through clenched eyelids he saw Tav laid at the foot of his bed, hair splayed in a messy crown against his sheets as she cried out his name. Her legs crossed behind his flanks to hold him deep inside her tight wet heat—

‘Rolan—’ She moaned louder, her heels digging into his lower back as he took her. Tav gripped two handfuls of the bedding underneath as he thrust relentlessly, chasing more of her heat around his cock, more of the delicious scent at her throat and between her legs—

“Rolan!”

“Fuck—” With a strangled gasp, Rolan’s hips stuttered one last time as his come spilled in ropes to the floor. Panting and shaking, he caught hold of the bed post with one hand as he frantically worked out the rest of his finish with the other. His head spun with the force of it.

But as he opened his eyes and his vision cleared, so did that cottony feeling in his ears. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to his room.

“Rolan, we need to talk—” Even muffled by the heavy wood, Tav’s voice was unmistakable.

“Fuck,” Rolan hissed again, this time with enough wits about him to panic. How much of that last performance could she hear through the door? He snatched up the nearest towel to wipe himself, then tripped away toward the pile of clothes on the floor that had lain untouched since yesterday.

“Go away,” he called tersely, nevertheless yanking the trousers up over his hips. Thank hells that last round had left him soft enough he could do up the laces for now.

On the other side of the door, she was undeterred. “I’m not leaving till I’ve seen you.”

Rolan cursed as one of his horns snagged the ties at the neck of his shirt. Once the fabric dropped over his torso, he whirled around to take in the state of his room.

Bedsheets pulled sideways from the mattress; pillows strewn across the floorboards; air thick with the smell of him. Absolute filthy shambles.

Using a rush of energy he couldn't afford, he cast a mass prestidigitation spell on the space. The improvement in the air was immediate. But the resulting light-headedness caused him to stumble forward; he caught himself with a hand braced on the door frame.

“I'm not joking,” Tav called loudly, unaware he was now much closer.

He could have yelled at her to wait outside for another week, then, if he wasn't so sure she was stubborn enough to actually do so. After all, this was the person who’d defeated an Elder Brain and taken on several gods in the process.

That…and he found he badly wanted to see Tav in the flesh. Hearing her voice from just beyond his bedroom door only increased that desire. Rolan’s tail lashed behind him in helpless frustration.

“What do you want?” He asked instead, lowering his voice. No use broadcasting any more of this conversation to the whole Tower.

There was a pause on the other side of the oak paneling. “I’ve barely seen you since I got here,” Tav’s voice replied, matching his volume.

“And?”

“And I'm worried about you…obviously,” she added. “Cal and Lia said you’re sick. But I’d feel better if we could talk face to face.” Even through the barrier between them, he could hear a strain in her voice. She wasn't lying.

Rolan rested his horns against his braced forearm with a sigh. “Tav, I swear I'm perfectly fine.”

“Then just open the door a moment. Please, Rolan?”

It was far too pleasant to hear her say his name outside of his own imaginings. Rolan glanced down at himself. Barefoot, shirt untucked, but technically presentable. And not pitching a tent for once in the past twenty-four hours.

“If I do, will you leave?”

There was another pause. “If you want me to,” came the reply. He unbolted the latch and drew it open to shoulder width.

The wave of Tav’s scent hit him almost before he registered her face in front of him. The sweetness of it overwhelmed his other senses for a moment. It tested all Rolan’s limited reserves of sanity not to grab her by the waist and pull her body against him.

Unaware of the silent struggle raging in his chest, Tav stood with face tilted up toward his. Her eyes had traveled over his figure immediately, checking him over with a worried little crease between her brows. Something at the side of his head caught her eye; Rolan realized his hair hung loose and rather sweaty, exposing the slender tips of his ears.

Her demeanor changed at the sight. Tav sighed, leaning her head against the flat of the door.

“You’re even handsome with a fever,” she told him softly.

Rolan blinked at her. Perhaps exhaustion and hormones were driving him to hallucinations. “What are you—”

Faster than he could react, her palms landed on either side of his face, and Tav pulled his mouth down to hers.

A burst of colors exploded behind his eyes; the sensation of her lips moving on his kindled the dormant heat in his body to wild blaze. She notched her hands upward as she kissed him, and her fingers slid up along the sensitive tapers of both his ears.

Rolan let out a hungry, animal sound against her mouth. Both hands landed on her back and crushed the line of her body forward into his, leaving no space between them. He could feel the soft hills of her breasts pressing against his chest through clothing. The warm scent rolling off her skin and hair surrounded him with dizzying force.

The higher part of his mind was screaming at him. Rolan desperately tried to focus on what it was saying; as he did, he caught the tang of wine on her lips. The discovery gave him just enough will to pull back from her.

And he did, with one jerking step back into his chambers. “You can’t be here.”

Tav stood panting through parted lips, eyes half-lidded as they traveled over him. Rolan felt flames lick his skin everywhere they moved.

“Why not?” She breathed. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her. He rather felt that way himself, still reeling from the electricity of kissing her.

Tav pouted at that, and Rolan wished to bite that lower lip firmly between his teeth. “I’m not drunk,” she corrected. “I’ve had a drink. There’s a difference.”

“You wouldn’t be here if—”

“If what?” Tav watched him as she took a step closer. Rolan stepped back in tandem, reflexive. She was well over the threshold now. “If I knew what was really happening to you?”

Those words sounded much more knowing than he liked. Rolan stared at her, trying to read into her face. He swallowed against the dry lump of his tongue and went out on a limb. “Which one of them told you?”

Tav shook her head. “Cal and Lia have been nothing but discreet.”

“Then how could you possibly understand?” He demanded. The very recent discovery of how soft Tav’s lips were was making it very difficult to maintain this conversation. He could still feel the way her body had pressed into him.

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Rolan, I’d like to think I’m not completely oblivious. There have been…signs. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about them. I’ve been at the Elfsong all afternoon, just—thinking.”

At that, Rolan felt his tail twitching nervously behind him. “I see,” he replied. Pivoting, like an idiot, trying to pretend this was a perfectly acceptable conversation to have with the woman who occupied most of his thoughts when he was pleasuring himself. “And you think that I—that my—”

Tav made a quick twisting motion to get around the door. She latched it and drew the bolt closed behind them, then turned back to him.

“A lot of humans have heard rumors about Tieflings,” she confessed. “Some stupid, but some credible. I’m saying this is maybe not the secret that you think it is.” As he watched, a much deeper blush spread over Tav’s cheeks. She glanced away to the side.

“Rolan…I grew up in the Dales, remember? Around rabbits, and cattle, and oxen. Half my friends lived on farms.”

Her analogy couldn’t be clearer. To hear her lay it out so plainly—Rolan felt the last dregs of his pride shrivel up and die. He gripped two palms over his eyes and let out a groan of abject humiliation, turning away to the middle of the room.

How early had she connected the dots? The moment she felt him brazenly place a hand around her? Had she known all along that he was locked up here, rutting into every one of his pillows?

“Look, Rolan, I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to say it—”

Completely overwhelmed by his embarrassment, he hadn’t heard her follow. When Rolan finally dropped his hands from his face, he turned to find Tav standing very close to his chest.

“And I’m sorry for kissing you before,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m not sorry for it…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, to be honest. But it wasn’t fair. I just…wanted to know how you’d react.”

Rolan watched as her chest rose and fell heavily where she stood. The look in her eyes made his blood pound through his veins. He felt an urge to reach out and smooth back her hair to bring her in for another kiss, one he resisted.

“I care about you,” Rolan told her, before he could lose his nerve. “Our friendship. I respect you, Tav, it’s not worth—muddying things with this.”

He felt fingers lacing through the ones that hung at his side, and despite his words Rolan tightened his grip automatically. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against the heat of his skin.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tav answered earnestly. “I care about you, too. If I can help, I want to. Please—”

She was so close to him; Rolan breathed shallowly, but the warm scent rolling off her skin and hair nevertheless swept past him with dizzying force.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he managed hoarsely.

She didn’t falter. “Then tell me what else you think I should know.”

His senses were growing clouded with her; the offer that had tumbled so easily from her rang in his ears. It made the thread of Rolan’s control stretch dangerously taut.

“I won’t be gentle,” he warned.

His inadvertent shift in tone changed something in the air between them. There was a crackling energy that hadn't been there a second before.

Tav licked her lips as she watched him. “Good.”

Rolan thought he might melt from the heat that spread across his skin. His tail snapped against the mattress behind him. If she moved a step closer, she’d feel how hard he was in his pants.

“Mating bites,” he went on hoarsely. “I’ll mark you. Quite a lot. I’ll try not to draw blood, but…I can’t promise it.”

Tav nodded. “What else?” She asked, encouraging him to go on.

Rolan swallowed against the embarrassment. But this was important for her to know. “This time for us, it’s all about…reproduction. We become quite virile.” He nearly choked, but there was simply no other way to put it. “For the urges to pass quicker, I need to come in you.”

Tav let out a throaty hum of approval. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound. “That’s fine, I take preventatives—it’s safe.”

They stood looking at each other for another moment. That shivery, electric feeling buzzed in the air around them. Rolan wondered if she could hear the way his heart drummed against his ribs.

Tav leaned in slightly. “Well…” She said, and her wet tongue passed nervously between her lips again.

That taut thread in his chest snapped in two. Rolan crushed her up against him with a whimper. Arms circling around her waist, he nudged a thigh between her legs and firmly ground their hips together.

Tav matched his eagerness. Their lips crashed together; at the back of his mind, he felt her grip cradling under each of his ears. Her fingertips licked like flame against his scalp.

Even through layers of clothing, he could feel the heat of her. Rolan jerked her hips forward harder against his thigh; the swelling length of his cock pressed against her soft, yielding center. Tav dipped her head back from the kiss, arching into him with a moan, and her fingertips laced at the nape of his neck.

It offered an irresistible angle at the column of her throat. Rolan’s claws raked back in her hair, pulling it to a tight ponytail. Then he tugged firmly, holding her open as his mouth descended on her neck.

He kissed and sucked along the band of muscle from her ear to the curve of her shoulder, then parted his lips to bite down firmly on her soft flesh.

“Yes,” Tav moaned in approval above him. Her hips rolled into his, grinding herself against the hard cock straining in his pants. Rolan felt her pulse skip against his mouth. Only when he tasted sweet copper did he pull away, laving his tongue over the crimson pin-pricks of his teeth into her skin.

He took only a moment to admire the trail of marks blooming along her neck. Tav was already pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with bruising force; her tongue explored, tasting, searching for proof of her blood against his tongue and moaning against him when she found it.

Her scent filled his mind. Without breaking from her mouth, he plucked open the laces of her pants. Rolan slipped his hand under the waistband, beneath her smalls, and slid two fingers to dip down between her legs. Her folds were shining-slick; as he nudged her in circles, a trickle of her arousal rolled down his fingers. She shivered prettily under his touch.

“You’re soaked,” Rolan groaned against her neck.

“All because of you,” she breathed without hesitation. “Been wanting this, gods, wanting you for months. Your hands on me—cock in me—”

At the words he withdrew his fingers from her impatiently, then sucked them clean. Her sweet taste on his tongue made his cock ache. She scarcely had time to curse at the sight before Rolan gripped both arms around her waist to lift her into him.

With one quick pivot, he landed her down on the bed with his frame pressed into her. Her legs hung off the edge from the hip down, and he used the position to grind the stiff length in his pants against her cleft.

Even fully clothed, it was maddening. He could feel the wet patch between her legs, and when she arched further into him, a primal growl rumbled in his chest.

Tav’s fingers were brushing at his sides, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she panted impatiently.

Rolan tilted back to rip the garment up over his horns, immediately reaching for her own once his was free. He stripped her frantically, ripping her smallclothes in two before he could work them down her thighs.

