#i'm done for tonight <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blackjackkent · 9 days ago

Text

For the post-House of Grief scene with Hector, I basically assumed Shadowheart probably asked him to come with her, because I couldn't see him randomly following her when she clearly wants to be alone.

With Rakha... I'm not sure she deliberately followed Shadowheart so much as both of them just happened to be up and brooding at the same time, and this little Selunite courtyard happens to be adjacent to their camp.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while. Perhaps people lost faith... or forgot about it..."

Rakha was lost enough in her own thoughts that she barely noticed that she wasn't alone in her wakefulness, and she's a little startled to hear Shadowheart's voice. The cleric is staring at a weatherbeaten statue of Selune in a corner of the courtyard, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion; she turns her head slightly to address Rakha as she draws near.

"I wanted to come here," she mutters. "To see if I felt anything that I hadn't done before. Now that I know what I know. Now that I know who I am."

Rakha listens in silence, then nods slowly. Once again... she registers the strange and unexpected parallels between herself and Shadowheart. An identity appearing out of the fog of amnesia to be reckoned with. She remembers those terrible first nights after she learned of her Bhaalspawn heritage, wondering what it meant, and if her weak and tenuous grasp of herself was about to change.

"And do you feel anything?" she asks quietly.

Shadowheart seems to look inward for a moment, and then she shrugs wearily. "Loss," she answers, and there's a tight, strained thickness in her voice that Rakha has never heard before. "Actual loss, not Shar's oblivion. I had my family, for too short a moment. Now they're gone... by my hand..."

Were Rakha someone other than who she is, perhaps she would know the comforting words to say in this moment. But she has none.

I also killed my parents, she could say. And look how I turned out. But she is smart enough to know this would not be a reassurance.

Wyll would know what to say, she suspects. But Wyll is asleep, mourning his own lost father.

Perhaps better to say nothing than risk saying something that makes things worse. She knows she's all too capable of it.

Remain silent.

Shadowheart leans forward, presses her face into her hands and begins to weep.

Rakha goes very still, feeling (rather to her shame) paralyzed with indecision and uncertainty. Do something... she thinks numbly. She remembers sobbing in the pool of blood in the Temple of Bhaal, or in camp the night she nearly killed Wyll. It has been the moments that she has felt most broken... and the thing that soothed her was Wyll's closeness, his embrace, his reassurances that there was still a light ahead, a way forward, a way out.

But she is not Wyll, much as she wishes she could be. Physical touch does not come easily to her, and anyway she is not so close to Shadowheart. There is still a cautious distance between them that is not there when she speaks to Wyll, or Lae'zel, or Jaheira.

And yet... Shadowheart herself breached that distance, only a few hours ago. From the first time I laid eyes on you, right until now, she said. That's all safe. I wouldn't surrender even a moment of it.

They have come a long way together, seen each other ripped from a past they barely have memory of. They are in the same hole together, trying to dig to firm ground.

Cautiously... very cautiously... Rakha lifts her arms as she imagines Wyll might do - not a demand, not even an invitation... but an offer.

Embrace her.

(A/N: Yeah, yeah, I did this conversation the exact same way with Hector, and I don't care. :P Shadowheart needs hugs. (And this is an interesting little push for herself for Rakha too tbh.))

To her surprise - and possibly to Shadowheart's as well - the cleric surges forward and into her arms, colliding with her chest. Rakha can feel her shirt grow damp as Shadowheart presses her face into her shoulder and begins to sob brokenly.

Many times now, Rakha has been the recipient of comfort in moments of bleak despair. This is perhaps the first time she has been able to offer it in return with a clear head.

And to her surprise... it feels good to give it. And to receive it, too, because there is something comforting in this, after all, in the feeling of shared confusion and struggling hope.

The physical contact still feels strange and even a little uncomfortable - but she can feel the sudden intensity with which Shadowheart clings in to the safety she provides. And after a moment, Rakha lifts her arms fully and completes the embrace, closing out the world that has hurt them both so badly.

She doesn't hold the embrace too tight, doesn't cling on as Shadowheart does - but she doesn't pull away, either, just stands there and lets Shadowheart cry until there are no more tears. Eventually Shadowheart draws back, her eyes rimmed red and face puffy with tears - but calmer.

Rakha studies her for a moment in silence. "What's next?" she asks in a low voice after a while.

Shadowheart draws and then releases a long, shaky breath. "We carry on," she says quietly. "It's all we can do."

She hesitates, then reaches out and pats Rakha's forearm carefully. An unspoken thanks. "I'll follow in a while," she says. "But I think I want to stay here a little longer firstly. This place... isn't familiar, but it's peaceful."

It's a tacit dismissal, and Rakha takes it at face value. For a moment she turns and looks at the statue of Selune, as weatherbeaten and abandoned as the goblin-filled temple she has seen to the same goddess.

She has her doubts that Selune offers much more to Shadowheart than Shar did. She has her doubts that any god offers much to their followers worth clamoring for. But Shadowheart is right... the place is peaceful, and Rakha knows the value of that above all things.

