#open hearth gaming

[open-hearth-rpg]

Open Hearth Video Roundup - January 6, 2025

Welcome to the monthly Open Hearth Gaming video roundup!

These recorded sessions represent only a portion of the games we play every month, and anyone is welcome to join the fun! If you'd like to play in games like these, join our Playabl community and click on the "Calendar" tab to sign up for upcoming games. To browse our entire library of session videos, please visit our YouTube Playlists page. To hear our recorded sessions in audio-only form, please check out our Playing at the Hearth podcast.

Open Hearth Gaming Calendar

Kingdom 2e: Fall of the Overlord (Session 1 of 2) Lowell Francis runs for Dom, Donogh, and Michele The first of a two-part series of Kingdom 2e by Ben Robbins. In this session we split between set up and playing out our first Crossroad. Our characters explore the fate of a fantasy city, newly liberated from a force of evil by heroic factions. But now comes the hard part of rebuilding, reconciling, and finding hope.

Kingdom 2e: Fall of the Overlord (Session 2 of 2) Lowell Francis runs for Dom, Donogh, and Michele The second of a two-part series of Kingdom 2e by Ben Robbins. In this session we play out a second Crossroad. Our characters explore the fate of a fantasy city, newly liberated from a force of evil by heroic factions. But now comes the hard part of rebuilding, reconciling, and finding hope.

Hearts of Yokai: The Deepening Gulf (Session 7) Lowell Francis runs for Ethan Harvey, Patrick Knowles, Sherri, and Tyler Lominack After a couple week break, we return. While some of the group dea with preparations for the party, others discover or deal with strangeness. But then the time of the party finally arrives, putting everyone in difficult positions and forcing choices.

Hearts of Yokai: The Deepening Gulf (Session 8) Lowell Francis runs for Ethan Harvey, Patrick Knowles, Sherri, and Tyler Lominack The group reluctantly agrees to investigate the murder of the Goblin boss who was set to half a duel with one of their associates. This leads them to the Goblin Market, and some lessons about the structure of the Goblin families. They investigate the murder scene, get shot by a dream bullet, and discover connections to the missing cadre they've been hunting for...

The Cluster (Session 1) Alun R. runs for Joe F, Kae, and Sabine V. A Routine Cargo Run - We meet Gallant, a Deacon of Galiel's Aid & Order, an authoritarian government to whom he betrayed his parents. He is accompanied by Nestor Green, bought out of 'The Creche' of the barely survivable world of Snagg by a mercenary company, before going AWOL, and Jax Merrin, former dodgy investigator among the asteroids of Iron Wreath, who made a choice that led to his partner being pushed out of an airlock... A routine cargo run to the Galiel colony of 'Budding Two' turns complicated when there are missiles, a hot reception, and a a misunderstanding calmed down. Then, disturbing clues of criminal involvement, smuggling and heresy...

The Cluster (Session 2) Alun R. runs for Joe F, Sabine V., and Will H A Budding Mystery - When Deacon Gallant goes missing there's a difficult meeting with an unconcerned Dean for which Dr Marion Rillisk comes down from orbit to join Jax & Nestor. Dissatisfied with the Dean's response the team split up to look for Gallant. There's a cigarette break that turns into a knife fight (or maybe just practice); an attack (that might have been an assassination attempt); and an explosion that threatens potential evidence. Then, a suspect presents herself but the involvement of a potent Faction causes everyone to take a deep breath before the team gets back together...and gets a potentially very valuable job!

The Cluster (Session 3) Alun R. runs for Kae, Sabine V., and Will H A Whisper in the Void - Though Jax stays off-screen the reunited crew depart on a potentially lucrative job through the Ring Gate to the Void system. There's the cramped quarters and discomfort of travel between Gates and some shore leave before there's a Whisper to follow. Then, a distress call, PDCs at short range, and a high G pursuit that turns into a missile duel...

The Cluster (Session 4) Alun R. runs for Joe F, Kae, Sabine V., and Will H The Forsaken - The Crew land among the high peaks that keep the Forsaken 'safe' above the dense jungles, fungal infections and spore storms that leave the rest of the planet largely uninhabitable. Deacon Gallant is surprised by missionaries and Nestor isn't sure why they'd want to hunt down a stranger, while Jax and Rillisk con Captain Golvan into giving them access to the Whisper's logs. There's spare parts collected and a short interdiction by the Ring Gate Authority, while Gallant's a crisis of faith is painfully resolved (or is it) and a salvage op turns into the rescue...that may provide the segue-way to Season 2...

Wickedness (Session 1 of 3) Donogh runs for Matthew Doughty and Sabine V. Using the Urban Fantasy playset, discover the Sanctuary, City and the Underworld our coven of witches find themselves in. Meet Pepper the Pure Heart, Ivy the Wild Spirit and Motley the Old Soul, their friends and neighbours and their truths.

Wickedness (Session 2 of 3) Donogh runs for Matthew Doughty and Sabine V. The Coven's trouble begin when Ivy is captured by a Greedy Devil and placed in a gilded bird cage for purposes unknown. How will the others rescue their friend?

Community Radio: WAYS "You'll Find Yours, Just Wait" Lowell Francis runs for Cale P, Casey T, David S., and Rae Nedjadi We play a one-shot of Quinn Murphy's Community Radio. Your town has deep secrets, terrifying monsters, unspeakable evils, a clandestine city council making strange decrees...and a public radio station! In Community Radio, a group of 3 - 10 people gather to improvise scenes that show what life is like in this town, with accompanying public radio broadcasts. It's a game of dark humor and fast thinking that can entertain for 1-2 hours. If you like Welcome to Nightvale, this is the game for you!

Kingdom 2e: Far Station Eschaton (Session 1 of 2) Lowell Francis runs for Dominik M., Eliot, and Marc The first of a two-part series of Kingdom 2e by Ben Robbins, with a frame influenced by Deep Space Nine and Babylon Five. In this session we split between set up and playing out our first Crossroad. Far Station Eschaton has experienced a boom with the opening of a new wormhole leading to a sector of space shrouded in legend. But this has created new pressures from population, a nearby civil war, and the influence of a Confederation that is a shadow of its former self.

Kingdom 2e: Far Station Eschaton (Session 2 of 2) Lowell Francis runs for Dominik M., Eliot, and Marc The second of a two-part series of Kingdom 2e by Ben Robbins, with a frame influenced by Deep Space Nine and Babylon Five. In this session we split deal with the fallout from the first Crossroad and explore a second one. New forces threaten Far Station Eschaton when a new alien people emerge from the wormhole and offer an alliance. Will the station take up this opportunity? What costs must be paid?

Heart: The City Beneath (Session 2 of 4) Marc Majcher runs for Eliot, Gwendolyn Marshall, Nic Bennett, and Sabine V. Wherein our delvers get involved with the brutal Redcap Druids and their inter-city drug trade, and embroiled in a scheme to extract intel from and dispose of an "undercover" Aelfir cop.

Heart: The City Beneath (Session 3 of 4) Marc Majcher runs for Brandon Brylawski, Eliot, Nic Bennett, and Sabine V. This week's session of Heart features a dirty Aelfir cop* that won't die, rock-boring maggots, a religious vivisection, and everyone rushing to touch the Thing That Should Not Be Touched. Good times down there! *all cops are dirty

Heart: The City Beneath (Session 4 of 4) Marc Majcher runs for Eliot, Gwendolyn Marshall, and Nic Bennett Our final session of our Heart four-shot! Everything is super gross and things end... badly? for almost everyone. No, everyone.

Solstice Donogh runs for Blake Ryan, David S., and Tad Malcolm, the prodigal student returns home in time for the solstice, but his presence ruffles a few feathers, especially with Cameron and Faith; while those two’s complicated history brings Helen’s relationship with both of them into stark relief...

Fiasco: Poppleton Mall Donogh runs for Casey T, Madelancholy, and Mark Pop down to Poppleton Mall for the complete entertainment experience this festive season! The Holiday Spirit is offering a discount on Christmas Elves to adorn your garden, the Smoothie Store is nearly out of its pine-scented berry specials, and the Cult of Drath are looking to warn the unwary about the dangers of this extravaganza of consumerism!

Star Wars Saturday

Swoop Gangs: Niamos (Session 8 of 10) Rich Rogers runs for Anders, Cody Eastlick, Marc Majcher, and Steven Watkins A decent roll at the start of the game leads to one big fight scene at the Knights of the Old Republic Dinner and Tournament.

Swoop Gangs: Niamos (Session 9 of 10) Rich Rogers runs for Anders, Greg, Marc Majcher, and Steven Watkins The Gundarks spring someone from a chain gang and the new pres secures some hold.

Swoop Gangs (Session 10 of 10) Rich Rogers runs for Anders, Cody Eastlick, Greg, Marc Majcher, and Steven Watkins Niamos||The grand finale!

Off-Calendar Highlights

Hearts of Wulin: Numberless Secrets: Gaze into Silken Night, Season Two (Episode 7 of 7) Madelancholy runs for Agatha, Michael D., Rod Santos, and Thomas Manuel Season finale! Revelation reviewed, and everyone converges on the true villain...butterflies and battle, endings and epilogues. These characters will return for Season Three...

[juddgeeksout]

Listening: Joan of Arc and the Open Hearth's 2023 Gaming Highlights

I’m fascinated by Joan of Arc, ever since reading Joan of Arc: a history by Helen Castor. Might have to do some daydreaming about this on Daydreaming about Dragons. I’ve got a seed of an idea of how a Joan of Arc would look in the Dolmenwood setting but I haven’t found the ground to plant it in just yet. It is always nice to hear the Open Hearth (formerly The Gauntlet) folks talk about their…

[legitimatesatanspawn]

This is probably the weirdest thing I've seen but also pretty cool considering the devs' previous games were magitek AI Firewall CYOAs.

Who decides to make a Sherlock Holmes Life Sim where you're Watson and having to fight between comfy soft stuff, helping Sherlock get some damn rest because the idiot went and breathed chemical fumes overnight like a dipshit, your own PTSD from being a medical doctor in a warzone, and also solve mysteries? Apparently this dev.

[gametourism]

Outer Wilds, Attlerock

[ID : a gif showing timber hearth, the sun, giants deep and the quantum moon in the sky above attlerock /End ID]

[nobuverse]

"The transition from stage girl to servant wasn't a very difficult one, actually - I think they're quite similar ! Both involve fights to death....but one has men and monsters in it!"

[rins-batcave]

yknow what i wanna be cool and make a tag game

so if you wanna:

do this picrew

and then answer the questions:

What is your favourite colour?

What is your favourite holiday?

If you were any animal what would you be?

So for me:

What is your favourite colour? Green

What is your favourite holiday? Christmas maybe?

If you were any animal what would you be? Crow or bear probably

tags:

@sotiredimbored @mildlybizarrecorvid @chickencentaur @bucketsandraincoats @rorys-bullshit-dot-com @choucon @someones-here-fore-sure @arandombiped @forestgromlin @emilem-forevermore @demigod-jack-hearth @37x3 @your-dazzling-sun

+ open tags

(btw lmk if you wanna be removed or anything i tried to think of poeple who tag me in stuff normally lol)

[caykeisart]

Basement Walk Out Philadelphia Example of a large transitional walk-out porcelain tile and gray floor basement design with gray walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[the-mortuary-witch]

TYPES OF DEVOTIONAL ACTS

FOR LOVE/BEAUTY DEITIES: 

Skin care.

Do your makeup (or embrace your natural beauty).

Paint your nails.

Dress up a little.

Write love letters.

Masterbate.

Change your bed sheets/clean up your room/space.

Listen to love songs/songs about sex/loving yourself.

Having sex.

Read romance novels.

Play interactive romance novels/romance games (stardew valley, dream daddy, The Arcana, etc).

FOR WAR DEITIES: 

Listen to angry music.

Advocate for yourself.

Reinforce your boundaries.

Cut out the negative people in your life.

Feel your anger, recognize your anger, don't force it down, but don't lash out to others. "I am angry. This thing made me angry. It's okay that I am angry, it is not okay to cause harm to those who do not deserve it." Etc etc.

Read biographies or accounts of war, or dystopian novels (accounts of war like Night by Elie Weisel, dystopian like Divergent or Hunger Games).

Learn self defence.

Learn about how your area was used in past wars.

Play fighting games (call of duty, mortal combat, etc).

FOR MUSIC/ART DEITIES: 

Create! Learn an instrument, draw, etc.

Write a song.

Paint for them.