When she lay bare beneath him, moaning and arching into everywhere he touched, he was overcome with hunger for more of her taste.

Rolan gripped her hips, dragging her with a jerk to the edge of the bed. With her glistening folds displayed before him, all he could do was drop to his knees and bury his tongue between them.

The sounds she made were like sweet music as he explored her. He sucked and massaged her slit with his tongue, then plunged it as deep within her walls as he could. His eyes rolled back in his head. Her taste surrounded him; his nose brushed her clit as he ate her, further overwhelming his senses with the scent of her arousal.

“Gods, yes, Rolan—” Tav moaned above him as her hands flew to grip each of his horns. She alternately tugged them and arched into his mouth, grinding her clit against his face.

He wanted to hear her say his name like that another thousand times. Rolan curled his tongue against her walls, determined to taste her even deeper, but to no avail. Without his sharp nails, he would have sunk two fingers into her.

Instead, as his mouth left her, the ridged end of his tail looped around to brush over her slit.

“Ah—” Tav gasped from the bed. One of her hands left him to prop up on an elbow to look.

He watched her face in adoration as his tail slid between her soaked lips, coating itself in a mixture of her arousal and his saliva. Once it was thoroughly wet, he let the heart-shaped tip push experimentally into her.

Whatever hesitation he had evaporated at the way she arched and keened. He pushed in further, inch by inch, hissing in breath at how tight and wet her walls squeezed around him. Rolan felt his cock leaking between his legs at the sight of his tail disappearing into her plush cunt.

“Taking my tail so well,” Rolan praised without thinking, then groaned. “Fuck, Tav, you’re so tight—”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded, breathless.

When he felt the tip brush the limits of her insides, he held it steady as she panted down at him. Her mouth hung open in anticipation as she watched him lean in again for her center.

But instead of landing on her clit, his mouth met with the soft skin of her inner thigh and sucked it firmly between his teeth.

Tav gave a little yelp of pain, but her walls constricted around his tail so hard he moaned against her flesh. He left two more lovely red marks against her thigh before withdrawing his tail from her, leaving only the tip inside her silk.

Then he thrust back into her and took up a forceful rhythm of stretching her open on his tail.

“Fucking gods,” she gasped, gripping both his horns again. He felt her use them as leverage as she bounced her hips down to meet him.

“Like this, don’t you?” Rolan urged her on, drunk off her desire. “Fucking yourself on my tail—” He leaned down to take another taste of her clit, swirling and sucking as the ridges on his tail dragged more wetness out of her with each thrust.

“Yes,” Tav moaned, shaking under him as his tongue worked over her clit. “Feels so perfect in me, so—ngh—!”

When he flicked the tip of it up inside her, Tav’s words stuttered to incoherence. He felt her inner walls clench and flutter, and repeated the motion over and over with each thrust.

“I’m—oh, oh ohohoh—”

She dissolved into soft cries. The muscles at her core tensed and shuddered as she climaxed against his tongue. Rolan withdrew his tail from her with a slick release, instead clasping his mouth over her to lap down the sweet taste that poured from her. His pants were so wet he was nearly convinced he’d already come, but he felt his cock straining against the fabric just as firmly.

When her thighs collapsed limp to either side, Rolan pushed himself to his feet for a look at her. Tav’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with arousal, her hair coiled out in wild tendrils that framed her like a crown. Their eyes met; with both hands on his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss.

Rolan landed braced on his forearms. Their tongues slid and pushed together, trading the taste of her release. When he felt her reaching between them to undo his laces, he pulled away to loose them and strip off the rest of his clothes.

Tav reached for his erection, and before he’d steadied himself, she gripped his length to drag the generous droplets of precum around his tip with her thumb. His hips bucked into her.

“Eager, aren’t you?” She teased softly.

“Yes,” Rolan groaned. Tav’s soft hand was around his cock for the first time; it was all he could do to locate words. He knew his face was flushed and tense with arousal, but Tav only looked up at him with appreciation from where she lay back on his bed.

When she guided his length across the wet of her core, he rocked his hips to drag his ridges across her. She shivered slightly, still sensitive, but rolled into him.

“Need you,” Rolan panted, not sure whether he was asking her or begging. “Tav—please—”

Tav’s hand lined him up with her entrance. When his leaking tip nudged inside her, Rolan pushed forward with one slow, determined cant of his hips.

The cool slick of her walls clutched each inch of him so perfectly. A low groan rose in Rolan’s throat—this was the closest thing to real satisfaction that he’d gotten in days, and he hadn't even started moving yet.

“So good,” Tav said under him, voice sweet and husky. “Keep going—”

Rolan braced his hands against her hips. He pulled out slowly, legs shaking beneath him, then pushed back into the tight plush of her.

His hips took up a firm pace, and Rolan couldn't bite back his whines as he plunged his cock inside her. Whatever his fevered imagination had conjured, it was nothing compared to this—he fell over her again, fangs skating against her breast as her body rocked under him with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, fuck—” Tav was just as breathless as her fingers gripped the infernal ridges on his shoulder blades. She tugged, egging him on.

Rolan took the invitation with enthusiasm. He nipped and sucked around the swell of her breast, breathing in lungfuls of the sweetness rolling off her skin.

“Harder,” Tav begged, the words vibrating against his lips. The hunger inside him surged in agreement.

Rolan’s lips fastened over one nipple. He sucked, hard, letting his tongue roll her against his teeth. Tav let out a whimper, but he felt her legs crossing around his hips as he continued to bury himself in her.

Rolan pulled away to look at her face. A mist of sweat dusted her brow; Tav’s lips were parted and twitching with silent words.

“Look at me,” Rolan ordered, still filling her with his cock in a steady rhythm.

Tav obeyed, her eyes shining and pupils blown wide. He straightened away from her, never breaking, and laid a hand each on her calves. Then he pushed up, folding her legs to her chest and opening up her cunt even deeper for him.

“You look so beautiful like this, Tav,” he told her, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his pace slow and steady. “Folded in half in my bed. Stretched around my cock so perfectly.”

In response, Tav’s hands grabbed her knees, pulling herself open even further to each side. “Is this how you imagined it?” She asked wickedly. “All alone—wishing it was me and not your own hand—”

Heat prickled across his neck and shoulders, but Rolan was too far gone to feel shame. He couldn't resist breaking eye contact, however, watching the way his cock stretched open her dripping cunt.

“Just like this,” he panted in answer. She took in breath to respond, but he was already slamming back into her at a reckless pace.

The lewd, wet sounds of his thrusts filled the room, layered with their chorus of whines and moans. Rolan shuddered at how slick and tight she was around him, perfectly gripping each inch of his needy length. His cock throbbed in anticipation of a satisfying release, finally, after all these times of not quite enough—

“I’m close,” he panted, gripping her hips to pull her down deeper onto his cock. The tip of him nudged against the limits of her walls. “Where should—”

“Inside,” Tav insisted, still holding herself wide for him. “Only inside, Rolan, want you to fill me up—fuck—”

The imagery pushed him over the edge, and he did just that. With a throb of release, he felt his cock pulsing and filling her deepest walls with his seed. His hips stuttered into her as he pushed his spend as far into her as he could reach.

Tav clutched his shoulders as he came, humming and moaning out praises for him. Their hips rocked together, nudging his coated length back against her deep center.

Tav went tense under him. He forced his eyes open and saw her lips parted in surprise.

“I’m—oh—!”

She gasped in shock as her own climax gripped her. Rolan hissed in breath at the way she clenched and fluttered so suddenly around him. His length was still hard, and his ridges pulsed against her.

As she drifted back down, Tav’s eyes finally lit on him in a daze. “What…what was that?”

Rolan was abruptly reminded of how many ruts he’d spent without a partner. “I'm sorry, I should've warned you,” he confessed. It was hard to form his thoughts while still inside her. “During the cycle…infernal traits get stronger. Like incubi. Helps attract a partner.” Somehow this explanation was more embarrassing than any of the other filth he’d just spoken to her.

Tav stared up at him. “You're saying your come is going to make me come?”

“Essentially.” Rolan shifted inside her slightly, still not confident he was done. “I apologize—I didn't think to tell you. Is that a problem?”

“Rolan—” Tav let out a breathless laugh, and the sound went straight to his chest. “This is the exact opposite of a problem. Just a bit of a shock, that's all.”

The lovely sight of her happy and satisfied under him was too much to resist. Rolan leaned forward on his arms to kiss her, trapping her legs between their chests.

As her hand stroked softly under his jaw, Rolan felt a second ache settling in his loins. He released her lips for just long enough to push her legs out over his hips, then ducked back down for her mouth.

He rolled his hips into her slower this time, but it was somehow more intense. Their lips stayed connected as he drove into her deep. Her walls were slippery with arousal and his own seed, and they gripped like pure silk around his cock. Her opening slid over the sensitive ridges at his base with each thrust.

When he dipped a thumb between their bodies to rub circles over her clit, Tav broke away with a little gasp.

“I can’t again,” she said, panting.

“You can,” he told her simply. “Hold on to me—”

She did, wrapping both arms and legs firmly around him as if he was her anchor. Rolan dipped his head to her neck as he doubled his pace, their hips slotting together with each brisk slide into her. He breathed deep against the curve of her shoulder.

Still so hungry for release, it wasn't long before he came again hard. This time he just barely pumped his spend into her before he pulled out to look down.

Sticky white seed dribbled out of her slit, running down toward her hole. He dipped the thumb circling her clit down to swipe it back up across her cunt, painting his come across the bundle of nerves at her peak.

Tav’s thighs twitched under him, and she gripped his arm tight with one hand. She swore as he continued flicking across her clit with the wet pad of his thumb, then whined out his name.

While her next orgasm nearly doubled her in half, Rolan tilted his head to watch the sight between her legs. She was soaked, twitching, utterly intoxicating. Her contracting walls pushed more of his spend out of her; it flowed generously from her slit and soaked down into the bedding below.

Finding himself now utterly spent, Rolan collapsed on his back next to her. As he did, he realized his legs had grown fatigued to the point of buckling from the exertions. He let his body sink heavy into the mattress.

“I made a mess on your sheets,” Tav panted from beside him.

Rolan groaned at her descriptive language. The fact that his length continued softening was a sign his urges were finally giving him a reprieve, however. “It was mostly my fault.”

She only let out a weak breath of laughter.

Too tired to trust his shaking legs, he reached an arm blind over the side of the bed and snatched up the first fabric it touched. His discarded shirt.

Pushing himself seated, he gently reached to dry between Tav’s legs. One of her hands traced the ridges on his back as he quietly tended to her.

“How long before the next?” She asked him.

“An hour or two.” Rolan didn't look at her. “Tav, you've done more than enough for m—”

The mattress shifted as she sat up and turned his face into a waiting kiss. It was soft, just a chorus of little presses across his lips.

When Tav pulled away, she tucked the damp curtain of his hair behind one ear. “Rolan, unless you want me to go, I'm staying until it’s over.”

Rolan cast a glance over her. Despite the fact that she was naked in his bed and covered in blooming bruises from his mouth, she was very much the same Tav as ever. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.

She pushed him onto his back with a sudden laugh, landing with her chest pressed to his. “What an utterly Rolan thing to say,” she mused. “Need I remind you I just came three times?”

Tav was teasing him, and was of a mind to put her in her place—only he found that none of his limbs wanted to move at the moment. Instead, his only response was a deep hum as his eyelids drooped shut.

He felt the mattress shift as she rose and wished he could reach out to stop her. But a moment later she curled up next to him again, dragging a soft quilt over their bodies.

Rolan turned inward to rest his head on Tav’s chest—and fell into his first real slumber in days.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #rolan smut #heat/rut cycles #female tav #bg3 rolan #tiefling biology #bg3 fanfiction #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams

478 notes · View notes

comfortless · 7 months

Note

Priest!König and succubus!reader perhaps 👀? (Unless you're uncomfortable)

cracking my knuckles… sin??

