Relationships: Melinoë/Odysseus (Hades Video Game), Melinoë/Moros (Hades Video Game), Moros/Odysseus (Hades Video Game), Melinoë/Odysseus/Moros (Hades Video Game)
Characters: Melinoë (Hades Video Game), Odysseus (Hades Video Game), Moros (Hades Video Game)
Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Masturbation, Kissing, Lots of it, Possessive Behavior, od may find that moros doesn't necessarily spoil the fun he has with mel, Quite the opposite actually
Summary:
Melinoë is well-aware that Hecate wouldn't condone the way the young goddess spends her pastime with their tactician. The Titaness wouldn't condone it twice as much if she knew that Melinoë's invited Doom Incarnate himself to join her and Odysseus' time together.
AO3 link
Hecate is nowhere in sight after Melinoë’s finished yet another run down to the Underworld and it means only good news to the young goddess.
Especially when combined with Dora’s absence from their tent and Odysseus’ presence on his usual spot, at his trusted table with all the papers full of tactical maps and scribbles.
The victory against Chronos has filled Melinoë with energy, one she usually buzzes with after a successful run, no matter the direction. The majority of the Crossroads’ inhabitants like seeing her in high spirits – there’s only few exceptions, and even then it’s not certain whether some would prefer to see the Princess in a more dour mood or not.
But it’s not Melinoë’s concern right now. In fact, she’s more than pleased with the Crossroads being all peaceful and quiet at this hour, whatever it may be. Apart from Hecate probably off to her own duties somewhere else, Eris and her trash are gone and Nemesis is most likely doing her own run, attempting to reach Chronos and slay him. As Melinoë glances at Retribution’s favourite spot, she briefly wonders if Nemesis could ever let go the idea of getting to the Titan herself and beating him to a pulp as Melinoë does.
Nemesis can be left to her own devices now, if she so desires. It only makes it easier for Melinoë to bring her current plans into existence. If Retribution is not there, she won’t cast any accusatory and judging glances at Melinoë. And she won’t comment on anything later on, either. At least once in a blue moon, Melinoë thinks, she can have some rest from Nemesis’ thoughts and conclusions.
With lightness in her step, Melinoë approaches Odysseus and stands behind him, her hands intertwined in front of her, a bright smile plastered on her face.
“Just a second, Goddess,” Odysseus says, raising a hand and a finger to emphasise his point.
Made to wait a couple of seconds, Melinoë doesn’t reply. She only rolls her eyes and as soon as she’s done with that, Odysseus is turned towards her, that crooked smile of his contagious as always.
“What is it this time, then? Because judging by that grin, I daresay you’ve succeeded in beating the Titan once more. Congratulations.” Odysseus bows, a bit too pretentiously. As always.
“That’s the case, indeed, sir!” Melinoë beams, sparkles of mischief dancing in her eyes.
Odysseus notices them and furrows his brows as he’s figuring out what it is that Melinoë is plotting. Something nudges him to glance in the direction of Hecate’s cauldron and then he puts two and two together. He can swear that once he looks Melinoë straight in the eye, that innocent gaze of hers appears as only a façade, a veil meant to obscure her genuine wants.
He has seen it before. The alleged innocence. He knows what it’s brought before and the scattered memories flash through his mind, causing a spark to run down his spine.
Both Melinoë and Odysseus are aware of the effect that the young goddess has on the tactician. And it would be unfair to say that Odysseus doesn’t have an effect on Melinoë because he does. For a while, she’s been drawn to that particular shade like a moth to the flame. And oh, how simple it was to get burnt! If only Hecate saw them together, she’d have none of that. In fact, neither of them knows whether it would be Melinoë or Odysseus getting the worst of it. They wouldn’t like to find out, ever, but they also can’t help but risk it all whenever there’s a chance to do so.
Even now Melinoë can barely keep her hands to herself – she’s so excited because of the fight with Chronos, because of the adrenaline, because of…
“Do we have a guarantee that Lady Hecate will not return to the Crossroads when she’s needed here the least?” Odysseus wonders, careful as he is. The voice of reason in a situation like this.
“I’m quite certain about that. When she leaves, she leaves for a long while, Od. You know how it is and yet,” Melinoë sighs, “you’re still asking. Every time.”
“Goddess,” he says firmly, stepping forward. “Your great enthusiasm flatters me. Yet, we must remain careful at all times. Too much is at stake and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you had to face the consequences because of us… spending time together the way we do.”
“Oh, Od,” Melinoë whines, since anything she’s just had on her mind disappeared the moment Odysseus grabbed her chin with his hand. “You can’t expect me to…” She pauses again, melting into the rather cool hand cupping her cheek and jaw. “… Just leave you be when you do such things!”
“Is that so?” he has the nerve to ask oh-so innocently.
“Yes!”
Melinoë grasps his scarf with both of her hands and pulls him closer, so that their lips crash in a rushed kiss. It feels as if they hadn’t seen each other for ages and it’s one of Melinoë’s favourite feelings. She closes her eyes and nibbles on Odysseus’ lower lip to then playfully lick it. It earns her two huge palms grabbing her butt and traveling down onto her thighs. She’s picked up in no time, a little squeal leaving her mouth as she wraps her legs around Odysseus’ waist.
A chuckle rumbles out of the man’s lungs, sending vibrations all over Melinoë’s body. Amused, the goddess brushes her nose against Odysseus’ and then hides her face in the crook of his neck. As she peppers his skin with tiny kisses, he picks up the pace because he can’t wait to sit her on the table in her tent and shower her with proper worship.
“And I thought I was impatient,” Melinoë comments cheekily once she’s sitting on the edge of her table with Odysseus standing between her legs.
“I’ve been learning from the best, Goddess,” Odysseus purrs and leans in to catch her lower lip between his teeth and pull on it.
It elicits a whimper from Melinoë and she snakes her arms around his neck. When he lets go, she chases his lips in a dire need to kiss him again. All the while, Odysseus is holding her by her thighs, his thumbs rubbing her warm skin, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh more often than not. On Gods, Melinoë is praying that he’ll leave marks now or later, for she’d love to wander around with them on full display. The ones he leaves on her neck aren’t enough, for they’re always hidden by her gorget.
Odysseus moves to kiss the corner of Melinoë’s lips and then the line of her jaw until he reaches the underside of her ear and then the lobe. He licks it, nips on it, effectively disturbing Melinoë’s dismantling his scarf and cloak. She even stifles an ‘annoyed’ groan as he bites down on the tender flesh, sending shivers down her spine.
The two articles of Odysseus’ clothing fall to the ground as his hands on the goddess’ thighs travel higher, crumpling her dress, exposing her heated core to the chilly air of the evening. She blushes immediately and Odysseus feels the feverish red on his own cheek as he continues his assault on the shell of Melinoë’s ear. He releases a groan from the depths of his chest, squeezing her thighs between his fingers.
“Ah, blast it, Od…”
“Too much?”
The bastard.
“Never, you…” Melinoë doesn’t manage to finish when she hears a familiar voice calling out to her from the outside of the tent.
“Princess?”
“Lord Moros?” she addresses back, her voice only a tad shaky because Odysseus doesn’t stop his ministrations and is currently kissing his way down the column of Melinoë’s neck.
When did he even undo her neckpiece?
“I don’t want to disturb you, Princess, if you happen to be busy at the moment!”
“You’re very busy at the moment, Goddess,” Odysseus mutters into her neck, tickling her, his breath adding fuel to the fire burning in the pit of her stomach.
“Bold,” she comments and then comes up with a, “would you mind if Lord Moros… joined us?”
Her heart skips a beat at the sole concept and she shivers, feelings Odysseus’ canines graze her skin.
“It’s your decision to make,” he rumbles lowly in an answer and leaves a wet stripe up her throat.
“None of that. Tell me, please.”
He stands upright and their eyes meet. Melinoë’s hands cup his face.
“I don’t mind.”
Melinoë smiles and pecks Odysseus.
“Please, come in, my Lord!” she calls and gasps, baffled, when Odysseus resumes his caresses.
And enter Doom Incarnate does, indeed. The utter shock and embarrassment that paint on his face once he sees the scene before him is a sight to behold and Melinoë knows it was the right idea to let him in now.
The pale flush on Moros’ cheeks is adorable. His mouth hangs slightly open and his eyes are wide, his throat dry as a bone. He gulps around the dryness a couple of times but it brings no effect whatsoever. Instead, he wills himself to avert his gaze. Yet, when he hears the breathy sigh that Melinoë makes, he can’t help but look. Watch. Observe how closely Odysseus is pressed to the Princess, how firmly he’s gripping her thighs, how fixated he is on sucking a mark on Melinoë’s exposed neck.
If Moros said that he wouldn’t like to do the same thing, he’d be a blatant liar.
“I… I… I should leave, I really should’ve waited and–” he tries, all flustered, his hands clenching behind his back.
“No, no, my Lord!” Melinoë soothes, sending him a warm smile. “You can stay. We’d love you to, actually. As long as this is what you desire too. We don’t want to pressure you into anything, Lord Moros, but we’d be delighted if you stayed.”
“It could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Milord,” adds Odysseus, peeking at Moros over his shoulder.
There is some snark in Odysseus’ comment and it does bite Doom’s flurried ego. There are butterflies in his stomach all of a sudden and he feels dizzy for a second there but he handles it sooner than he expected. He thinks for a moment, unable to tear his eyes off of Melinoë and Odysseus together, like this.
And, in addition to that, Melinoë whines so prettily when Odysseus’ hands slip up her back and unlace her dress, so that the straps can be shoved off of her shoulders and the shade can plant kisses there.
“Don’t worry, it will all stay here in this tent. No one will know.” Melinoë reaches one of her hands out to Moros in an invitation to come closer.
Her own mouth stays open and little mewls leave it once in a while – usually when whatever it is that Odysseus is doing causes her actual pain. The way she shivers doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the men and it’s what beckons Moros to finally approach the couple and grab Melinoë’s hand. It is a bit calloused but he couldn’t care less – not when she pulls him closer to rub his cheek with her hand.
“Please, don’t do anything that you’re not comfortable with… promise?” she asks so sweetly and Moros swoons, more blush rising onto his cheeks.
“Promise, Princess,” he answers and follows the hand that guides him nearer, so that his lips brush against Melinoë’s.
She kisses him then, all tenderly, so as not to spook him. The meeting of their lips is almost chaste, for it’s so easy for Melinoë to draw a whine from Doom that she’s a bit confused by it herself. He only laughs nervously and pulls away. He catches the sight of the goddess’ bare chest and looks to the side immediately afterwards, which has Melinoë and Odysseus snigger in unison.
It may seem that Odysseus treats the situation as some kind of a challenge, so, all unceremoniously, he slides one of his hands even higher up Melinoë’s thigh until it reaches that sweet and heated finish line. Once his fingers make contact with her wet centre, Melinoë jolts and leans her forehead against Moros’. He lets out a small grunt of his own as he can’t tear his eyes off of Odysseus’ hand, working miracles between Melinoë’s legs.
The Princess whimpers and mewls, grabbing Moros’ hair tightly each time she feels a rub or circling over that sensitive bundle of nerves. She shivers and mutters Odysseus’ name as she kisses Doom again, biting his lip and making her tongue meet his. Pleasant warmth is beaming off of him and he knows that it’s not only Melinoë who is making him feel so hot and bothered.
He both wishes he was doing to the Princess what Odysseus is doing to her now and wants the shade to play with him in a similar way as well. There’s that soft spot that Moros holds for the man, which causes a sudden wave of arousal shoot down to his own groin. It then has him cup Melinoë’s cheeks, which also shortens the distance between him and Odysseus. He actually wishes he could also now give the shade a kiss.
Moros groans as he swallows the moan that leaves Melinoë’s throat when she feels Odysseus slide two of his fingers inside of her warmth. It’s not the first time he’s done that, so it doesn’t hurt, but it still takes the goddess by surprise. A very welcome one at that.
Odysseus places one last kiss against Melinoë’s shoulder and then lifts his head up to watch her shiver and let her jaw hang loose while he’s working her up. The sight of her kissing Doom Incarnate angers him to a certain degree, even though he knows that the goddess doesn’t belong to him. She’s not his property but he growls dangerously anyway, making her eyes fall upon his face showing slight discontentment.
“My Lord,” she whispers to Moros, “anything you’d like to do with us in particular?” she asks and licks his lip.
“Who am I to choose, Princess?” he murmurs back, aware of Odysseus’ heavy stare on him. “I wouldn’t dare disturb more than I already have.”
“Moros!” she whines somewhat annoyed as one more finger enters her dripping slit. It doesn’t matter that the mewl wasn’t caused by Moros’ actions.
“I’ll make do just… watching this time. If that’s alright with you, Princess.” He himself doesn’t know whether he should address Odysseus too or not.