Listen to experimental or storytelling music. All music is art, so find a vibe for your deity.

Take pictures of nature, art is everywhere in nature, from the paintings on butterfly wings to the sunset.

Read/write poetry.

Read poetry books, or books about music or art (think biographies from musicians/artists, or books like Guitar Notes by Mary Amato or such) (guitar notes is a mid-grade book but it's the only one I could think of the name of).

Visit galleries or local shows, support local artists.

FOR WISDOM DEITIES: 

Read books, any type, but mostly classics like Sherlock Holmes or Jane Austen.

Watch documentaries.

Take free online courses on subjects that interest you.

Visit and support your local libraries and independently owned bookstores.

Find old unloved books at thrift stores.

Learn a new skill.

Listen to music from different time periods.

Visit museums.

Play strategy games (chess, supreme commander, etc).

Do puzzles.

FOR NATURE DEITIES: 

Raise a plant or a garden.

Listen to nature sounds, or music with nature sounds.

Observe nature persevering, vines crawling up a building, dandelions in cracks in the pavement.

Read wilderness guides.

Learn about your area's native flora and fauna.

Visit local parks.

Open windows and let the fresh air in.

Scavenge/forage (in safe areas).

Play cozy games (animal crossing in a good example).

FOR DEATH DEITIES: 

Visit local graveyards/cemeteries (don't forget to be mindful and conscious of others and the spirits there).

Listen to music by artists who have passed on, or music about death.

Learn about different cultures' funeral practices.

Safely move roadkill out of the road, leave a small offering if possible (again, do so SAFELY).

Read books that have death themes (like Edgar Allen Poe, Wuthering Heights, or They Both Die In The End).

Think about how you want your body to be treated in death. Do you want to be buried, cremated, donated to science?

FOR HOME/HEARTH DEITIES: 

Read cozy books.

Play cozy games (sims, animal crossing).

Make your house seem warm and inviting to visitors.

Learn how to bake, either from scratch or a box, both are acceptable.

Learn how to sew or knit or crochet.

Watch cozy movies.

Light candles if you don't have a fireplace.

Listen to soft music.

Visit your friends or family and bring them baked goods.

FOR STRONG PARENTAL DEITIES:

Take care of your friends. 

Make sure your friends eat and are drinking water, do the same for yourself. 

Tell the people in your life you love them, you're proud of them, they're doing a good job. 

Read books about found family, self help books. 

Listen to music that makes you feel safe and loved. 

Carry a figure that represents them. 

Take care of yourself the way that they would take care of you.

Cook for yourself. Make yourself feel safe and loved.

FOR HEALTH DEITIES: 

Carry bandaids, Tylenol, and extra pads/tampons for people who may need them.

Learn about the human body and how it works.

Take your meds.

Make art out of old pill bottles for them.

Know and respect your limits.

Watch documentaries about doctors or health sciences.

Research holistic remedies and see if any might be of use to you (DO NOT SUBSTITUTE THEM FOR MODERN MEDICINE) be careful of misinformation, and any interactions that certain things might have with your meds.

FOR SEA/OCEAN/WATER DEITIES: 

Have a small fountain in your home (you can find them at some dollar stores, or if you're mechanically savvy, make your own).

Salts in your baths.

Visit local streams, creeks, rivers, or beaches.

Read about marine life/river life.

Read about your local water sources, learn about the water cycle.

Collect rain water.

Stand in the rain, feel it on you, let it ground you.

Listen to music about water/with water sounds/the ocean/the beach

Have pictures in your home/space of the ocean.

If you visit the ocean, collect some water and sand and seashells (make sure you follow your own personal gratitude system) to have in your home.

Don't fret if you're landlocked, your practice is valid, you don't need to be at the ocean all the time to feel it's presence. The rain clouds blow in from hundreds of miles away. The ocean is always with you.

Drink water.

Carry a small vial of water with you (could be ocean water, river water, or tap water with or without salt in it) you can keep it in your car, in your pocket, or wear it as a necklace, etc.

Carry a small vial of salt with you (could be hand harvested from the ocean, table salt, or any kind of off the shelf salt).

FOR SKY/WIND/AIR DEITIES: 

Let the air in, open windows when possible

Offerings of air, such as burning incense, smoking tobacco, or using essential oils.

Reading poetry, mythology, or other writings about the deity.

Let yourself be free.

Sit outside for a few minutes a day, or longer.

Playing wind instruments, like flutes or panpipes.

Making offerings of feathers, wings, or other things related to birds or mythical sky beings.

Participating in sky-related activities, such as skydiving, flying, or hot-air balloon rides, to feel closer to the sky deity.

Building or using a wind chime or wind sculpture to connect with the energies of the sky and the wind.

Engaging in outdoor activities like biking, sailing, or kite flying to appreciate the gift of air and sky.

Flying kites or sky lanterns. 

FOR TRAVELER DEITIES: 

Pick something up for them on your travels, could be a rock, could be a souvenir.

Put a symbol of them in your car.

Wear shoes that are good for walking.

Drive/walk around to explore new places (you don't even have to leave your town).

Take backroads.

Be a respectful tourist in every new place that you visit, don't be afraid of looking stupid.

FOR QUEER DEITIES:

Educate yourself on queer history.

Express yourself truthfully.

Listen to queer music.

Read queer books.

Embrace your identity.

Read queer poetry, like that of Sappho.

Keep yourself safe in spaces that are less open to identities.

Support local queer owned businesses or artists.

Queer art.

Love yourself and take care of yourself.

Go to drag shows.

Relish in the fact that queerness has been around since the very first civilizations.

[peachdues]

ALL THE THINGS WE LEFT UNSAID — NSFW TEASER

Tengen’s Bundle of Joy • secret pregnancy AU

A/N: oh yeah, this isn’t going to go wrong in the slightest, not at all —

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE

Uzui slumps against the doorframe with a quiet exhale. “Look at you.”

The sound of his voice is enough to set you on edge, but the sight of him nearly knocks you over. It’s unfair that such an insufferable pain in the ass would be so damn pretty.

You scowl and the child in your belly shifts, sensing your unease. “Get out. I’m in no mood for your insults or mockeries —“

“You’re beautiful.” He chances a single, cautious step past the entryway, eyes dazed as he stares at you, as though in a trance.

“Why are you here?”

That seems to catch his attention, the dazed fog in his eyes clearing with a few, quick blinks. “I wanted to see how you were.” He swallows, hard. “How you both were.”

Warily, you step back, turning your hips away from him. “You’ve known where I was for months, and you wait until now?” You don’t bother to hold back the chill in your tone. Better to keep the distance between you firm rather than have to make up the slack when he inevitably decides to cross your boundaries.

——

“I can help,” his exhale is hot against your neck, though not more so than his hands as they skim down your shoulders. His fingers play with the opening in your robe. “You know I can. You don’t have to endure this alone.”

Oh, he could. He’d done such wicked things to you with just his mouth and hands alone, never mind what he done with the rest of him, so thick and hard.

The warmth bleeding into your back is like a drug, and you can’t help but melt into him as he ghosts his lips along the slope of your shoulder.

“Do you know how I’ve dreamed of you?” Surprisingly limber fingers push beneath the front folds of your yukata to graze the bare skin above your collar bone. Though the room is warm thanks to the fire cracking merrily in the hearth, you find yourself shivering as your robe teases lightly across your skin, baring more of you to the open air.

The breadth of the Sound Pillar’s forearm across your chest keeps you locked in place against him. “I’m at your mercy every time I fall asleep.”

“Uzu — oh,” your head thuds against his sternum when his fingers — those damn fingers — find your exposed breast.

“You realized it too that night, didn’t you?” The slow parting of your robe from your shoulders spreads goosebumps over your skin where the fabric drags. Between his hands and the teasing caress of your robe sliding down your arms, every nerve in your body comes alive. You sink further into him, bare from the top of your rounded belly, up.

Uzui’s arms swallow you up from behind, and his lips find your shoulder. “That we were made for one another? It’s why we didn’t stop, isn’t it?”

Too much; his hands are too warm, his mouth far too soft where it dances along your desperate skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, let alone by someone whose caress almost could pass for something reverent. Loving.

It’s been so long since anyone cared.

“Aren’t you tired of us playing this game?” He asks, as though you’d been the one responsible for putting the pieces on the board. “Why do we have to keep dancing around it?”

Uzui doesn’t say what exactly it is he speaks of, and you know better than to ask. It is a door that cannot be shut once opened, and there is no point in trying to force it, anyways.

After all, you were not the one who locked it in the first place.

He drops to his knees before you, staring up at you with something like awe.

“I want you both to be mine.” He whispers, his forehead pressing to the generous swell of your stomach before he peers up at you. for a moment, all of the heat brimming in his eyes is smothered out by pure yearning, earnest and desperate.

“My baby,” his gaze remains locked with yours even as his lips softly graze your navel. “My woman.”

His lips travel down the outward curve of your stomach, every kiss an act of worship, until he pauses right before the dip in your thighs.

“Just say yes,” he urges, mouth hovering dangerously —infuriatingly close to where you ache. “I’ll take care of you both, I swear it.”

He seems so earnest. It is almost easy — too easy — to forget what led you here, heavily pregnant with his child.

You’d be more useful dead.

being horny doesn’t fix your problem, idiot

[novaursa]

Bless you for opening your requests 🙇‍♀️

Could I get one, maybe following on from The Valyrian Bride, where cregan and readers children get their dragons? Maybe they get eggs in their cots, or maybe they have to travel to dragonstone as one of the children bonds with a dragon that’s already grown and unbonded, and cregan is a bag on nerves having to watch them claim the dragon, but reader is the opposite, she is composed and reassures him that they are safe?

Thank you for everything you do 💖

Valyrian Bride (dragon eggs)

- Summary: Cregan was expecting a quiet day. But nothing is ever truly quiet with his dragon-blooded children.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is an only daughter of Rhaenyra.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: dragon's bath

- Previous part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess @ferakillia

Winter had tightened its grip on Winterfell, but the great hall was alive with warmth and noise, the fire in the massive hearth burning bright and high. Cregan Stark sat at the long table with his bannermen, their voices filling the room as they discussed the usual matters—supplies for the coming winter, the training of new recruits, and the ever-present question of the safety of the northern borders.

He listened with half an ear, his thoughts drifting occasionally to his wife and children. The boy of ten and the girl of barely eight, were spirited and curious, always finding new ways to test their parents’ patience and were more trouble together than a pack of wild direwolves.

Cregan took a sip of his ale, his gaze turning toward the fire where children had spent most of the day. They had been unusually quiet, which in his experience meant they were plotting something. The problem was, with those two, ‘something’ could mean anything from sneaking a wildling pup into the kennels to hiding the cook’s ladle in the godswood.

“Lord Stark,” called Arnolf, his bannerman and old friend, pulling Cregan’s attention back to the table. “You seem distracted. More than usual, I mean.”

Cregan gave him a wry smile. “Just wondering what those two are up to. It’s too quiet.”

Arnolf laughed, shaking his head. “They’re probably just practicing their swordplay or playing a game. You worry too much, Cregan. They’re only children.”

“They’re Valyrian children,” Cregan corrected dryly. “And I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as a harmless Valyrian game.”

As if in response, a high-pitched scream rang out from the far end of the hall, followed by another, then two more. Cregan’s heart leapt into his throat as he shot to his feet, his chair scraping back across the stone floor. His bannermen did the same, hands going to their swords.

“Seven hells,” Cregan muttered, his stomach twisting. The sound wasn’t one of pain, but panic still gripped him. “What now?”

The answer came quickly enough. His children’s voices echoed through the hall, but they weren’t screams of terror—they were shouting and laughing, the kind of noise that only came from sheer, unbridled excitement. His heart still pounding, Cregan took off toward the hearth, his bannermen trailing behind him, their faces a mix of confusion and alarm.

As he rounded the corner, Cregan skidded to a halt, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

His children were kneeling on the stone floor near the hearth, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Between them, nestled in a thick pile of blankets and surrounded by a glowing ring of embers, were two dragon eggs—large, oval, and gleaming with a strange inner light. And right there, amidst the warmth of the fire and the delighted shrieks of his children, the eggs were cracking.

“Look, Papa!” his daughter cried, hair falling around her face as she pointed eagerly at the first egg. “They’re hatching!”

Cregan blinked, his mind trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. He’d known they had the eggs, of course—gifts from Vaetrix’s last clutch. They’d been family heirlooms more than anything, relics of their mother’s lineage, kept cool and dormant. He had assumed they would remain that way. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the children would try to… heat them up.

