#male blood elf

[drathe]

his red lips

[rielzero]

Nymrod ''A Silver-y coated Fool''

Backstory Blurb;

Nymrod was a High Half Elf Silver Dragonic Bloodline Sorcerer who tried to become a fashion designer despite his family's high demands and expectations. He particularly disliked his innate magic as he had the tendency to freeze things when he got nervous.

As a result of his unstable powers and clumsiness, no one would take him as an apprentice so he had to teach himself how to sew. Struggling with what to do with his misfortunes, he briefly joined a band of friends on a few adventures, realizing he really disliked contributing to conflict and fighting. During a tour to Elturel, he got really drunk and passed out.. Only to awaken when Elturel was pulled into Avernus. The sudden shift of planes for some reason changed him into a Dainty, soft looking Tiefling, unrecognizable to himself and his friends. They swiftly abandoned him in order to flee. Left with little else to hold onto, Nymrod is who he became. Acting docile, foolish and helpless, his appearance and behavior gave him his name, a combination of ''Nymph'' and ''Nimrod'' Passed around several devils as a pretty pet to look at. Hiding his intelligence and using his charm to remain unharmed. When Nymrod was about to be sold to one particularly cruel Devil in exchange of dozens of soul coins, Raphael ended up coming to his rescue. The Cambion recognized Nymrod's facade, becoming the only safe space were Nym's intelligence was genuinely recognized. Nym is very indifferent about the conflict surrounding Avernus as he had to prioritize his own survival. Due being abandoned by his only friends in his time of need, he stopped caring for those who do not value him. Since then he has gotten used to his body, still feeling somewhat strange about it. Some inconsistencies might exist in the blurb, but he is an OC, casual oc. He wouldn't exist in the same universe as the videogame per sé, so no tadpole or mindflayer business. He's not an adventurer, so not very experienced in combat- avoids it.

Idk I like the idea of ''very evil half devil has soft spot for a very unlucky dude'' cuz I enjoy fluff as much as I enjoy angst.

*people in the house of hope literally being tortured, screaming in the background* Nymrod: Hmm. I feel inspired.. *sketches outfit ideas* Raphael: *sips from a glass of brandy* The songs they sing in the morning are the most spirited. Nymrod: Oh, should I add some more skulls in this pattern??

I don't think Nymrod is evil, but rather- indifferent? He had no room to care for others, being isolated for so long. He no longer has that passively active empathy he used to before Avernus. Too much shit happened..

Might write some fic later, idk. I don't feel confident in writing Raphael to be honest, but I want to describe Nym's story a bit more. I don't really intend on drawing it actively as I have other projects.

Nym would get along with Haarlep pretty well, sassy bitching.

Some other things about Nymrod.

-Freezing things when nervous still happens, but given that they're in hell- it just turns into water right away half of the time. ''Did you have an oopsie?'' Haarlep would probably joke around that Nym is a bedwetter.. -He sometimes sheds the scales, but they regrow on the exact same locations. Skin gets a little overly sensitive during this time. -He purrs! Isn't sure why, but it happens. -As a Half Elf, his hair was much darker, he used to wear very dark clothing, but after settling in his new form he prefers light colors. Mostly pink. -As a Fierna Tiefling and sorcerer, Nym's charm spell happens mostly subconsciously, it's gotten him out of trouble many times. -He sold his previous name to a Fey who was wandering in the Hells while he was still held captive as a caged pet. The fey gave him a blessing that makes him naturally lucky out of pity in exchange. He doesn't remember his old name or previous personality much, but he does remember his life before Avernus. He has no attachment to his old life. -Nym had no close friends or relatives when he was abandoned by his family. His only friends were the adventuring group, or so he thought.. -He is clingy, bit of a damsel. Would still throw ice at someone as a last resort. Not great at aim though. Would probably die in 2 hits. -Plays with his tail absentmindedly when he's bored, still unfamiliar with the limb at times. -Tailwag when he's excited. -He really really really likes how his body looks after the change, but it did take some getting used to. -His horns have very sensitive nerve endings. -Insecure in the bedroom, but only because he's inexperienced. His only previous sexual encounters were while drunk, has an alcohol problem but isn't addicted. He just doesn't know when to stop drinking. When given the chance he will drink until he passes out. -Whenever possible, he will make or design clothes for Raphael and Haarlep. Has his own little atelier room to work on these things. -Throws little pouty tantrums when his clothing or work gets stained. -Crybaby, very easily overstimulated. Cries when stressed. -Smarter than he makes himself out to be, loves puzzles. Has solved very intricate and difficult puzzles on a whim before. -Raphael exclusively calls him ''Nimphy'' when greeting him. -Settled for being spoiled or treated as a pet pretty easily, has kept the collar with his name on it since he first got it. He feels safer while wearing it. I might draw responses to specific questions about Nymrod actually. Feel free to flood my inbox lol, if you want me to draw this oc in specific situations..