18+. minors do not interact. this is a little shameless. corruption kink, religion, implied virgin!König, cunnilingus, come eating, a little angst.

It’s rare to find a parishioner in the confessional this late; the church’s doors were always open, their opening and shutting is not what had König stirring from a restless sleep, but the creaking of the old hinges in that little booth certainly had. The priest hurriedly dresses himself in his cassock and makes his way to the opposite end, closing the door behind him as he wearily drags himself to his seat.

“Father,” the voice greets on the other side, so soft and quiet he can hardly hear her at all. Shy, almost. The woman on the other side seems to shift, her movement rustling against the boards of wood that separate them.

“Bless me… I have never made a confession before.”

Not a parishioner, then. A stranger coming under the veil of night… König allows a silence to settle over the confessional for a moment before he produces the holy text and sets it in his lap in preparation to free this poor woman from the sin that binds her.

“Go on then, child,” he encourages, tone mirroring her own. The priest anticipates the usual: admissions of lust, falsehoods, or the common doubts. He has pages dog-eared in his book that list of scriptures for those common problems, the ones he would easily find the words to pray for, to cleanse her soul, to hopefully return to his bed to sleep before morning prayers.

There’s laughter from the other side of the booth, muffled as though an attempt to stifle it beneath her palm had been made. Then, “Father, what if I do not wish to be absolved?”

There had been no preparations made for that, but something in the tone of her voice holds his attention. His side of the booth regains its silence as his brow pinches, determined to piece together some reasoning as to why someone would choose to play some dull prank on him of all people…

“Let me see you.”

Her demand catches him off guard again, but of all things this is hardly strange. Her tone suggests nervousness, a feeling he knows all too well as he wrings his hands and rises with a heavy sigh. The door shuts quietly behind him as he waits for the woman to follow suit. A soft rustling follows his leaving from her side, and when she does step out…

No amount of internal Hail Marys could keep his stare from lingering upon the sight of a woman nude: it isn’t that he hasn’t fantasized before, he would take his lashes and fastings and sit in the quiet of his room to comfort himself with prayer after a weak defeat to his own sins. Still… imagination could not compare to the real thing; he takes note of each soft curve, each dip and line and groove of her. Her breasts are soft, her hips enticing, the length of her legs and what lies between her thighs…

He damns himself the moment his cock twitches to life below the cassock, there’s no slow tensing; only the immediate feeling of feeling horribly confined within his own clothes. He breathes out a drawn out sigh, feigning disinterest when his eyes squeeze shut and he turns his head from her.

“… You need to leave.”

The woman’s lips purse in a small pout when he does will himself to meet her eyes again- just her eyes. No part of him wishes to lose his place in heaven, let alone take advantage of some poor lady who clearly must have lost—

“But you are so lonely… I only want to help,” she whispers, her eyes are wet and pleading, expression only further softening as she gazes up at him with an adoration he hasn’t even seen on his flock.

And those words… something shatters in him, breaks into a thousand tiny pieces when he recounts all of those miserable nights lying in bed alone, imagining a woman as he pulled his cock free and gave himself so many weak, dull orgasms that the skin of it began to sting. If God could forgive him for his weakness then… surely, just once he could allow this.

König sighs again when her hands move to free him of the cassock, but he does not take her wrist to stop her. Even with each hesitant motion, he doesn’t take her wrists into his hands or push her away. He lets her strip him bare, lets her see the way his cock drools at the sight of her and his breath seems to stutter in his chest.

“See? It’s alright,” she coos as she takes his face into her gentle hands. There’s Hell in her eyes, the devil on a forked tongue, but he allows her to guide his face downward, to bring his mouth to her tit, and he feasts upon her. To have his last supper be forbidden fruit… all of the metaphors buzz in his head when his tongue begins to circle her nipple, then the other without her even needing to prompt him.

He could not even begin to describe the sounds she made, like the softest of voices amidst the roaring of a choir in his head, Hell’s wailing and Heaven’s chiming all at once as he licks his way down her sternum, her middle and finds his nose pressed to her mound. Nothing in Heaven could have tasted as sweet as her, no amount of lashing could pull the same shudder from him as he feels course through each knob of his spine when his tongue lathes over her slit, up to the hood of her clit and back.

The sounds of her pleasure only increase further when his grip on her thighs forces her to kneel. He maneuvers her onto her hands and knees to lick her properly, eat her out in ways he had only imagined himself doing before as he grips his weeping manhood in one hand and grips her ass with the other. His tongue sweeps over her in repetition— sloppy, clumsy even as he tries to keep himself from spilling into his palm from her taste and the sight alone.

He gets… curious, flicks his tongue over her other hole too and his fingers move to graze over her clit. She encourages him with soft squeals of pure delight, even draws her hand back to touch herself while he spears his tongue in her hole. If it’s only once, he would be sure to make the most of it.

Lust is not his only sin, because pride wells up deep inside of him the moment she orgasms. He smiles, grins, before he buries his tongue back into her leaking cunt, desperate to consume her, lapping inside, around, over her her until she shivers and whines, saying that it’s far too much.

He doesn’t know how to fuck her properly, admits it sheepishly when she lies back on the floor intent to have her take him in some gentle manner, sweet for her sweet priest. Missionary of all things seemed most blasphemous considering where they are, beneath a holy roof.

So, she opts to climb into his lap, seats herself on his cock in one go. He knows he’s well-endowed, thick and lengthy, and he babbles his concerns about breaking her in a weak string of words. Her cunt is too tight, he feels the way she stretches to accommodate him, each ridge of her walls when she squeezes him… The woman only tosses her head back and laughs, digs her nails into his shoulders as she bounces on his cock with such an easy grace he can’t watch— can’t because he already feels himself beginning to tense, feels the blinding heat spread from the pit of his stomach to pull his balls taut.

He swears he sees the angels right before she pulls off of him, leaves him a trembling, aching mess where the wetness of her own arousal has spilled down to his thighs.

“I want you to pray,” she suggests, sweetly peppering his face in the most chaste of kisses. “Pray you get to finish in me.”

She wants to ruin him, wants drag him down to Hell with her. There are no protests when she bends over to present herself to him; the priest does as she asks in a whisper, pleads for her and when it’s done, his reward in in the form of two words “good boy” and her tight, pulsing heat wrapped around him again.

He doesn’t last long, doesn’t even try to anymore for fear she may decide to leave him high and dry entirely. He ruts into her with a grip on the back of her neck and the plushness of her hip, leans his weight entirely over her as the sounds of impact fill the hollow church. God isn’t watching, but the little succubus below him is so appeased and her favor is all he can care for anymore.

When he comes, he fucks her through it, doesn’t even attempt to slow down as he whines into her ear about how good she feels, how they could get married, have this forever and he will show her the light. Fuck, he would leave the church behind entirely for her if she would just let him feel this every night. His thrusts only slow when he grows soft, when he can’t even keep himself inside of her cunt, slippery with his own seed.

She lies back, spreads her legs and lets him see what he’s done, fingers herself and presses his own come to his lips. She tells him he’s fed her better than anyone else, tells him to have a taste too and he does. He laps at her fingers as desperately as he had her pussy, until she pulls away, wipes his saliva onto her thigh and asks him if he’s ready to sleep.

The bed feels so much warmer with another person present, safer somehow even if he’s never felt himself in any danger… not here. He falls asleep in her embrace, the most blissful sleep he’s ever had. It’s only a shame that he had… because when he wakes in the morning the woman is gone. He misses his prayers searching for her, for even a trace of what occurred between them. There’s no stain on the floor or clothing in the confessional… not even a note to suggest she would return.

He goes back to his sad masturbation sessions, doesn’t even repent for the way he wanders into the confessional after service to fuck his fist and imagine her voice calling to him from the other side. He pictures her body beneath him, thinks of her praise and the way she damned him when he shoots spurts of wasted come against the boards. There’s no love, no woman at his side when he returns to his bed at night, but he has his imagination for that too.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #do not look at me

545 notes · View notes

yes-divine-ruler · 1 year

Note

okay so hear me out. fem!reader tied and gagged to an office chair, knees to her shoulders, spread wide. kai has been edging her for at least an hour for a webcam show (fingers, mouth, toys). she is creaming, crying, whimpering. kai won’t let her cum unless the guys watching the webcam show pay up. and when they do, he finally fucks her brains out and lets her cum.

Cam Girl - Kai Anderson

x fem!reader

cw: sex toys, edging, overstimulation, sex, webcam stuff

this request has been driving me crazy n I finally wrote it <3

You sat, front and centre, in the perfect view of your webcam. With heavy-lidded eyes, you could barely find the energy to watch what was happening on the screen in front of you. Your knees pressed hard against your shoulders, applying pressure just short of pain. Thick, heavy rope bound your legs open, exposing your dripping core to anyone who wanted to see it. Tape secured your tired body to the office chair that was already sticky and soaking from the hours you’d been sat on it.

Kai had disappeared for only a moment. A moment that was long enough to get your breath back. When he returned by your side, he let out a low whistle in disappointment. You knew that reaction. You knew that meant that you’d be stuck there for longer. Kai had spent the evening stimulating you to the edge. You didn’t know who was watching, or how much money you’d racked up. You were only a prop in Kai’s cam show; the cam show that funded his great cause.

“Steve! You sick fuck,” Kai laughed as he took off a black, latex glove to scroll through the pinging comments, “you know an extra grand will get you want you want.”

You just wanted to spit out the ball gag that was strapped to your mouth and scream. Your desperate gaze searched for Kai’s, and when it found his, Kai only shot you a small smirk.

“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you baby?” All you could do was nod your head in response. Kai exhales a berated sigh, and reaches for the paddle on his desk. Oh god, please no - your insistent nodding quickly turned to a vigorous head shake. You were on the brink of passing out and more torture only meant you’d be further from reaching your climax.

“I can’t let you cum until Steve or, Alan Blayne, pays up,” Kai hunches over the desktop, continuing to read their comments, “oh? You do want me to spank her little, raw cunt?”

You cry from behind the gag, shaking your head harder to protest. The computer continues to ping as tips and messages come through, similar to a round of applause.

“It’s what they want baby,” Kai says to you cooly, positioning the paddle over your swollen clit, “are you gonna be a good girl for me and sit still?”

Regardless of how you were feeling, you knew that you’d have to obey. Nodding your head sullenly, you brace yourself for the first hit from the paddle.

“Good girl,” Kai growls, before he strikes your sore cunt with the head of the sex toy. Your eyes squeeze closed as you try to overcome the sting. Your cunt oozes arousal, making a greater mess of the office chair. Kai sinks a single digit into your weeping cunt, and your eyes shoot open in surprise.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Kai chuckles, reaching out and caressing your tear soaked cheek with the back of his hand.

Boisterous ringing, a like to dropping a stack of coins sound from the speakers. You exhale a breath of relief through your nose.

“Fuck yeah,” Kai bites his lip as his reaches for the hitachi on the desk, “looks like my our little bunny gets to cum tonight.”

Your core aches with anticipation as Kai clicks on the vibrator. The only thought you could muster was that you were finally going to be able to cum. Bracing yourself with excitement, you plead with Kai with your eyes.

“Not long now baby, you must be so desperate,” Kai drinks in your appearance. He wasn’t going to be letting you off after this, he needed to sink his cock into your begging cunt just to see how it felt. An easy extra grand for him.

Kai positions the head of the vibrator over your clit, hard. The vibrations surge through your core, tipping you closer to the edge faster than you thought.

“That’s it. Right there, isn’t it? You’re gonna cum so soon aren’t you?” Kai’s gloved fingers dip back into your cunt, digging into your swollen sweet spot with an expert curl of his long fingers.