“What in the name of the Old Gods are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of incredulity and exasperation. He took a step forward, waving a hand at the flickering flames that danced dangerously close to the precious cargo. “You—You put them in the fire?”

His son, crouched next to his sister, looked up at him, his face flushed with excitement. “We read about it in one of Maester Kennet’s books! Dragon eggs need heat to hatch. The hottest fire we could find was here in the great hall.”

“And now they’re coming out!” his daughter added, practically bouncing in place as she watched the egg wobble and crack.

Cregan glanced around, half expecting his wife to appear and explain that this was some sort of elaborate joke. But no, it was just him, his two children, and two dragon eggs about to hatch in the middle of Winterfell’s great hall.

The second egg shuddered, a thin crack running down its length. His son leaned in closer, eyes wide with awe, and for a moment, Cregan’s heart nearly stopped. “Careful, lad!” he barked, reaching out and pulling the boy back. “Those are dragons, not pets. They’re dangerous!”

“But they’re ours,” his daughter insisted, not taking her eyes off the eggs. “And they’ll be our dragons, won’t they, Papa? Just like Mama has Vaetrix.”

Cregan opened his mouth to argue, to tell them how dragons were wild, unpredictable, and far too dangerous to be playing around with, but before he could get the words out, the first egg cracked open completely.

A small, wet dragonling tumbled out onto the blankets, its wings flapping feebly as it let out a tiny, high-pitched screech. The creature was a deep, shimmering green, its scales flecked with gold, and its eyes—bright and curious—blinked up at them as it tried to shake itself free of the last bits of shell.

His daughter’s gasp of delight was echoed by her brother’s, and both of them immediately reached out, their hands hovering just above the hatchling as if afraid to touch.

“Look, Papa!” she whispered, her voice hushed with wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

Cregan stared at the tiny creature, his emotions a tangled mess of awe, terror, and something that felt suspiciously like pride. “Aye,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It is, but—”

The second egg gave a sharp crack, splitting open with a suddenness that made even Cregan jump. Another dragonling emerged, this one a dark, smoky blue, with wings that seemed almost translucent in the firelight. It stumbled forward, letting out a tiny roar that was more of a squeak, and promptly tripped over its own claws.

His son let out a whoop of joy, scooping the clumsy hatchling into his arms without a second thought. “Papa, did you see? They’re both here! We did it!”

Cregan rubbed a hand over his face, torn between laughing and banging his head against the nearest wall. “Yes, I see,” he said, his voice strained. “But do you have any idea what this means? Dragons, here, in Winterfell?”

“They’ll be safe here,” his daughter said firmly, as if she had already thought the whole thing through. “We’ll take care of them. They’re ours.”

Cregan looked at his children, each now holding a wriggling, squirming baby dragon, their faces shining with joy and excitement. He could see it in their eyes—that fierce, unyielding sense of responsibility and love that only children could have. For them, this wasn’t a mistake or a danger—it was a miracle. Their dragons had come to life, and they were ready to embrace them with open hearts.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh, shaking his head even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. We’ll find a way to keep them. But you two—” he pointed a finger at each of them, his voice stern despite the warmth in his eyes, “—will have to take responsibility. Feeding, training, cleaning up after them. They’re not to be toys or playthings. Dragons are dangerous.”

“We promise, Papa!” they said in unison, their voices so earnest that Cregan almost believed them.

“And no more hatching dragon eggs in the hearth, understood?” he added, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think Winterfell’s ever seen this much excitement in one day.”

His daughter giggled, stroking the tiny green dragon’s head with a gentleness that belied her usual rough-and-tumble nature. “No more hearth hatchings. We promise.”

Cregan looked at his children—his wild, wonderful, dragon-blooded children—and then at the two new lives they cradled in their arms. The absurdity of it all hit him suddenly, and he let out a low, incredulous laugh. Who would have thought? Two baby dragons, born not in the hot skies of Dragonstone, but in the icy heart of Winterfell.

“Come on, then,” he said, shaking his head as he turned back to his bemused bannermen. “Let’s see what your mother has to say about this.”

As they made their way across the hall, the dragons chirping and squeaking softly, Cregan couldn’t help but marvel at the scene. Only his children could turn a quiet day into something this… extraordinary.

And though he’d never admit it out loud, a part of him was secretly thrilled. There was never a dull moment with dragons in the family, after all.

[open-hearth-rpg]

Open Hearth Games of the Year 2024

Every year we put together a podcast episode featuring community members picking their favorite ttrpgs from the last twelve months. These aren't necessarily ones published in 2024, but ones they played, read, watched, or otherwise experienced this year.

This episode is one of our largest yet, with 40+ community members submitting and over three dozen different games mentioned. The show notes for the episode have links to most of the ttrpgs mentioned.

[moonselune]

okay this is very silly but how would the ladies react to tav biting their ears. they all have very cute, biteable ears. i love your writing by the way<3

yes yes yes yes i love this so much the silly ones are the best ones

Karlach:

The warmth of the late evening filled your shared space, a glow from the hearth casting dancing shadows on the walls. The remnants of a delicious dinner sat on the table, but your eyes were locked on the last dessert: a perfectly golden tart that had somehow survived the meal. It rested between you and Karlach like a prize in a game of wills.

Karlach, her fiery hair catching the flickering light, leaned back in her chair, grinning like a cat with a canary. “Come on now, sweetness. You’ve had your share of dessert. I think this one belongs to me.”

“You think?” you countered, arching a brow as you leaned forward. “I carried this tart all the way from the bakery because someone said she didn’t have room for it earlier.”

Karlach shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though her grin betrayed her amusement. “Well, you’ve convinced me. I do have room now.”

“Oh, you are impossible,” you laughed, reaching for the plate.

Her hand darted out with lightning speed, snatching the tart and holding it aloft. “Too slow, babe.”

The playfight was on. You lunged at her, and she spun in her chair, keeping the tart just out of reach. Her laugh was boisterous and full of life, echoing through the room as you scrambled to grab the dessert. You managed to climb onto her lap, pinning her arms down momentarily, but Karlach wasn’t one to be subdued so easily. With a quick shift of her weight, she flipped the two of you, her warm, muscular frame pinning you against the chair.

“Yield!” she declared dramatically, the tart triumphantly held in one hand.

“Never!” you shot back, grinning as you wriggled beneath her.

In a last-ditch effort, you leaned up and playfully nipped at her ear. The reaction was immediate: a sudden, intense surge of heat radiated from her chest, the familiar hum of her infernal engine growing louder. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and her body tensed as the heat rushed through her like a wave. She froze for a moment, blinking in surprise.

You burst into laughter, your head falling back against the chair. “Oh my gods, what was that?”

Karlach looked at you, wide-eyed, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process what had just happened.

“What did you do?” she finally managed, her voice filled with astonishment.

Still laughing, you leaned in again, your lips brushing her ear as you whispered, “This.” You nipped at her ear a second time.

The reaction was the same—another rush of heat, her engine sputtering slightly as if it couldn’t decide whether to handle the surge or shut down entirely. Her body quaked with barely contained laughter, her warmth flooding the room like a radiant sun.

“Stop, stop!” Karlach wheezed, though she was laughing so hard she could barely form the words. “You’re gonna break me!”

“I can’t help it!” you gasped, doubling over as tears of laughter rolled down your cheeks. “This is amazing.”

“Wait...wait......Do it again,” she said through her laughter, her voice daring and full of mirth. “Go on. I can take it.”

You grinned, leaning in to nip her ear once more, and the result was even more spectacular. This time, the heat shot up her neck and flushed her entire face, her engine emitting a faint whirring noise like it was gearing up for something monumental.

Karlach collapsed into a fit of laughter, sliding off the chair and pulling you down with her. The tart, long forgotten, rolled harmlessly onto the table as the two of you tangled together on the floor, laughing so hard your sides ached.

Minthara:

The air in your shared quarters was thick with tension, but not the kind that came from anger or true discord. No, this was a storm of Minthara’s making—a tempest of jealousy that she was determined to quell in her own commanding way. She loomed over you, her white hair cascading like a silken curtain, and her crimson eyes were sharp, though not entirely unkind.

“You’re mine,” she growled, her voice a low and dangerous purr, as her fingers traced possessively along your jawline. “I don’t share, and I don’t tolerate… competition.”

You hadn’t meant to make her jealous. Truly, it had been an accident—a casual laugh with a stranger, a hand that lingered a moment too long on your arm. But Minthara wasn’t one to see it as harmless. Her gaze bore into you now, the weight of her Drow pride and passion pressing against you like a tangible force.

“Minthara, you’re overreacting,” you tried, your voice light and teasing. “It was nothing.”

Her lips quirked into a dangerous smirk as she leaned in, her face mere inches from yours. “Then I’ll make sure you remember who you belong to.”

Before you could protest further, her lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding. Minthara kissed with a kind of intensity that left no room for argument, her hands slipping to your waist to hold you firmly in place. You squirmed in her grip—not entirely to escape but more to provoke her, your playful resistance only spurring her on. She chuckled darkly against your lips, her teeth grazing your lower lip as she pressed closer.

“You think to fight me, my heart?” she murmured between kisses, her voice dripping with challenge. “You’ll find it a futile effort.”

“Futile?” you echoed breathlessly, a mischievous grin forming despite her dominance. “We’ll see about that.”

Her eyebrow twitched, a clear warning not to test her further, but you had never been one to heed warnings. You leaned in close, your lips brushing her pointed ear as if to whisper a surrender. Instead, you nipped lightly at the sensitive tip.

The reaction was immediate—and shocking. Minthara’s breath hitched audibly, and then, to your utter astonishment, she let out a soft, unbidden whimper. It wasn’t a sound of pain or anger, but one of vulnerability, one you had never imagined coming from her. You pulled back, wide-eyed, staring at her flushed expression.

“Did you… whimper?” you asked, your voice tinged with incredulous delight.

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, though her cheeks betrayed the faintest hint of color.

“Never do that again,” she hissed, her tone sharp but lacking the edge of her usual authority.

“Oh, but why not?” you teased, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

Her glare intensified, but you were already leaning in for another playful nip. “Don’t you dare—”

This time, Minthara acted faster. With a growl of frustration—and something else she didn’t dare name—she tackled you to the ground, pinning you beneath her with ease. Her strength was as formidable as ever, her hands gripping your wrists and holding them above your head. Her weight pressed you into the floor, and her hair framed her face like a wild halo.

“You’re insufferable,” she growled, though there was a glimmer of something in her eyes—amusement, perhaps, or begrudging admiration for your audacity.

“You’re sensitive,” you countered, your voice light and teasing, even as you were thoroughly immobilized. “I never knew you had such a weakness.”

Minthara’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk betraying her composure. “Weakness? You think yourself clever for exploiting it, but I assure you, it will not save you.”

Your laughter bubbled up, unrestrained and joyous, as she tightened her hold. Her mock outrage only fueled your mirth, and soon, even she couldn’t maintain her serious demeanor. A low chuckle escaped her, though she quickly tried to mask it.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, her voice tinged with reluctant affection.

“And you’re hot when you’re flustered,” you shot back, earning a warning growl as she leaned in closer, her face hovering just above yours.

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another, the heat of your playfulness giving way to something softer. Her lips twitched again, and this time she didn’t fight the smile that broke through.

“You’ll pay for that,” she promised, her tone somewhere between a threat and a vow.

“Worth it,” you replied, grinning up at her.

Minthara shook her head, muttering something in Drow that you suspected wasn’t entirely complimentary, before leaning down to claim your lips once more. This time, the kiss was less about dominance and more about love—a reminder of the bond that held you together, stronger than jealousy or teasing could ever break.

Lae'zel:

The training ground was alive with the clang of steel and the occasional grunt of exertion, but your focus was singular: Lae’zel. She was relentless, her Githyanki form fluid and powerful as she moved with precision honed by years of discipline. You, on the other hand, were fighting tooth and nail to keep up, sweat dripping down your brow as you struggled to counter her attacks.

She had already disarmed you twice and was now determined to prove her superiority once more. You sidestepped a feint and lunged forward, hoping to use her momentum against her, but Lae’zel was two steps ahead. With a quick twist and a sweep of her leg, you were on the ground, her weight pressing down as she pinned you in an utterly humiliating hold.

Your arms were twisted awkwardly beneath her, one of your legs bent at an impossible angle, and her face was infuriatingly close to yours, smugness radiating off her like heat from the sun.