[dotchi18]

You aren't scared of what is to come, no matter how gory it will surely be. You will go with him.

Informing him of this, Briar smiles warmly to you, " Ah, you are tougher than you first gave off. Though I wouldn't have minded either way."

He then goes back to the rocks he had previously scaled, and hopped over them with just as much smoothness.

Carrying a heavy bag and not as well versed in this kind of thing, you slowly follow after as he leads you in, walking a more than decent few paces away from the river when he seems to find his spot.

He tosses the mermaid to the ground with a 'Thump!' before he reaches into his own bag, much smaller than yours as he pulls out some stakes and a few ropes, forming a makeshift pully system which he sinks the stakes into the bottom of the fish tail, you hearing the crunch of bone as he makes sure it's secure in place before going to a tree and looping it around the branch, hauling up the mermaid with some hefty tugs.

" Alright, since you seem so interested, we can watch while the Forest takes it's feast."

You ask him how that won't put the two of you in danger, and he simply smiles and in the bag fishes out a cloak, passing it over his hand and making it disappear.

A cloak of invisibility.

You ask where he acquired such a rare and fine piece of fabric, but he simply shrugs with a smile.

" I've had this for a long while, though I entrusted it to the wrong person and lost it to a certain someone for a while. I've just recently re-acquired it." He smiled radiantly, " We're going to have to be in close quarters for a bit, but I think it would be worth it if you truly wish to see how nature works."

He pointed to a tree across from the swinging body, a tree with multiple branches jutting out in a way there was a bowl of wood made from it, perfect to sit in as Briar moved up into it, wrapping the cloak around him as he reached down to your hand.

After a beat, you reached to him, your hands connecting as he hauled you safely up into his lap, perching you there and helping drape the two of you, safely hidden from the world.

It takes only a little while before the smell of the mermaid begins to permeate the air, and true to his word, the forest came to collect.

The first came in the form of a six foot nightmare, a Nandi Bear, as shown by it's spotted coat and short snout as it prowled to the corpse.

And true to it's diet, you got to watch in morbid fascination as it cracked open the skull, devouring the brains before leaving it missing the top of it's head, scraped absolutely clean, along with some chunks of it's fish tail after a curious nibble.

" Funny... This is a bit shallower in the forests than usual for them." Briar muttered, though for the record you didn't think it was funny at all.

The next to arrive looked to be a large black cat, a Cath Palug, which surveyed the hanging body of the mermaid- it's remains anyways- for a couple of beats before a gust of wind caused it to sway.

The large cat spread it's paws, it's pupils blowing wide before it took swipes at the mermaid, batting it around in a manner that one would almost call adorable if it wasn't for the claws flaying the remains as it batted it around before it seized the body with it's front paws and used the back paws to scratch at the flesh, chomping it playfully as you hear the steady beat of Briar's heart behind your head.

After it was done swatting it around, it pulled and pulled before the tail broke apart with a sickening crunch, the Cath Palug pulling the creature into it's jaws before dragging it off.

You both waited for a substantial time before Briar pulled the cloak off the two of you with a content sigh.

Tags: @abrokecupoftea, @one-really-annoying-tree-rat

[spacetravels]

started a new dao playthru to kiss morrigan. this is my terrible son

[strigital]

blah blah the tadpole something something the absolute, the goblins and some dude in your dreams. look, where there's threat of imminent death and world destruction there's also gotta be some love, right? so anyways, here're just some Tadpole Havers™ and their darlings <3

[crypt-tids]

A Gift Unto the King

10

Unfortunate Circumstances

“UNHAND ME, YOU DALCOP!” The woman shrieked, her voice echoing throughout the castle halls as a brutish knight dragged her along by the arm, his meaty paw squeezing her tight enough to leave marks. “LET-ME-GO!” She shouted again, frantically clawing at the large man’s iron grip. Her feet slid and scuffed across the floor as she leaned back, employing as much resistance as she could physically muster. Unfortunately, her efforts went to waste.

Abruptly, the knight stopped, slinging her body forward, where she slammed hard against the tile floor. Sharp pains radiated from her knees and wrists as she tried to break her fall; however, she instead landed on her chest, which knocked the wind out of her. Propping herself up on her elbow, she gasped and coughed, clutching at her neck as she tried to catch her breath. Once air finally found her lungs again, she snapped her infuriated gaze back to the knight, and spat in his direction.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” An older man’s voice interrupted, which caught the woman’s attention immediately.