Your head tilts back as the remainder of energy drains from you, stopping you from keeping it up right. His fingers work inside you fast, and complimented by the fast vibrations, the coil in your belly snaps.

“Let go bunny, cum,” Kai finger-fucks you until you’re screaming, muffled to Kai’s and the viewers’ advantage by the gag. Waves of ecstasy billow through your exhausted body, as it convulses in time with the intense vibrations.

Kai chucks the vibrator to the side and slips off his pants and boxers. Hovering above you, he spits on his rock-hard cock and drives it towards your oversensitive cunt. His palms rest on the insides of your thighs as he bottoms out seamlessly inside you, filling you to the brink with his entire length.

“Ohh fuck,” Kai seethes between grit teeth, as he ruts his hips into yours. The tears continue to stream down your face as you toss fiercely within your tight constraints.

“Gonna fill that pretty, sensitive pussy up with my cum okay? Holy shit, you’re so fucking wet, you’re soaking my cock right now.” Kai spreads your legs impossibly wider with his force, stuffing his cock deeper inside you with every unforgiving thrust.

You continue to sob as the fire in your belly overwhelms you, letting you know you’re going to cum again. The ringing from the desktop and the lewd squelching sounds of your pussy fill your ears as your body gives in to another orgasm.

“Good fucking girl, that’s another orgasm for me,” Kai bites at your exposed shoulder. His balls slap against your skin from how hard he’s driving into your cunt.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Kai groans as he empties his load inside you, filling you to the brink with the cum he’d been saving for you for hours.

He pulls out of your cunt with a wet pop, turning to the desktop and leaving you moving in and out of consciousness.

“That’s almost four grand tonight. See you next week, suckers!”

Kai turns off his computer. He turns to you and works fast to untie the rope and rip off the tape. It felt so good when you finally got to sit up and close your shaking legs. The ball gag was last to go, but not without dripping spit down your chest.

“My bunny, my little sex toy,” Kai cups your face and litters it with kisses. You wearily smile at him, ready to shower and go to bed. You both got what you wanted.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he coos, scooping you up in his arms, “time to hit the shower.”

1K notes · View notes

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 4 months

Text

You and Eddie share a kiss but when you see him in the woods with Chrissy, talking and looking a little flirty you guess the kiss meant nothing.

I just wanted to write some angst 🤷‍♀️

❤️

It had finally happened. You and Eddie had kissed. It felt like you were on cloud nine and you couldn't get the image out of your head.

The feel of his lips on yours, the way he took you in his arms and every part of you felt like it was aflame. It was perfect.

It was the day after and you were anxious to see Eddie. What did the kiss mean? Would the two of you start dating? This felt like a long time coming and you had been crushing on Eddie for a while.

You swear you hear Eddie's voice and follow the sound, maybe he's doing a deal? When you spot him looking as gorgeous as ever.

To your utter amazement Chrissy Cunningham is with him, sitting on the other side of the bench as they talk.

She looks nervous so Eddie goofs around to make her laugh. Throwing himself to the ground and then She giggles and the conversation which was stilted at first takes a turn.

It feels borderline flirty, the thought makes your stomach sink. No you must be imagining things? But you don't imagine the shy smile on Eddie's face as he teases Chrissy.

You don't see Eddie until the next day as he's driving you home. He brings up the fact that Chrissy asked him for some weed and that she went to his trailer to pick it up.

Her giggles reverberate in your mind and you stumble away from the scene. Your heart aching and mind racing.

💌

This twists your stomach up in knots. Chrissy was pretty and so sweet, you imagine that she could have Eddie wrapped around her finger if that's what she wanted.

Eddie is staring at you confused and you sigh still feeling the sting of seeing him flirt with Chrissy.

If you hadn't seen Eddie be so flirty this isn't something you would worry about but now it was all you could think about.

"I think maybe we should talk about the other day? Our kiss, I mean unless you don't want to... He trails off at the look on your face.

"It's all I've thought about Eddie. It meant...everything and I thought maybe it meant the same to you too" he looks confused at the turn of the conversation.

"Maybe?" he questions and you shrug. Your feelings are all over the place, the high from the kiss fading quickly. Doubts and insecurities wouldn't leave you alone.

"I heard you talking in the woods yesterday and so I went to surprise you but then I saw you with Chrissy and you were super flirty,

"That wasn't... It was a business deal nothing else" he shakes his head adamantly, his eyes wide and you bite your lip and the next words out of your mouth twist the knot in your stomach even more.

"I know what I saw Eddie. You flirted with her like you do...with me and there was something there, a spark, I don't know"

"Sweetheart no..." The longer that you're speaking to him the worse your emotions feel so you offer him a small smile and notice the van is now parked at Family Video.

"I'll see you around Eddie" you get out of the van and hurry inside the store, furiously wipe your tears away as you enter the store. Extinguishing the high you felt from the kiss until it's all gone.

💞

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson

388 notes · View notes

evilminji · 1 year

Text

Can You "Accidental Baby Acquisition" Yourself?

Like? Say you have a You... who is NOT You, obviously, but A You in the Multiversal sense... and their childhood suuuuuucked. Just? Truely awful for reasons beyond their control.

Such as the veil NOT being so easily peirced in their reality and humanity a bit more... Reactive(tm) to ectoplasm, due to the lower concentration of it in the Everything of their Universe. Which makes their parents research? Unattainable. Dangerous.

Ultimately fatal to their elder sister.

And then later, them.

Not that they were even the loving if wildly eccentric parents most of the other You's KNOW and have. Due to that very say research and their long-term exposure to their own samples. The Reactivity.

"Pit Rage" as some circles call it.

They weren't themselves. Stopped BEING themselves long before their children ever came into the picture. If they could think clearly, they would BEG for someone to save their children. From them. From their house of horrors. From what they've become.

And well? You exsist outside of Time. In the Zone. Maybe you have a wide and crazy adventure with this grizzled, worn, badass of a You. Figure he's pretty cool. Ask if he needs anything. And he laughs this broken glass in your chest sort of sound and says:

"Not unless you could give me a real childhood."

Like? Dude. Buddy. My buddy dude. Gonna have to explain that one. You can't just drop that and walk away. We Crazy Action Bros Adventure(tm) bonded. You can tell me. And reluctantly... he kinda does.

And... Look. You exsist outside of TIME. Your mentor IS Time. You can TOTALLY do that.

This.

But like? You realize... there wouldn't be TWO of you... right? If you take mini-Bamf out of the timestream at point A... you, big guy, stop existing at every instance of point B and onwards.

Yeah. Yeah, he gets that. Fully consents. His life was full of bad decisions and dramatic bullshit. He wants a real childhood. His sister back. Wants them BOTH out of that house and somewhere safe. If he could do it himself, he would. Call it his fucked up way of healing. Finally facing his trauma. It's haunted him long enough.

.....well then. Now You've got a baby and a fussy toddler. They have superpowers because of course they do. That house was OSHAs waking nightmares and deepest fever dreams. Jazzypants is hungy. And baby You did a stinky.

This is Fine(tm).

You're a King! You can TOTALLY handle this! Teeeeeemporarily. Since it's not like they can stay HERE. The Zone is literally uninhabitable long term for the living. So time to fire up the ol Brain Meats. Gremlin Ideas formulating. Loading... Loading... Loooooooading. Got it!

You kidnapped them.

Brilliant! FRIGHTY! Where's the Trenchcoat Booze Slu-...SLUHeuth. Sleuth! Totally what I was planning to say, Starshines! Don't curse. Cursing Bad~☆

The Detective Of Loose Morales in The Trenchcoat, who's Soul I Own, Frighty! Where's he at?? *Distant muffled answer* Close enough! Time to give him a heart attack! And throw a fight! Can you toss me a nightmare medallion? I need to instill mortal terror! Thaaaanks, Frighty! Also can you change diapers? *affirmative noises* Ancients, you're the best.

Smash cut to John Constantine. Busting up some cult, as you do. When? Oh fuck. The leaders heading for the store room! Not today, fucker! They fight. They struggle. It's Manly and Gritty and dramatic! When?

A terrible CRASH. Some artifact must have activated. What... have you DONE? *dramatic musical sting* swirling green and DEATH radiates out from a pin prick of nothing. A black hole in reverse. The cold oblivion of space, given bones to claw its way free. Eyes that sear in colors too technicolor and hypersaturated to be mortal. Green. Green! GREEN.

Ice and stars and death and a terrible, unspeakable Crown.

Two... two little sprogs. Tiny bits of nothing in a monsters hand. KIDS, wrapped up in something they never should of even had to nightmare about. John's eyes catch on red, red hair. A tiny little headband with butterflies on it. Pressed so close to dark locks, as she wraps herself around her little bits of a sibling.

The other ones dressed up in stars.

Someone SOLD their fuckin KIDS. Or this damned this STOLE them. It doesn't matter. Not now, not to John. Because this bastard isn't keeping them. He slides like breathing into the waves of luck and chance, odds and fate. Is on his feet and drawing attention. Whatever it takes, he's leaving here with those kids.

He laughs and it's not a kind one.

"Oi! A word if you will?"

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny tricks John in taking the munchkins #john TOTALLY won these infants fair and square guys #he says showing up covered in ash to the next meeting #with two toddlers he has no idea what to do with #so uuuuh #anyone want two kids?#batman put your fucking hand down

597 notes · View notes

bitethedevil · 5 months

Text

Rambling about Raphael again: I’m getting more and more convinced that stealing from Raphael is an asshole move no matter what.

I just killed Raphael for the first time yesterday. I had gotten the scene where he comes home before but that was way back in my first playthrough and I chickened out back then. The battle itself was awesome, don’t get me wrong but it felt…unsatisfying? Sad even.

I’m obviously not excusing anything he’s done to Hope, but we don’t really know anything about Hope before we have already taken the decision to go to his house.

I found something in the House of Hope that I hadn’t seen before (it’s on the ground in the main area where the fireplace is iirc):

Like yeah, we know that we don’t really need the Orphic Hammer if we’ve played the game before and all that. But does Raphael? It seems like he genuinely thinks it’s a fair trade. Dude lives in the Hells. I’m sure he really does expect the worst from people (especially someone like the Emperor). So he offers us a deal that he really believes is fair, and what do we do? We go robbing his house, fucks/kills his incubus, meddles in his business and essentially spits him in the face. Bonus asshole points if the last thing you ever say to him is that he’s a shit at sex.

Raphael is evil, no doubt, but he hasn’t really done anything to us. If you don’t take the deal, he simply leaves you alone (unless you refuse the Emperor in the end…in which he essentially calls you a dumbass but still helps if I remember correctly) even though that deal is the closest he’s been to the crown in millennia.

Which brings me to his reaction. Obviously, he seems angry right before the fight, but mostly I got the feeling of a man who has been utterly humiliated. His quote that went along the lines of: “Take away their free will and they’ll call you a tyrant. Let them indulge in it and they become tyrants” is kind of stuck with me. I think that Raphael could have potentially treated us a lot worse if he wanted to, but he chose not to (obviously that’s also to get us to trust him, but still). Which is why it stings even more when we fuck him over.

Think about his diary entries. The man has nightmares about us besting him. Imagine how stupid he must feel when that fear turns out to be true and that he shouldn’t have trusted us to keep our word.

#ranting #raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael

210 notes · View notes

heizlut · 1 year

Text

Zandik’s Whore

cw: rough sex, corruption kink(?)

tags: mean tutor!zandik, bimbo f!reader, corruption kink(?), one use of y/n (sorry 🥺), petnames: cockslut, slut, pet

nsfw under the cut

check out my masterlist here!