"Yield," she commanded, her voice firm and expectant, her breath brushing your cheek.

“Never,” you managed to grit out, wriggling uselessly beneath her.

Her laugh was sharp and almost cruel, though there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You have no choice, heart of mine. You are defeated. Admit it.”

But admitting defeat wasn’t in your nature—not yet, anyway. With your options limited and your pride on the line, a ridiculous idea popped into your head. If brute strength and strategy had failed, perhaps mischief would be your salvation.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you tilted your head, your lips brushing her ear as if you were about to whisper a clever retort. Instead, you bit the pointed tip of her ear—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to surprise her.

Lae’zel froze, her entire body going rigid as if struck by lightning. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the sound of your breathing. Her golden eyes were wide with bewilderment as she turned her head slightly to look at you, her expression a mix of shock and irritation.

"Did you just—bite me?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity.

You grinned up at her, utterly unrepentant. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Her lips twitched, and for a moment, you thought she might actually be angry. But then, to your relief—and slight embarrassment—her expression softened, and a low chuckle rumbled in her throat.

“That was your grand strategy?” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “When all else fails, resort to teeth like some rabid beast?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” you shot back, though your current predicament made the claim less convincing.

Lae’zel shook her head, her laughter growing louder as she shifted her weight slightly, ensuring you were still firmly trapped. “Pathetic. A warrior biting in desperation like a whelp fighting over scraps.”

“Call it creative problem-solving,” you countered, grinning despite your precarious position.

Her amusement was evident now, her earlier irritation forgotten. “Creative? If that’s what you call it, then perhaps you should stick to… whatever it is you’re good at. Fighting clearly isn’t it.”

You groaned, your pride taking another blow, though you couldn’t help but laugh along with her. “Fine, you win. Now let me go before I try something even worse.”

“Worse?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I shudder to think what that might entail.”

Still, she relented, releasing you from her hold and standing with that graceful ease that always made you a little envious. She extended a hand to help you up, and when you took it, she pulled you to your feet with more force than necessary, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Next time,” she said, brushing nonexistent dust from her armor, “perhaps try training harder instead of relying on such… undignified tactics.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Next time, don’t underestimate me. I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve.”

Lae’zel snorted, crossing her arms as she regarded you with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “If biting is the best you can do, I am not worried. Come, vaar kaathar. Let us see if you have anything else worth showing me.”

And despite the humiliation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that you’d managed to make the unflappable Lae’zel laugh—even if it had cost you your dignity.

Shadowheart:

The room was quiet, the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound to break the stillness. The two of you were nestled together on the large bed, tangled beneath a soft blanket. Shadowheart lay on her side, her back pressed against your chest, her breathing slow and even. You had one arm draped around her waist, holding her close, while the other was free to roam, your fingers trailing idly through her silky, raven-black hair.

Her half-elf ears peeked out from beneath the dark waves, their delicate points catching the dim firelight. You couldn’t help but admire her, your half-lidded gaze soft as it lingered on the gentle curve of her cheek, the slight upward tilt of her lips, and the peaceful expression she wore in these rare, unguarded moments.

She looked so serene, so utterly content, and it filled your heart with a warm, aching love.

Your fingers brushed lightly against the shell of her ear as you stroked her hair, and something mischievous sparked in the back of your mind. An idea, an intrusive thought that made the corners of your lips twitch upward. It was ridiculous, and yet the longer it lingered, the more it begged to be acted upon.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and gently nipped the very tip of her ear, careful not to actually hurt her.

Shadowheart hummed softly at first, her body relaxing further into yours as if she thought it was just another tender gesture. But then her breathing hitched, and she went very, very still.

For a moment, she said nothing, as if processing what had just happened. Then, in a low, slightly incredulous voice, she asked, “Did you just… bite my ear?”

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped you. You buried your face into the back of her shoulder, trying to stifle the sound, but it was too late.

She turned her head slightly, though she didn’t pull away from your embrace, her voice both amused and exasperated. “Tell me you didn’t just do what I think you did.”

“What if I did?” you teased, your tone playful as you shifted slightly, your hand moving to gently trace the curve of her ear.

Shadowheart sighed, though the corners of her lips quirked upward.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice laced with fondness. “What possessed you to do that?”

You grinned, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. “I couldn’t help it. They were just… there. And you looked so peaceful.”

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “So your solution was to bite me? I should have known.”

“Well, you didn’t stop me,” you pointed out, your grin widening.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes, though you could feel the warmth of her smile even without seeing it. “Next time, try to resist the urge. Or at least warn me first.”

“No promises,” you replied, nuzzling closer to her.

Despite her playful protests, she melted back into your arms, her body relaxing against yours once more. You could feel her heartbeat, steady and calm, and it filled you with a sense of quiet joy.

Jaheira:

Jaheira sat cross-legged in the middle of the study, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she traced glowing glyphs in the air. Her lips moved softly, uttering incantations under her breath as strands of magical energy wove themselves into an intricate pattern. The sunlight streaming through the window painted her in hues of gold and green, highlighting the graceful curves of her face and the subtle pointed tips of her ears.

It was a sight that would normally inspire awe, but today, it inspired mischief.

You stood at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, watching her. Jaheira was focused, so thoroughly absorbed in her work that she barely seemed to notice your presence. That simply wouldn’t do. A slow grin spread across your face as an idea took root.

You padded silently across the room, your steps deliberately light. Jaheira didn’t even glance your way, her hands continuing their elegant movements. Once you were close enough, you knelt beside her and rested your chin on her shoulder.

“Busy, are we?” you murmured, your tone dripping with playful intent.

“Very,” she replied without missing a beat, her voice steady and calm despite your proximity.

Undeterred, you brushed a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, exposing the delicate point. She flicked her eyes toward you, a warning glint in their depths, but she quickly returned her attention to the spell.

“Careful,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “This requires precision.”

“Does it?” you asked, feigning innocence. Your fingers trailed lightly along the edge of her ear, and when she didn’t immediately reprimand you, you leaned in and pressed a quick, mischievous bite to the very tip.

The reaction was immediate.

Jaheira gasped, her focus breaking as the glowing glyphs flickered and disappeared. She turned her head sharply to look at you, her lips parted in a mix of surprise and indignation.

“You—!” she started, but whatever reprimand she was about to deliver faltered as you caught the faintest hint of a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Before you could tease her about it, Jaheira raised a hand, muttering something under her breath. Thick, smooth vines shot up from the ground, wrapping themselves around you with surprising speed. They pinned your arms to your sides and anchored you in place, their prickly touch firm but not painful.

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as the vines tightened slightly. “Oh, come on, Jaheira. It was just a little nibble!”

She arched an elegant brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded you with a mockingly stern expression. “A little nibble? You disrupted my spellwork!”

“And yet,” you countered, tilting your head, “you didn’t seem to mind.”

Her blush deepened, and for a moment, her composure wavered. She looked away, trying to hide the soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though there was no heat in her words.

“And you’re adorable when you blush,” you shot back, grinning.

She let out an exasperated sigh but couldn’t quite suppress the chuckle that followed. With a flick of her wrist, the vines released you, retreating back into the earth. You rubbed your arms theatrically, though you weren’t actually hurt.

Jaheira rolled her eyes and turned away, resuming her position to try the spell again. But as she began to weave the glyphs once more, you noticed the lingering flush on her cheeks, the way her lips twitched as if she was fighting a smile.

You leaned back on your hands, content to simply watch her for now.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “you didn’t say you didn't like it.”

Her fingers faltered for just a fraction of a second, and you caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she glanced your way.

“Do it again,” she said dryly, “and I’ll wrap you so tightly in vines, you won’t see daylight for a week.”

You smirked, leaning back against the floor. “Sounds like a good time to me, my love.”

Jaheira said nothing, returning her attention to her spell, but the blush that lingered on her cheeks spoke volumes.

This was so fun to write and i really hope you guys enjoyed it! -Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 (NSFW) / PART 4 /

PART FIVE (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW) - PART 8 (NSFW)

Warning: Mentions of Pregnancy and virginity. piv.

You started Sunday the same way you always did. Wake up before dawn, start breakfast for you and Ma, stare out the window and think about the list of chores you could never keep up with.

“It’s a beautiful morning!” Your mother shuffled past your open door towards the kitchen, “Are you sure I can’t just handle all the work in the field today? Won’t you want to relax before your friend arrives?”

“Mother, please do not blow this out of proportion.” You scolded her light-heartedly, “I’m just going to do my work as usual, and when he stops by I’ll take a break-”

“My baby is getting courted by a big strong orc~” She sang out to you. You followed her to the kitchen. “How did you know he’s courting me?”

“So he is courting you.” She swayed back and forth in front of the hearth, throwing bits of kindling onto the fire.

“Well- I-”

“Y/n, don’t you remember. When I told you about the family that lived in the neighboring plot. The wife told me so much about how strange orc courting was, especially with her being human, and-”

“You didn’t tell me it was a half-orc family…” 

She turned to you with a devious smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know about a half-orc family.” “MA!” You grabbed an apple from the table (a bright red one that matched the color of your face) and ran out the door. You weren’t really mad at her, but this entire situation was so out of your comfort zone. The only experience you ever really had with being pursued was desperately avoiding Milo for the past two years.

You glanced at the sundial in the garden. Three hours. You had three hours to try and get some work done in the field and shake off the nerves.

-

The tomatoes were a mess. No wonder, this was a corner of the field that had been sorely neglected this season. The sun was climbing higher, and the heat of its rays were beginning to lick the back of your neck. What time was it anyways?

“SO NICE TO MEET YOU- OH YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!”

Your mothers voice was loud enough to carry all the way to your little corner in the tomato patch. You shot to your feet, craning your neck to see her enthusiastically fawning over a slightly nervous Khargaad. You could hear him nervously chuckling as the two exchanged words.

Well, might as well go save him. You looked down at your work clothes covered in grass stains and mud. Hair was sticking to the back of your sweaty neck. Gross. Probably didn’t smell pretty either.

Your mother caught you out of the corner of her eye and pointed excitedly, “THERE SHE IS!”

You cringed. Gods she was making all this fuss and you looked like you just crawled out of a ditch.

“Hello! I see you met Ma.” You were trying to casually wipe the mix of dirt and sweat from your face, wading over to them through the field. He felt his heart skip a bit when you got closer. You smelled so earthy. And the musk of your sweat was… it could drive him feral.

He started imagining all the ways he could steal you away and worship you. Fill you. Taste you.

“Um… Khargaad?”

He jolted out of his sinful haze, “I couldn’t show up empty handed.” He thrust a basket into your arms. It was laden with fancy imported fruits. “This- This is too much. This must have cost-”

“Hush now,” his voice was like warm honey, “I hunt big game, I can afford it.” He had a cocky little smirk on his face. You thanked him, motioning to follow you into the cottage.

He looked back at your mom one more time, “It was so nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

-

Your first lessons together went just as well as predicted. By the end he was properly frustrated, arms crossed and everything.

“The letters. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all… mixed up.”

“Let’s just end it here for today.”

He was so cute like this. All flustered. 

He stood up from his seat, being careful to crouch as he easily exceeded the height of the ceiling. “Alrighty, let’s get to work.” He crossed the room in one long stride, pulling his shirt over his head. He looked strong, but not in the way statues are with their lean bodies and taught chiseled muscles. He looked like a man who ate well and worked hard. Your eyes wandered to the slight love handles that peaked over the waistband of his trousers. Gods you were no better than a man, thinking about how bad you wanted to feel him in your hands.

He glanced behind his shoulder, “Where first?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Khargaad.”

“Do you think I’m going to just leave with all this work to be done?”

-

He followed you like an excited puppy to the tomato patch you had been working on. You had tried to tell him that he didn’t need to waste the rest of his day helping with this. But he knew he didn’t need to. He wanted to. And who was going to stop him? Certainly not you.

He started on one end, and you the other, working slowly until you met in the middle. By the end, your hands were red and scratched up from pulling the thistle weeds. Of course, Kharghaad’s were so calloused that it was like he had a pair of gloves on. He gave a little gasp when he saw your sore fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything…” He scooped your small hands into his, as delicate as you would pick up a fresh baby bird.

Every time he touched you it was like this great release. Your mother, as loving as she was, never quite developed a touchy-feely nature. You were so used to it fleeting as soon as it was there. Quick handshakes, brushing against someone in the market. You craved physical touch.

So when Khargaad didn’t let go of your hands. When he held them so carefully and tenderly. So deliberately. You found yourself trying to memorize every little second of the moment.