Quickly, she turned to face the man who’d spoken, and the color drained from her face. Before her, sitting atop a golden throne, cheek rested on his hand, was King Wilfred. His face was adorned with a shaggy mustache and beard, and chunky, gold, rings decorated his fingers. He was dressed in gaudy attire, lined with shimmering silk and goldwork embroidery. A large, jewel encrusted crown rested on his head, and around his neck, a massive, emerald pendant hung from a heavy, gold chain.

“We found this one hunting on your land, your majesty.” The knight replied, giving the woman a sinister glare.

“Is that so?” King Wilfred smirked.

“YOU LIE!” The woman shouted back at the knight, as she pushed herself up from the cold floor, her body still aching from the fall. “Your knight trespassed into Valkevilla’s borders!” She desperately tried to explain.

“Is this true?” King Wilfred asked the knight in a manner not denoting any real desire for truth.

“It is not, your highness.” The knight gave a sly smile.

“Well, there you have it.” Wilfred shrugged. “My knight says you were hunting on our lands, and he has no reason to lie.” He finished in a condescending tone.

Frustration and anger boiled in her blood. Tightly, she clenched her fists, brows furrowing over darkening eyes.

“Listen here, you pisspot!” She snarled. “I’ve never in my life crossed Honterra’s borders, and you and your brute are well aware of that!”

King Wilfred’s playful demeanor shifted. A foreboding aura encapsulated him as he rose from his throne and slowly approached the pugnacious woman. Adrenaline pumped through her veins with each heavy footfall. Standing face to face, the king glared down at her. Her long, brown hair was disheveled, and there were dark bruises growing around her wrists and neck. Studying her for a moment, he lifted her chin with a forceful grab.

“What are you?” He asked her, his voice dark.

She didn’t answer, her jaw tightly clenched. Wilfred glanced down at her bodice, taking note of the small patch of dried blood, before returning his gaze.

“Answer me.” His voice stern. Again, she refused. “Very well.” The king parted her lips with his thumb, holding her neck firmly to stop her from squirming. “Ah,” he aggressively released her, “extra eye teeth. You must be a ghoul, then.” His tone carried a bitter repulsion.

The woman exhaled sharply through her nose as she silently scowled.

“So,” Wilfred continued, “you thought you might venture into our borders for some fresh meat, did you? Human flesh, perhaps?”

The dark haired woman spat in his face. “I’d never.” She growled, the irises of her eyes fading from their former hazel green to an unsettling pitch black.

Wilfred wiped away the spit and raised his hand, smacking her hard across the face with the back of it. Stumbling slightly from the force, she regained her balance, grabbing at her stinging cheek, blood trickling from her freshly busted lip.

“Insolent bitch!”

Before he could do anything else to her, they were interrupted by the shrill shrieking of a little boy being dragged into the room. Attention shifting to the noisy newcomers, the king noted that the small child had dark hair and a scratch across his cheek, with dirt and grass stains covering his skin and clothes. When the woman’s eyes finally fell to the screaming boy, her heart filled with dread. Her eyes flickered, and she found herself holding her breath, her body frozen still.

“Pardon the intrusion, your majesty. We captured this one as it tried to flee.” The knight forcefully whipped the child forward, with nearly enough force to dislocate his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain.

“Let me… go!” The little boy grunted through pained sobs, trying his hardest to pull his aching arm from the knight’s solid grip. After a few moments, he glanced up and saw the woman staring at him with horror in her eyes. “Mommy, please!”

“Ahh…” Wilfred stroked his bearded chin, an amused smile gracing his lips. “Interesting.” His gaze returned to the woman. “This child belongs to you, then.”

“If you harm one hair on his head, I SWEAR-!”

“You’ll what?” The king circled the woman, who was cautiously eyeing him. “Because, it doesn’t seem to me that you’re in much of a position to do anything at all.”

“Let him go, he hasn’t done anything!” She begged, anger and desperation lining her trembling voice.

“He was born, that’s more than enough.” King Wilfred finished coldly, gesturing to the knight to bring the child to him.

“Please!” She pleaded, watching nervously as her son was violently tugged past her. “HE’S JUST A CHILD!”

“Mm… It’s such a pity,” the king’s voice was airy as he drew his blade, “that children are born into this world from the blood of monsters.”

Panic was setting in and the woman lunged for her son, but was snatched back by the knight standing guard behind her. Desperately, she tried to wiggle free, but to no avail.

“Mommy, I’m scared!” Tears and mucus were running down the child’s face.

“It’s gonna be okay, love, just look at me. You’re gonna be okay, everything’s fine.” Her voice shook as she tried to reassure her frightened son. “Let him go, please! HE’S INNOCENT, PLEASE!” She begged, tears of her own burning at her eyes. “I’LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE!”