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

Zandik sat quietly in the library completely engrossed in a book. He was trying to take his mind off the fact that he was being forced to tutor a ditzy girl like you. If he could’ve declined, he would’ve but he didn’t have a choice as he was in the top of his class and needed extra hours to add to his transcripts. You were on the verge of failing the one class you absolutely needed to pass in order to graduate. Zandik didn’t know what drove him more insane, your lack of brains or the skimpy little outfits you wore as you pranced around campus all bubbly and smiling brightly.

Soon enough, he hears the clicking of heels sound through the quiet library. He looks up to see you walking in wearing a pretty little sundress, your hair bouncing as you walked towards him with a bright smile on your face. He feels his pants tightening as he observes you but tries to push away those thoughts, offering you a cold glare.

Oblivious to his outward distaste for you, you approach him happily, “Hello! I was told you’re the one who’s going to be tutoring me. Zandik, right?” He fights the urge to roll his eyes at your cheerful attitude and closes his book, “Yes, that’s me.. unfortunately.. You must be y/n.” You nod and plop yourself down in the chair right next to him. As you do so, the subtle smell of your delicious perfume surrounds him and your bare leg brushes against his, making his cock begin to ache. “Thanks for agreeing to tutor me. All this information on ruin mechanics is really going over my head”, you pout, twirling your hair around your finger.

Seeing you pout like that only draws his attention to your plush, glossy lips. Zandik licks his own lips as he stares for a moment, then quickly clears his throat and returns to his usual cold demeanor, “It’s not like I really had a choice in the matter.. Anyways, this subject requires one to think critically. I can guide you through understanding the fundamentals, but it is ultimately up to you to retain the information.” You smile at him but then a dumb look crosses your features, “But I’m not good at retaining difficult information..”

Zandik blinks, “Well then I don’t exactly see how you’re going to pass if you can’t even retain the information I give you.” Your eyes begin to well up with tears and your bottom lip quivers slightly, “B-but if I don’t pass this subject t-then I won’t g-graduate.” Zandik lets out a disgruntled sigh, an idea forming in his head as he smirks internally, “Then I suppose I could provide you with some additional tutoring outside of our scheduled meeting times.” You give him a hopeful smile, placing your hand on his thigh, “You’d do that for me?” The feeling of your hand on his thigh almost makes him groan but he lets it get caught in his throat, “Of course, but this is only under the condition that you.. return the favor” As he says this, he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheeks, resisting the urge to lick the saltiness of your tears off his thumb. Seeing you all pathetic in front of him, looking at him like he had hung the stars in the sky himself made him want to ruin you and that’s exactly what he’ll do.

A couple days later you find yourself in his dorm room, settled on his lap with his cock in your tight dripping pussy. Zandik has you cockwarming him, not bothering to thrust up into you unless you get the answer correct. His fingers toying with your cute little clit as he quizzes you on the composition of ruin mechanics. “And where does ruin technology come from?” Zandik asks as he continues to rub circles on your aching clit. “F-fontaine..?” You moan out. He slaps your clit harshly and growls lowly in your ear, “Wrong answer. Try again.” You cry out at the pleasurable sting, trying to move on his cock, “Mmph.. Please… Please fuck me.” His hand makes contact with your poor clit again, causing you to whimper, “Only good girls get fucked by my cock. Now try. Again. Where does ruin technology come from?” You bite your lip, desperate for some friction, and answer dumbly, “I-Inazuma?”

Zandik rolls his eyes and quickly pushes you onto your hands and knees. He pushes down on your back, causing you to arch so perfectly for him and he begins thrusting roughly into you, “What a brainless little slut. All you’re good for is taking my cock.” Your lewd moans fill the room as he pounds his thick cock in your soaked little cunt. Your eyes crossing and your tongue lolling out of your pretty little mouth. If only you knew just how incredibly dumb you looked right now. Zandik slaps your ass making you let out a pathetic whimper and he presses his chest to your back. His hot breath tickles your neck, “Once I graduate, I’m gonna make you into my pretty little assistant. My brainless little pet. All you’ll ever need to do is please me.”

You clench around his cock at his words, “Wanna be good f’you. Wanna be your good girl. Make you feel s’good…” Your words slurring together as all you can focus on is the way his thick cock hits all the right places. Zandik chuckles darkly as he bites down on your neck, releasing thick ropes of hot cum into your awaiting cunt, not caring that you haven’t cum just yet, “What a perfect cockslut you are already. All you’ll ever need is my cock, nothing else.” You whine as he pulls out of you and you feel his cum drip from your aching pussy, “Wanna cum, Zandik..” He grabs you by your hair, forcefully pulling you upright and making you look at him. You look so dazed and drunk from his cock, mouth hanging open slightly. Zandik clicks his tongue, “Now, now. Don’t be ungrateful. You’ll take what I give you.” He pinches your tongue between his fingers, pulling it to stick out slightly and he spits into your mouth then taps your cheek, “Now swallow.” You obediently swallow and he pats your head, “Good girl.”

He had you right where he wanted you, desperate and aching for his cock, his touch, his degrading words and praises. Such an obedient little thing. Why should he waste his time trying to fill your mind with information you couldn’t even comprehend when you could just be his little cockslut instead?

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

a/n: hehe i like writing for dottore/zandik. if he becomes a playable character i’ll cum on the spot

#dottore smut #zandik smut #genshin smut #dottore x reader #dottore x reader smut #zandik x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact dottore #genshin impact zandik

969 notes · View notes

hansensgirl · 9 months

Text

summary. | Your professor knows just how to get his star student to eat out of his hand.

prompts. | Andy Barber + Professor + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” (credits to @celestianstars for inspiring this prompt) + Abuse of power, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!professor!Andy Barber x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, abuse of power, power imbalance, professor/student relationship, male oral (mentioned/alluded to), overachiever reader, kind of mean!andy, lying, deceit, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

You stare down at the paper you spent many sleepless nights working on with tears in your eyes. The letters turn into grey blurs.

You always knew Professor Barber was a hard-ass, but you never thought you’d bear the brunt of his harsh grading. You felt you were getting by well this semester, never bothering him with questions unless absolutely necessary. He hated his job—everyone knew that from his heavy sighs and grimaces. And now, you feel like he’s taking it out on you, even though you’re just a part of the sea of faces that’ll forget about him once exams are over.

You sit on the bench outside his office, early for your appointment with him. You scheduled it in a frenzy, and he replied just as quickly as when you hit ‘send.’ That didn’t puzzle you since you had woken up very early that morning, and you know that professors sleep odd hours.

He must be less than excited to meet with you. Every faculty member seems to be a burning thread, fraying at the ends.

The door opens, and Professor Barber clears his voice, snapping you out of your stupor. You look up at him with glassy eyes, and he nods his head, allowing you to enter his office.

You catch a whiff of his cologne as you walk past the older man. There’s even a hint of coffee, perhaps from a spill.

“Good evening, Professor Barber,” you start, a thoroughly rehearsed speech on the tip of your tongue. You’re a perfectionist when it comes to your grades—the only thing that gives you purpose at this point. “Good evening…?” he returns, waiting for you to give him your name.

You do exactly that, and he repeats it. “Please, call me Andy,” he insists, so you do.

“You wanted to talk about your paper?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. You swear you can hear the lock click, but you doubt Andy would do that. “Yes. I just… I worked so hard on it and thought I did good…” you trail off, unable to finish your sentence.

You can’t fail this class—you don’t need another flaw to worry about. You doubt you’d get a spot in next year, anyway. Not until the weak ones give up halfway through the semester.

“You want to know why I gave you that mark?” Andy asks, hands clasped with his elbows resting on the chair. You nod your head. “Well, it’s alright, really. Not what I was looking for at all. It’s weak in too many spots. I can see right through your points,” he explains as though it were obvious.

The criticism stings, but you take it.

“C– Can I rewrite it? Please?” you plead, finally looking up at him. “Or I can do an extra?” you offer, but the click of his tongue makes you want to cry again.

“I don’t give out second chances. You know that, don’t you? You’re a smart girl,” Andy says before sighing. “I suppose I could let you try again, though. You’ll do better, right?” he asks, standing up again.

He seems restless—you are, too. Your leg bounces from nervousness.

“Of course—thank you, Professor,” you smile, ready for his next instructions. You’ll take anything he gives you if that upsetting grade is forever erased. He smiles down at you, a sight you’ve never seen before.

Suddenly, though, you hear the clinking of a belt. You snap your head to look at where the sound came from, greeted by his crotch right in your face. Andy stands to your right, and dread fills you. “You want me to fix your grade, yeah?” the professor asks, but you don’t answer. You’re too scared.

You can’t fight him, can’t escape. If you did, who would you tell? You have a higher chance of getting in trouble than him.

Andy cups your cheek with his left hand as he pulls down his fly with the other, freeing his thick cock from the confines of his boxers. He’s so hard that he’s a flushed red colour, with veins and a leaky tip.

“You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely,” he tells you, voice as rough as when he speaks to the delinquents of your class. You watch him with tears in your eyes and accede, mouth opening for your professor to use you.

“See? I always knew you were a smart girl. You just needed a little push.”

#sabs concepts #andy barber #defending jacob #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x y/n #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark!andy barber x reader #dark andy barber x reader #dark!#request #drabble #chris evans #sab’s dark concepts (2023)

269 notes · View notes

scoops-aboy86 · 24 days

Text

Last Party of the Summer

Prompt Used: Pool party (@thehairandthebanished) and make-up sex (@steddiesmuttyseptember) | Last Party of the Summer | Rating: E | CW: hurt comfort, weight gain, body image issues, mildly intoxicated sex | Additional Tags: chubby Steve Harrington, miscommunication, breakup to makeup, makeup sex

also on Ao3

It’s hard to keep tabs on someone at a crowded pool party without being obvious about it, especially while working at getting drunk. But Steve, pausing to shotgun another beer, thinks he’s doing pretty good all things considered. He’s not glaring literal holes through Ed— through Munson’s stupid leather jacket, at least, so he can’t be that obvious. Even Tommy hasn’t commented on it, and Tommy isn’t one to notice things and not run his mouth, so there you go.

He’s not being obvious at all.

Then, out of nowhere, Eddie emerges from the crowd and uses a firm grip on his upper arm to propel him from the side of the pool back inside the house. Steve hadn’t even realized he’d lost track of the guy among their peers, which only adds to the unreal feeling of being frogmarched up the stairs and into his bedroom, ringed fingers burning like a brand through the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Alright,” Eddie snarls after kicking the door shut behind them. “You are the one who ended things, so what’s your fucking problem, Harrington? Mad that the riff raff got in to supply this dumb shindig with party favors?”

Indignance kick-starts Steve into scowling and yanking his arm away, crossing them across his chest. (But also, hearing his last name roll off Eddie’s tongue when just a few weeks ago he’d been ‘Stevie,’ ‘baby,’ ‘sweetheart’ makes something twist painfully in his chest.) “Watch what you’re calling dumb, Munson. You’re the one who snuck in uninvited.”

“It’s called working. It’s what some of us have to do when we don’t have daddy’s money to fall back on!”

The words make Steve take a sharp step back, because Eddie knows his parents throw money at him as though it’ll make up for never being around, never paying much attention to him unless there’s something to scold him for. How he’s gotten checks in the mail after making the winning shot or run or lap in an important match or getting a good grade on a big test, but they’re never there to actually see any of it; how he feels more like an employee or an investment than a son.

And maybe it’s because he’s toeing the line of drunk, but his eyes sting. A little.

“That’s a low fucking blow, freak,” Steve sneers, blinking hard. His crossed arms tighten further over his chest like he’s trying to keep something from breaking out, and he doesn’t care about the way Eddie’s face twitches. He doesn’t! “But I guess that’s par for the course with you, isn’t it? Never pull a single fucking punch.”

“I’ve pulled plenty,” Eddie sneers right back.