She takes a step back, then another, then turns and walks away.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #yaaaaaaaaay shadowheart hugs <3 #ugh i'm so sorry y'all #i did want to get more done tonight but it was first day back at work today and i'm zonked #there will be more this weekend come hell or high water #ty as always for y'all's patience #we're in the home stretch on rakha's story!

11 notes · View notes

heraldeez · 2 years ago

Text

Straight Laced (Tugging Loose)

Viktor x Reader | 1.7K | NSFW

Warnings/Tags: semi-public fondling, teasing, oral, Viktor in a custom corset, and the cruelty of chocolate covered strawberries

The romantic holiday finds you and Viktor out at a restaurant – a rarity for two workaholics – dressed up in finery – also a rarity, for two oil-covered lab rats.

Truly a momentous occasion. And you are insistent on perverting it.

A/N: Okay, so I missed Valentine’s. By a lot. But that’s okay because time is a suggestion, and rules are fake. :^)

And hey! It’s still February! For another whole hour!

Anyway, thanks to @linky-dinks for the corset idea, I really needed someone to point my brain in a direction. And always, thanks @valaruakars for reassuring me that - as stated - time is fake and simping is eternal.

Enjoy! :]

---

Viktor's fork clatters briefly before his hand smacks down to silence it, eyes wide.

Your right shoe sits innocent and abandoned beneath the table, socked foot resting instead against the inner seam of Viktor's thigh. Tracing - back, forth, back - just shy of where might truly get you in trouble.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

Casual as can be, butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. It's fun on occasion, to keep him on his toes. It doesn't help that he's so cute like this, incredulous and aroused despite it.

"What, exactly, are you doing?" Viktor asks under his breath.

"Enjoying my meal." You circle your fork above your plate, lips starting to wobble with the need to laugh, Viktor trying to keep it together despite the flush rapidly overtaking him, right up to the tips of his ears. "You really choose the best places when I can get you out and about, you know?"

You might be referring to the food – or perhaps the fact that this place has low hanging table cloths, perfect for disguising the way your toes slide, delicate and gracefully, up to the beginnings of firmness that's growing between Viktor's legs.

His fist tightens around his fork, drawing in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed.

Your voice drops low, leaving pretense behind. "What do you think, Viktor?"

Your foot slides up in alignment, arch curved against the stiff line of his erection, the barest amount of pressure applied to get him right where you want him.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

There's a sharp, predatory edge to his gaze as Viktor slowly drags his eyes open, sizing you up in a way that makes your heart skip a beat and your hips want to squirm in anticipation.

"I think," he rasps, leaning closer over the table, "that you should know better than to tease."

That look? That look indicates you'll be sore long before morning comes.

You scan the surrounding tables briefly, all these people still engrossed in their own conversations, their own little pictures of perfect romance.

The grin you can't quite hold back finally breaks out fully, and you lean over the table, closer than is perhaps polite to your fellow diners.

More polite than the way you flex the ball of your foot against the straining head of Viktor's cock beneath the table, though.

"How can I help myself, when you're so pretty like this?"

You hadn't thought it possible for him to get redder.

Viktor sets his jaw and asks for the check.

You slip your shoe back on, smiling primly across the table.

---

The walk home was short, and the distance to the bedroom even shorter.

Viktor's hips are a pleasant weight atop your chest, legs folded politely to tuck his knees under your arms. He’s placed himself at the perfect distance, just out of reach of your needy mouth, knees sinking into the sheets to keep you right where you are.

Quietly, he reaches for his shirt buttons, slowly thumbing them through each button hole, revealing himself for you.

Only it isn't his usual brace tucked beneath.

"What do you think? Is it pretty?" Viktor's voice takes on a smug upturn on your previous descriptor for him, but you can't even think of a response.

The corset is objectively gorgeous, gold threaded embroidery swirling across rich burgundy panels. It's custom – has to be, with how it fits over his spine for proper support, and you're blown away.

It's perfect. Makes him look deified and glowy, sharp lines from head to toe, decadently adorned in the middle.

"Yes," you sigh, hands raising to trace your thumbs over the threadwork, little starbursts scattered down to where corset meets belt. A belt he’s resting his hands on, and you hope, soon to be undone. “When did you –?”

"A few months back. I wouldn't normally go for something so gaudy -"

Gaudy is the last word you'd use to describe the low toned, immaculately embroidered corset panels, rich and dark against his skin in the candle light

" - but Jayce is always saying that I ought to enjoy the fruits of our labor more."

Viktor glances down at you with eyes lidded in satisfaction, lashes almost kissing the tops of his cheeks, a veil on molten amber.

"Are you enjoying it?"

It's barely more than a whisper, low dulcet coaxing just barely able to be heard, for your ears alone to covet even in an empty room. A question that didn’t even need asked.

Of course you’re enjoying it.

“Yes,” you sigh, word gusting out with only half its strength as your eyes rove over him, drawn back again and again to his still fastened belt.