The boy continued to cry out to his mother as the two were held firmly apart. Her eyes darted back and forth between her son and the blade, her body trembling uncontrollably. The knight's arm was held tightly across her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Do you repent?” The king asked flatly, running his fingers along the blade.

“Yes!" She gasped. "I- I repent! Please, I beg you,” she watched as the sword rose above the boy’s head, “No, please! I repent, please, I repent, I REPENT, I REPEN-!”

With one, swift, motion, the blade came swooping down, effortlessly slicing clear through the boy’s neck. His blood-soaked body crumpled to the floor with a soft thud, as his head rolled to his mother’s feet. Eyes wide with horror, she let out a blood-curdling scream, which reverberated off the castle walls in a way that the king found sadistically satisfying. Tears clouded her vision as grief and anger quickly consumed her. Looking up to the king, he saw in her eyes no longer the desperate glimmer of hope that had been there mere moments before, but instead, a cold, lightless, abyss. Her brows furrowed as she curled her lip, exposing her supremely sharp canines. Clenching her fists, her breath quickened, heart nearly pounding out of her chest.

“I’ll kill you.” She growled through clenched teeth. “I’LL KILL YOU!” With all the strength her adrenaline could push through her veins, her jaws violently clamped down on her captor's hand, causing him to loosen his grip, and she ripped herself free of his grasp. Spinning around him with lightning quickness, she sank her fangs deep into his neck, warm blood rapidly pouring into her mouth from his punctured jugular. Hastily, she tore the flesh from his throat, blood gushing from the wound. Muddled gargles escaped him as his body collapsed to the floor. The other knight rushed her, whom she effortlessly dodged and shoved aside, instead, keeping her eyes on the true prize.

Blind with rage, she lunged towards her son’s murderer, reaching for his throat. She’d hoped to see fear in his eyes—to know that she would be the last person he’d ever see. She wanted to hear him choke on his own blood as his body fell cold. However, Wilfred stood firm. There was no fear, there was no panic. Instead, he swiftly lifted his sword and effortlessly thrust the blade into her unguarded abdomen. White-hot, searing, pain rushed through her body, as her throat slowly filled with blood. She gasped, and wheezed, watching as the king’s lips twisted into a demented smile.

“Tell me, beast,” he thrusted the blade into her further until her belly rested flush against the hilt, “does death frighten you?” His sickened grin widened, revealing his yellowing teeth.

The woman let out another sharp gasp, and her knees buckled. She coughed as fresh blood tried to fill her lungs, eyes flickering as they faded back to their natural hazel color.

Wilfred knelt down before her, sword still held firmly through her stomach. He lifted her chin, eyes dancing over her features, wishing to savor the moment. Her breathing was labored and her body jerked with every strained breath.

“Such a shame that beauty must be wasted on those undeserving of it.” He ran his calloused thumb across her swollen bottom lip.

The woman’s mouth twitched and her head bobbed lightly as she tried to maintain consciousness. Tears streamed down her face, dragging along with it the freshly splattered blood. Gathering herself as her last act of defiance, she spat blood onto the king’s face, and laughed a shallow, raspy laugh.

“The gods will give you blood to drink.” She panted, her voice weak.

Wilfred’s smile faded, and he twisted the blade sharply, before ripping it out of her and setting it aside. She let out a soft squeak as the king caught her before she collapsed. There, he gently brushed the hair from her face, and watched the light fade from her eyes, as warm blood spilled from the gaping wound. Once her last breath escaped her lips, he let her fall, and rose to his feet. He stood above her for a moment, admiring his blood-soaked handiwork, before returning his attention to the surviving knight.

“Take care of this.”

And with that, the king left.

“Are you certain about this?” Vin asked.

“Yes.” Carmilla replied. “I’ve never been wrong.”

Vin sighed, his fingers tugging at the lace of Carmilla’s bodice. He found himself in no hurry to untie it.

“I can do it, if you prefer.” She offered.

Vin released the string and turned his back to her. Carmilla picked up where he left off and finished untying the lace. She carefully removed her dress, leaving only her undergarments.

“I’m done.” Carmilla spoke softly.

Taking a deep breath, Vin turned to face her. Her long, white, chemise draped delicately over her thin frame, glowing in the ambient candle light. She looked beautiful—with her fluffy mop of curly hair, and pillowy lips—but Vin couldn’t bring himself to care. It didn’t matter who she was, or how beautiful she looked, she would never be the one he wanted. And even though they had expressed their mutual discontent with the circumstances, it didn’t make what they were about to do any easier.

“It’s your turn.” She gestured to his pants, which he’d been hesitant to remove.