“Perfect.” Melinoë smiles against Moros’ lips and then draws back, making eye contact with him again. “Why don’t you sit over there and take care of yourself, enjoying the views?”
Her tone makes both the shade and the god shudder.
“Of course, Princess.”
Obediently, Moros takes a seat where Melinoë can still see him and her eyes don’t miss a chance of glancing at him and observing him while she’s once more busy with kissing Odysseus. Relishing the sensation of three digits being buried inside of her, moving in and out and occasionally rubbing that sensitive spot inside, she watches Doom dropping the articles of his attire one by one. Soon, his body is revealed to her and if it weren’t for Odysseus’ handsome face in front of her, she’d have her gaze glued to Moros.
Melinoë shifts on her spot, sighing sweetly right into Odysseus’ mouth, as she reaches behind her back to undo her belt and throw it onto the ground. With a little bit of manoeuvring, her dress is off of her in a while and she’s all bare, sat on the table. Helping the shade get out of his own clothes, she steals his headband and puts it over her head, eliciting a laugh both from him and Doom Incarnate.
That particular chuckle draws her attention and she gets stuck, hypnotised by the way Moros’ large hands roam over his chest and tease his nipples. Her throat grows dry at the sight and she gasps at that and then does it once more as Odysseus’ hands grip her thighs again, dragging her butt closer to the edge of the table.
As if out of instinct or habit, Melinoë wraps her legs around Odysseus’ waist, encouraging him to do what they’ve both been craving for for a while now. That sweet relief comes as soon as he enters her with the help of his hand that he then once more lays on the flesh of her leg. The man pets the smooth skin, dragging his hips back and forth in a lazy manner.
Melinoë’s on cloud nine and she throws her head back to allow Odysseus to lick a wet stripe up the column of her neck. He groans at the action being combined with the warm and wet sensation embracing him.
The two of them look divine from Moros’ position. He can’t help but let one of his palms travel lower down his stomach, scratching his blunt fingernails against his abs and his hipbones. With his mouth agape, he wraps his long fingers around himself and begins to work his loose fist up and down the erect shaft.
On gods, how he’d love to be in Odysseus’ spot now! Marvelling at the continuous roll of the shade’s pelvis and the sounds and faces it pulls from the Princess has Moros pump himself just as rhythmically. His pre that’s leaked from the tip already makes for a great lube and maybe Doom doesn’t engage in such activities too often but he still knows the ins and outs of this, at least in the basic sense.
So he matches his pace with the couple’s, catching Melinoë’s blissed out gaze every time she looks at him. Her pretty face draws deep moans from within his chest, ones that vibrate both inside Melinoë and Odysseus. They weren’t expecting to hear such sounds leave Moros’ lungs but they’re more than pleasantly surprised. Somehow, the low echo causes their insides to flutter and at some point, it becomes so intense, that Melinoë lies down on the table.
Odysseus’ broad frame covers her whole and the new angle punches out guttural grunts and pants from him. His hands are now pinning Melinoë’s ones on either side of her head and her whole body quivers and tears well up in her eyes as the shade hits that special spot inside of her. Her little cries become breathy, making the pit of Moros’ stomach burn and tighten dangerously. Since it’s been a while, he barely manages to stop himself from finishing right then.
The choked out groan of his doesn’t just fly past Melinoë’s or Odysseus’ ears. It especially drills itself into the latter’s head and imagination and he spares a while to think how it would be to be the reason for such sounds in a more direct way. It also encourages him to add more intensity to his motion, which has Melinoë move along with it more. Her throat gets exposed to Odysseus once again and he hides his face in it, breathing in her scent, planting kisses and sucking a love mark or two on the pale skin.
The scene is almost overwhelming for Moros and his wrist strains but his moves don’t falter. He can’t let himself stop now, not when Melinoë’s falling apart under Odysseus and his own rocking becomes more and more uncoordinated and sloppy. The shade’s breathing heavily against Melinoë’s neck, while it’s covered in Odysseus’ bites and spit. The low grunts of his creep into Melinoë’s ears and she feels dizzy, gripping his hands tightly, digging her nails into the upper sides of his palms.
He bears it well – it sends more and more waves of feverish pleasure down his spine and into his loins. Sweat’s beaded on his temples and rolled down onto Melinoë to mix with hers. Despite that, his whole body is still colder in comparison to hers but maybe it’s exactly what leads her to her own blissful peak.
“Blast it, Od, I don’t think I can hold it, I–”
“Then don’t, Goddess,” Odysseus purrs, “let go.”
Once it happens, she shrieks and digs her heels into Odysseus’ lower back, burning him in the process. As he curses in Greek, she comes undone underneath him, her body quivering and her chest heaving while countless spasms attack her muscles. The heat spreads all over her, reaching her toes and the tip of her head and she mumbles Odysseus’ name in an unstoppable chain of babbling.
And if that isn’t what topples Moros over his edge; a raw moan rips itself from his throat and his back arches as he releases the tension that’s coiled deep in his gut. His eyes snap shut as pleasure floods him in white hot waves that spread all over his whole being. He covers his eyes with his forearm and mumbles Melinoë’s name, and, with little to no care about anything or anyone, lets Odysseus’ name slip past his lips in a breathy whimper too.
Upon hearing it, Odysseus swears again, louder this time, prolonging Melinoë’s climax with the vibration of his voice and the ragged snapping of his hips against her. Relentlessly, he’s chasing his own high and internally thanks Melinoë for being so vocal about her own bliss, and worships her body for tightening around him so perfectly.
“Come on, Od, do it,” Melinoë rasps out to him as softly as she can, her voice breathy and hitching on itself. “Allow yourself to feel good, let me see it. Let Lord Moros see it too.”
There’s smile in her tone and it tears a raw moan out of Odysseus. He also nearly stills inside of her then, his pelvis still jerking back and forth as he empties himself deep in his young, beautiful goddess.
“Goddess, please…” he whimpers, letting go of her hands, not exactly knowing what he’s asking for.
But Melinoë knows.
She slides her hands up his sides and embraces him, keeping him close as he’s shivering and groaning into her neck. Melinoë may have fallen apart underneath him but he crumbles there, atop her smaller body.
“Good, very good,” she soothes, revelling in the sticky warmth spreading within. Rubbing her hand against his back, she feels the muscles shifting under her fingers and she’s loving the sensation. “Oh, you always please me so, sir” she adds once he’s calmed down and released a long exhale.
“So do you, Goddess. So do you…”
While Melinoë keeps hugging Odysseus, Moros sighs at the sight and the whole scene that has just unravelled in front of him. He has to admit that the moment when Odysseus reached his peak set the after-aftershocks through Doom’s body. Or maybe was it a newly ignited spark of arousal? Moros doesn’t dwell on that – he only knows that he enjoyed it, despite the little pain that it caused his already sensitive self.
His attention is then caught by Odysseus lifting himself up together with Melinoë who’s still clinging onto him. He pulls out and she blushes and looks away oh-so sheepishly as the wet mess flows out of her. A chuckle leaves Odysseus’ mouth and he plants a kiss on the goddess’ cheek. Her eyes then meet Moros’ and he feels a bit hotter.
In a rush of courage, Doom stands up and walks over to the pair, in spite of his legs bordering on giving in. He stops right behind Odysseus and leans over to kiss Melinoë’s forehead. It doesn’t satisfy her, so she draws upwards and the two share a kiss on the lips. Odysseus watches it with his eyebrow raised and turns a bit to the side to catch Moros’ jaw in his hand and hold it there, so that he can crush his lips against Doom’s too.
Melinoë gasps at that and her eyes widen in wonder. She finds herself unable to tear her eyes off of the two men who deepen the kiss only to pull away a while later. A whine of discontentment almost flies past Melinoë’s lips but she manages to smile brightly at Odysseus and Moros as they look back at her.
“Does this mean that you’d like to join us some other time as well, Lord Moros?” she can’t help but ask.
“I won’t reject your invitation, provided that Master Odysseus here also entertains the idea.”
“I certainly won’t be opposed to it.”
The spark in Odysseus’ eye tells both Melinoë and Moros all they needed to know.
Sharing the fun Odysseus has with the Goddess of Nightmares suddenly isn’t as bad of a concept as it seemed at the beginning.
Summary: Maddened by the festivities of the Bacchanalia, you fall under Dionysus’ captivating glances.
Pairing: Dionysus!Bachira x Mortal!Reader
Reader Type: AFAB - gender neutral (no pronouns used)
Rating: E+
Word Count: 1.8k
Collab: Touch of Divine Rush by @dark-mnjiro
Warnings: Ancient Greece AU (not historically accurate), mentions of omophagia/blood, very mild dubcon, yandere behavior, public /outdoor sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unsafe sex, creampie, kidnapping
Well into the night, under a blanket of stars, the wine flowed, and music tingled the minds and bodies of those engaging in the festivities. Despite happening multiple times a year, the Bacchanalia was always something special and dear to you. You could dance and drink and fuck anyone in any class without repercussion. It was guaranteed to be a night full of debauchery and ecstasy.
It was a night free of self-consciousness, fear, and worries about any problems you might have had. Your hips swayed, your body moving to the rhythmic beat that was playing. Others joined you though you were hardly paying them any attention. This was a night born for the god of wine, theatre, and fertility. It was his great blessing that had the harvest season plentiful, the grapes plump and ripe with flavor, the orchards full of the finest fruit the trees had ever bared.
It was believed that without the ritual reenactment of his birth, the omophagia of animals that were slaughtered in the same way as King Pentheus of Thebes the crops would wither and perish. Frenzied and maddened by lust and fermented fruit, the sacrifice’s blood still stained your hands and mouth. The coppery taste meshed well with the divine wine as you prayed for his love and warmth to flow through you, to bring you to the brink of insanity as he had so many others.
Your prayers did not fall on deaf ears. They hadn’t since you became of age and started attending the Bacchanalia. He listened, quietly, patiently, madly. Waiting for the right moment to pluck you from the crowd so he may place you among the stars.
The time had finally come as your bleary eyes opened to see a figure in the distance motioning for you. A powerful magnetic force had you moving towards him, hips still swaying to the sweet strumming of the lyre. The figure’s amber eyes seemed to glow, a curling devilish smile on his wide mouth full of perfectly white teeth.
You could smell him before you could even see him, the scent of a grape field after a heavy summer rain. The familiarity took you closer, and if you had the wherewithal to have a guard up it would have certainly come crashing down at the smell of home. Your eyes were connected to his as he stepped into the light, a daunting figure standing only at a hundred and seventy-six centimeters, beautiful with duo-toned hair.
He was thin and muscular, his hair as wild as his conniving grin. He reached out for your hand and you graciously accepted, allowing him to pull you into his toned chest as his other arm caught your waist. His lips fell on yours, tasting of wine made from the sweetest of grapes. A whirlwind of lust and madness rushed through the two melding bodies as you began to feel as if he may devour you whole.
Teeth met flesh as a flurry of kisses seared down your throat, small welts of desire forming from the nips and pecks. Your vision swam as you felt like putty in the arms of the stranger, his hands pawing into your robes expertly until his nimble fingers were pressed against your clit.
You gasped, hips moving in time with his digits to create the most pleasing amount of friction possible. His golden yellow eyes were on you, practically glowing in the darkness as he drank in your appearance: disheveled and desperate for release. The pace of his fingers increased as you grabbed helplessly at his robes, trying to stay upright as your knees shook from the pleasure.
“So sweet,” He hummed as his fingers dipped into your dripping core suddenly, eliciting a sharp cry of excitement. “I could turn this into a wine fine enough that it would drive any mortal man mad.” His teasing tone and hard thrust of his fingers made it clear what exactly he was talking about. Your essence soaking into his godly skin.
He brought you to orgasm quicker than anyone had ever before. The dizzying rush of endorphins as you desperately tried to kiss at the skin of his throat, leaving soft brushes of your lips on his throbbing pulse point.
His fingers pulled out with a wet squelch, and the stranger brought them to his lips to have a taste. A pleased look crossed his features, “even better than ambrosia.” He said as you watched his tongue move across his hand, lapping at every last drop of your juices.
Your gaze was transfixed on his mouth as it spread into yet another grin. His unsoiled hand moved to push you against the wall of the building you both were standing beside, the shadow cast by the moonlight the only thing keeping you hidden from the prying gazes of others, though, in all honesty, they were too crazed by their own frenzy to notice the divinity among them.
He dropped to his knees, tugging at your robes in order to open them so he could have full access to your cunt to drink you in even more. Greedy and impatient, you could hear the fabric ripping from his surprisingly firm grasp. You attempted to help him, however, the wild look he gave you caused you to stop, sensing things would not go well for you if you continued.
“Ah, there it is.” He cooed as he gripped your bare thighs and spread them apart before lifting one leg and hooking it over his shoulder. His tongue glided along your outer labia before diving deeper to taste your honey directly from its source.