Viktor thumbs at your bottom lip. “Open.”

Your lips drop open eagerly, treating him to the sight of your waiting tongue, plush pink and slick, just waiting for him to tease open with his fingers, or better yet –

And there it is. The distinctive clinking of metal on metal, Viktor’s capable hands threading the leather of his belt free, unzipping.

You keep your eyes politely on his, even through the thrum of anticipation in your ears.

You’re not sure you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound, already on the brink of squirming for him. Surely you hadn’t teased him this long? A few moments at the end of dinner didn’t deserve this much restraint, did it?

His thumb slips free from where it had been resting on your chin, holding you open – even though you’d have eagerly sat there drooling for him all day, if he’d asked. You really didn’t have any shame left, when it came to him.

You can’t hold eye contact as you hear the slick sound of his thumb rubbing through the pre gathering at the tip of his cock, and Viktor tuts.

“You’ve been rather impatient tonight. Couldn’t even last through dinner.”

You do your best to look contrite, but it’s hard when faced with the pretty, flushed length of his cock, right before your eyes and yet just out of reach.

Your smile is crooked, struggling to not look like the cat that got the cream when it’s so obvious that he’s about to give you exactly what you’ve been goading him for all evening. “Let me make it up to you?”

Viktor follows your meaningful gaze to the engorged head of his cock, humming thoughtfully.

“You need your mouth filled that badly, miláčku?”

You’re perfectly prepared for him to guide himself to your lips, to smear them with the slick beginnings of come, and take his pleasure. To split your mouth wide around his girth, push in deep, remind you what it means to misbehave. To come down your throat, just like you’ve been itching for since you’d set up the dinner reservation.

Instead, Viktor holds up a strawberry.

The tuft of green atop it is unmistakable, even though the majority of the fruit is coating in a rich layer of shiny chocolate.

Viktor smiles down at you, patient and bemused, as he sets the fruit on your tongue, urging you to bite it off.

“Is it good?” he asks, knowing full well you’ll have to chew.

You swallow hastily, peering up at him, uncertain of this game. “You should try one.”

Viktor hums thoughtfully, eyes leaving you – bereft – to peer at the velvety box sitting on the nightstand. Thin fingers pluck another strawberry out, this one with an even darker layer of chocolate, but drizzled in white icing.

You’d like to be drizzled in white, too.

“Viktor,” you whine, fingers creeping over the soft fabric of his slacks towards the hard swell of his cock, pads just barely tickling against the coarse scrub of pubic hair –

“Hands back where I put them. You know better.”

A heavily put-upon sigh, but your hands drop back to the pillows cradling your head, palms up. Stuck waiting.

You let him feed you the strawberry, pouty around the juicy give of sugar-sweet fruit.

Viktor thumbs the droplet of juice that gathers at the corner of your mouth, threatening to spill down your cheek stickily into your hair. "Did you enjoy watching me squirm, drahý?"

You chew your strawberry, petulant, in lieu of answering.

But your jaw forgets to move as Viktor’s hand comes down to cup his cock, giving a slow, loose stroke. Just for show. The slick bead welling up at the tip is more tempting than any decadent fruit, your mouth watering around the acidic mush of strawberry still sitting on your tongue.

His voice is hardly a whisper, low and teasing. “I know I’m certainly enjoying the sight of you squirming now.”

Your breath comes out shaky, swallowing and yet somehow feeling a bit dry in the throat.

Viktor plucks up another strawberry and brings it to his own lips, leaving you fixated on the crisp noise of the fruit splitting between his teeth, calling to mind more lasciviously slick noises.

Juice swells up and drips over the curve of his bottom lip, and his soft tongue peeks out to lap it up, sliding in a way that pulls a little moan from the depths of your lungs.

You flush as Viktor grins down at you.

“All you have to do is ask politely,” he prods.

“Please? Vik?”

He raises a brow and reaches for a strawberry.

“Let me suck your cock, Viktor, stop teasing –”

He’s laughing at your eagerness, and you have to fight not to pout again.

“Let me suck your cock, Viktor, please,” Viktor corrects. Never has a strawberry looked like such a threat as it does now, sitting in his hand like denial made physical.

You swallow heavily, peering at the head of his cock, the confident hand resting at its base. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you look back up at him with the most pleading, needy eyes you can muster. “Please fuck my throat, Viktor?”

It’s Viktor’s turn to feel breathless, shuddering exhale as his eyes go dark. Exactly what you’d hoped to achieve, intensifying the reward like that.

The moment of stillness seems to crawl along your skin, waiting –

And he pops the strawberry into his own mouth, leaning forward to bump the head of his cock to your lips.

You open for him eagerly, salt on sweet, and moan as Viktor pushes deep into exactly where he belongs.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #mdni #my work #drahy is 'dear' and milacek is 'darling'#this is literally the most bare editing I've ever done because I wanted this bad boy up TONIGHT #and i need to go to work! RIGHT NOW!#so if you see problems :3 just know i'm giving you a little wink

203 notes · View notes