Clenching his jaw, he began unlacing his pants, before letting them fall to the floor. The two stood silently for a moment, staring at each other, neither rushing to make the first move. Eventually, Vin collected himself, and approached her. He could hear the quickening pace of her heart beat as he reached out to brush her coiled hair out of her face. She gulped hard, but otherwise held her composure.

“Are you ready?” Vin asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper, hand softly cupping her cheek in a way he’d hoped would be at least somewhat reassuring.

Carmilla nodded, taking Vin’s open hand and letting him guide her to the bed. Slowly, he spun her around, and gently laid her down onto the plush mattress. He watched her body tense as her eyes remained fixed on him. Seeing how obviously uncomfortable she was left a pit in his stomach.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Vin asked, silently hoping she’d have changed her mind.

“Y-yes.” She forced out.

“We don’t have to do-”

“Enough.” She interrupted. “These are the terms of the agreement, so let’s just… get it over with.” Carmilla slid her knees apart, slowly pulling up her chemise.

Vin cautiously climbed onto the bed, leaning over her. He studied her face with saddened eyes. Gods, he didn’t want to do this. He’d rather do anything than lie with a woman who didn’t want him. Looking at her nervous face made him feel like a monster. Shame gnawed at his heart, as if he’d forced her into this. He supposed, in a way, he had. Not directly, but it was his fault regardless.

“Just say no.” He whispered.

Carmilla stayed quiet for a moment. As her eyes scanned over him, her body relaxed. She took a few deep breaths, then reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek.

“Why are you so worried for me?” She asked softly.

“Because you don’t want this.” He replied.

Her eyes softened, half a smile dancing on her lips. She ran her thumb back and forth across his cheek lightly, and he closed his eyes.

“Neither do you.” Carmilla sighed. “Look,” she continued, her voice soft and delicate, “for tonight, I can be whoever you want me to be. Whoever it is that holds your heart,” she smiled softly, “close your eyes, and see only them.”

“And what about you?” Vin asked, brows upturned slightly.

“I’m a strong woman.” She laughed through her nose. “Do not worry for me.”

Candle light danced across their faces as they spent a few moments in silence. Carmilla had done well to ease Vin’s worried mind, but deep down, the pit in his stomach still grew. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel right again after this—if he’d even be able to look at her again. All of it felt so incredibly wrong to him. But, an agreement was made, and it was his duty to fulfill it.

Drawing a deep breath, he closed his eyes and thought of Lucas. Images of the sandy-haired knight danced in his mind. Quietly, he meditated on it, and after a few moments, it began to feel real. He could see his loving smile, and hear his intoxicating laugh. All the memories of their love wrapped tightly around him—every night they’d lain together, every kiss they’d shared, every touch they’d had. He embraced the warmth of those treasured days, wishing desperately to return to them.

Opening his eyes again, he saw Carmilla patiently waiting beneath him, her aura less tense now. He attempted to calm himself with a few more deep breaths, however, he didn’t feel so disconnected from her anymore. She wasn’t Lucas, that much was true, but perhaps, her bit of advice had been helpful, after all. Though his eyes were staring down at an elven princess, his mind was consumed only by his knight.

Gathering his nerves, he leaned closer to her, gently holding her thigh and pushing it upwards. Goosebumps radiated across her skin from his soft touch. Nervously, she bit at her lower lip, shivers running up her sides and over her breasts, while butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

“Tell me to stop.” Vin offered to her again.

“I won’t.”

[tazara]

Oh My

There's only so much one can take before they snap right? "I swear its nothing personal..."

Like what you see? Commissions are open! Link to the form below! Commission Form

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[aquariasmoon]

Sometimes I forget people here don't know my social or work accounts lol. Every time someone refers to me as Aquaria or Aqua I'm like: who??? oh me?! Σ( ° o °;) I normally just go by Zev or Zevi lol

[thealchemist-as]

Shout out to all my dnd lovers

[renaultmograine]

No because then I get to mock my character relentlessly, mimicking their goofy voice in the process.

Just learned that most of my friends keep the WoW error speech on when playing and I feel like I have been playing with complete strangers for 10+ years. That is easily the first dumb little inconvenience I turn off when I reinstall the game. Don't you think it's obnoxious when your character goes :( I CAN'T CAST THAT? as you're hammering the ever loving piss out of your Shadowbolt button????

[sadismancer]

Beleth Ashre Sinvyre

Demon Hunter

Coloured sketch

[fostersffff]

I always love finding out when Dan Woren voices a character in an anime because I never quite recognize him, and then as soon as I see his name my brain autofills in whatever character I'm looking at saying "Selama Ashal'anore. Remember the Sunwell."