A moan cascaded from your lips, harmonizing with the distant music as his mouth found its way to your swollen clit. It dragged in a slow circle around the bud as he enjoyed the way it made your thighs quake.
With swirls of his tongue and sharp sucks of his mouth, he drank you in, devouring every inch of your sex. His fingers burned bruises into your thighs, holding them tightly in place as you attempted to pull away to save yourself the pain of overstimulation.
It was no use, he was much too strong. Anchoring you down as he got you off using nothing but his talented mouth. Your hips bucked, grinding down onto his face as his nose pressed to your clit and tongue plunged into you deeper than you thought humanly possible. The thick muscle moved with strong intent within your tightening walls.
Two hands were in his hair, scratching his scalp, tugging at the locks as you hunched over him, trying to find relief from the teetering edge of your second orgasm. One more thrust of his tongue had you nearly falling forward as you came undone over his perfectly divine face.
Your chest heaved with pants as he guided you upwards to relax against the wall once more instead of possibly toppling over. The light of a nearby fire caught his features and you stared in awe at how they glistened with a mixture of your cum and his saliva.
He freed his achingly hard cock from his clothing, pumping it with an eager fist. Your eyes dared to drift downwards to take in his long, blushed member. Unsure of what position he wanted you in, you stood still against the wall, holding your own robes up for easier access.
”How pretty you look,“ He breathed out as he guided one of your legs to wrap around his waist so his leaking tip could press against your slick entrance. ”So willing for my cock, what an obedient little follower.”
With one strong thrust, he was fully inside, pressed in to the hilt as his balls settled between your legs. The ecstasy it gave you left you little room for coherent thought as your back arched in a feeble attempt to push him in deeper.
Bachira chuckled, low and dark as he dragged out his length just to push right back in again. There was no time to adjust to his crazed rhythm, the wet sounds of your fluid-covered sexes meeting reverberated off the wall and nearby tree.
You cried out, not caring who could hear you as your hands met his shoulders, nails digging into the thin cloth of his robe. “That's it, what a good darling.” He cooed as his pace only increased into something completely inhuman.
The god felt you tighten around him at his words of praise, your walls clamping down on him even tighter and sucking him in further. If he knew any better than he'd thought you were no mere mortal, that perhaps you had some divinity in you too.
Now he understood why his father was so ready to stick his dick into anything that moved, anything to find the one perfect hole that he could slot into perfectly. Bachira had never known sex to feel like this, despite being well-versed in it himself.
There was no doubt in his mind that you were created just for him. While your lineage was nothing of importance, while you had been born and raised a simple human on a vineyard, something about the way you tasted, the way you smelled, the way you pulled him in was holier than any goddess he'd ever met.
“My Lord,” your voice strained, desperately trapped between two hard places as he fucked you in a frenzy. You were close again, ready to snap again, but this time you wondered if you could ever possibly be satisfied by a mortal man.
”Bachi,“ He corrected, and hearing the nickname out loud drove it in further that this was the god you had been worshipping for years. The one that this very festival celebrated, and the awe that overcame you was almost greater than the orgasm that hit at the exact same time.
You cried out his name, and while Bachira didn't want to be finished with you yet, he found himself releasing inside of you. A truly unrivaled amount of cum flowed into your still-spasming pussy, filling it to the point where it dripped out around his base.
Bachira knew now that he had tasted you that he couldn't let you go. He couldn't possibly let you remain among mortal men so they could defile your beauty. You were his and his alone, and he'd make sure of that.
”My sweet,“ He purred as he slid out of you and caught you before you could crumble onto the ground. ”You're coming with me.“
As you settled into his strong arms, heavy eyelids drooping shut, you could barely make out the large maniacal grin on the young god's face. He lulled you into a deep slumber before whisking you off to Mount Olympus to be granted immortality and a place amongst the holiest of beings. A place where you could be worshipped beside him until the end of days.
your boyfriend turns into such a whimpering and pathetic mess when you decide to take charge for once, taking care of him in the form of bouncing up and down on his drooling cock as you’re seated on his lap.
he whines so loudly, large hands gripping onto the soft skin of your hips and desperately leaning forward to suck on your pert nipples. with your tits bouncing in his face, your pussy swallowing him whole, the creamy mess that’s frothing between you two, the wet sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy and your thighs hitting back down on his, not to mention how breathtakingly gorgeous you look right now, it’s just too much for him to handle; he’s turning so braindead from how good it feels when you ride him like you own him.
“baaabyyyy.. y’re so pretty,” he groans. “ah-ah! ‘m cumming— hngnhh..mmmfffp— cumming, cumming!”
“yeah?” you reply, breathing heavily. the slick noises contributed from the mess that’s been forming at the base of his cock and your cunt makes you a bit too dizzy for your own liking. “go ahead, sweet boy.. jus’ let me take care of you m’kay?”
he sobs loudly, choking on his whines and moans as he finishes so deep inside you. it shoots up and ropes of his warm, hot cum is spilling into you. he rocks his hips up lazily, trying to get every last drop out. despite this, you’re not done yet. instead, you grab onto his shoulders and shift a little before continuing.
“hnnghh.. ah—ah! no—no stop, m’ sensitive.. can’t..” he whimpers, although his actions say otherwise because he instinctively reaches for your hips again, grabbing you closer and trying to make you go faster.
“hmm.. you’re making a mess..”
“i’m sorry, i’m sorryyy! hahh— i can’t—can’t take it.. so much.. i can’t hold it in..”
feeling the pressure build up, there’s tears forming and his eyes roll back in pure desperation as you keep your pace. it’s too overwhelming for him and his cock is so sensitive to the point where it hurts. he’s about to finish again so easily even though he already came earlier, not too long ago. “i’m gonna… gonna.. i—i’m—“
“shhh, baby.. it’s okay. i’m gonna cum too, wanna make me cum right? be good and fill me up n’ make me cum ‘round your cock?”
“y-yeah, yeah..please.. i’ll do anything, pretty.. don’t stop..”
“‘m so close.. wan’ you to dump your cum into me while i cum okay?”
and that was all it took. with a deep, broken moan that ripped all the way from the back of his throat, his hips desperately bucked up and he couldn’t even form a sentence before his release hit him, his cock twitching so much as he flooded your cunt, like he was trying to give you everything. it hits you in thick waves— hot, heavy, and endless. each pulse sent more spilling out, filling you to the brim, leaking out before he was even done. it was so messy, just pouring into you with no end in sight.
grinding down hard on him as you gasped, “ffuckk, cumming—!!..” feeling the tension in your body snapping as you came all over him.
afterwards, it was silent except for the sounds of both of you panting, trying to catch your breaths as his head was buried into your chest. with a quick kiss to his cheek, you lifted yourself up from his cock, where everything started dribbling out of you slowly.
“shit…” you heard him say.
you pouted. “you’re the one that asked me to ride you tonight.”
he’s still trying to catch his breath as he mumbles, “i didn’t think.. didn’t know it’d be like.. this.”
he looks up at you like a lost little puppy, big eyes and pouty lips as his arms circle around your waist, hugging you in attempts of keeping you closer to him, his chest pressed against yours.
“ah,” he starts, like he’s suddenly got a great idea. “made such a mess, think i should clean you up..”
“huh?”
before you can fully process what he means, he gently pushes you down, your back hitting the mattress as he climbs on top, lowering himself to where your glistening hole is. he looks at you, eyes shining with quiet intensity and a determined look before he starts going down on you, licking and lapping at your pussy, causing everything to smear onto his face. guess that’s what he meant by cleaning you up, huh?
I have a matter of the utmost importance that I daren’t commit to paper. Were it not so urgent, I would not implore you to make all haste back to Baldur’s Gate. And were I not worried about this message being intercepted, I wouldn't be so cryptic either.
However much or little it is worth to you, should you help me now, I shall (once again) be in your debt.
If I do not receive word from you within the tenday, I will take your silence as your answer.
—Rolan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower
Hi everyone!
So I want to run a little event (and use my birthday as an excuse to do it), and set up a Choose Your Own Adventure for all of you! I thought that @kimberbohwrites birthday poll last year was an amazing idea and took inspiration from her!
What will this event entail? Starting on May 21st, I will post the first part of a BG3 Choose Your Own Adventure! Connected to this post will be a poll that, based on the path that the majority of readers vote for, will shape the next part of the story.
If all goes accordingly, each subsequent story part will be posted four days after the previous one. The event’s tentative ending is planned for June 21st—my birthday. 😀
Things to know for this adventure:
Leading up to the event, I will create a series of polls prior to get an idea for how certain how certain character interactions may play out.
Each polling period will last for three days.
A section will be added to my blog’s masterpost so that readers can find story parts with more ease.
You will have three traveling companions—Rolan, Cal, and Lia.
The plot of this adventure will have romance. For the sake of ease (and since this is the first Choose Your Own Adventure that I have written), the love interest can be Rolan.
With that being said--I do want to put Tav and Rolan into situations that can turn romantic (and I love using fanfic tropes).
Smut may be involved, depending on poll results.
In the event that a smut scene does occur, I will create a second post so that readers who are not interested in that aspect of the story do not have to read it (content warnings will be included in the second post). I will link the smut scene to that story part’s post for those who would like to read it. :)
Beyond the Choose Your Own Adventure, I do have a few others things in store for all of you. :) I don't want to give anything away just yet, because I want to make sure I am not overloading myself too much.
Event Tags:
BG3 Choose Your Own Adventure
BG3 CYOA
Darcy’s BG3 CYOA
I am so excited for this event! If you have any questions/suggestions, please feel free to send me an ask!! 🥰
Forgiving the Flame for a Burn - Zevlor x F!Tav Fic Request
An angst/comfort/smut piece for @evocationwriter. Thank you so much for asking me to do this piece, I adore you! Xx
This is SMUT (tags/details below)
18+ MDNI
Summary:
One year after the defeat of the Elder Brain, Tav is trying to settle into daily life. But being a hero means the making of enemies, and Tav ends up on the wrong side of the city, with the wrong kinds of people.
That is, until a charming, former Hellrider steps in, saving her from the worst and taking her into his home for the night.
Tags: angst, comfort, smut. Unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), light orgasm denial, tail play, tiefling anatomy (infernal ridges, forked tongue), religious language used; some detailed depictions of a violent attack (beating to be specific)
Word count: 5k
Zevlor x F!Tav
No one talks about the end of a hero’s journey. Tav found herself thinking of that often, ever since the Elder Brain fell by the hand of her and her companions. Subjects of bard’s songs and children’s puppet performances, all of them bending to the whim of ‘thank yous’ and questions about adventures. All of them fading over time into nothing. People moved on, they had to, of course. Rebuilding homes, restarting businesses, schools and cleaning up parks. Life went on, and the looks of admiration as she’d wander the streets dissolved.
Needless to say, that wasn’t all bad. Walking around the city gave her a sense of anonymity she’d missed in the year since the brain’s defeat. While she had fond memories of children asking for autographs and telling tales at the Elfsong to curious attendees, the harassment and threats from those who felt nostalgia for the cult of the Absolute soured the experience. Every time she’d think about it, memories of Stone Lord exiles and concealed Banites taunting her with torture fled to mind.
Now, she could relax. Bask in the beauty of city living with no one to bother her (other than letters from her companions and comrades, which always excited her). Evening slowly began to fall, a wondrous sunset disembarking for the night as shopkeepers lit sconces outside their doors and brought in their signs. Fishmongers and tradesmen met in the streets to coalesce at either the Blushing Mermaid or the Elfsong. Parents corralled their children to follow them home after a day at the markets. Tav walked among them, smiling at the peace of normality she’d never forget again.
On nights like this one, Tav would look up above the Elfsong and see Alfira strumming her lute on the balcony. By now, she’d been giving lessons to children at her very own music studio for the last three or four months. Even then, she’d still go up to that rooftop and sing her heart out. Tav felt remorse every time she gazed upon the dazzling tiefling, guilt in her heart that, rather than enjoy the music, her soul yearned for the presence of a different tiefling entirely.
A year since she saw Zevlor at the final battle. A year since she’d discovered he survived. A year—and not a single letter. Everyone else reached out to her but him. In the weeks following, she wracked her brain for anything she might’ve said wrong. Any word that could be taken as an insult. Only he knew, and that would be just so forever.
She ignored the chest aches now, and the tingling in her abdomen that sometimes made her knees shake. Hoping one day they’d fade away like her fame. One outlived the other.
Was he even in Baldur’s Gate anymore?
Clearing her throat, she kept walking. Straightening her shoulders. New bottles of dye clinked against each other in her basket, held close to her stomach. In her daydream, the clock tower struck nine, startling her as she realized she’d been standing there for too long.
“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, forced to face her newfound fear of walking alone outside ever since anonymous former cultists began to harass her. She chastised herself for going today, irritated that she didn’t just wait until tomorrow morning.