Which is. Oh. That’s worse.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, huh?” And Steve can hear his voice going humiliatingly tight, there’s just nothing he can do about it. Fucking beer. “I told you to go, what’s the point in dragging me up here just to rub it in more, huh?”

Almost worse, what if someone had noticed them going up the stairs together? He could’ve withstood that before, when they were still… But now Steve is all alone, painfully unwanted even by the town loser, who must have pulled his punches long enough for the sake of getting laid for a while, just like all the girls who had ever found Steve wanting after a few dates. All he wants is his own sad business to stay pathetically his own, but Eddie just had to be out selling tonight.

“Maybe I just wanted a little fucking closure, Steve.” Eddie leans back against the closed door, like he’s trying to get as far away as possible without leaving the room, glaring. There’s nothing soft in those eyes now, not anymore, not even as he says Steve’s first name instead of his last. A concession? No, it must just be a lapse. A lingering habit of familiarity, soon to be broken. “You kicked me out without any warning, and now you’re following me around with this look like I’m the one that did something wrong. Rub in what? What the fuck did I even do?”

Steve feels his jaw drop. “What did you do? Are you stupid or something?”

They’d been in Steve’s bed, plaid comforter kicked to the floor in their hurry, too wrapped up in each other to give even half a shit about the chaos of sheets around them. And maybe Steve had been a little self conscious about taking off his shirt that night, because it was between sport seasons and he hadn’t been keeping up with his workouts lately, too wrapped up in Eddie and shared joints that set his mind free from what Eddie called the ‘shackles of conformity.’ He’d still done it, stripped as eagerly as if he’d never noticed the way a few extra pounds had gone to his ass and belly lately. Because surely Eddie wouldn’t care. It was conformity to worry about that kind of shit so much, and Steve was trying to be better. To be someone Eddie could not just like, but respect, too.

At first it was fine. Eddie pounced on him like he usually did, with a demanding kiss before lavishing attention on the constellations of Steve’s moles that lead from check to neck and further. He latched onto a nipple, teasing at the quickly tightening bud with teeth and tongue until pulling back in satisfaction and diving for the other. Then further down, raking his blunt, black-painted nails down Steve’s sides until he reached his waist, gripping… then, unusually, pausing. And then, then he’d—

“You laughed at me,” Steve spits, and oh god his eyes are really stinging now. That’s all he’s got, that four-word complaint, but it’s anything but little. Humiliation and hurt and shame coiling in his gut and making all the beer he’s downed tonight churn unpleasantly, because he’d been stupid to think that what they’d had wasn’t as superficial as everything else in this stupid town that Eddie wants to ditch the second he graduates. Everyone knows what the Freak of Hawkins High thinks about jocks. Probably sits around snickering to himself in his free time about how Steve’s let himself go—

“When the hell did I laugh at you?” Eddie is still pissed, still scowling at him, but there’s an undercurrent of bewilderment in his voice. (Steve recognizes it from the time he’d tried to explain the rules of baseball.) “Before or after you shoved me off, bare ass fucking naked, and told me to get my shit and get lost?”

“Before!” Steve can’t believe this. What is Eddie trying to do here, pretending he doesn’t know? “Right before that! When you… felt my stomach.”

Face burning at the admission, Steve is looking anywhere but Eddie and doesn’t know what to make of the sputtering noise at first. Until the lack of response gets to him and he glances, then focuses, then frowns, the tight cross of his arms loosening infinitesimally in distraction.

Eddie is just… standing there, pointer finger held aloft in a ‘hold on a second’ gesture, his other hand pressed hard against his mouth and his eyes downcast in deep thought.

It’s the same thing he does when he has a light bulb moment about a new plot point in a campaign and is trying to sort out in his head how all the threads of it mesh with what’s already there. The recognition makes Steve’s heart ache, regardless of how baffled he is to see it in this context.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters after a second, rubbing his hands over his face and sighing heavily, a hint of frustrated growl to it. “Well… fuck, okay.”

He presses both hands together, tapping both pointer fingers against his lips and breathing out heavily through his nose, and finally looks up to make eye contact.

“Okay, I just heard it how you must have heard it, and that’s—” A grimace passes across Eddie’s expressive face. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Steve. Pretty insulted that you’d just assume I even would, but that’s… that’s not the point.”

Steve blinks and keeps blinking, hard, not sure how the argument has turned into… this. He’s still mad, hurt, everything he was a minute ago, but now he’s confused too. And kind of indignant, a little unsure, half ready to tell Eddie to just get out again. “What? Dude, I heard you!”

“Not a laugh!” the metalhead insists. “This is so—For fuck’s sake, Steve, I liked it. I was excited, and I… I fucking giggled, alright?”

And… what?

“Giggled?” Steve repeats.

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, embarrassment coloring high on his cheeks. “Like a goddamn schoolgirl. I wanted to bite you there, you asshole,” he adds, but it lacks heat. His voice has gone tired, the fight draining out of him as he realizes—and as it occurs to Steve, if he’s telling the truth—that what they’d both been hissing mad about was a complete and tragic misunderstanding.

“But… I don’t get it,” Steve says numbly. Maybe it’s the beer catching up to him, but his conviction is wobbling now and he feels off kilter. He shuffles a few more steps backwards until he runs up against the bed and sits so fast it feels like falling. “I’ve let myself go and you… I thought you…”

He’d been so sure. That laugh has been ringing through his head ever since he’d heard it, but suddenly it sounds like a caricature, like something out of a cartoon.

Not how Eddie sounds at all.

“It’s not ‘letting yourself go’ to not be skin and bones, man,” Eddie says, shoving both hands in his pockets and looking down at the toes of his own sneakers. “Some padding never hurt anyone. I like it, alright?” Defensive, defiant, but… a little subdued now.

Sad, Steve thinks, and then suddenly that’s all he can feel. It hits him that he’d pushed Eddie away, ended things between them… for no reason?

His shoulders are already hitching up before he even registers that he's crying, wetness trickling straight down to dampen the hair at his temples. It’s been weeks. Weeks of being angry—he’s so tired of it, but the only alternative was to feel horribly lonely so he held onto it anyway, a rope burn on his soul to distract from the pain of his heart cracked in two.

And he’d known as he watched Eddie earlier tonight that his gaze bordered on more pathetic than mad. Not quite cooled off enough to realize on his own that he’d made a mistake, but enough to recognize it now that reality (and Eddie) stares him in the face.

It’s over for no reason. Eddie hates him now and if it was just a dumb misunderstanding then, then Steve absolutely deserves it—

The bed dips at his side. Not close enough that they’re touching, but that it happens at all is a surprise. And then Eddie murmurs “Stevie?” so hesitant it makes Steve choke.

It’s the barest hint of an olive branch, and he’s absolutely going to blame the beer for how it makes the tears drip faster. He hasn’t felt this pathetic since the car ride home after one of the few basketball games his dad had ever bothered to attend, where Steve had missed not one but two easy free throw shots.

“I’m so s-stupid,” he gasps wetly, and immediately feels even more pathetic for saying it out loud, as if it’s not obvious. He turns away, away from Eddie, trying to hide—his face, his body, everything. This is the worst pool party ever and he’s never drinking again.

“You're not stupid, you dumbass. Hey.” Eddie touches his shoulder, keeps his hand light but there when Steve tries to shrug it off. He sighs heavily, almost a huff. “It’s not stupid to react to me pressing a button I didn’t know was there. Look—Would actually saying something instead of jumping right to kicking me out been better? Absolutely. That really fucking hurt, man.”

“Sorry,” Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “And sorry I called you a freak. You’re not, I don’t… I don’t really think that.”

There’s a pause, and then Eddie squeezes his shoulder. “Thanks, man. I’m, uh… sorry for the crack about your dad and calling you an asshole.”

“I am an asshole.” Steve’s eyes are already shut; he squeezes them tighter until colors start to bloom across the inside of his eyelids. “Fucking ruined everything over some stupid thing that was only ever in my head, so I… I deserve this. But you didn’t and I’m sorry, I hope you—” and here his throat tightens up, because he wants to say I hope you can forgive me, but that would be even more pathetic than he’s already being. “I hope you find s-someone who treats you better.”

This pause stretches out for a lot longer, so long that Steve would think Eddie had left if not for the remaining dip in the mattress and the hand-shaped brand on his shoulder. He’s just waiting for the agreement and for Eddie to finally leave for good, holding in a wordless, futile scream for when he’s alone. Fuck the party downstairs, he’ll call the cops himself if he has to just to clear them all out, and suck up whatever punishment he gets if the Hawkins PD decides to notify his parents.

Finally, after a thousand fucking years of that scream burning a hole in Steve’s throat, Eddie says quietly, “Or, you could just… not do that again. Think you could do that for me, Stevie?”

Absolute fucking whiplash.

Steve is so shocked he actually turns back to look, and all it takes is the sight of the other boy’s big brown eyes and the softness there, the tender flaming hope in them. “Yeah,” he croaks, doesn’t even think he sounds like himself anymore but at least he gets the word out. “Yes, Eds, please—”

And then Eddie is on him with a bruising kiss, scrambling to kick his shoes off while Steve scrambles at the black leather jacket, pulling it off to grab desperately where Eddie’s bare sides show through the intentionally ripped shirt beneath it. Ripped denim rasping against swim trunk fabric as Eddie straddles him, grinds down hard, refusing to let either of them up for air. Steve is just as hungry for it, just as desperate.

It’s different. They’ve still got their residual hurts, he can taste it in the way Eddie bites at his lips, bites all the way down to his neck and sucks a dark claim on the side that Steve can’t help arching into with a moan. A breach of their unspoken rule not to mark each other because they can’t be out, not in this town and definitely not while they’re still only going into their junior and senior years, respectively—but Steve is in just the right mood not to give a shit about that right now. Although…

“Door,” he gasps, trailing off with a whine when Eddie rolls his hips down into his again. “Did you lock it?”

Eddie pulls back fluidly with a curse under his breath, which Steve takes as a no. “Get these off while I’m gone,” he says, voice rough, and tugs at the waistband of Steve’s swimsuit. A second later he’s on his feet, backing away with a smoldering stare until Steve gets the hint.

With a jolt, Steve shoves the trunks down, bracing his heels on the bed to tug them over his ass. His cock bobs free, and his breath catches at the way Eddie keeps watching until he backs into the door.

“Good boy,” Eddie breathes, turning the lock behind his back. “Scoot back on the bed. After tonight, I’m going to make sure you’ll never think I’d laugh at you ever again.”

Steve does as he’s told, partly because he’s still shivering from the good boy (what is it about Eddie taking charge and calling him that, gets him every time) and partly because Eddie turns away to his tape player. Downstairs, it sounds like the party has seeped into the house; the living room speakers are thundering out don't you want me baby? at a volume that will probably spur the neighbors into action—morons. But all the better that the door is locked, if the party is going to ramp up unchecked; it’s only a matter of time before couples start breaking off to find any free privacy they can get.

Eddie puts in a mix tape, one of the ones he’d gifted months ago for what he’d called Steve’s ‘auditory re-education,’ and moves the smaller player close to drown it out.

In that cocoon of some of the metal songs that Steve actually likes, Eddie comes back to bed stripped out of his jeans and shirt. He crawls up between Steve’s legs until he’s hovering over him face to face. Then he gathers up Steve’s wrists, moving them to cross against the headboard above his head, and Steve lets it happen because it makes breathing pick up, makes his pulse throb faster between his legs.

“Keep these here,” Eddie says, and then kisses him so gently that Steve is shaking with the need to pull him closer, to have more. But the second he reaches to do so, Eddie catches him again. “Stevie…”

“I missed you so much,” Steve groans. Pouts, too, but lets Eddie replace his wrists above his head, not sure if he’s fully forgiven yet—doesn’t m is if this is penance or a reunion, or to what degrees it’s both. “Eds, please—”

He’s interrupted with another kiss, just as gentle and slow, but so unchaste it makes him feel like he’s melting. And then Eddie murmurs against his lips, “Missed you too. Let me show you, sweetheart.”