“I’ll have to buy you gloves.” He muttered, picking out the little needles with surprising dexterity. He took his canteen and went to rinse off the skin. “I can wash my own hands, Khargaad.” You chuckled.

“But I want to,” He blurted out with immediate embarrassment, “Sorry, I guess you could say it’s an orc thing? It’s sorta like… we’re very communal. There’s no reason to do much of anything alone, if you think about it…” He sort of trailed off like he was getting ahead of himself. He paused.

“I hope I'm not smothering you. Maybe humans aren’t like that-” He went to let go of your hands, and a part of you cried out inside. You were tired of trying to play this stoic lone wolf character. It wasn’t who you were. It’s not who any of us are. We all need each other.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whispered to him, thrusting your hands back into his. You uttered the magic words. The words he had been waiting for. He pulled you into his chest. It didn’t matter how gross, hot, and sweaty the two of you were. Or that your mother was most definitely watching joyfully from the kitchen window. Nothing mattered. “Can we go somewhere?” His voice was muffled as he whispered into the top of your head. He was taking long deep sighs, taking in your scent.

“Please…” The need in your voice was palpable. He didn’t waste another moment, leading you to the forest behind your property. “Khargaad… the road is that way.” You motioned behind yourself. “I know a quicker way.” He glanced back at you with that sweet little smirk on his face.

Once past the treeline, the soft light of dusk struggled to breach the overhead foliage. You walked together for some time, before the sound of running water bubbled ahead. He had led you to a little clearing, where in the middle stood a circular style tent. A creek babbled away off to the side. The moon was full and provided plenty of light for you to take it all in. “Do you live here?” 

He nodded, looking down at you expectantly for approval. You grinned, “It’s lovely.”

He snaked a strong arm around your waste, pulling you in. His other hand cupped the back of your head, tilting your face up to his. For a moment he hovered over you, as if waiting for your permission. You reached up to cup his face, thumbing over one of the tusks jutting out of his mouth.

His lips met yours. It started slow, like sipping on a glass of fine wine. Then it was hungry. Like you had both been starved. You were getting drunk off of the needy little grunts he was making, pulling you in flush with his body. You could feel him through his trousers, and it startled you out of your stupor a bit. You hadn’t been with anyone before, and it was bound to happen sooner or later, but this was a bit more than you ever imagined.

It was almost like he sensed your tension, pulling away to look into your eyes, “Let’s get clean.” He had brought his thumb up to caress over your cheek, planting a small peck before jogging to his tent. Watching him disappear under the flap, your mind raced. What if you weren’t ready? What if he’s not patient?

He bounded out towards the stream, beckoning you over. He started to frown as you got closer, like he could smell the apprehension coming off of you, “Do you need to go slower? Do you want to go home? Nothing has to happen. Nothing at all. You are in charge.”

He started unlacing the ties of his trousers. You instinctually looked away, giving him privacy he clearly didn’t need. With the sound of water sloshing you looked back at him submerged up to his sternum. You approached the water’s edge, looking down into the little bubbles churning in the current. “Hey… what’s wrong?” He waded over to the edge, leaning onto the grassy bank. There wasn’t any aire of seduction in his voice, just one of genuine tenderness.

You sucked it up and opened your mouth, “I’ve never done this before…”

“With an orc?”

“No like… I’ve never done this before… ever.” You winced as the words came out. You were a grown adult, this conversation shouldn’t feel embarrassing. But it did nonetheless.

“And so you don’t want to do this?” He didn’t seem fazed at all by the information. “No!” You yelped out a little too enthusiastically, “No- I mean, yes. Yes I do want to. I want you.”

You started to pull at the ties of your shirt, face so flushed it was probably glowing red. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You ripped the shirt off your head like pulling off a bandaid, exposing your chest to the warm summer air. You went to fiddle with the strings of your work pants. He still didn’t look away, and you didn’t ask him to.

And there you were, clothed only in moonlight. Khargaad thought, maybe the moon had come out just for you tonight, to see your beauty for itself.

You stepped down into the water. “Are you sure you’re human? Not a beautiful fairy playing tricks on me?” Khargaad was completely entranced by you, eyes roaming over the curve of your shoulders to the curves of your breasts.

You felt some of the tension ease, snorting at him “I don’t think a fairy would smell this bad.” He gasped a bit as if he had just remembered, grabbing a bar of soap he had retrieved from the tent. “May I?” He asked, lathering up the bar in his hands.

You nodded, letting him wade closer to you. You felt the palms of his massive hands begin to work themselves into your hair, massaging his fingers into your scalp. “Oh-” You exclaimed a rather embarrassing moan, but it felt so good. He finished and went to clean his own hair. “Hey, it’s my turn now!” You scolded him. He was more than happy to let you clean him. As he said previously, it’s a part of orc culture to do things with other people. That includes bathing.

And oh how he loved to see you doing orc things. Like wearing that yellow dress dyed with orc spices, and making those pickled eggs for him. It made him think about how great it would be to bring you home with him, to meet all of his family. For you to find a place in his tribe. He missed home a lot, and now you were a part of that picture. You finished running your fingers through the curls of his clean hair.

He heard the sloshing of water, turning around to see you drying yourself off. He joined you. You cast a quick glimpse below his waist, blushing furiously at his partially hard cock.

You walked together to the flap of the tent. The inside surprised you. It was so… cozy. “Ah-” He had leaned down to nuzzle into your neck, you loved the feeling of his tusks against your skin. He pulled you to what could best be described as a nest. A nest of pillows and blankets. He very carefully leaned you onto your back, “Is this okay?”

You giggled at him, “Yes Khargaad. I will tell you if I need to stop, okay?”

“Promise?” He leaned back on his knees, his olive green skin looking lovely in the warm glow of the lantern lighting the tent. His member was on full display, completely unashamed. The way it twitched in anticipation made your stomach flutter. “Yes.”

He lied down next to you, peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck. His hands began to roam your body, starting with your shoulders and slowly moving down to your tits. His calloused palm grazed over the sensitive peaks, causing you to let out a breathy sigh. He took your left breast into his hand, thumbing over your hardened nipple. He palmed your chest for a few moments more, like he was savoring each and every new part of you he explored. You felt his cock hard against your leg. You shifted your thigh, giving him just the lightest sensation of friction. The groan he mumbled into your skin made you feel hot between your legs. You clenched your thighs together, trying to get some relief.

His hand traveled down to your stomach, caressing the curves and grabbing a soft handful of skin. “Good…” He whispered. You shivered as his hand glided over your hips, so close to your entrance. He reached for the inside of your thigh, pulling it over into his cock. He let out another breathy sigh that left you completely slick with desire. His hand hovered over the mess of hair covering your mound. You opened your legs, giving him permission.

He started by slowly palming you, just beginning to give you the attention your pussy was desperate for. You felt a finger slip past your folds, getting drenched in the slickness. Khargaad shifted you up a bit so he could have better access to your chest. He dipped down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucked playfully. “Oh f-fuck-” You were stuttering at the pleasure of it all. He grinned into your chest, “Keep making those noises sweetheart.” The pet name made your heart flutter.

He kept gently probing a finger up and down your slit, until he dipped one down just at the beginning of your entrance. His fingers were bigger than your own, but this wasn't so much of a stretch. He slowly sheathed the finger in you, “Tight.” He grunted. He made a come hither motion into that sensitive spot of your inner walls. You yelped out a completely sinful moan as he prodded you a few more times. His finger exited your hole, pulling the wetness of your cunt onto your swollen and sensitive clit.

“Khargaad-” Your hips bucked up into him as he swirled long languid circles around that little bundle of nerves. He pulled off, and sat back on his knees, “Can I taste you?”

It was the way he asked more than anything. Like he was close to begging for it. You nodded, spreading your legs for him. He settled down in front of you, using both of his thumbs to spread your lips apart. You felt the tip of his fat tongue probe your needy pussy. He reached up to play with your nipples, while he moved up to your throbbing clit. He started with light kitten-licks, making you whine and buck up into his mouth. That wonderful tongue of his made swirls and then quick flickering motions over the sensitive spot. At this point you were almost completely lost in pleasure, and reached down to thread your fingers through his soft brown curls. 

You were already sensitive when he started, so you were very close to finishing. You actually yelled when he inserted a finger into you. Prodding that sensitive spot while attacking your sensitive clit; it was making the most obscene wet noises. “Close.” That was all you could manage as he devoured you. There it was, feeling crushed over you like a ton of bricks. You coated this hand, legs spasming. He dipped down to lap up the remnants of your release. Your taste, your smell, the feeling of his hair clenched in your fist. He was addicted.

He leaned back, taking in his work. You had a hand on your forehead and a hand on your chest, calming down from what you just experienced. You glanced down at him, both hands on his thighs. His cock was completely erect, tip glistening with pre-cum. It was so heavy it bowed down under its own weight. “Y/n…” He was trying to figure out what to say next. His cock needed to be buried in your pretty little cunt. He needed to bottom out into you. He wanted to hear the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your skin with every thrust. But he couldn’t say that, though. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready.

So when you propped yourself up on your elbows, legs spread for him, he almost felt like crying. His human mate was so strong. So ready for him.

He crawled over you, pinning your legs over his shoulders. He took the base of his cock into his fist, guiding it slowly over your folds. You were so warm for him. He pushed his pulsating tip past your lips, wincing from the sensitivity. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but you were completely entranced watching his cock slide into you. His tip found your hole, sliding in but not going any further. He was absolutely strangeling the pillow he was resting his hand on, trying to maintain control. Khargaad was watching you, every little subtle expression. He kept sinking himself into you, stopping when you made the first wince of pain. He was big, and you were so tight. 

“Y/n?” You looked up at him through those pretty lashes. He nearly lost it all right there, just from the eye-contact. You got off of your elbows, leaning down completely. You gave a little nod, still making direct eye contact. Slowly and gently, he worked his way in until his hips were flush with yours. He leaned back, still buried in you, letting you adjust to the stretch.

He wouldn’t last long at all, seeing you like this. Your little face with knotted brows, arms thrown overhead. Khargaad brought his hand to your stomach, rubbing little circles into the soft skin with his thumb. You were perfect. Perfect to take his seed. Perfect for growing a little half-orc.

He wouldn’t yet, of course. Not until you were ready. For you, he would wait as long as needed. But his strange orc hormones and instincts craved it beyond explanation.

He began rocking out and back into you, keeping a slow languid pace. You reached out for him, and in an instant his head was nuzzled in your neck again. His pace started to ramp up a bit, earning little mewls from your lips. Oh he definitely wouldn't last much longer. “W-where…” His breath hitched in your ear. “Huh?” You were too flustered to try to understand what he was asking.

“Going to-” He was hissing and groaning, barely able to work out a sentence, “On your body- ah- or o-on the bed?” His motions were getting jerky. “Fuck- sorry- oh fuck.”

He pulled out just barely in time to empty himself onto your stomach. He fucked his rough fist through the climax, sighing at the sight of his seed coating your tummy. It felt a lot warmer than you expected, and much more… volume. He finally let go of his cock, reaching for a linen cloth and dunking it in a bowl of water he had set nearby. “I made a mess…”

He sounded so guilty, and you giggled at him teasingly. One of his hands cupped your face, while the other softly wiped the length of your cunt, messy from your own slickness. He wiped the cum that was coated across your stomach, being careful not to spill any on the bed.

“You did so good.” He started cooing sweet nothings to you while running his thumbs across your cheekbone, “Wore me out…” He chuckled, throwing the rag across the room. He yawned and stretched his arms above him.

“Do you want me to go home now?” You were all too familiar with the stories women told about men finishing and ordering them to leave. You didn’t quite have the confidence yet, to advocate for yourself. To tell him you wanted to spend the night wrapped up in his arms.

For Khargaad, this question felt like an arrow to the heart. Had he not done enough? To make it clear how badly he needed you with him? He laid down next to you, pulling you close, “I would kill the person who would try to take you from me right now.”

Here is Part 5 for you lovelies <3 <3 <3 btw Khargaad is living in a yurt, that's what I was trying to describe lol.

I attached a playlist I put together. These are the songs I've been listening to while writing this, if anyone wants to hear the vibes :3

Tagged List <3

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786

[rafesbabygirlx]

6 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 🎄 𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏

𝙳𝚊𝚢 1 - ��𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 - 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚌𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚞𝚋 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Rafe leaned against his kitchen counter, scrolling idly on his phone, when a firm knock echoed through his apartment. Curious, he swung the door open—and froze.  