Sticking to the main road, Tav hurried her step through the emptying streets. The end of a tenday, people looking for a rowdy night out were trickling into every space they could get drunk. Irrationality kicked in, everyone became an enemy, and no one had even noticed her yet. She repeated in her mind: Tav, get yourself together, you fought an elder brain. You can take anything a mere civilian can hit you with. Just walk.
Halfway home, things were normal. Everyone ignored her, and she felt her shoulders begin to calm as she neared her destination. The sky grew dark, only the light of the crescent moon peering behind the overcast lit her way. Little droplets of rain began to dot her face, she lifted her cape hood for shelter. Right as heavy footsteps trailed behind. The jungle of buckled boots and a person at least twice her size, she could discern that without even looking.
“The hero of Baldur’s Gate! Walking about these parts alone at night. Guess you don’t need brains to be a saviour, huh?” The voice behind her said. A man with a gravelly voice, slurred with drunkenness and malice.
Tav tried to ignore him, swallowing her fear as she kept walking at a brisk stride. One or two minutes and she’d be home. Counting the seconds, in tandem with the footsteps continuing to pursue her. Now in a quiet street, no one was around to help or witness whatever the man behind her had planned.
“Don’t run off so quick, sweet one! Sing me one of those ballads made about you! Bet it’ll sound sweet gurgling out of your throat when I cut it!” He chided, a growl so feral within him she could mistake him for a wild animal.
Another voice poked through an alleyway she passed, another men bumping her with his shoulder, rough enough to send her steps back against a wall. He said, “Father will love this at his temple doorstep, brother.”
Bhaalists. She should’ve known the ones to keep pestering her after all this time would be them. Likely a worse nightmare than anyone else, given their propensity for insane, maniacal violence. Were they even drunk? Or was that a farce to blend in with the city?
“Leave me be! I’ve killed more than you for less,” she said, sucking in her frightened breath.
Both of them cornered her, trudging towards her and beginning to push her around between the two. Smaller than both of them, she struggled to fight back as her basket of dyes shattered to the ground. Catching them off guard just quick enough for her to throw a punch in the face of one. He fell back, grunting in pain as the other smacked Tav against the brick wall. A sharp ache ran across her spine, the wind knocked out of her to completion when the one she punched slammed his fist into her stomach.
Gasping for breath, they let her collapse to the ground. Holding her abdomen tight, the roof of her mouth dryer than sand. Catching impossible air as the two paced around her, predators toying with their prey. That hit to her stomach so hard that she couldn’t find the strength to get up let alone fight back. Gods, was she really done in so quickly? Had she softened so much in just a year?
Most of the time, they were four at least. Now, she was one. And defeated in a matter of minutes. Dye stained her clothing as she twitched around the ground, feeling a harsh sting of hands clawing at her hair, pulling her back.
“Not so heroic now, are you?” The one that held her hair teased, giggles oozing with evil.
“Enough dawdling,” said the other, sheathing out a sharp, shining knife. “Tie her up to take her to the temple.”
Right when they began to tie the rope around her, a swing of a longsword sliced across one’s throat. Tav didn’t see all of it, still reeling from the punch. But the second one began to fight against her rescuer. Behind her writhing body, the sound of punching, stabbing and armour sliding against leather permeated the air.
And then nothing. Quiet air mixing with laboured breath, a few growling sighs to follow. Ones she recognized after a few seconds. A calming but assertive tone that used to excite her beyond belief.
“Z—,” she tried to say his name, but coughed instead. Recovering from the punch to the gut, breathless all the same.
Warm arms wrapped around her, lifted into an embrace healing her in seconds. Heat coursing within each injured vein, the tender flesh of a tiefling’s hold. Her head hung back against his arm, aching stomach muscles jolting. But the rest of her soul eased with the shelter of safety, letting him take her wherever he deemed right.
It could’ve been minutes. Or hours. Awakening in a soft bed covered in thick furs and clean sheets. Glowing candlelight against stone walls and the blurry flame of a burning fireplace. Sparks flew across the mantle as a broad shouldered, tailed man threw another log in. Trickling liquid poured from a clay pot, steaming scents of green tea and lemon soothing her into full awareness. No more pain, other than a small ache in her abdomen. For a second, she wondered if she’d died.
Tav shifted on the mattress, wincing from her sore muscles. At the corner of her eye were her dye-soaked clothes, hanging to dry after being washed. Bare arms and legs slid around the linen fabric of her ivory slip. Hair swept back from her face in a loose, well done braid.
“Am I dead?” She whispered, groaning out remnants of her voice as if she’d forgotten she had one.
The man turned from the fireplace, rushing to the bedside. Seating himself on the stool directly next to her, she could clearly make out the weathered, handsome features of Zevlor. Pouring tea like an old friend, not someone who’d been silent for a year.
“Not dead, Tav. You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re awake. After those mongrels attacked you…I feared the worst,” he said, handing her the small cup as she sat up. Zevlor outstretched his hand as she winced, but pulled back before he could touch her.
Her eyes closed with the peace of green tea on the tongue. Pushing away the thoughts of the attack, burdened by yet another memory of pain. She chose another route, “You saved me. I don’t know how you found me but thank you, I owe you for such a gesture.”
With a cordial nod of a soldier, he said, “Think nothing of it. I—well, it’s a long story but I’ve made a living through private security. I was coming home from a job when I saw you in the street. Found you just in time before you slipped into that alleyway.”
She cupped the mug in her hands, resting on her cross-legged lap. A skipped beat of her heart went aflutter when she caught Zevlor’s eyes linger over her bare legs, and back to her face in a split second.
“I didn’t even know you were in the city,” she said, “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”
Zevlor shifted, eyes darting away from her to every other corner of the room. The place was small, fit for a single man who didn’t want for much. Exactly him, melding in with the space as he paced around with his arms crossed. Keeping his distance as he always did even when they had fought together, even after the celebration…
“Certainly, I owe you an apology for that. There is still much agony in going into it but—I was in a bad way after the final battle. An injury of the mind, if you will. Times were hard, too hard to reach out to you with any confidence,” he explained.
“I expected no less, after all that happened. Only that, well I thought we’d become close. That maybe you’d find some peace through my support. But,” she trailed off as her hands shook, shock of what happened to her still dominant over her, “seems you supported me.”
Her feet hit the cold floor, trying to stand up while wobbling about. Just as her hips moved off the mattress, she stumbled downward. Zevlor strode over, hooking his arms around her, lifting her back onto the bed. In her panic, she clutched him without mercy. Holding him so close to her that he fell forward, knees landing on the bed as she lay under him. Hovering over her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her chest, struggling to properly exhale. Bringing him back to their moment alone at the Grove celebration, when he comforted her, held her as she wrestled with the fear she had to hide for her companion’s sakes. Here he was again, taking one, brave move to slide the strap of her slip back onto her shoulder.
“Zevlor…please don’t leave,” she said as she felt him move away, feeling his heart shred at the discomfort of being so close. No matter how much he craved it. Craved her.
He sighed, “You’re terrified, shocked from what happened. I don’t want to get in your way and make things worse.”
As he pulled away, she stabilized her tremored hand by grasping his wrist, “You haven’t made things worse. Remember when you sat with me at the party? When I confessed to you how afraid I was of everything? You helped me so much back then, how could now be any different?”
Zevlor faced away, staring into the firelight as Tav waited. He could not retreat from the visions of their last meeting. How she cried to him, and told him she felt safe in the comfort of his arms. Sitting in a grassy, humid corner away from the rest of the guests. Sheltered by fern leaves and flowers, he let her talk and talk about all that troubled her. Felt so touched by her vulnerability that he shared his own worries too. Two of them, absorbed in isolating fear and finding each other in the dark. Hands wandering around with each kind word, and then the arousing jolt of remembering her naked flesh against his. Tail wrapped around her ankle while they made love under the plant covered moonlight. So beautiful under him, sensations he never thought he’d experience again.
He thought of making her his again so many times after. But in between then and now, he kept failing. Falling into disorder and defeat. People dying for his mistakes. Who would want someone like that? A man so past his prime he verged on cowardice, next to the hero of Baldur’s Gate. How could that ever make sense?
“Both of us were vulnerable at that time. You’re recovering from an attack, and…well, I know you appreciate honesty. My body is so excited from the fight, and from seeing you again, that if I get close enough I might take you here and now. Even though I’d come to regret being so forceful,” he explained.
Hot shame filled every corner of his face just for saying it. Avoiding her gaze even as she took deep breaths, standing from the bed again. This time, with success. Still slow, but steady in each step closer to Zevlor by the fireplace.
“You were always so hesitant about what you wanted,” Tav said, close behind him. The glow of the fire warmed one side of her exposed arms, fingers tickling against the fabric of his cotton shirt. Brushing the tip of her nose against his spine, taking in the scent of brimstone and pine. Her strength regained with each graze of her palm against him, light and teasing.
“I venture to deserve the things I want first,” he said, head down towards the flame. Closing his eyes to the feeling of Tav’s hand sliding from the back of his arm to the top of his hand. Rested on the mantle as she gave a gentle squeeze.
“Isn’t that up to me to decide?” She asked, taking the strap he once adjusted in place and pulling it down again. “You saved my life today. And I missed you terribly, Zevlor.”
Hand in hand, she turned him to face her. Tall and soldierly in front of her, head craning up to face him in all his glory. Fire crackled before them, leading her hand guiding his to her waist. His nails craved to dig into her skin, pull her close and never let go. She tiptoed into his embrace, other arm around her back, forming a gentle, passionate hug. Feeling her skin against his again, he was happy to die that moment.
“Are you sure this is what you want tonight? It was not my intention when I took you in to do this,” he said, wondering if she heard a word he said. She pushed their faces closer, lips hovering around each other. Temptation already too difficult bear as his mouth opened to bite into her supple flesh, but stopped short. “I won’t be able to control myself if you allow me this.”
Tav’s cool breath danced along his tongue, a full body desire to sob over how much she wanted him. To do what they did last time and pretend the world didn’t exist.
“You make me feel safe, Zevlor. I’ve been on my guard ever since we parted. Do you know how wonderful it feels to just…relax? Please, I want you near me. Inside me all night. Just like at the Grove. Hold me, Zevlor,” Tav said, her voice a crescendo of emotion from whisper to yelp.
Words weren’t enough, he had to be shown. Tav ruminated that very idea ever since they last parted. How a commander of a group like the Hellriders could end up so unsure of himself. Maybe he wasn’t always like that, but he was now. And she wasn’t inclined to change a thing. She laced her fingers under the straps of her slip, letting the fabric slowly waterfall off her body. In the wake of her naked form before him, she swore she could hear his beating heart. Rapid and fiery like the burning glimmer of the room.
“Can you promise me one thing?” He asked, hands pressed against her cheeks, lifting her eyes up to him. Round and ablaze with desire, warm and cool at the same time.
“Anything,” she whispered.
“Do not leave in the morning,” he said.
“I’ll never leave if that’s what you require.”
It was a kiss like never before. A whirlwind heart attack imploding between the two of them. Zevlor’s soul rose out of his body, taken over by the beckoning ache of her open mouth, welcoming his forked tongue. Tav melted into him, relishing in the hot pleasure of pressing her bare body against his clothed one. She clawed at his belt, longing for the image of his warrior frame above her. Scarred and toned by years of combat. Tail swivelling back and forth, a supplicant tying around her supple thigh.
Their voices hummed into each other, a hymn of blossoming want. Walking in tandem to the bed as Zevlor climbed over her, shuddering at the pleasure of pushing between her legs. He sat up on his knees, stretching his flexed back muscles as he pulled off his cotton shirt. A tingling sensation spread between Tav’s legs, cool air biting at her wet, sensitive core. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands across his torso, savouring every scar and mark, repeating her movements when he’d moan. His belt jingled below, unclasped as the imprint of a large erection outlined his pants. He was an impressive man…everywhere.
“Pull them down slowly, I want to see,” Tav ordered, voice dark and wistful with lust.
“At your command, my beautiful goddess,” he said, a low growl vibrating from the back of his throat. Taking slow, painful time in pulling down his trousers. Tav bit her lip, the excitement almost too much. A little tuft of pubic hair opened the door to a long, thick shaft, bouncing against Zevlor’s stomach when it finally broke free. Her mouth watered, licking up the collection of desperate saliva at the top corner of her lip.
Her heart fluttered, body hot and assured unlike before. That was the spell Zevlor had her under since they’d met. Empowering her just from being close, reminding her of the strength she still had. Not a thing of the past, but something to be embraced. And now, she had a chance to stay with him for more than a night. Protect each other, and revel in their primal need to be attached.
Discarding his pants with the rest of his clothes, Zevlor lowered, kissing between her bare breasts and down to her stomach. Heartfelt, exciting tickles made her giggle with a flirtatious ring. Shivering at the scratches his nails left in their stead. Relaxing every nerve within as she lay in his embrace, letting him take the lead. She hoped he’d always give her a chance to let go this way, think about nothing other than the pleasure he’d cover her in.