[rielzero]

why does this look 100 times better than my valentines art piece wtf

well-

[mynahx3]

I'll Make You Better, Baby 1.5k

This is a lil drabble of @meo-eiru elf OC Silas. The lil cutie just wants to take care of his little human Hope everyone enjoys!! Got inspired after getting sick ;-;

WARNINGS: Noncon oral (male receiving), forced infantilization, implied kidnapping, implied prior noncon, weird misunderstood mom/ baby relationship, Silas does not understand his feelings for reader lol GN! Reader

Being sick had to be one of the worst things to happen at this very moment. It hurt to move; you barfed almost everything you ate, and all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep until you felt better.

When it happened before, you would stay home from work. Recover bundled in your bed with a plethora of medications on your nightstand, maybe with a cup of tea or two to soothe your aching throat. Either sleep the day away or spend the time bingeing your favorite show.

Things like that took time for you to get better, but they were conventional.

Now if someone told you that you'd be forced into the care of a delusional elf after getting lost in the enchanted forest, you'd call them crazy. But here you were, being pampered as he insisted on feeding you strange concoctions, doting on you like a mother would.

Only a mother wouldn't be doing this to their child.

Silas currently had you on the bed, bundled in the blanket, but you were on your knees. He stood at the foot of the bed; being as tall as he was, he loomed over you like a giant. His eyes were lovestruck and filled with tears as he guided your head up and down his length.

The taste of him was all over your tongue; a mix of his cum and drool went down your chin. Not bad, per say; it tasted sweeter with a hint of saltiness, unlike any human you've ever been with.

His fingers were tangled in your hair as he assisted you, moving your head with a firm but gentle touch. Your mouth aches around him, and he barely went halfway; your throat felt raw and stretched as you took more and more of him in.

"Feels so good, my baby." Silas praised, his hips bucking more into your throat on accident. "Let me, let me help you."

The action made you gag, hands pushing harder on his hips. It was a miracle you could breathe with how much your nose was stopped up much less with his monster of a cock down your throat.

You closed your eyes and tried to relax, focusing on your breathing and blocking out the sensation of him filling you up. It was a task easier said than done. Silas moans above you, high and needy like always, long ears down and twitching; his entire face blushed a deep red.

When this was first proposed, you fought it, like always; your weak attempts did nothing to phase him. His strength compared to yours was like night and day; he easily picked you up from the floor where he found you in the bathroom after dinner.

Doting on you, cleaning you up after barfing, and then claiming he had to feed his baby. That he needed to give you your medicine.

You knew what that meant. Another session of swallowing his fluids. His blood. His cum. He tried to get you to drink milk from his large chest, but that didn't work, to his disappointment, so he had to make due. He was still trying to trigger his lactation to no avail.

Not much was known of the magical realm to humans, much less elves. Magical beings were said to have healing properties, but this way was… demeaning.

A choked sound comes from you; his hips move faster as he continues to force his fluids down your throat. You open your eyes, your hands pushing harder on his hips, trying to find the strength to pry yourself off him, but he only cooed at you sweetly.

With a hand over yours, he guided it along what didn't fit in your mouth, making it run along it smoothly. The taste was overwhelming, and his cock had a velvety texture over your tongue, making it difficult to resist the sensation. Letting out a muffled cry, you looked up at him, tears going down your cheeks, trying to convey your discomfort, but he only smiled down at you, tears in his own eyes.

"Just a little longer." He urged, moans escaping his lips as you gargled on his length. "A little longer and you'll feel better. Mommy will make you feel so good, I promise."

The sound of his voice was both soothing and unsettling, as you struggled to comply with his demands. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the taste of him becoming more unbearable with each passing second. But you knew you had no choice but to endure it, hoping that eventually it would all be over. As you fought back the urge to gag, his grip on your head tightened, pushing you further down.

Moaning in pleasure, he gently patted your hair, whispering words of encouragement that only added to your discomfort.

"Such a strong baby. You'll be full soon, so full and happy."

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to block out the sensations overwhelming you. With how fast he was moving and how loud he was, it wouldn't be long.

His hips stuttered, his breathing becoming more erratic as he reached his peak. The sound of his pleasure-filled moans filled the room, making your skin crawl even more.

As he finally came, your mouth was filled even more. The hot, fruity taste of his release made you gag, but you forced yourself to swallow it down, knowing there was no other choice.

"There you go, there you go." He encouraged, making sure to keep his hold on you until you swallowed every drop.

He was groaning as he felt your tongue travel along his length, sending shivers down his spine. He almost felt his knees give in from the sensations, but he held on, reveling in the pleasure you were giving him.

As he released his grip on you, you felt a wave of relief wash over you; this gave you the moment to gasp for air. The room fell silent, the only sound being the heavy breathing of both of you.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you tried to compose yourself. Harder for you than him. Although you were still experiencing headaches and body aches, at least your nausea had subsided. The frown was back on your face, something that you never really tried to hide anymore.