Before Steve has a chance to answer, Eddie wraps a hand (when had one of them left his wrists?) around his cock and drags a slow thumb over the head.

“Just keep your hands up here for me and be good.”

With a shuddering breath, Steve tries. He keeps his hands in place while Eddie nuzzles down the front of his shirt to the soft swell of his stomach, no less noticeable than their last night together. (Watching what he eats is hard, okay? He’s a teenage boy, he gets hungry. And maybe he’s still a little bloated from the beer even though he can’t really feel the alcohol slowing him down anymore.) There’s a faint red line, visible when his shirt is lifted, where it’d pushed slightly over his waistband all night; Eddie presses a gentle kiss to it and sighs.

A good sigh, like this is exactly what he’s been waiting for. Steve’s heard it before when taking the other boy in his hand, in his mouth—and even if his mind is inclined to overthink it, his body is hardwired to respond. Precome dribbles onto Eddie’s fingers, easing the glide as he slowly, slowly starts to stroke. Makes Steve shiver with dueling sensations of shame and pleasure because Eddie is still kissing the little pooch of his tummy, free hand kneading gently over the softness at his side, starting to tip the scales with how good the combined attention feels.

“That’s it baby,” Eddie tells him breathily, almost crooning. “That’s it…”

And slowly, slowly Steve starts to relax into it. He does try to look away a few times, overwhelmed, but Eddie answers each attempt by turning his face gently back and staring him down while kissing him more, tummy and soft sides and chest. Leaving love bites here and there. The sounds Eddie makes, pleased hums and low moans and quiet praise and Steve’s name, over and over.

It feels like coming home.

The next morning, Steve wakes up to Eddie kicking the door shut behind him as he comes back into the room.

“Everyone’s cleared out, but you do not want to look out there,” Eddie announces, setting a tray piled high with easy breakfast foods (scrambled eggs, bacon, buttered toast, jam, poptarts, fruit), two mugs of coffee, and a jug of orange juice on the bed with a flourish before crawling back into it himself. “At least not before noon.”

Steve doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t care, because Eddie is here. Eddie is here. With a breakfast that perfectly suits his level of hungover—not bad, but not great.

“Eds,” he starts, another apology ready to spill out, but Eddie pops a piece of toast into his open mouth and settles at his side.

“We’re good,” the other boy says simply. “It was a dumb misunderstanding that made you feel hurt and sad and made me feel hurt and pissed off, but it’s untangled now. Just never try to dump me like that again and we’ll be fine, alright?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees quickly through a full mouth. He’s struggling to chew the big bite that had been shoved in, reaching for Eddie’s hand. Eddie loops an arm around Steve before letting him take it and twine their fingers together. As soon as he swallows, he adds, “I don’t want to dump you.” Not ever again, he hopes, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to say so. Not right now, not something so big that it’ll sound like a grand empty promise right after making up.

But Steve is pretty sure the fact that it hurt so much to push Eddie away means he’s capital L in love with him.

“Good.” Eddie kisses him, a hint of sweetness on his lips that suggests he sampled some of the jam while cooking. “Now, eat up sweetheart. That makeup sex wiped me out, and we’ve got a lot more celebratory banging on the schedule for today. Gotta keep that strength up.”

And, he has a point. Steve feels the grumbling of his empty stomach, along with the easy throb of all the little marks Eddie had left on his body the night before as a form of… of worship or something. Reminders that maybe letting go isn’t such a big deal. Because if he skimps on breakfast when it’s what his body wants (needs), sooner or later he’ll get restless and cranky and risk ruining everything all over again. “Yeah, keep my strength up,” Steve agrees, feeling his face heat a little. But Eddie beams at him, starts fussing around with the pillows so they can recline comfortably while they eat—while offering Steve forkfuls of scrambled eggs and bites of this or that, really—and slowly, slowly relaxes into feeling like everything’s going to be okay.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

#wg steddie #chubby steve harrington #chaser eddie munson #scoops words #SBTSB24 #steddie smutty september #steddie smut #steddie events #yeah there's a fade to black and i'm sorry but i was running out of time

80 notes · View notes

sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

Note

Monster trio reacting to their dicks not being able to fit- ooh Chile 🥲

🙃😀

Monster Trio Reacting to You Being Too Tight (NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Safe Word Used, Mentions of Sex, Zoro is an Implied Virgin

Luffy

This is Luffy we are talking about he wouldn’t tell the difference unless you screamed it at him

And that you did.

“LUFFY BABY WAIT! RED! RED!”

His tip wasn’t even in completely in and it felt like he was stretching you for all you were worth.

“What?! What?!”

“You’re…You’re….”

“What you want me to stretch it?”

“NO! …the opposite actually.”

This was the first time you ever had to ask him of that and so a very smug and dopey smile crawled across his face while still being in between your legs.

“Ah…i’m too big for you today?” He sings right in your ear with a chuckle.

“Shut up Luffy are you ganna do it or n—-AH!”

He shrinks it just enough to where the painful stretch is gone, but now he has more leeway to pick up the pace in his thrusting.

“Like this!?” Luffy huffs, hands gripped the headboard, hips nearly turning into a blur pounding your cunt. “There you go !”

He did all this without pulling out once.

He’s so caring.

Zoro

You and Zoro didn’t think this would have been something you both would encounter. Nearly crying for him to stop and he was only 1/3 inside you.

Granted this is his first time.

He’s a big boy and so when you first seen his…4th sword you guided him on how to prep you nicely, stretch you out with his fingers, and everything. Zoro being an internal nervous wreck wanted to be extra cautious so the foreplay lastest well over an hour with him.

But even in that hour still couldn’t prepare him or you for how tight you were

“F-fuck! You’re so—! …Hey?”

You kept covering your face with your hands literally gnawing at your lip nearly making it bleed trying to ignore the sting and pain. Maybe it wasn’t a good day to have sex with him for the first time, because you just couldn’t understand why everything felt so painful right now.

“You should have told me, woman I never wanna keep going if this hurts!”

The last thing Zoro would ever want is to hurt you. He couldn’t care less about him needing to get off if you also wasn’t enjoying yourself.

You felt so much guilt when he slowly pulled out that you tried to insist to keep going, but he wouldn’t back down.

He ignored your cries and pouts to place a blanket over you both and cuddle as you were on top of his chest.

“Stop it dammit.” He hisses at you trying to sleep, feeling your body grind on his soft cock. You swore you could take it again, which started to annoy him because he didn’t mind not finishing.

“Can i at least….suck it…again as an apology.”

You’re so lucky he was hoping you’d offer that.

Sanji

Sanji became a quick learner of your body. He knows what to do to make your leg twitch, your back arch, even down to how you moan.

He never did any wrong when it came to giving you the upmost pleasure.

Today must have been an off day for him and you both because after 30 minutes of foreplay he felt like you were stretched out enough, but he was so so wrong.

“Sweet—ah-heart you okay? You’re tighter than usual.”

You wanted so badly to be a good girl and take it, so you nodd trying to refocus you attention on something else other than the sting, but the moment he bottoms out you practically scream in his ear.

You scared the man btw.

“OH FUCK! Y/N!? ARE YOU OKAY?!”

You felt so awkward letting out such a dramatic cry, but it just inflicted so much pain you almost shed a tear.

And you did actually.

Sanji was too afraid to move, still fully inside you he looks at your face to caress and pepper your face in soft kisses.

Sanji damn near cries too because the last thing he would ever want is for you to feel uncomfortable. You explain that you must have been a bit more tense than usual and Sanji being Sanji understands and talks you through it as he slowly pulls himself out.

“Here…Let me make it up to you.”

You wanted to try to explain to him it’s okay and yall can try again but it was too late.

Sanji’s tongue was already in between your slit before you could protest.

2K notes · View notes

isa-ghost · 8 months

Text

Fuck it, Possessed qPhil headcanons

Hi! Welcome to the headcanons that started my fic Awake Me From My Nightmare. You might've heard of it. It's so surreal revisiting these several months later and seeing how they've developed in the story.

It starts out slow. Little quirks that pop up or intensify and sail over his head. They're harmless, or seem justified after all. Like his impulses to steal shiny or neat things activating more often. His aggression towards threats like the Purgatory workers or Feds growing to proportions usually unlike him. It flies under his radar, and under the radar of everyone closest to him. Ender King is methodical and careful with the start of it all, and it works. His influence begins to fester inside Phil more and more over time.

The process of the possession is the worst part. It stings like dragon's breath. Every nerve in his body is on fire, his wings in ten times the agony as they're already so sore. His eyes flash between their usual ocean blue and a fierce, foreign, violent purple. Blink and you'll miss it, but his pupils occasionally thin into draconic slits. The hallucinations get worse, so much worse, and so much more vivid. He loses track of time so easily, hours worth of it. The progression is convincingly sentient, it strikes when he's alone like it KNOWS he's vulnerable and there's no one around to witness the way it tortures him, temporarily immobilizing him as every inch of his body burns and aches like it's soaking in acid. His own tears start to vaguely sting and splashing his face with cold water in an attempt to ground himself is a MISTAKE. Oh god, he's in so, so much pain... And that's what makes him succumb in the end. He can't take the burning of his wings anymore.

He feels.. so.. hollow. So empty inside. Like this deep, inconceivable void has opened up inside him and is devouring every inch of his being until nothing is left. And... it feels so right. It feels so deserved...

No, this is definitely deserved. All that guilt he felt before is gone. That must mean this is him finally being punished for all his failures, right? For being so weak?

He doesn't want help, he's perfectly fine. Why are you looking at him like that? Please, as if you could do anything about this anyway. Don't make him roll his eyes. You couldn't fix this even if he let you. You think you stand a chance against him, The Angel of Death? You'd never win.

His temper is so unstable. He snaps at people he'd never snap at. He yells, he never yells unless it's in jest or at the Feds. He lashes out. He'd NEVER seriously lay a hand on any of the others. He'd never so much as genuinely threaten them. What's come over him? And why won't he answer the others when they ask?

He isolates. He deserves to be alone. Also he can't be bothered with those two needy children, can't a man breathe for a bit? This infection inside him festers more and more, the longer he's away from the things that could tug at his heartstrings or prod at his memory.

So many things have become a blur. Did he say that? Did he do that? When did that happen? What's this "abueli" sign mean? Who's this "Missa" you speak of? What do you mean we're friends? I've never met you in my life. I think I'd remember being friends with a man with a mechanical arm.

The sunlight hurts. It hurts SO much. Keep it off him, keep it away from him, don't bring him outside.

His insides feel like they're withering. He can't eat, it comes right back up. Even bending down or moving certain ways hurts. It's like he's shriveling up and decaying from the inside out. No he doesn't need help.

The longer you watch him, the more obvious it becomes that he's fighting a parasite inside. And it's agonizing to watch. There's nothing you can do, you don't even know what's wrong with him, and he won't tell you. But he can't hide the way he's losing control of himself. It feels like you're watching him die right in front of you. The immortal you've always thought of as both an unstoppable force and unmovable object. Dying.

The moments of clarity are the worst. The way awareness hits him like a brick. He's abandoned Chayanne and Lullah for who knows how long. Has someone taken them under their care in his absence? His friends have seen him in such a pathetic, terrifying, unsavable state. He's mortified. Has he hurt anyone? What destruction has he wrought? Where has he been? How long has it been since he was last in control of himself?

He can't bear looking people in they eyes anymore. Even looking them in the face is a challenge. It borderline disgusts him. It makes him viscerally uncomfortable.

He's terrified to see his reflection. He knows the changes aren't all in his head. They aren't just behavioral.