There you stood, framed in the doorway, a vision in a sleek, velvet Santa corset that hugged your figure, paired with thigh-high boots that clicked confidently against the floor as you stepped inside. A playful smirk curled your lips, and over your shoulder, you carried a crimson sack adorned with jingling bells.  

“Well, well,” you said, your voice dripping with amusement. “Rafe Cameron. You’ve been very bad this year.”  

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a grin. “Bad? Me? You must have the wrong guy.”  

“Nice try.” You pulled a scroll from the sack and unrolled it dramatically. “Let’s see here—late-night pranks, stealing the last slice of cake, and oh, this one’s my favorite: orchestrating the mistletoe ambush. Sound familiar?”  

His grin widened. “So, what happens now? You write a strongly worded letter to Santa?”  

“No.” You took a deliberate step closer, pulling a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs from the sack. “I’m here to make sure you get what you deserve.”  

Before he could protest, you snapped the cuffs around his wrists, tugging them gently behind his back. Rafe let out a low laugh, the sound reverberating in the quiet room.  

“This is adorable,” he teased. “You think you’re in charge now?”  

“Oh, I know I am.” Reaching into the sack again, you retrieved a peppermint-scented whip. The faint aroma filled the air as you traced the leather lightly over his chest, your gaze locking with his.  

His smirk faltered, just for a moment, before returning. “And what’s next? You interrogate me with Christmas carols?”  

You leaned in, your voice a sultry whisper. “Only if you don’t behave.”  

The tension crackled between you like the fire burning in the hearth behind him. The soft pop and hiss of the flames provided the perfect soundtrack to your game. The cool peppermint oil you dabbed onto your fingertips sent shivers through him as you traced it along his collarbone, the sharp scent mingling with the warm notes of pine and cinnamon from the room.  

“Explain your misdeeds, Rafe,” you said, your lips brushing against his ear. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll go easy on you.”  

His voice was low, filled with challenge. “What if I have no regrets?”  

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you leaned in closer. “Then I guess we’ll have to keep going until you do.”  

Before he could respond, you captured his lips in a searing kiss. His hands flexed against the cuffs, testing the restraints, but they held firm. When the kiss broke, his gaze was darker, his smirk more dangerous.  

“This is cute,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But let’s see how long you can hold the upper hand.”  

“Oh, Rafe,” you replied, brushing the whip lightly across his shoulder. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”  

Rafe leaned harder against the counter, his blue eyes narrowing as a slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. The glint of challenge in his gaze told you he wasn’t about to let you win that easily, even with his hands restrained.  

“You’ve got my attention,” he said, voice smooth and teasing as he leaned his weight back, testing the cuffs just enough to make the chain jingle softly. “But you’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”  

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as you traced the handle of the peppermint-scented whip up the center of his chest, watching his shoulders tense beneath his thin t-shirt. “Dangerous? I thought I was just spreading some Christmas cheer,” you replied, your voice syrupy and sweet.  

“That’s what we’re calling this now?” Rafe shot back, his cocky grin still firmly in place, though his breathing had deepened just slightly under your careful ministrations. “You breaking into my apartment in a—” his eyes swept over your velvet corset and thigh-high boots, lingering longer than necessary, “—festive little number and slapping cuffs on me? Santa would not approve.”  

“Santa doesn’t need to know what I do, I’m here to make sure those on the naughty list are punished” you murmured, leaning in close until your lips hovered just a breath away from his. The scent of peppermint oil still lingered in the air, sharp and intoxicating, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from him. “Besides,” you continued, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “Santa‘a not in charge of this particular bad boy. I am.”  

Rafe exhaled a soft laugh, though his voice was lower now, tinged with something heavier. “That right? I’d be careful if I were you. Bad boys bite back.”  

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”  

The whip trailed lower, grazing just above the waistband of his jeans. Rafe shifted, his muscles flexing beneath the taut fabric of his shirt as he regarded you with a look that was equal parts playful and dark. There was something addicting about the way he stared at you—challenging you to keep going, daring you to see just how far you’d push him.  

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered, but the amused edge in his voice betrayed him.  

“Maybe I am,” you purred, brushing your lips along his jawline before pulling back with a playful grin. “But that’s not your concern, is it? You’re supposed to be reflecting on all those things I listed.”  

Rafe cocked a brow, lips curling into a devilish smirk as he tilted his head slightly. “Let’s see… the cake was worth it, the pranks were legendary, and the mistletoe ambush? You didn’t seem to mind that one.”  

Your laugh rang out as you gave him a teasing swat with the whip across his thigh—just enough to make him tense but not enough to wipe the grin from his face. “Careful, Cameron. You’re not exactly pleading your case here.”  

He rolled his shoulders, pushing off the counter slightly despite the restraints. “Maybe I don’t want to plead. Maybe I’m more interested in what happens next.”  

You stared him down for a beat, the heat in the room thickening like the glow of the fire crackling in the hearth in the living room. It was a dance—the way he pushed, the way you pulled back just enough to keep him guessing. Slowly, you unhooked the whip from where it hung on your fingers, letting it drop to the floor with a faint thud.  

“Then I guess we skip the misdeeds, for now,” you murmured, stepping closer until you were chest to chest, your fingers sliding under the edge of his shirt to trace the firm lines of his stomach. Rafe inhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to yours, darker now. “But if you don’t behave,” you added softly, tugging on the cuff chain just enough to remind him of his position, “I’ll have to find another way to punish you.”  

His smile widened, though there was a hint of challenge in his tone as he replied, “You really think you can handle me?”  

“Oh, I know I can.” You leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back with a smirk of your own. “Now be a good boy, Rafe.”  

For the first time, Rafe didn’t have a comeback. His eyes followed you as you stepped back with a slow, deliberate confidence, the bells on your crimson sack jingling softly with every movement. The air between you buzzed like a live wire, a tension thick enough to taste.  

“Game on,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you, as you disappeared around the corner.  

Rafe tilted his head back, letting out a low chuckle that echoed in the otherwise quiet kitchen, his pulse still racing. If you thought you’d won this round, you were in for a surprise—Rafe Cameron didn’t go down without a fight. 

You stride back into the kitchen, the soft jingle of bells you untied from the sack now around your boots the only sound in the room. Rafe's gaze snaps to you, and his expression shifts from smug confidence to stunned silence. His mouth parts slightly as his eyes rake over you, taking in every inch of your bare form save for the thigh-high boots that click against the floor. You hold his stare, the whip dangling loosely from your fingers, having picked it back up, exuding power with every deliberate step.  

You move him from the counter, taking his place. Without breaking eye contact, you lift the whip, running the tassels slowly, seductively, down your body. The teasing motion makes his breath hitch, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain composure. When the whip trails lower, the tip grazing over your clit, your soft moans echo in the silence, sending him over the edge. Rafe instinctively moves closer, his desire unrestrained.  

“Uh-uh,” you chide, your voice sharp yet laced with amusement. The crack of the whip against his thigh is quick, precise, and commanding, earning a low grunt from him. “You don’t move unless I say so.”  

He retreats slightly, his defiance flickering as he clenches his fists, but you’re not about to let him off that easily. In one fluid motion, you grab his arm, pulling him toward you with force that surprises him, motioning him to his knees before you.  

“Simon says,” you purr, tilting his chin upward with the handle of the whip, your smirk wicked and daring. “Tongue out.”  

His compliance is immediate, his lips parting as his tongue slips out in obedient surrender, his gaze locked on yours, blazing with a mix of challenge and submission. The tension crackles between you, and you savor the control, knowing you’ve completely unraveled him. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he kneels before you, his gaze locked on yours, dark and smoldering. The tension in the air is palpable.

"Good boy," you purr, running the whip’s tassels across his face, letting them linger just long enough to tease. His eyes are still on you, blazing with a mixture of defiance and submission, a combination that only fuels the fire building in your core.

You lean forward slightly, still perched on the counter, your movements slow and deliberate as you trace his jawline with the tip of your finger. “See? You can behave when you want to,” you murmur, a wicked grin tugging at your lips.

Rafe’s hands flex behind his back, his muscles straining against the temptation to reach for you. He’s teetering on the edge of control, and you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls, in the way his tongue stays perfectly still, waiting for your command.

“You like being told what to do, don’t you?” you ask, tilting your head as you slide the whip’s handle under his chin, lifting his face slightly. His response is a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Words, Rafe,” you chide, your voice dripping with authority.

His tongue retracts just enough to let him speak. “Only when it’s you,” he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

The admission makes your heart race, but you keep your composure, leaning back against the counter with an air of confidence. “Smart answer,” you reply, your tone light but edged with satisfaction. “Maybe you deserve a reward.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with hope, his body tensing in anticipation, but you’re not about to make it that easy for him. You lean forward, your voice a sultry whisper as you say, “Simon says… don’t move a muscle.”

He stays perfectly still, sticking his tongue back out. His obedience is both surprising and intoxicating. You trace the whip’s tassels down his chest, letting them skim over his abdomen before pulling them back up with a sharp flick. The motion draws a low growl from him, his restraint beginning to crack under your control.

“Sweet boy,” you praise again, watching the way his pupils dilate at the words. You lean down until your lips are just inches from his ear and add, “But don’t think for a second you’re in charge tonight.”

Rafe’s response is a slow, deliberate grin, his eyes dark with unspoken promises that send a shiver down your spine. Without hesitation, you step closer, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging firmly, guiding his head toward you. His lips part, his breath warm against your skin as you lower yourself onto his face, and in an instant, you lay your pussy on his flattened tongue, feeling it as it explores every inch of you.

The initial contact makes your body jolt, your movements instinctively faltering as a rush of pleasure courses through you. You feel the curve of a smile form on his face, the subtle vibration of his amusement only heightening the sensation.  

“You enjoying this as much as I am?” you ask breathlessly, your gaze meeting his smoldering eyes. He nods slightly in response, the motion teasing you further as he doubles down on his efforts.  

Your rhythm builds, each grind of your hips sending waves of heat through you. “Flick your tongue, baby,” you command, your voice cracking with need. The instant he complies, the tip of his tongue swirling at your entrance, a loud moan escapes your lips. You feel the wetness dripping down, slickening his cheeks and chin as he moans into you, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge.  

You brace yourself against the counter, your knuckles turning white as you struggle to maintain control. But Rafe knows exactly what he’s doing—each flick, swirl, and shift of his tongue driving you higher, faster. The fire in your stomach burns fiercely, igniting with an intensity you can’t suppress. Slowing your movements, you try to hold on a moment longer, grinding against him in a desperate attempt to draw out the pleasure. You’re supposed to be in control. You can't give in that easily.   

Then, he shifts his head just slightly, hitting the perfect spot and his nose rocking against your clit, your resolve crumbles. A shudder wracks through you as your pace quickens involuntarily, your climax crashing over you with devastating force. You cry out, gripping the counter to steady yourself as waves of pleasure leave you trembling in his grasp.  

As the aftershocks ripple through you, you try to lift yourself away, but the hunger in his eyes stops you. You move back down slightly, his mouth resuming its work as he laps up every last trace of your release. You melt under his touch, the world narrowing to the warmth of his lips and the unrelenting focus in his gaze. He knows how to get you even when you don’t want him too.  

You help him up to his feet, moving to the living room and unlocking the cuffs. “Get naked, baby.” 

He complies without hesitation, his hands moving swiftly to shed his clothing until every barrier between you is gone. His body is a masterpiece in the soft glow of the dimly lit room, each line and curve illuminated like a work of art. Yet his focus remains entirely on you, his piercing gaze locked with yours, a mix of obedience and raw anticipation evident in his posture as he stands still, awaiting your command.  

With a smirk, you step toward him, the clink of the cuffs in your hand drawing his attention. “Hands,” you instruct, your voice soft but firm. He raises them obediently, and you secure the cuffs around his wrists, this time in front of him. His lips twitch upward in subtle recognition of the shift—knowing you’re granting him just enough freedom for what you have planned.  

You guide him to the couch, pushing him gently until he sinks down onto the cushions, the plush fabric contrasting with the tension in his body. He looks up at you, eyes dark with want, but he doesn’t move, his cuffed hands resting in his lap, waiting for permission.  

“Good boy,” you murmur, straddling his waist, your thighs framing his hips as you settle into his lap. His sharp intake of breath at the contact sends a thrill through you, his skin warm against yours. He goes to brush his fingers along your stomach. 