Silas wiped the remnants from your chin before kissing you gently, his tongue going into your mouth in a slow, sensual manner. He let the kiss go on for what felt like an eternity, his hands exploring your body with a gentle touch. Eventually, he pulled away with a soft smile, cupping your face as he pecked your nose, ignoring the way you glared at him.

"Come sleep with mommy, baby!"

He looked fine, aside from the light blush on his cheeks and pointy ears. As cheerful as always, fixing himself to get ready for bed, he preferred to sleep in the nude.

You really couldn't stand him, you thought, a grimace on your face as you reluctantly followed him to bed. The two of you followed your usual routine since you've been sick.

He made you drink a mysterious liquid from a glass; it was a dark red, almost like blood, and knowing him, it most likely was.

He grinned broadly when you handed him the glass back after drinking it. The taste was of iron and cherries, a strange combination that surprisingly wasn't as bad as you expected. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was giving you, but you were used to it by now. His coddling, his singing, and his insistence on taking care of you despite your protests.

You were used to it all by now. Plus, you were really too exhausted to fight anymore.

With you nestled against his chest and a blanket around the two of you, his arms encircling your body like a vice, he was beyond happy. Silas always had a way of getting what he wanted, even if it meant invading your personal space. You couldn't stand him or his behavior at times.

Occasionally, though, he was right.

The effects of his bodily fluids were no doubt working their magic on you, leaving you feeling surprisingly content. You felt warm all over and strangely full in your stomach, like if you had eaten a delicious soup. Your throat was finally free of the acid from barfing and whatever he had done to it.

Looking at him, he slept peacefully, snoring lightly as he laid next to you in bed. Despite his annoying habits, there was a sense of comfort in his presence.

No, no. That wasn't it.

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. The warmth of his body next to yours was simply soothing, nothing more.

You weren't thinking straight; it had to be the fever getting to your brain.

It didn't help that you really needed to get some sleep.

Relaxing more against him, you felt your eyes grow heavier, the sound of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful slumber. The fever-induced delirium was taking its toll, but for now, you were content to drift off in his comforting embrace.

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon, fantasy au

gn reader

Thinking about hunter Gojo and the pretty little nymph that gets themselves snared in one of his traps.

You can’t get your poor leg loose, having twisted your ankle in your fall to the ground – something’s wrong with your wing too, you can feel it – the thin network’s been folded, almost broken – so even if you did manage getting loose, you wouldn’t be able to fly away.

Branches snap around you along the crunch of old leaves – and your heart’s beating out of your chest in fear of it – knowing something large and dangerous is not far behind, that whoever set the trap is not something that wishes you well.

“You’re not a rabbit.” The man says, having crept in close before you’d even heard him approach – crouching in front of you with a hunter's grace. Hawk-eyes ice-blue and piercing, hair as white as pure snow.

He’s got three daggers sleaved in his belt – a fillet knife, a gutting knife, and a larger one you imagine is meant to slice throats. He doesn’t carry a sword like most men but has a bow and sack of arrows slung on his back. Otherwise, dressed lightly – brown leather boots, brown slacks, and a blue cotton shirt. You could have mistaken him for a woodland elf if it weren’t for the thick stench of man.

“Eating creatures from the holy forest is forbidden.” You snip, despite your wide eyes and the wobble of fear evident on your lip.

He only smiles at the quip, a grin like a predator humored by prey. “You wouldn’t tell a wolf not to hunt.”

He stalks you, leaning in closer, and you try shuffling away – but the movement only makes you wince.

“I’m just another hungry animal…”

Rope gnaws into your fine skin while his breath puffs hot and dewy on your face.

“And tonight… seems lady luck has favored me once again.”

He gags you and ties you further up before redoing his snare for the next unlucky creature – then carries you over his shoulder until he’s dropping you down on a bed of furs.

Your skin flushes with goosebumps at the thought of being skinned the same way – mouthing a little prayer around the cloth he’s split your teeth and lips with. He’s cut trees down as well; you hear their pitiful screams when he lights a fire with their bodies. You mourn them, too.

At his full height, the man must be two heads taller than any male nymph you’ve ever seen and at least three heads taller than you. You hope you’re enough to satisfy him tonight, to spare the forest of further bloodshed.

You shiver and sniffle when he starts prepping you – removing your clothes and groping your tender, fleshy places with a strength you’re not used to – hands large and crass – kneading you like dough – probably to assess the quality of your meat. He has a smile on his face while at it. 