Between peppered kisses and flicks of his tongue along her stomach, he whispered, “You’re mine, I’ve wanted you to be since the moment I saw you. I’ll protect you, keep you safe. Come here.”
With untold force, Zevlor swung Tav’s legs onto his shoulders, capturing her cunt in his mouth. Jolts of ecstasy wet and savoured with each slide of his tongue across her clit. Sucking, licking, moaning into her without any attempt to catch his breath. Driven each time he tasted more of her essence. Unbridled to the point where she had to hold his horns to keep balance. The temperature of his hellfire skin stimulated her even more, muscles tightening with every weakened, whimpering moan that escaped her. Assertive, but slow, gentle even as he became primal against her. Letting the rhythm take her exactly where she needed to be.
Tav’s moans fluttered like butterflies, one hand clutching his horn and the other falling over her eyes, focusing on the chase of that wonderful high. Vampiric biting down of her lip, containing her innate need to be even louder. There would be time for that. Tonight, she wanted to sink into him, fall into a calming, warm pool of passionate affection. Enjoy the sensation of his body becoming a vessel for her pleasure, moving his tongue in just the way she liked.
Between tiny gasps, Tav said, “Zevlor…you’re going to make me cum. Please don’t stop…please.”
He didn’t reply, too focused on slurping up every trickle of sex that dripped out of her. He simply moaned, muffled by the soft grind of her pussy against his face. Building up to a climax that bloomed throughout her body, arching her back as she rode out an orgasm she had no idea she craved so deeply until it happened. He’d refuse to let her stop a second early, continuing to circle his tongue around her clit until she shook with sensitivity.
She melted into the bed, a thin veneer of sweat combining with the dripping warmth between her legs as Zevlor took his mouth off. Positively beautiful over her, muscular back bent in a perfect curve when he began to suckle and kiss around her neck and collarbone. Travelling downward in a desperate need to cover every inch. Landing with satisfaction on her nipples, laughing for the first time in years, lost in the joy of her.
Zevlor stopped for a moment, lifting his head to face her below him. Tranquil and drunk with sinful pleasure, cheeks filled with rosy blush and eyes glazed over. Arms splayed out like the wings of a celestial Aasimar. He loathed the past, for so many reasons, but mostly because she wasn’t there with him. In her infinite beauty, a plush and wanton solace before him. How did he ever stomach being away from her since they’d met?
“I’m sorry for leaving you after that night. Forgive me?” He asked.
Tav laughed, spellbound to the point of forgetting she was ever upset. As if he’d never left. She said, “You may need to convince me a little more, hellrider.”
Something switched off within him, a zealous need to have her succumb to him. Forgive him for his misgivings. Praying to a new goddess and asking for redemption. Offering himself to her by inching his cock deep inside her, feeling the pull of her soft walls lock him in. Driven to eternal admiration from the sound of her shocked, euphoric moan, submitting to the stretch of him. An addictive sting, exposed to every synapse erupting within her sensitive, yearning cunt. She bit her bottom lip with a smile, shivering at the comforting wrap of his tail around her waist to keep her in place. No escaping the loving, dominant thrust of his hips deep into her.
“Forgive me,” he said, “Forgive me. Forgive me!” A passionate, hard thrust into her pussy each time he said it.
The might of him rendered her eyes at the back of her head, nearly unable to reply as he begged for her forgiveness. Her slick smacking against his pubic bone, gushing onto his cock in a lustful mess of an orgasm begging to come back. Tav snaked her arms across Zevlor’s shoulders for dear life, brought to the edge with his heavy grunts in her ear. She tightened around him, rocking back and forth on the bed, closer and closer to release.
He felt the contracting of her around him, unfulfilled by her silence on forgiveness. Just as she was about to finish, he pulled out of her, smacking the tip of his cock against her clit repeatedly. Listening to her whine and whimper, threatening tears. Then, before she knew it, he thrusted back in, hard and unmerciful. Pulling out again, repeating that pattern.
“Have I earned your forgiveness? Or shall I deny you until you use your words all night? Tell me, am I absolved, goddess?” He growled, voice husky and feral, the militant part of him revealing just enough of itself to command her to his whim.
By the fourth thrust and pull, she wailed, “Yes, gods above, I forgive you! There’s nothing to forgive, just make love to me!”
He pushed inside her fully, smashing his lips against hers at the same time. Holding her hips in line to use his infernal ridges as friction against her swollen clit. Locking his hand into hers, supported above her head while he thrusted and thrusted with reckless abandon. Both of them grunting in tandem, overcome with delayed pleasure. Tav found her footing quickly, edged so deliciously that her orgasm ripped through her with little effort, squeezing onto his cock. Her nails dug into his knuckles, mouth hanging open in awe over the intensity of her second climax.
Pulling from the kiss, he struggled against his own release. Mourning for the eventual time when he’d have to leave her cunt. Comfortable, warm and wet, a shelter from all harm. He couldn’t stand it yet, and used his tail around her waist to flip her onto her side, like fresh sand in the palm of his hand.
“Let me lie next to you,” he said, moving his body in a spoon position, chest pressed against her back, “I want to cum with you in my arms.”
Tav mustered a whisper thin ‘please’ under her breath, running her hands through his hair as he snuggled in behind her. The curve of her spine angled just right for him to sheathe himself inside her once more. Pumping slowly this time, arms and tail curled across her body like ivy against an ancient wall. Kissing the side of her neck, an endless waterfall of tenderness mixed with the possessive thrust of his cock. She was completely enveloped, safe and sound in his embrace, floating in the paradise he gave her.
“You’re with me, now. Right here, safe. Does that feel good? Am I pleasing you, goddess? Might I cum inside you?” He whispered in her ear, low and gruff. Intense bravado oozing from every part.
She was awash with sensual energy, captivated by him just like the first time. Although that was much quieter, fearing someone might hear them. Now, she felt as if they were sharing a home. In the privacy of their own dwelling, even if that was a fantasy.
“Oh, yes, you are perfect. I want your everything, Zevlor. Please, give me everything,” she replied, taking care to run her tongue up and down his bottom lip before she pushed them into a wet, feverish kiss. Flicking her tongue against his teeth, relishing in the sharp edge.
Their mouths were open to each other when he felt the stirrings of his climax. Languishing movements lost rhythm as he climbed ever forward into that much desired sensation. Possessed by the supple flesh of her lips and everything else. Hips, breasts, stomach, ass, everything. Falling into her deep, insane at the ache of his cock inside her. He breathed out a hard, rapturous moan before he let himself spill, soaking her cunt with the cum that twitched out of him. Dribbling out of the side as she lay before him with a wide, calm smile. Their muscles relaxed together, fusing into the bed.
Tav shivered, the slide of his cock pulling out sending a shock in her spine. Imbued with comfort immediately as Zevlor pulled a thin sheet over her. Tucking her into the blankets and the warm hold of him. Snuggling tight into her, yearning to find a way to fuse his body with hers. Kissing the top of her head, lingering to take in her scent.
“You did not smell of rosemary when we last saw each other,” he said, “That’s always been a favourite of mine. Rosemary.”
Tav grinned, turning to face him. A much needed distraction to keep her heavy eyelids from shutting for the night. To see him once more, maybe twice. Absorb all she missed in the year past. His handsome, aged face glowing under firelight. Sandy hair, messy and dotted with sweat. Strong hands stuck tight to her hips. All she imagined came to life.
Zevlor held her hand, kissing each knuckle, down to the bottom of her palm. A touch so ethereal, he could have been giving healing magic. Rescuing her both outside and in, cleansing her soul of all evil and wrongdoing endured before.
“We’ll replenish your lost supplies tomorrow,” he said, her hand close to his face, “If you’ll allow me to accompany you?”
She smiled, containing its ever widening stretch. “Well, we do have a great deal to catch up on.”
It's finally here, all 7k words of it 👀 Thank you for everyone who read chapter 1, and waited so patiently!
[ch1]
Birds and Bees - Ch.2
Rolan isn't usually the type to accept help. In his defense, Tav is very persuasive—and he is very, very desperate.
Tags: Tailplay, Oral Sex, Biting, NSFW | Word Count: 7.7k [Read on AO3]
Rolan didn’t appear again for the rest of the day.
After their awkward exchange this morning, Tav felt she might be somewhat to blame. She tried to recall the bits of Tiefling etiquette she’d picked up from the Elturians; perhaps touching his tail had crossed some sort of line? Either way, the gesture seemed unthinkably forward to her now.
Then again…Rolan was the one who’d coiled his tail across her desk like that, its tip nearly brushing her hand as she wrote. She’d never seen him do anything like it before. If she didn't know him so well, she’d have found the move almost flirtatious.
At shop’s close, Cal took charge of locking up the front. Tav caught sight of the large iron keyring he carried and realized that it must be Rolan’s. So his brother had checked in on him today, at least—that gave her a modicum of relief.
Lia pitched in to help wipe down all her equipment and carefully fill the many waiting bottles with her cooled elixir. Tav held her tongue from repeating any of the worries she’d made after Rolan during the day—but it seemed her silence was just as damning.
“Stop fussing,” Lia repeated firmly. “Rolan’s just overdue for a rest. I mean, you saw his face.”
“I did.” Rolan had never been the type to slow down or show weakness easily. To Tav, the fact that he’d willingly taken himself to bed worried her more than anything. “Just promise you won't let him turn down a healer if he needs one?”
“If it comes to that, which it won't,” Lia said down to her work. “I promise we’ll find someone, okay?”
Tav kept her tone teasing as she packed away the sealed bottles in their crate. “Hmm, yes…if only you already knew someone with some knowledge of healing.”
Lia let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, you’re the last person Rolan wants to see right now.”
The sting of those words took Tav by surprise herself. Lia caught their edge too; she pulled up with a grimace, letting a few drops of antidote dribble onto the desk. “Shit, Tav, I didn't mean it like that.”
“It’s okay,” Tav replied, making a fuss of sealing up the filled crate. The thought made her feel rather less than okay, which she didn't want Lia to see. “I think—I don’t know. I feel like I did something rude today, anyway.”
“Oh?” Lia’s tone was light, but she allowed a conspicuous pause to stretch between them. Tav pushed through a twinge of embarrassment to turn to face her.
“Lia, what would you think if I touched your tail?”
Lia glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “What, right now?”
“No, just—say I did by accident.”
Lia straightened to take a thoughtful inhale. “I mean…it depends on the context. You and I are friends, I wouldn’t think much of it. Unless you grabbed it up by my backside or something,” she added with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. If I’m walking somewhere crowded, lots of people might brush against it unless I’m careful.”
Tav had moved around to reset the rest of her clean glassware as she listened, feeling marginally relieved by the explanation.
Then Lia paused her work again. “Are you saying you touched Rolan’s tail?
“You what now?”
With impeccable timing, Cal skidded to a stop at the edge of the conversation, a heavy lockbox under one arm.
Tav glanced between the two of them. “Yes?” The word came out as a question somehow; her mouth went dry as they stared at her. “Like you said, I didn't think it was a big deal. He laid it on my desk while I was working, so I just kind of—” She mimed a little picking-up motion with her hand.
The siblings exchanged a significant look with each other.
“What?” Tav felt her face burning and knew the color must be noticeable to either of them. “How does it being Rolan’s tail make it different?”
Cal turned back to her with a frown. “What do you mean he laid it on your desk?”
“I don't know, damn—clearly I’m no expert!” She flailed her arms out a bit. “I just turned around and it was sitting there by my hand, all right?”
Another shared glance.
“That explains it,” Cal decided. It earned him a swift pinch on the arm from his sister. “Ow, hey—”
Tav looked between them again, trying to translate. “Explains what? Seriously, if I offended Rolan somehow, I want to kn—”
“You didn’t,” Lia cut in firmly. “This one here's just an idiot. It’s harder to control your tail when you're sick or tired, and Rolan’s been both, that’s all. I'm sure it was a mistake. And he shouldn't have minded you moving it,” she finished with a decisive nod.
With that, Lia snatched up the filled crate from her with one arm and grabbed her brother’s sleeve with the other. Cal stumbled slightly as she pulled him along, but he wisely held his tongue as they headed for the back stockroom. The hinges creaked shut behind them both.
Tav was left standing alone in the cavernous interior of Sorcerous Sundries, beside the desks that she and Rolan used to comfortably share—not sure if she should feel better or worse.
—
The next morning, Rolan was once again nowhere to be found.
He hadn’t even conjured his projection the way he usually did when occupied with research in the Tower. It was a shame; the shop was unusually busy by midday, and Cal and Lia worked without pause. When she could, Tav left her alchemy just to lend a hand with customers or make runs to the supply room.
She found herself worried to the point of irritation. Was Rolan really so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a potion? Or accept healing from someone he’d claimed was a trusted friend and colleague? She tried and failed not to be hurt by it.