You push his hands down and  lean in close, brushing your lips over his ear as you whisper, “I’m in control, Rafe, remember? You don’t touch unless I say. Understood?”  

“Yes,” he replies, his voice low and husky, the word almost a growl.  

Satisfied, you trail your hands down his chest, your nails grazing lightly against his skin, earning a sharp inhale from him. His restrained hands twitch, but he doesn’t lift them, his compliance making you grin. You grind your hips slowly up and down his length, teasing him as your bodies connect, the friction igniting a fire between you.  

“You’re doing so well,” you purr, placing your hands on his shoulders for balance as you continue to move. His jaw tightens, his head tipping back slightly, exposing the curve of his throat as he fights the urge to take control.  

Leaning back, you meet his gaze, your movements deliberate and tantalizingly slow. “Tell me what you want, Rafe,” you tease, your voice laced with mock innocence.  

“You,” he rasps, his voice strained. “I want all of you.”  

You smile wickedly, leaning in so close that your breath mingles with his, the tension crackling between you. His eyes dart to your lips just before you nip at his bottom lip, eliciting a low growl from deep in his chest. You pull back just enough to meet his darkened gaze, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.  

“Then you’re going to have to earn it,” you purr, your voice dripping with challenge, each word deliberate and tantalizing.  

Rafe’s jaw tightens, his lips parting slightly as if to respond, but you cut him off with a finger pressed lightly against his mouth. “No talking. Just listening,” you command softly, your eyes glinting with authority.  

He nods, his compliance stirring something primal in you. Moving with purpose, you take his cuffed wrists in your hands, guiding them up to rest on the back of the couch. His muscles flex under your touch, but he holds steady, his breaths coming heavier as you climb onto his lap, straddling his waist.  

“Good boy,” you murmur, leaning forward to trail your lips along the sharp edge of his jawline. He shudders beneath you, his body instinctively leaning into yours. 

You reach out, running your hands down his chest, feeling every taut line of his torso. “You want to touch me, don’t you?” you ask, your voice a teasing whisper against his ear.  

“Yes,” he replies, his voice rough, barely above a growl.  

You sit up, breaking contact with him, scratching your nails lightly on his neck, watching the way his body responds, the way he moves into your touch, the way his hips shift beneath you trying to feel you again. “Not yet,” you say firmly, smirking at the soft groan of frustration he lets out.  

“I’m starting to think you enjoy torturing me,” he says, his voice low and filled with a mix of amusement and desperation.  

You laugh softly, your hands sliding down his arms until your fingers meet his cuffed wrists. “It’s not torture,” you reply, leaning closer so your lips are just a breath away from his. “It’s discipline.”  

Before he can reply, you press your lips to his, your body pressing firmly against his. His hands flex in the cuffs, desperate to touch you, but you keep him in place, controlling every movement, every sensation.  

You lean into him, lips ghosting over his cheek and then trailing a path down his neck. His scent, musky and intoxicating, fills your senses as your fingers continue their feigned innocence, brushing “accidentally” over his length. Each fleeting touch makes him flinch, his body tensing beneath you. His breathing is ragged now, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to maintain control.  

“Do you want it, baby?” you whisper into his ear, your voice smooth and dripping with seduction.  

“Yes,” Rafe replies immediately, the desperation in his voice making you smile.  

“How bad?” you purr, pulling back just enough to see his flushed face.  

“Bad,” he groans, his voice thick and raw with need.  

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Hm, you’ve got to convince me, sweet boy.”  

He breaks. “I need you so fucking bad,” he blurts out, his voice cracking as tears well in his eyes. “I need you to sit on my cock and fuck the shit out of me already. It hurts—I fucking need you.” The words tumble out of him, uninhibited, his desperation painted clearly on his face as a single tear escapes and slides down his cheek.  

Your heart clenches at the sight, and you soften for just a moment, cupping his face in your hands. Gently, you wipe away his tears with your thumbs, your gaze locking with his. “Okay, okay,” you soothe, your voice a mix of teasing and genuine affection. “I’ll give you what you need.”  

His eyes burn with gratitude and unrestrained hunger as you move back closer to him, your boots jingling softly with every move. The sound only heightens the tension, each chime a reminder of the game you’ve played all night. You pull him to sit back up, your body pressing against his in all the right ways.  

Without wasting another second, you position yourself, taking hold of his length and guiding him to your entrance. Slowly, deliberately, you sink down onto him, a gasp escaping your lips as he fills you completely. Rafe throws his head back, a guttural groan escaping his throat as his hands, still cuffed, flex uselessly in front of him.  

You pause for a moment, adjusting, letting the sensation of him inside you consume you. His eyes find yours, a mix of awe and raw need etched across his face. Then, with a wicked grin, you lift yourself and slam back down, earning a deep moan from him that reverberates through the room.  

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, his voice rough with pleasure.  

You don’t respond, too focused on your movements. Rising and falling, you set a relentless rhythm, the bells on your boots creating a hypnotic jingle with each bounce. Your hands grip his shoulders for balance, and when that’s not enough, you reach for his neck, steadying yourself as you ride him harder, faster.  

Rafe’s hips buck beneath you, trying to meet your movements, but the cuffs keep him from taking control. “You’re killing me, baby,” he groans, his voice strained.  

“You’re mine tonight,” you breathe, leaning forward so your lips are just a whisper away from his. “And you don’t do anything unless I let you.”  

The tension between you builds, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your nails dig into his neck as you throw your head back, moaning his name. The sounds of your passion fill the room, blending with the soft chime of the bells and the steady rhythm of your bodies moving together.  

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, his gaze full of adoration and desperation. “Please, baby,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Let me—”  

“Not yet,” you cut him off, your movements only growing more determined. “You’ll take it until I say you’ve had enough.”

You feel the fire in your core intensifying, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. The look in Rafe’s eyes—pure, unadulterated lust mixed with helpless devotion—only adds fuel to the fire. His chest heaves beneath you, his muscles taut as he strains against the cuffs, desperate to touch you, to take control, but completely at your mercy.  

“Fuck, you’re so big baby,” you gasp, your voice shaky as the pleasure overtakes you. Your hands grip his neck tighter for balance as your rhythm grows erratic, each bounce sending shockwaves through your body.  

Rafe groans deeply, his head falling back against the couch as his hips try to meet your movements. “You’re gonna kill me, baby,” he growls, his voice thick with need. “Let me touch you—please, I can’t—”  

“No,” you pant, cutting him off as you lean forward, your lips brushing against his ear. “This is about me and you trying to get yourself on my nice list.”  

The heat in your body reaches its peak, your movements becoming frenzied as you chase the release building within you. But it’s not enough—you need more. You slow just slightly and meet Rafe’s eyes, your breath hitching as you command, “Rub my clit, Rafe. Now.”  

His eyes widen, and a flicker of relief crosses his face as you guide his cuffed hands to your center. The moment his fingers connect with you, you shiver, his touch electric against your sensitive skin. He moves in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure perfect, and your body responds instantly.  

“Just like that,” you moan, your head falling back as your hips grind against his hand. The combined sensation of his cock inside you and his fingers expertly working your clit pushes you dangerously close to the edge.  

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, your voice trembling as the fire in your stomach ignites into a full-blown inferno. Your walls clench around him, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your moans fill the room, loud and unabashed, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out the high.  

Rafe watches you, completely mesmerized, his own control hanging by a thread. The way your body moves, the way your face twists in pleasure—it’s enough to drive him insane.  

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groans, his voice low and raw. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You slow down your movements, still riding out your high but preventing him from his. One last form of dominance as you drag out his pleasure. Grinding down onto him is painful movements.

“I need you to move,” he pleads.

“Tell me why you deserve a reward?” You giggle, mocking him slightly.

“Fuck- I’ll be so good to you. You can have all the pieces of cake. No more scaring you before bed. Do whatever you fucking want to me, just let me fucking come!” Tears form in his eyes again.

As you come down from your high, your body still shaking slightly, you glance down at him with a wicked grin. “You’ve convinced me, you’ve been so good, baby,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Now it’s your turn.”  

His eyes darken with hunger, and he lets out a relieved moan as you start moving again. This time, it’s for him, your hips rolling in a way that has him trembling beneath you.  

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he groans, his voice breaking as his hips jerk uncontrollably.  

“Come for me, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice soft but commanding. “I want to feel you lose control.”  

That’s all it takes. His head falls back, his mouth opening in a silent cry as he reaches his peak. His body tenses, his hips bucking up into you as he spills inside you, the cuffs clinking faintly as his hands flex uselessly.  

You slow your movements again, guiding him through his release, your hands moving to cup his face. His eyes flutter open, meeting yours with a look of pure adoration and exhaustion.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, a shaky laugh escaping his lips. “You’re unreal.”  

You smile softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “I told you, Rafe. You don’t get anything unless I say so.”  

“Then remind me to never get on your bad side,” he chuckles, his voice still thick with satisfaction.  

“I think you liked it though,” you reply through a smirk.

You press a gentle kiss to his lips, the intensity of the moment giving way to something softer. You unlock the cuffs for a final time and you both savor the quiet aftermath, your bodies tangled together on the couch, the only light coming from his small Christmas tree in the corner of his living room.

Tags- @maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @writtenbyhollywood @leilanizcals @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @percysley @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @whytheylosttheirminds @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @cameronsprincess @itneverendshere @zya8tracks @httpsdrewstarkey @angelicameron @littlelamy @kieeslove @snowtargaryen @nemesyaaa @etheraltides @starkeysprincess @cooper8224 @hockeybabe87 @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafescokewhore @drewsephrry @rafeswif3

[kentofic]

hi! ♡ for the christmas scene prompts, can i request 002 & nanami? ♡

i see the vision and absolutely i can 💗 also hello writer of one of my fav zayne fics?? honored to make your acquaintance 🙇🏻‍♀️ this ended up deeply unserious and a little spicy instead of tender, i apologize

Warming up - Nanami Kento x reader (ft. baby Yuuji)

“…Still cold, I see.”

You glare up at Kento, teeth chattering as you huddle in front of the fireplace. You have a blanket tucked around you like a fleece burrito, and you poke your frozen fingers out from the opening, making grabby hands towards him.

“Shut up and gimme my drink, you smug bastard.”

Kento shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips as he places the mug of cocoa into your waiting hands. Your cold fingers clasp around it greedily, eager to soak up all the warmth from the smooth ceramic.

You shiver, your fingers tingling with the transition from frozen to thawed, and you take a sip of the steaming liquid. It replenishes you, warming you all the way down, but even hot cocoa can’t dissipate the persistent chill in your bones.

You look over your shoulder to check on the tiny menace conked out on the couch. Yuuji looks so peaceful like this—curled up under his favorite blanket, snoozing away, his unfinished cocoa abandoned on the coffee table. All but three years old, and he’s a proper agent of chaos. He had hardly waited for you to zip up his coat before bolting out the front door into the freshly fallen snow, too fast for you or Kento to catch. You had chased after him, yelling, his little gloves and hat in hand, as he squealed and launched himself headfirst into a snowdrift.

Thus ensued a game of tag that you sorely lost. Not only that, but you had forgotten your own coat in a heap by the door. By the time Kento came to drape it over your shoulders, you were already wet and cold from tussling in the snow with Yuuji. Kento said to go back inside and change, but Yuuji insisted the two of you must make a Nanamin snowman right that instant. Enamored by Yuuji’s sweet smile, you had wrapped your coat over the cold wet of your sweater and endured it until the toddler tuckered himself out.

Now you’re paying for it, curled up into a ball in front of the fireplace, Kento’s pursed lips saying without words: he told you so.

You pointedly ignore him, focusing instead on chasing the chill from your body. Your front feels warmer now—but your poor back and butt still feel cold to the bone. Staying crosslegged on the floor, you shuffle yourself 180 degrees until your back has been rotated towards the fireplace. You shiver, waiting for the warmth to spread through your chilled flesh.

Kento leans against the arm of the couch, his smile softening with fondness. He appraises you with one eyebrow arched, his amber eyes glittering with amusement.

“You’re like a rotisserie chicken, trying to get warm on all sides.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “It works, okay? My butt is cold!”

Kento chuckles, tilting his head slightly. “I could help with that.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. A new kind of warmth prickles your cheeks.

“…Well, if you’re offering,” you say after a moment, opening the blanket wrapped around you to invite him in.