Humans make you sick – to think he’s planning on roasting then eating you despite the soul fueling your spirit and the beating heart in your chest. But you’ve long known that all death but their own matters little to them – they don’t feel the same way nymphs do – they don’t regard life with the same respect they’ve donned themselves. It must be a sad and lonely existence, you think. It even makes you feel a little sorry for him.

You yelp when his gritty fingers brush the area between your legs – shimmying when he lowers his mouth down to the same place. Oh God – does he plan on eating you raw? While your body’s still hot and pumping blood?

But the bite never comes – not yet eating but tasting it would seem – licking and slurping and sucking on you.

He takes his shirt off. Probably to avoid spilling on it, you think.

You don’t really understand what’s going on until he’s got his fat manhood pointed toward your kernel-sized hole. Eyes wide as he splits you apart slowly and unabashedly – as though it isn't as deviant as a dog mating a cat – sinking in inch after meaty inch.

You whimper at the stretch – wincing when the plush mushroom-shaped head grinds against that special place inside you. 

It doesn’t fit more than halfway, but that doesn’t seem to bother him – rolling his head back with a rusty groan, even with just the tip gaining purchase within you – pounding into you like a beast in his rut.

“What's the matter, pretty nymph? Did you think I was gonna eat you?” He laughs, bearing over you – his hands steadying your hips to meet his sharp thrust – each hit deeper than the last. “I’m the only hunter in this forest; I can eat what I want when I want – but eating you?” He scoffed and snickered. “That would just be a waste.”

The blood on his breath makes you wrinkle your nose – squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue sweeps up the tear streaks on your cheek.

“My stomach’s already full. Time to empty my balls.”

[blackjackkent]

Down the parsed dialogue rabbit hole again, this time looking at Ethel's Vicious Mockery lines for all the characters, and goddamn, they are brutal.

ASTARION You're one thirsty night away from betraying everyone. Deep down, you like being leashed, don't you? Is there still rat stuck in your teeth, slave?

GALE I can smell what's under those bandages, wizard. You're all rot and ruin. Come to greet death early? You'll be a lovely spectacle. Who would be jealous of you, apprentice?

KARLACH Let's pull your strings, infernal puppet. Happy to sell everyone's soul but your own, aren't you? When I'm done, even the Hells won't want you.

LAE'ZEL Your people will never take you back - illithid scum. Do you miss kissing Vlaakith's feet, gith? A toad with a tadpole! How fitting.

MINSC How quaint! The hamster has a pet. Only evil here is what's inside you, ranger. Go rub your rat, soft-skull.

SHADOWHEART You're so far up Shar's cake you can't see straight. Pathetic. Why would Shar love you when no one else does? You're no complex puzzle. Just a sad little girl.

WYLL Do you think losing that eye made you a hero? Oh, look! It's daddy's regret. Fraud of the Frontiers!

DRAGONBORN Aww, where's your clan? Bet they'd exile you for that brainworm in a blink. Bet that honour of yours shatters easy as your scales. You foul-breathed little lizard!

DWARF No flabby dwarf's a threat to me. More beard than brains, the lot of you. Bet you'd trade your friends for a trinket or two, gold-eater!

DWARF (DUERGAR) Bow your head, slave. You remember how, don't you? Grey and useless as a stone comb. I'll squeeze that stone heart until it bleeds, dwarf. Need a new master, illithid lover?

ELF Fancy yourself immortal? We'll see how long that lasts. I'll show you what a true fey does, dearie. Elves are so pretty. Pretty worthless!

ELF (DROW - FEMALE) Filthy underscum! Just another of Lolth's pretty harlots. Slaver. Sadist. How dare you judge me?

ELF (DROW - MALE) Bare your throat, spider-bait. Kneel, boy. Just like the matriarchs taught you to. Bow to your betters, boy.

GNOME Disgusting burrow rat. Bet your clan's happy you're gone! Try laughing after I rip your throat out, gnome.

HALF-ELF I wonder which parent regrets you more, half-breed. How revolting. Another thin-blooded mongrel. Half-elf. Half-human. All useless.

HALF-ELF (DROW) Even the Underdark doesn't want you, half-breed. A half-drow? How grotesque. Surprised you show yourself in public, abomination.

HALF-ORC Come now, tusks-for-brains! Doesn't this make you angry? All that bloodlust. A little tap, and I bet you won't know friend from foe! Lumbering half-orc. Twice as ugly as your parents combined!

HALFLING Come closer, little softie. You'll be tender. A tiny, sweet morsel. Just for me.

HUMAN Another human rat infesting Faerûn. A human! So desperate to be special. Pity. That tadpole actually made you interesting.

TIEFLING I'll burn you alive and everyone will celebrate. You're everyone's punching bag and no one's favourite. I see the Hells spit out another tragic little tiefling.