Then again, Rolan had always been the type to shoulder his way through awful things alone while firmly turning down help—particularly from her. His apprenticeship, most recently. The memory made her radiantly angry on his behalf even now.
“Shit—”
Tav jerked away from the flask and sucked on her freshly scalded thumb. She must have the ratios off again; this recipe wasn’t new to her, but the nuances had escaped her all morning. These sublimates shouldn’t get nearly so hot when mixed.
Might as well admit defeat and review the recipe before she wasted yet another bunch of black oleander. Surely there was a reference text somewhere in Rolan’s library?
Tav glanced around to the front of the shop. Cal was recording a sale at the front desk; Lia was chatting with a very large half-orc over near the conjurement runes. Things seemed well enough in hand. Tav damped the flame at her station and quietly took the stairs for the portal.
For lack of a better word: the library of Ramazith’s Tower was absolutely magical.
Tav stood breathing in the quiet afternoon sunlight, taking an appreciative look up around her. The collection must be the best one this side of Candlekeep, with all sorts of books on spellcraft, Weave theory, alchemy, religion, the history of Toril—just to scratch the surface. She could think of no hands more deserving than the ones its ownership had fallen into.
Just as Lia mentioned the other day, Rolan had clearly been hard at work reorganizing the place. She ran her fingertips over the books’ spines as she walked around the perimeter of the main floor.
She imagined Rolan with his robe sleeves pushed to his elbows, enthusiastically at work in his book stacks, and bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his passion for taming disorder. As she walked, she found her gaze drifting to the delicate staircase at the far end of the main floor. It spiraled upward invitingly.
She’d never been to the upper floors of Ramazith’s Tower—nothing past the library. Certainly she hadn’t stepped foot in any of the private quarters of Rolan or his siblings. She wouldn’t even know which door led to whose.
But her mind wandered readily at the thought of Rolan’s bedroom. What it might look like…smell like.
No doubt it was packed with shelves of books and scrolls, filled with the scent of fresh parchment and leather-bound volumes. That warm, bookish smell that seemed to be woven into his robes. The fresh hint of cedar from the way he kept his clothes meticulously cleaned and stored. And that other faint spice that she could never identify, but always picked up when he stood close to her.
The same scent that had filled her lungs with dizzy pleasure when he’d hovered close to her yesterday, chin brushing her shoulder and arm circled possessively around her waist—
She bit her lip as heat pooled between her legs at the memory. She couldn't help it—how very fucking nice it had been to feel Rolan’s elegant hands on her, casually and effortlessly touching, as if he was accustomed to touching her much more often and much more intimately.
It would do no good to dwell on that moment. If anything, the uncharacteristic gesture was just proof of how out-of-sorts Rolan must be feeling. He was her friend, and by all accounts, he’d been too sick to leave his room for days.
With a sudden burst of determination and a disregard for the consequences, she strode for the stairs.
Taking the curving ascent so rapidly left her dizzy. Tav planted her boots on the landing for a moment, holding onto the railing while she took in her surroundings.
This upper hall was also quietly sunlit, filled with fine carpeting and oak paneled walls; but the atmosphere was somehow less grand than the cavernous library below. More intimate.
Two doors stood on both ends of the hall. Hazarding a guess, she stepped to the closest one on her left. Its heavy oak panels swung forward with the slightest touch.
Not a bedroom at all, but a bath—and a tremendously fine one at that. All the fixtures seemed to be wrought from polished gold. Underneath a towering stained glass window stood the deepest, widest clawfoot tub she’d ever seen.
As she gazed around, Tav caught sight of her reflection in a large glass above the sinks. Her hair was all frizzy flyaways from a day over her potion work. Indulging a bit of vanity, she paused to tame it with her fingers.
One of Rolan’s many endearing habits was his dedication to fastidiousness. Never a hair out of place, horns polished and shining, robes immaculately pressed—knowing him, with a bit of the Weave.
She must look like some sort of wild hedge witch by comparison. Tav had never minded life in the wilds as a wayward adventurer, even after the Elder Brain was felled to the Chionthar. It was part of what drew her to the career of a traveling alchemist.
But there were moments…most of them in this Tower, with Rolan and his siblings. Sharing a meandering dinner at a real table with actual chairs. Sitting with Rolan out on the starlit balcony, discussing blood alchemy over a glass of wine as they watched the harbor.
Tav forced her hands still and stared back at her reflection.
“What do you want?” She muttered to herself. The Tav in the mirror had no answer. But in her mind, one softly bloomed.
Over the past months, her feelings had tumbled forward faster than she could keep up with them. Seeing Rolan, talking with him about anything and everything, working beside him in quiet moments—she found those were the moments she looked forward to most.
His offer to turn one of the Tower’s empty vaults into a greenhouse for her. Essentially giving her a permanent place in his home, if she wanted it. Was it stupid to hope that he wanted more, too?
As she stood frozen silent in the confines of her lavish surroundings, a muffled sound came from her right.
She hadn't noticed the second door past the bathtub; presumably connecting to one of the bedrooms. She realized it most likely led to Rolan’s.
She stepped toward the heavy oak paneling and raised a hand to knock. As she did, more muffled noises came from within. Tav hesitated, questioning whether she should—then leaned in to press one ear to the wood.
There were the sounds of labored breathing, as if from pain or exertion. She strained her ear harder. There was something almost…rhythmic in it.
And then—she could swear—she heard Rolan's voice groan her name aloud.
A shock of heat ran through her chest, prickling up her neck and diving between the cleft of her legs. The rapid, hot ache at her core made her gasp out in surprise, then clap a hand to her mouth lest he heard. She felt her cheeks burning with realization.
Whatever she had expected to find by wandering up here…this had never been on the list. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Rolan, sweating and panting and desperate. And that thought filled her with overwhelming want in response.
Tav pushed herself back from the door with a jolt. She turned and ran, not knowing or caring whether the ring of her footsteps on tile carried past the door. Her pulse pounded against her ears as she rushed out of the room and back for the staircase.
Even before Tav’s foot hit the third stair, she knew she was headed for the Elfsong. And a very stiff fucking drink.
—
Day passed to night and back to day again in a feverish jumble. Like a vessel adrift in a vast ocean, Rolan was passed along wave after wave of searing impulse.
Had his ruts always been this overwhelming, and he’d just forgotten? Or was there something different about the drives this time around?
Even the little dignities were stripped away, one by one. He began by conjuring mage hands at first, but his concentration faltered too many times at the cusp. He finally just settled for his own grip. Desperate sounds rose in his chest each time he neared his next finish, the likes of which he’d never utter voluntarily.
And he quickly gave up on clothes altogether. He lay naked and spread-eagle on his sheets and tried to sleep when he could, before his demanding cock inevitably twitched back to life again. The fever turned his dreams shockingly lewd whenever he did manage to drift off.
By sunset, another strong wave of need was pulsing through his core, demanding his attention. Rolan lay back against his pillows and groaned open-mouthed as he stroked himself.
Even slick with oil, the friction between his hand and the raw, overstimulated ridges of his cock bordered on painful. His finish danced out of reach to the back of his mind.
With an impatient growl, he flipped over to his knees and snatched up a feather pillow, folding it into a sleeve for his cock. A crude solution—but with his first few thrusts, the cool softness of the silk caused a moan of relief to rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fucked his own pillow in a desperate chase for relief.
And behind his eyelids, there she was again.
Tav appeared there so easily now. He’d tried to fight it at first—ashamed to be using her like this, without her knowledge or consent—but he found that nothing satisfied his urges so well as when he pictured her on his cock.
So he closed his eyes and imagined Tav…pliant, eager, hungry. Legs spread and center dripping with desire for him. The shameful depth of his need faded away as he fantasized her own. How her eyes might shine as she panted and gasped under him, calling him by name and begging him to fuck her and fill her and mark her as his—
What would she sound like as he took her? He conjured the timbre of her voice, always warm and musical, now canting to a whine as the ridges at his base slammed against her with each thrust.
Pressure coiled rapid and hot at his loins. Rolan slid off the mattress with legs braced, the pillow cast aside, and tugged frantically at his stiff length again. His tail arched and flicked behind him.
Through clenched eyelids he saw Tav laid at the foot of his bed, hair splayed in a messy crown against his sheets as she cried out his name. Her legs crossed behind his flanks to hold him deep inside her tight wet heat—
‘Rolan—’ She moaned louder, her heels digging into his lower back as he took her. Tav gripped two handfuls of the bedding underneath as he thrust relentlessly, chasing more of her heat around his cock, more of the delicious scent at her throat and between her legs—
“Rolan!”
“Fuck—” With a strangled gasp, Rolan’s hips stuttered one last time as his come spilled in ropes to the floor. Panting and shaking, he caught hold of the bed post with one hand as he frantically worked out the rest of his finish with the other. His head spun with the force of it.
But as he opened his eyes and his vision cleared, so did that cottony feeling in his ears. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to his room.
“Rolan, we need to talk—” Even muffled by the heavy wood, Tav’s voice was unmistakable.
“Fuck,” Rolan hissed again, this time with enough wits about him to panic. How much of that last performance could she hear through the door? He snatched up the nearest towel to wipe himself, then tripped away toward the pile of clothes on the floor that had lain untouched since yesterday.
“Go away,” he called tersely, nevertheless yanking the trousers up over his hips. Thank hells that last round had left him soft enough he could do up the laces for now.
On the other side of the door, she was undeterred. “I’m not leaving till I’ve seen you.”
Rolan cursed as one of his horns snagged the ties at the neck of his shirt. Once the fabric dropped over his torso, he whirled around to take in the state of his room.
Bedsheets pulled sideways from the mattress; pillows strewn across the floorboards; air thick with the smell of him. Absolute filthy shambles.
Using a rush of energy he couldn't afford, he cast a mass prestidigitation spell on the space. The improvement in the air was immediate. But the resulting light-headedness caused him to stumble forward; he caught himself with a hand braced on the door frame.
“I'm not joking,” Tav called loudly, unaware he was now much closer.
He could have yelled at her to wait outside for another week, then, if he wasn't so sure she was stubborn enough to actually do so. After all, this was the person who’d defeated an Elder Brain and taken on several gods in the process.
That…and he found he badly wanted to see Tav in the flesh. Hearing her voice from just beyond his bedroom door only increased that desire. Rolan’s tail lashed behind him in helpless frustration.
“What do you want?” He asked instead, lowering his voice. No use broadcasting any more of this conversation to the whole Tower.
There was a pause on the other side of the oak paneling. “I’ve barely seen you since I got here,” Tav’s voice replied, matching his volume.
“And?”
“And I'm worried about you…obviously,” she added. “Cal and Lia said you’re sick. But I’d feel better if we could talk face to face.” Even through the barrier between them, he could hear a strain in her voice. She wasn't lying.
Rolan rested his horns against his braced forearm with a sigh. “Tav, I swear I'm perfectly fine.”
“Then just open the door a moment. Please, Rolan?”
It was far too pleasant to hear her say his name outside of his own imaginings. Rolan glanced down at himself. Barefoot, shirt untucked, but technically presentable. And not pitching a tent for once in the past twenty-four hours.
“If I do, will you leave?”
There was another pause. “If you want me to,” came the reply. He unbolted the latch and drew it open to shoulder width.
The wave of Tav’s scent hit him almost before he registered her face in front of him. The sweetness of it overwhelmed his other senses for a moment. It tested all Rolan’s limited reserves of sanity not to grab her by the waist and pull her body against him.
Unaware of the silent struggle raging in his chest, Tav stood with face tilted up toward his. Her eyes had traveled over his figure immediately, checking him over with a worried little crease between her brows. Something at the side of his head caught her eye; Rolan realized his hair hung loose and rather sweaty, exposing the slender tips of his ears.
Her demeanor changed at the sight. Tav sighed, leaning her head against the flat of the door.
“You’re even handsome with a fever,” she told him softly.
Rolan blinked at her. Perhaps exhaustion and hormones were driving him to hallucinations. “What are you—”
Faster than he could react, her palms landed on either side of his face, and Tav pulled his mouth down to hers.
A burst of colors exploded behind his eyes; the sensation of her lips moving on his kindled the dormant heat in his body to wild blaze. She notched her hands upward as she kissed him, and her fingers slid up along the sensitive tapers of both his ears.
Rolan let out a hungry, animal sound against her mouth. Both hands landed on her back and crushed the line of her body forward into his, leaving no space between them. He could feel the soft hills of her breasts pressing against his chest through clothing. The warm scent rolling off her skin and hair surrounded him with dizzying force.
The higher part of his mind was screaming at him. Rolan desperately tried to focus on what it was saying; as he did, he caught the tang of wine on her lips. The discovery gave him just enough will to pull back from her.
And he did, with one jerking step back into his chambers. “You can’t be here.”