He lifts the blanket off of you instead, and you protest with a startled, “Hey!”. A chill washes over you without your precious extra layer, but only briefly. Kento scoops you up and settles you on his lap, both of you facing the fire, and he rearranges the blanket across the two of you. Then he wraps his arms around your waist, his broad chest pressed to your back and his chin hooked over your shoulder. Cradled in his larger frame, warmth blooms through every inch of you, and you let out a happy sigh as you snuggle further into your personal space heater.

“Better?” he murmurs, nosing into the side of your neck before pressing a soft kiss there.

“Mm, much,” you hum in response. You set your cup down on the hearth so you can warm your hands on him instead—slipping your chilly fingers under the sleeves of his sweater to trace the warm, thick muscles of his forearms.

Kento shivers very slightly, but doesn’t protest—just lets you steal his body heat as much as you please. He nips at your earlobe, then grazes his teeth across the cold shell of your ear, his breath warming you there. A pleasant shudder rolls down your spine, and you relax further into him, feeling boneless and sleepy. The two of you sit like that for a while, a comfortable silence between you as you look into the crackling flames.

“You know, you were right,” Kento breaks the silence, his voice a soft rumble.

“Hm? Oh. I’m always right.” You giggle when Kento pinches your waist. “But what exactly was I right about?”

You feel him smile into your neck.

“Your butt is cold. Like an ice cube on my—”

“Kento!” You smack him, laughing and incredulous. He pulls your cold butt further into his lap, playfully grinding up into it. You wriggle around, trying to escape his grasp, but he just tightens his arms around you, his muscled forearms flexing under your hands as you try to pry them off.

“Where are you going?” Kento chuckles, his large, warm hands slipping under the hem of your sweater. “I like your cold butt. A lot. Would you mind if I borrowed it for a bit?”

[darcydarlingdabbles]

You are Safe - Deepest Desires

//One shot of Deepest Desires - Astarion Drabble. Very fluffy/comforting smut with many feelings. Not edited... Song Rec: Light by Sleeping at Last//

Explicit, Astarion x f!Tav, post cannon, 2.2k

cw: coping with sex/intimacy issues & allusions to Astarion's past

Astarion Ancunin was a sight to behold in any light.

The moon might make him look like some ethereally wicked beauty, but Tav much preferred the golden glow they were bathed in now. 

She sank into the plush leather sofa near the crackling hearth, cradling a cup of mulled wine. The spiced aroma chased away the chill of the night fallen outside the inn as her eyes drew lazily over the trophies adoring the walls—swords, shields, mounted heads of beasts. Theirs was just another story to add to the collection. 

Tav might be warmer still, without the vampire stretched out languidly beside her, but she would not give up the comfort of his closeness for the world.

“You know, I still don’t like being the hero. It is beyond tedium. ”

Astarion mused over the rim of his cup, as if he could detect her thoughts and had to refute them. 

“That so? You play the part so well.” Tav quipped back lovingly. 

“Well, I suppose I do enjoy all of the fawning adulation.”  Astarion mused. “And the gold, of course.” 

Tav shook her head fondly. She’d let him maintain the charade as long as he liked; she had already seen under the mask. He sent a smirk her way, his ruby eyes glinting with the firelight. Distracting her from the way he was balancing his goblet on its very edge, one of his dexterous fingers on lip of the drink, tilting further and further as if he dared the wine inside to spill. 

Or he was simply teasing Tav with the threat of it. 

“Beggin’ your pardon,” The inn keeper, a matronly half-orc with a smile around her tusks approached them. “Finest room we have is ready for ya, token of our gratitude for dealin’ with our Worg problem.”

“Thank you, Gerda, that’s too kind of you.” Tav said graciously. “We’re happy we could help.” 

She shot her companion a glance, but he was intently finishing his wine with only a raise of his eyebrows. 

She felt Astarion’s eyes on her as she conversed cordially with the inn keeper, his gaze as tangible as a caress along her cheek. Tav knew the warmth of that look. Little flickering moments of unguarded affection more sincere than any pretty picture his words could paint. 

The only recognition Tav gave was the smile at the corner of her lips. Because that was the game they played. Sparing his pride until the rest of the world faded away. 

This. This was everything she fought for. These quiet nights  brighter than any flames. 

…

Soon they retreated to the comfort of their room after a long day. Astarion led her up the stairs, silently twining their fingers together. Tav knew it was another gesture she wasn’t supposed to linger on, but if he kept this up, the dam would burst sooner rather than later. 

He pushed the door to their chambers open with an overly theatrical flourish. “Not quite fit for a king…but I suppose it will do.” 

Tav rolled her eyes, stepping past him to take in a very comfortable room that was downright luxurious in its details. Plush carpet, dark wood walls, and a canopied bed piled with silken sheets and pillows. 

“After sleeping in bedrools on the hard ground,” Tav put her hands on her hips, a smile on her lips with her tone placating him. “I think it will suffice.” 

Astarion came up behind her then, his cool breath ghosting over her ear as he murmured. “Then it is a shame you will not have the time to admire the finer details.” 

In the second of warning he gave, Tav knew well he could hear every uptick of her heart.

Astarion had her spun around, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. Tav’s back hit the wall with a soft thud, her lover’s lithe body pinning her in place as he lifted their still entwined hands above her head. 

Those clever fingers hand already snuck under the hem of her tunic, drawing lines over the swell of her hip. 

“I have all that I need to admire.” Tav arched to the touch with a sigh as she finally exhaled. 

“Such flattery.” Astarion’s smirk was downright sinful, sending heat and want curling through her. Those ruby eyes glinted bright in the soft firelight of the room. 

Soon, their packs were dropped to the side, shedding the last trappings of battle with the armor and gore already tucked away. Leaving no more barriors between them as passion sparked in the scant space between them. His nibble fingers made quick work of the laces of her tunic, the fabric falling away to expose her collarbones, and her chest. 

Tav lifted her chin, playfully offering her neck, knowing how it thrilled him though he would not bite—not just yet. But Astarion would duck his head to draw his teeth teasingly along the colomn of her throat. 

She peered over his white curls. “My love, the door is still—” A sharp kick shut the door, and its lever lock clicked into place. “Thank you.” 

Astarion’s scoff tingled against her pulse point. He was far more preoccupied with mapping out the newly exposed skin, like it hadn’t been under his lips a thousand times. As if he wasn’t intimately familiar and once again confident with his ability to drive her mad. As if she didn’t know him just as well. 

When he pulled back to rid her of her pesky tunic, she used her chance. Tav’s fingers slid into his silky curls, just brushing her thumbs over the tips of his pointed ears. 

That got his attention. 

Astarion made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat, finding her mouth again. 

The kisses grew more urgent as Astarion pressed Tav back against the wood-paneled wall, her arms around his shoulders as he used his thigh to part hers. 

Easy as could be, like they were dancing together again. Tav took his lead, her leg hooked around his waist before he had to reach for her. Their bodies were brought flush together--letting her feel the hard press of his arousal. 

“It would be a shame,” Tav murmured against the vampire’s lips. “Not to make use of the bed, don’t you think? I know how much you do enjoy fine linens.” 

Astarion laughed, the sound decadent yet playful. “My darling, the only thing more appealing than being wrapped up in silk, is being wrapped up in you.” 

Heat flooded into her cheeks, just like he knew it would. Even now, his lines always worked on her. 

Tav reached for the hem of Astarion’s shirt, ridding him of it and letting it join her tunic on the floor. He was already walking her back towards the bed—but it just wasn’t enough to map out the planes of his chest with her fingers, hooking into the waist of his breaches. 

“Can I?” Tav lifted her eyes, her mouth already watering. 

“You hardly have to ask.” He purred, pecking her lips just once more. “But…I’m glad that you did.” 

She always would. Sometimes to his annoyance, but the vampire seemed more than in the mood to humor her sweetness tonight.  Astarion freed his cock from his breeches as he sat back on the bed, stroking himself languidly, watching her with bright ruby eyes as she eagerly sank to her knees. 

He was so damn gorgeous like this, confident in seeking his pleasure, knowing Tav was more than willing to give. 

Her hand curled around his, before she was drawing the tip of him between her lips. She adored the sweet, strangled sound he gave as he relenquished his hold to her, those deft fingers threading into her hair as she swallowed him down. 

Tav loved him like this. Loved that she was the one who got to see Astarion this way—wanting and vulnerable and utterly hers. 

She poured every ounce of devotion into the slide of her mouth, wanting him to shatter from it. For all pretense to fall away like the filthy praise faltering from his lips, and let her catch him when he fell. 

Astarion tensed under her, the muscles in his thighs and the hand in her hair gone ridgid. 

Tav pulled back, her eyes seeking his, looking for the glassy sheen to cover his red irises or the distance in his gaze. “You can let go, love.” lacing the reassurance his ego sometimes spurned in a seductive purr. “I want you to.” 

Astarion’s scoff was breathier than he intended, she could see it on his face, but the hand in her hair curled around her chin, capturing her jaw as he bent to claim her lips. 

“As tempting as that mouth of yours may be…I’d much rather be inside you.” 

Her pulse quickened under his hold. 

Tav was on her feet, ridding herself of any thing that could get between them. Before straddling Astarion’s lap. Reveling in his groan as he tasted himself on her tongue. 

Those damned fingers of his were already delving between her soaked folds, thumbing her clit so perfectly it was maddening in an instant. 

“Astarion, please…” Tav breathed against his mouth. 

“I know darling.” His grin nipped at her lower lip, fingers sliding into her and curling just so. “No one knows you as I do.”

He was distracting her, and he was so very, very good at it. Tav rocked needily into him, pleasure sparking up her spine. Her fingers  clutched into the fine curls at the back of his neck. Trying to ground herself to meet his burning gaze. 

“No one loves you as I do.” 

Something beautifully yearning moved across his face. The ghost of a longing to be known—and to still be loved. It was all he could never bring himself to ask for, and yet she gave it, freely, whenever she thought he may need it. 

The next meeting of their lips was filled with nothing but tenderness, even as he pulled her closer still, breaking only as he filled her completely. 

Astarion’s grip tightened on her hips, and Tav understood. 

She let him bear her back onto the plush bed, surrendering to his need for control. Her hands fell back to either side of the pillow, as she searched the ethereal beauty of his face above her, assuring herself that he wasn’t lost to the old shadows. 

Clear crimson eyes gazed back at her, their only darkness that of desire. 

Satisfied, Tav wrapped her legs around Astarion’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. He obliged her with a precise roll of his hips that nearly had stars bursting behind her eyelids. 

“That’s it, my love.” Astarion purred, his breath played over her lips as his body moved with hers, sweet and aching, their fingers wound together even as he kept her wrists pinned. 

Tav could feel the edge of her bliss tugging at her, the way she clenched desperately around his cock, it was so damn close—

Astarion shuddered above her, tensing on instinct, resisting that final surrender, even now. His old wounds would never go fully away, but she could soothe them when they surfaced. Because she knew him. 

“Let go, my love, I have you.” 

He did, spilling into her with a choked cry, his hips snapping hard and fast into hers, sending pleasure that arched up her spine until it overwhelmed her. 

Spent, still tangled together, collapsed together. 

Astarion’s cool skin was a balm against her heated body, when he finally released her hands. Tav’s arms wrapped around him, feeling the faintest of trembling in the raw moments after.  He hid his face crook of her shoulder, letting her fingers slide through his curls. 

Tav shifted only enough to bare her throat to him, remembering how he teased that she tasted better shortly after their coupling. 

Far from a distraction, it was a gesture of the intimate trsut they shared. Astarion only hesitated a moment, before sharp fangs pierced her skin, and Tav relaxed into the familiar heat and sting. 

He drank from her, lost in the bliss of her blood. Comforted by the familiarity of it. 

When the vampire pulled back, a trickle of red dripped from his grin, and Tav swiped it away with her thumb. 

Astarion turned his face into her touch, a kiss pressed into her palm. Before he gathered her into his arms for the rest of the night. 

…

Golden sunlight crept across the room as dark became day. 

Astarion stayed with his head tucked under Tav’s chin, her heart beat a comforting rhythm against his ear. He stirred only as the warm glow softened his sharp features, and she finally gave in to the urge to trace the contours of his face. 

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking hers. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek in turn, the warmth of the Ring of Daylight around his fourth finger a delicious contrast to his cool skin. 

“Looking for a cuddle?” he asked, his tone playful yet tender, echoing their first morning together.

Tav laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Always,” she replied, her heart swelling with love for this man who had come so far, who had learned to trust and to love despite everything he’d endured.

Their fingers intertwined with the comforting sound of his ring meeting hers. Warmed by the golden light forevermore.