Something startles him. Suddenly he's on the roof of the nearest building, or in a tree. But... he didn't shoot his grappling squawk. He didn't even have the tool in his hand. Did he just.. teleport?

He doesn't startle again. He is no longer flight, he was never freeze. He is always fight. Even when it's unnecessary, even when it's an ally that surprised him, he swings. He almost immediately comes to his senses every time & quickly moves so he misses. But there's no mistaking that those swings are intended to be precise and lethal.

His vision starts to change, like the way the world looks when you possess an enderman in spectator mode. It's a gamble if his vision is normal or not every time he wakes up.

Eventually he stops sleeping though. And stops talking to Rose. Stops showing up at the Sanctuary. Chayanne & Lullah keep going though. They've been talking to her, desperate to find a way to bring their Papa back into control for good.

He stops eating too. Ender King He doesn't need to. He's slowly becoming a skeleton of himself. How.. ironic, given the Ender King's state last Phil saw it in person.

It's convenient that depriving Phil of sustenance and sleep makes him weak enough to keep controlling with ease. :) It keeps him too weak to resist. :)

Phil always has a shred of awareness of his situation and surroundings even when Ender King has full control. He knows the harm being carried out by his hands. He knows the vile things being said with his tongue. The guilt is so unbearable. He wants it to stop. But he's so weak. And this is his punishment for being weak. He doesn't deserve to break free of this possession until he can do it himself. But the longer he stays under, the weaker he gets...

The longer he's subdued, the more convinced he becomes that this is deserved, escape is futile, all is lost and it's hopeless. But is that him thinking that, or one of the many ways EK is keeping him complacent? Preying upon his insecurities and flaws. Stupid greedy insecure old crow.

The above doesn't mean he isn't going out of his way to make being possessed as difficult as possible though. He's inconveniencing Ender King EVERY step of the way. He didn't want this, and no amount of overthinking his way into believing he deserves this will make him forget that.

When it's finally over, he has nightmares for MONTHS. It wouldn't surprise him if they were chronic. He doesn't tell anyone but Fit, and he doesn't tell him all of them.

It takes a long while after he's been saved for him to remember water no longer hurts him. He avoids it like the plague. Every time he even hears water moving, all he can think about is the way it stings worse than falling in lava.

The social part of recovery after it's all over is the worst. The guilt and shame make him want to hide and never talk to another person again, yet he can't stand being alone. He gets too paranoid.

Other Phil headcanon sets:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

Set 4

Set 5

Set 6

Set 7 (Eggza Edition)

#qsmp #qsmp philza #q!philza #philza #qphil headcanons #AMFMN things

112 notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 6 months

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Paring: Harwin Strong × reader

Warnings: None

3.05

Sniffling, you pull a fur blanket further around your shoulders to keep warm as you slump further into the massive four-poster bed that dominates the room, it's dark wood carved into dragons, which matched the elaborate designs that declared the room. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes from Targaryen history, with hints of different magical creatures woven into the design.

“No.”

“Vaella…”

“I forbid it,” you protest, your hand barely wrapping around Harwin’s wrist when you hold onto him. “You cannot leave me, our children, and go to Harrenhal.”

He lowers his head. “You would forbid me from escorting my father home?”

“If I must,” you whisper. “I would have you locked away in a tower if I thought it would keep you safe.”

“You have seen my father; he’s not a well-mannered man, and if the rumors about my brother are true, then he’s not safe in the keep. He needs to go home and be tended to by the maesters there.”

It might have been a nightmare all those years ago instead of a dragon dream, but you weren’t willing to risk your husband's life by finding out. “I saw you die in a vision! I saw Harrenhal burn to the ground with you inside it. I am begging you, Harwin, to not make the horror of losing you a reality for me. I wouldn’t be able to bear it, nor would our children.”

His eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “And what of my father?”

“The maester on Dragonstone can attend to him. You’ve seen firsthand how skilled Maester Gerardys is. I trust him not only to take care of us but also of our children, my sister, and the king. I promise he will do the best he can for your father.” Seeing his hands tremble, you hold onto them. “Please, just bring your father to Dragonstone; if he wishes to be with his wife, then invite your stepmother and sisters as well.”

“It’s not my decision to make.” He says it more firmly. “My father says he wants to go home, and I won’t stand in his way.”

Your eyes sting as fresh tears fall from them. Harwin would never leave his family unless he deemed it absolutely necessary, but it didn’t ease the pain of him going. You never thought you'd have to say goodbye to the one person who felt like home to you.

“Mama?”

Being so lost in your thoughts, you never heard Vaegon entering the room. When he climbs into the bed beside you, you brush his thick hair, which was growing rather long, out of his eyes. “Why aren’t you sleeping, my sweet?”

He says nothing.

Sensing his uncertainty, you put your arm around him, kissing the top of his head. Out of all your children, Vaegon was the least likely to come up with a problem when he usually admits to dealing with things himself. “Whatever is wrong, you can tell me.”

“Promise you won’t get mad.”

“I promise,” you smile sadly at him, “but I need to know what is keeping my son up at night.”

Nervously, he says, “It’s this place.”

“Kings landing?”

“The people here aren’t as nice. I see the way the lords and ladies look at me and my brother. The queen and her children make fun of us for not looking like Targaryen or Lannister.” He bends his legs and rests his head against his knees, looking up at you. “Is Harwin Strong my real father?”

“You are so loved; always remember that.” You kiss his forehead again as tears swell in your eyes again. “Thomas Lannister being your father keeps you and Aerion safe. Do you understand?”

He nods.

It was clear that although Vaegon had inherited your temper and stubbornness, he had his father's kind-hearted nature and understanding. “Can you tell me how you and my father got together?”

It was almost frightening how smart and observant your son was for still being so young. “I will one day, my sweet, I promise, but not tonight. We need to rest before returning home tomorrow.”

—

Soon as it was an appropriate time, you visited your father to say goodbye with the promise of returning to visit him soon on dragon back along with Rhaenyra. When you leave his chambers, you intend to go straight to the gods wood, where your sister is waiting with the children and Ser Laenor to join them; however, you are stopped in the hallway before you make it outside.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you are a positively glowing princess. Being with a child agrees with you.”

Goosebumps spread across your body at the compliment. Unbidden tears had been coming to your eyes since Harwin left, but you forced yourself to be polite and smile at the clubfoot.

A creepy grin spreads across Lary's face as he leans against his cane, with an intense look on his face. “I assume my niece hasn’t accompanied you to visit her grandsire this morning.”

“You would be correct, Lord Larys; the princess was breaking fast when I left.”

“That’s a pity. I overheard Elinda Massey, your sister’s lady-in-waiting, saying farewell to some of the handmaids. I can only assume you are leaving for Dragonstone today, and the princess is accompanying you.”

You didn’t want to give him any further information as needed, plus being alone with him was bringing on a wave of nausea. “Yes, I asked Princess Rhaenyra to come and stay, at least until my baby is born.”

“That seems like a wise decision. I have heard pregnancy can be a woman’s loneliest time.”

Continuing to fake a smile, you say, “I better be going, my Lord; I don’t want to keep the children waiting. I shall see you upon my return.”

As you walk by him, Larys smugly asks, “I heard my father and brother left to return to my family home last night; is that true?”

“Yes, they left during the night since your father was feeling unwell.”

“Oh, I suspect they didn’t want to bother me during the night by saying goodbye; not to worry. Since they should be arriving by nightfall tonight, I shall expect to receive a raven from them tomorrow.”

—

The walk to the entrance of the castle was mainly in silence, aside from Luke expressing how excited he was that the island would be his new home. You had grown fond of the salty air of Dragonstone, which smells of smoke and brimstone, and usually enjoyed the long walk across the bridge, but it always made you nervous to see children on it.

Aerion holds your hand with a glum expression. Ada walks in front of you with Vaegon and Jace on either side of her, holding their hands. Luke walks with his father while Rhaenyra is carrying her babe.

Sensing your distance, your sister slows her pace. “Did you find our brother before we left?”

“No, I’m ashamed to admit I got rather distracted, but I intend to send him a raven as soon as the children are settled. I want Aegon to know he is always welcome.”

“Perhaps he comes out, sweet sister, and other brothers will be more inclined to as well.”

Looking over his shoulder, Vaegon frowns at you. He couldn’t comprehend why you wanted to have a relationship with your siblings after witnessing how badly Alicent, Otto, and Criston treated one side of your family, but you had faith that the bad blood wouldn’t extend to the younger generation of House Targaryen.

—

You walk beneath the heavy red doors entering the great hall, which are set in the mouth, and are shocked to see fresh food and drink already being placed on the high table on the raised platform.

“Father!”

Ada lets go of her brother and cousin's grip and runs towards Harwin, whom you had failed to notice standing on the opposite side of the room. He lifts Ada up with ease and kisses her cheek. “Have you been good for your mother?”

“My love,” you whisper, your heart racing as you cross the room to him.

Ada nods. “Yes, and I held Joffrey on the boat.”

“Did you now?” He smiles wildly before placing her back on the ground. “Now, go with your brothers to wash up before we eat.”

When your daughter skips off happily, Harwin wraps his arms around you, holding you as close as your bump would allow. His eyes look heavier than normal, and his skin looks like porcelain. He licks at his dry lips. “We got as far as a tavern in Rosby when I finally convinced my father to come to Dragonstone.”

“Where is Ser Lyonel?”

“He was resting, but I suspect he will be down shortly. We had planned for the meal to be ready by the time you arrived.”

“No,” he says quietly. “But the thought of you being upset is worse than him being mad. I wanted to go back to the keep first, but my father was vomiting a lot and didn’t want to extend the journey further than needed.”

You squeeze his arm and say, “I’m just glad we are all home and safe.”

—

Soon as the sun rose the following day, you spoke with Maester Gerardys privately. Both Harwin and Rhaenyra were stressed from events that had taken place the last few days, and you didn’t want to worry them that you had been feeling rather poorly since the start of this pregnancy. The constant nausea, vomiting, and indigestion were one thing, but the intense back pain was becoming concerning.

However, after speaking with the maester, you walk back to your bed chamber filled with relief. Maester Gerardys had no concerns regarding your baby and even suggested you might be carrying twins again.

“Good morning, princess.”

“Good morning, Ser Qarl.” You smile as the knight bows his head before continuing along the hallways.

Ser Qarl Correy had fought during the battle of the Stepstones, and your cousin Laenor is your current lover. Rhaenyra had insisted that Laenor take him to Dragonstone as well, so that her husband wouldn’t be so lonely.

You enter your chambers, being careful not to make too much noise in case Harwin was still asleep, but you notice his back as you near the sitting area. You remove your overcoat and excitedly approach him. “My love, I’ve... oh, forgive me, Lord Lyonel. I didn’t realize you would be joining us this morning.”

Seeing the mortification on your face, your lady brings you a thicker robe, which covers you more appropriately since you only had a nightgown. You were surprised to see his father so early in the morning, especially since Harwin would usually bring your daughter and sons to break fast as soon as he woke.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Are the children awake?”

“No princess; Ser Harwin has asked me to let princes and princesses sleep in,” she whispers.

You offer her a small smile before returning to your husband and father-in-law. Now that you weren’t so startled, you could see how distressed they both looked. Lord Lyonel was sitting with his head in his hands, and Harwin seemed utterly lost as he stared ahead with bloodshot eyes.

“Harwin, what’s going on?”

Harwin clears his throat, but his voice is still shaky as he speaks. “A raven arrived from Harrenhal this morning; there was a fire last night. My sisters and stepmother are dead.”

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #ser harwin strong fanfiction #ser harwin strong x you #ser harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong x you #harwin strong fanfic #broken bonds #broken bonds 3.05 #ser harwin strong x reader #harwin strong x reader #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader

102 notes · View notes