Tav stood panting through parted lips, eyes half-lidded as they traveled over him. Rolan felt flames lick his skin everywhere they moved.
“Why not?” She breathed. “I wanted to see you.”
“You’re drunk,” he told her. He rather felt that way himself, still reeling from the electricity of kissing her.
Tav pouted at that, and Rolan wished to bite that lower lip firmly between his teeth. “I’m not drunk,” she corrected. “I’ve had a drink. There’s a difference.”
“You wouldn’t be here if—”
“If what?” Tav watched him as she took a step closer. Rolan stepped back in tandem, reflexive. She was well over the threshold now. “If I knew what was really happening to you?”
Those words sounded much more knowing than he liked. Rolan stared at her, trying to read into her face. He swallowed against the dry lump of his tongue and went out on a limb. “Which one of them told you?”
Tav shook her head. “Cal and Lia have been nothing but discreet.”
“Then how could you possibly understand?” He demanded. The very recent discovery of how soft Tav’s lips were was making it very difficult to maintain this conversation. He could still feel the way her body had pressed into him.
One corner of her mouth twitched. “Rolan, I’d like to think I’m not completely oblivious. There have been…signs. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about them. I’ve been at the Elfsong all afternoon, just—thinking.”
At that, Rolan felt his tail twitching nervously behind him. “I see,” he replied. Pivoting, like an idiot, trying to pretend this was a perfectly acceptable conversation to have with the woman who occupied most of his thoughts when he was pleasuring himself. “And you think that I—that my—”
Tav made a quick twisting motion to get around the door. She latched it and drew the bolt closed behind them, then turned back to him.
“A lot of humans have heard rumors about Tieflings,” she confessed. “Some stupid, but some credible. I’m saying this is maybe not the secret that you think it is.” As he watched, a much deeper blush spread over Tav’s cheeks. She glanced away to the side.
“Rolan…I grew up in the Dales, remember? Around rabbits, and cattle, and oxen. Half my friends lived on farms.”
Her analogy couldn’t be clearer. To hear her lay it out so plainly—Rolan felt the last dregs of his pride shrivel up and die. He gripped two palms over his eyes and let out a groan of abject humiliation, turning away to the middle of the room.
How early had she connected the dots? The moment she felt him brazenly place a hand around her? Had she known all along that he was locked up here, rutting into every one of his pillows?
“Look, Rolan, I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to say it—”
Completely overwhelmed by his embarrassment, he hadn’t heard her follow. When Rolan finally dropped his hands from his face, he turned to find Tav standing very close to his chest.
“And I’m sorry for kissing you before,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m not sorry for it…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, to be honest. But it wasn’t fair. I just…wanted to know how you’d react.”
Rolan watched as her chest rose and fell heavily where she stood. The look in her eyes made his blood pound through his veins. He felt an urge to reach out and smooth back her hair to bring her in for another kiss, one he resisted.
“I care about you,” Rolan told her, before he could lose his nerve. “Our friendship. I respect you, Tav, it’s not worth—muddying things with this.”
He felt fingers lacing through the ones that hung at his side, and despite his words Rolan tightened his grip automatically. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against the heat of his skin.
“Why do you think I’m here?” Tav answered earnestly. “I care about you, too. If I can help, I want to. Please—”
She was so close to him; Rolan breathed shallowly, but the warm scent rolling off her skin and hair nevertheless swept past him with dizzying force.
“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he managed hoarsely.
She didn’t falter. “Then tell me what else you think I should know.”
His senses were growing clouded with her; the offer that had tumbled so easily from her rang in his ears. It made the thread of Rolan’s control stretch dangerously taut.
“I won’t be gentle,” he warned.
His inadvertent shift in tone changed something in the air between them. There was a crackling energy that hadn't been there a second before.
Tav licked her lips as she watched him. “Good.”
Rolan thought he might melt from the heat that spread across his skin. His tail snapped against the mattress behind him. If she moved a step closer, she’d feel how hard he was in his pants.
“Mating bites,” he went on hoarsely. “I’ll mark you. Quite a lot. I’ll try not to draw blood, but…I can’t promise it.”
Tav nodded. “What else?” She asked, encouraging him to go on.
Rolan swallowed against the embarrassment. But this was important for her to know. “This time for us, it’s all about…reproduction. We become quite virile.” He nearly choked, but there was simply no other way to put it. “For the urges to pass quicker, I need to come in you.”
Tav let out a throaty hum of approval. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound. “That’s fine, I take preventatives—it’s safe.”
They stood looking at each other for another moment. That shivery, electric feeling buzzed in the air around them. Rolan wondered if she could hear the way his heart drummed against his ribs.
Tav leaned in slightly. “Well…” She said, and her wet tongue passed nervously between her lips again.
That taut thread in his chest snapped in two. Rolan crushed her up against him with a whimper. Arms circling around her waist, he nudged a thigh between her legs and firmly ground their hips together.
Tav matched his eagerness. Their lips crashed together; at the back of his mind, he felt her grip cradling under each of his ears. Her fingertips licked like flame against his scalp.
Even through layers of clothing, he could feel the heat of her. Rolan jerked her hips forward harder against his thigh; the swelling length of his cock pressed against her soft, yielding center. Tav dipped her head back from the kiss, arching into him with a moan, and her fingertips laced at the nape of his neck.
It offered an irresistible angle at the column of her throat. Rolan’s claws raked back in her hair, pulling it to a tight ponytail. Then he tugged firmly, holding her open as his mouth descended on her neck.
He kissed and sucked along the band of muscle from her ear to the curve of her shoulder, then parted his lips to bite down firmly on her soft flesh.
“Yes,” Tav moaned in approval above him. Her hips rolled into his, grinding herself against the hard cock straining in his pants. Rolan felt her pulse skip against his mouth. Only when he tasted sweet copper did he pull away, laving his tongue over the crimson pin-pricks of his teeth into her skin.
He took only a moment to admire the trail of marks blooming along her neck. Tav was already pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with bruising force; her tongue explored, tasting, searching for proof of her blood against his tongue and moaning against him when she found it.
Her scent filled his mind. Without breaking from her mouth, he plucked open the laces of her pants. Rolan slipped his hand under the waistband, beneath her smalls, and slid two fingers to dip down between her legs. Her folds were shining-slick; as he nudged her in circles, a trickle of her arousal rolled down his fingers. She shivered prettily under his touch.
“You’re soaked,” Rolan groaned against her neck.
“All because of you,” she breathed without hesitation. “Been wanting this, gods, wanting you for months. Your hands on me—cock in me—”
At the words he withdrew his fingers from her impatiently, then sucked them clean. Her sweet taste on his tongue made his cock ache. She scarcely had time to curse at the sight before Rolan gripped both arms around her waist to lift her into him.
With one quick pivot, he landed her down on the bed with his frame pressed into her. Her legs hung off the edge from the hip down, and he used the position to grind the stiff length in his pants against her cleft.
Even fully clothed, it was maddening. He could feel the wet patch between her legs, and when she arched further into him, a primal growl rumbled in his chest.
Tav’s fingers were brushing at his sides, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she panted impatiently.
Rolan tilted back to rip the garment up over his horns, immediately reaching for her own once his was free. He stripped her frantically, ripping her smallclothes in two before he could work them down her thighs.
When she lay bare beneath him, moaning and arching into everywhere he touched, he was overcome with hunger for more of her taste.
Rolan gripped her hips, dragging her with a jerk to the edge of the bed. With her glistening folds displayed before him, all he could do was drop to his knees and bury his tongue between them.
The sounds she made were like sweet music as he explored her. He sucked and massaged her slit with his tongue, then plunged it as deep within her walls as he could. His eyes rolled back in his head. Her taste surrounded him; his nose brushed her clit as he ate her, further overwhelming his senses with the scent of her arousal.
“Gods, yes, Rolan—” Tav moaned above him as her hands flew to grip each of his horns. She alternately tugged them and arched into his mouth, grinding her clit against his face.
He wanted to hear her say his name like that another thousand times. Rolan curled his tongue against her walls, determined to taste her even deeper, but to no avail. Without his sharp nails, he would have sunk two fingers into her.
Instead, as his mouth left her, the ridged end of his tail looped around to brush over her slit.
“Ah—” Tav gasped from the bed. One of her hands left him to prop up on an elbow to look.
He watched her face in adoration as his tail slid between her soaked lips, coating itself in a mixture of her arousal and his saliva. Once it was thoroughly wet, he let the heart-shaped tip push experimentally into her.
Whatever hesitation he had evaporated at the way she arched and keened. He pushed in further, inch by inch, hissing in breath at how tight and wet her walls squeezed around him. Rolan felt his cock leaking between his legs at the sight of his tail disappearing into her plush cunt.
“Taking my tail so well,” Rolan praised without thinking, then groaned. “Fuck, Tav, you’re so tight—”
“Don’t stop,” she demanded, breathless.
When he felt the tip brush the limits of her insides, he held it steady as she panted down at him. Her mouth hung open in anticipation as she watched him lean in again for her center.
But instead of landing on her clit, his mouth met with the soft skin of her inner thigh and sucked it firmly between his teeth.
Tav gave a little yelp of pain, but her walls constricted around his tail so hard he moaned against her flesh. He left two more lovely red marks against her thigh before withdrawing his tail from her, leaving only the tip inside her silk.
Then he thrust back into her and took up a forceful rhythm of stretching her open on his tail.
“Fucking gods,” she gasped, gripping both his horns again. He felt her use them as leverage as she bounced her hips down to meet him.
“Like this, don’t you?” Rolan urged her on, drunk off her desire. “Fucking yourself on my tail—” He leaned down to take another taste of her clit, swirling and sucking as the ridges on his tail dragged more wetness out of her with each thrust.
“Yes,” Tav moaned, shaking under him as his tongue worked over her clit. “Feels so perfect in me, so—ngh—!”
When he flicked the tip of it up inside her, Tav’s words stuttered to incoherence. He felt her inner walls clench and flutter, and repeated the motion over and over with each thrust.
“I’m—oh, oh ohohoh—”
She dissolved into soft cries. The muscles at her core tensed and shuddered as she climaxed against his tongue. Rolan withdrew his tail from her with a slick release, instead clasping his mouth over her to lap down the sweet taste that poured from her. His pants were so wet he was nearly convinced he’d already come, but he felt his cock straining against the fabric just as firmly.
When her thighs collapsed limp to either side, Rolan pushed himself to his feet for a look at her. Tav’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with arousal, her hair coiled out in wild tendrils that framed her like a crown. Their eyes met; with both hands on his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss.
Rolan landed braced on his forearms. Their tongues slid and pushed together, trading the taste of her release. When he felt her reaching between them to undo his laces, he pulled away to loose them and strip off the rest of his clothes.
Tav reached for his erection, and before he’d steadied himself, she gripped his length to drag the generous droplets of precum around his tip with her thumb. His hips bucked into her.
“Eager, aren’t you?” She teased softly.
“Yes,” Rolan groaned. Tav’s soft hand was around his cock for the first time; it was all he could do to locate words. He knew his face was flushed and tense with arousal, but Tav only looked up at him with appreciation from where she lay back on his bed.
When she guided his length across the wet of her core, he rocked his hips to drag his ridges across her. She shivered slightly, still sensitive, but rolled into him.
“Need you,” Rolan panted, not sure whether he was asking her or begging. “Tav—please—”
Tav’s hand lined him up with her entrance. When his leaking tip nudged inside her, Rolan pushed forward with one slow, determined cant of his hips.
The cool slick of her walls clutched each inch of him so perfectly. A low groan rose in Rolan’s throat—this was the closest thing to real satisfaction that he’d gotten in days, and he hadn't even started moving yet.
“So good,” Tav said under him, voice sweet and husky. “Keep going—”
Rolan braced his hands against her hips. He pulled out slowly, legs shaking beneath him, then pushed back into the tight plush of her.
His hips took up a firm pace, and Rolan couldn't bite back his whines as he plunged his cock inside her. Whatever his fevered imagination had conjured, it was nothing compared to this—he fell over her again, fangs skating against her breast as her body rocked under him with each thrust.
“Yes, yes, fuck—” Tav was just as breathless as her fingers gripped the infernal ridges on his shoulder blades. She tugged, egging him on.
Rolan took the invitation with enthusiasm. He nipped and sucked around the swell of her breast, breathing in lungfuls of the sweetness rolling off her skin.
“Harder,” Tav begged, the words vibrating against his lips. The hunger inside him surged in agreement.
Rolan’s lips fastened over one nipple. He sucked, hard, letting his tongue roll her against his teeth. Tav let out a whimper, but he felt her legs crossing around his hips as he continued to bury himself in her.
Rolan pulled away to look at her face. A mist of sweat dusted her brow; Tav’s lips were parted and twitching with silent words.
“Look at me,” Rolan ordered, still filling her with his cock in a steady rhythm.
Tav obeyed, her eyes shining and pupils blown wide. He straightened away from her, never breaking, and laid a hand each on her calves. Then he pushed up, folding her legs to her chest and opening up her cunt even deeper for him.
“You look so beautiful like this, Tav,” he told her, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his pace slow and steady. “Folded in half in my bed. Stretched around my cock so perfectly.”
In response, Tav’s hands grabbed her knees, pulling herself open even further to each side. “Is this how you imagined it?” She asked wickedly. “All alone—wishing it was me and not your own hand—”
Heat prickled across his neck and shoulders, but Rolan was too far gone to feel shame. He couldn't resist breaking eye contact, however, watching the way his cock stretched open her dripping cunt.
“Just like this,” he panted in answer. She took in breath to respond, but he was already slamming back into her at a reckless pace.
The lewd, wet sounds of his thrusts filled the room, layered with their chorus of whines and moans. Rolan shuddered at how slick and tight she was around him, perfectly gripping each inch of his needy length. His cock throbbed in anticipation of a satisfying release, finally, after all these times of not quite enough—
“I’m close,” he panted, gripping her hips to pull her down deeper onto his cock. The tip of him nudged against the limits of her walls. “Where should—”
“Inside,” Tav insisted, still holding herself wide for him. “Only inside, Rolan, want you to fill me up—fuck—”
The imagery pushed him over the edge, and he did just that. With a throb of release, he felt his cock pulsing and filling her deepest walls with his seed. His hips stuttered into her as he pushed his spend as far into her as he could reach.
Tav clutched his shoulders as he came, humming and moaning out praises for him. Their hips rocked together, nudging his coated length back against her deep center.
Tav went tense under him. He forced his eyes open and saw her lips parted in surprise.
“I’m—oh—!”
She gasped in shock as her own climax gripped her. Rolan hissed in breath at the way she clenched and fluttered so suddenly around him. His length was still hard, and his ridges pulsed against her.
As she drifted back down, Tav’s eyes finally lit on him in a daze. “What…what was that?”
Rolan was abruptly reminded of how many ruts he’d spent without a partner. “I'm sorry, I should've warned you,” he confessed. It was hard to form his thoughts while still inside her. “During the cycle…infernal traits get stronger. Like incubi. Helps attract a partner.” Somehow this explanation was more embarrassing than any of the other filth he’d just spoken to her.
Tav stared up at him. “You're saying your come is going to make me come?”
“Essentially.” Rolan shifted inside her slightly, still not confident he was done. “I apologize—I didn't think to tell you. Is that a problem?”
“Rolan—” Tav let out a breathless laugh, and the sound went straight to his chest. “This is the exact opposite of a problem. Just a bit of a shock, that's all.”
The lovely sight of her happy and satisfied under him was too much to resist. Rolan leaned forward on his arms to kiss her, trapping her legs between their chests.
As her hand stroked softly under his jaw, Rolan felt a second ache settling in his loins. He released her lips for just long enough to push her legs out over his hips, then ducked back down for her mouth.
He rolled his hips into her slower this time, but it was somehow more intense. Their lips stayed connected as he drove into her deep. Her walls were slippery with arousal and his own seed, and they gripped like pure silk around his cock. Her opening slid over the sensitive ridges at his base with each thrust.
When he dipped a thumb between their bodies to rub circles over her clit, Tav broke away with a little gasp.
“I can’t again,” she said, panting.
“You can,” he told her simply. “Hold on to me—”
She did, wrapping both arms and legs firmly around him as if he was her anchor. Rolan dipped his head to her neck as he doubled his pace, their hips slotting together with each brisk slide into her. He breathed deep against the curve of her shoulder.
Still so hungry for release, it wasn't long before he came again hard. This time he just barely pumped his spend into her before he pulled out to look down.
Sticky white seed dribbled out of her slit, running down toward her hole. He dipped the thumb circling her clit down to swipe it back up across her cunt, painting his come across the bundle of nerves at her peak.
Tav’s thighs twitched under him, and she gripped his arm tight with one hand. She swore as he continued flicking across her clit with the wet pad of his thumb, then whined out his name.
While her next orgasm nearly doubled her in half, Rolan tilted his head to watch the sight between her legs. She was soaked, twitching, utterly intoxicating. Her contracting walls pushed more of his spend out of her; it flowed generously from her slit and soaked down into the bedding below.
Finding himself now utterly spent, Rolan collapsed on his back next to her. As he did, he realized his legs had grown fatigued to the point of buckling from the exertions. He let his body sink heavy into the mattress.
“I made a mess on your sheets,” Tav panted from beside him.
Rolan groaned at her descriptive language. The fact that his length continued softening was a sign his urges were finally giving him a reprieve, however. “It was mostly my fault.”
She only let out a weak breath of laughter.
Too tired to trust his shaking legs, he reached an arm blind over the side of the bed and snatched up the first fabric it touched. His discarded shirt.
Pushing himself seated, he gently reached to dry between Tav’s legs. One of her hands traced the ridges on his back as he quietly tended to her.
“How long before the next?” She asked him.
“An hour or two.” Rolan didn't look at her. “Tav, you've done more than enough for m—”
The mattress shifted as she sat up and turned his face into a waiting kiss. It was soft, just a chorus of little presses across his lips.
When Tav pulled away, she tucked the damp curtain of his hair behind one ear. “Rolan, unless you want me to go, I'm staying until it’s over.”
Rolan cast a glance over her. Despite the fact that she was naked in his bed and covered in blooming bruises from his mouth, she was very much the same Tav as ever. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.
She pushed him onto his back with a sudden laugh, landing with her chest pressed to his. “What an utterly Rolan thing to say,” she mused. “Need I remind you I just came three times?”
Tav was teasing him, and was of a mind to put her in her place—only he found that none of his limbs wanted to move at the moment. Instead, his only response was a deep hum as his eyelids drooped shut.
He felt the mattress shift as she rose and wished he could reach out to stop her. But a moment later she curled up next to him again, dragging a soft quilt over their bodies.
Rolan turned inward to rest his head on Tav’s chest—and fell into his first real slumber in days.
When you share your desire with Halsin to start a family, the delight in his eyes shines through like nothing you've seen before. Halsin has amazing paternal instincts, and you know he's been wanting a child for sometime now. He certainly takes the phrase "daddy Halsin" seriously.
His animalistic side is quick to kick in. He shares that the bear within him wishes to breed you, to fill you with his children and claim you as his own. So during the countless times you try to conceive a child, he's almost feral with need.
You can tell by the glow that sparks in his eyes as he pounds into you that he's trying to keep the bear at bay. It's hard for him when engaging in more primal activities. But he manages to let out just enough of the animal to keep things interesting, to make you feel as if you're filled to the brim with Halsin.
You carefully track your cycle, counting down the days until you're supposed to start bleeding. You wouldn't be surprised if you managed to conceive already. Halsin is rather determined to have you carry his child.
So when you miss your first bleeding, hope sparks in you. You share this with Halsin, and the smile that grows on his face could put the sun itself to shame.
You keep a close eye on your body for any changes that would confirm the presence of a child growing in you. When another cycle comes and goes with no blood, you begin to notice subtle changes in your body.
Halsin is the first to notice the swell of your belly. You lie together after a night of rather vigorous activity. Halsin has his head on your chest, tracing patterns all over every inch of your bare skin. His hand stops over your belly.
He can feel the tautness there. The firmness ensuring that a new life has started to grow. He presses a light kiss to your abdomen. A warmth flows through him as he pictures the life you'll soon be sharing together. He pictures the little bundle that will soon be in his arms, and he feels the bear within him pushing at his conscious a bit, needing to protect his offspring.
He practically worships you during your pregnancy. The beauty that you radiate has him feeling that he should pray to you. He ensures that you’re treated like the goddess you are.
He helps you wash up after long days, sitting in a tub or standing in a river with you, holding you in his arms. His skilled fingers massage your scalp and back, earning moans from you. He prides himself in knowing how to make your body sing for him.
When labor finally starts, Halsin is filled with a mix of both excitement and fear. Excitement over the fact that your child will soon be here, and fear that he won't be able to protect you two from the dangers of this world.
Your laboring process is no easy feat, but Halsin holds your hand and whispers encouragement. Even as you scream every obscenity you can think of at the midwife, Halsin remains a steady presence at your side.
He admires the strength you show as you begin the birthing process. The screams you make sound like those you cry out at the battle field when you slaughter your enemies. But this is your battle field right now.
When your child finally emerges, the world slows for him. A beautiful girl is shortly placed in his arms after she’s placed skin to skin with you. The sight of Halsin holding that tiny little creature in his massive arms causes all of your pain to fade for just a moment.
“Thank you for bringing her into his world,” Halsin says to you, never taking his eyes off his daughter.
But when he holds her in his arms, the overwhelming thought of fatherhood flitting in his mind finally calms. She's a mirror image of you, gorgeous in every way. Down to the color of her eyes, to the shape of her face, she holds every bit of your beauty.
He rarely lets her leave his arms. Which you don't mind, considering how exhausted you are after laboring for nearly a day. But he still proudly shows her off to the rest of the camp.
Most coo at her adorable features, and even Astarion looks at her with interest.
"Does the little beast have a name?" Astarion asks him. He allows her little fist to close around one of his fingers.
"Willow," Halsin replies. The smile on his face seems to be stuck there.
He waits on you and Willow nonstop, ensuring both of you are comfortable at all times. And that night, he holds you both close to him. Willow lies in one of his arms and you lean against his chest.
The warmth of contentment fills him. Although neither of you have said it yet, you're both already looking forward to the process of starting it all over again.
Hello! Welcome to my little corner of The Website.
There’s quite a lot of you now so, in the interest of helping you find what you’re likely here to find, I thought it was time to create a pinned post for you.
Icon credit: Lichtenstyler picrew by Sparemoon
AO3 || Bluesky
October2024
Temptation Raphael x Tav (f) [nsfw]
Pumpkin Spiced Larceny Gen with a little Raph x Tav(f) for flavor
HalsinTavWeek2024[nsfw]
Scent Mark (Scent Kink)
Afforded A Chance (Breeding)
The Faithwarden & The Archdruid (Voyeurism)
Day Four (pending)
Cuckoo for a Cuckhold (Cuckold)
Instinct (Aphrodisiac)
Colossus (Shotgunning, Size kink)
Fics
To Soothe, Ignites[Halsin x Tav(f)]
The Price of Divinity [God!Gale x God!Tav(NB)]
I love him! Tav-I-Am![Seussian Riff]
Bereft [Astarion x Durge]
Midnight Snack [Gale x Female Tav][nsfw]
Raphael Christmas Fic [Raphael x Tav]
WIPs/Drabbles/Etc
Posthumous My love [Gale Angst]
Waterdeep's Most Wanted [Gale x Tav]
Unholy [Gale x Durge]
Goodbye
Durge x Tav
(wip)(wip) (wip) (wip) (wip) (wip)
Lanatav (my self indulgent pet project)
Banter and Dialogue
How it's going (an excuse to show off how cute I am)
My asks are open if you send me hate mail thanks in advance for the laugh!
Day 2 of #HalsinTavWeek AND WE'RE BACK BABYYYYYYY
Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F)
Special Guest Appearance: Yenna!
Summary: Tav realizes she wants something. Halsin is all too happy to provide.
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI
Warnings/Tags: Smut, Porn with Feelings, BREEDING, PnV Sex, Quickie sex, Domestic Fluff, Post Epilogue
No Beta We Die Like Yonas (RIP Yonas)
And an AO3 link! For those of you who are so inclined.
Note: Lots of talking and feelings and ooey gooey stuff in this one, fam.
Watching the cart disappear into the distance Tav reminds herself that this had always been the plan.
Fifty children was an ambitious undertaking for anyone. While they loved each and every single one of their charges, Halsin and Tav had always known and agreed that for the majority of them, their home was but a stepping off point to get to the family they were destined for.
Still, watching the infant she had cared for so deeply and for so long, being swept off into the proverbial sunset with her new mama and papa left an ache in her empty arms she couldn’t shake. She swallows roughly, wiping the tears from her face and takes a deep, steadying breath.
Walking back home Tav’s already tender heart feels a keen sting when she spies the newest couple to their little community. The wife is a sweet young thing, barely an adult herself but newly married and swollen with child already. She looks tired, waddling along with her hand on her belly, but healthy. Happy. Tav was happy. Is happy. Of course she is.
And yet.
Tav murmurs a greeting as the pair pass, stepping off the well trodden path to give them space to amble by.
Fifty children they may have started out with but the numbers had dwindled significantly over the past year and now with sweet baby Marigold gone to a new home that put their occupancy at home down to a much more manageable ten. Manageable, some might say, but to Tav it felt like sand drifting through her fingers.
The youngest was an ornery little tiefling boy, freshly five, and the oldest was just shy of sixteen with plans to seek an apprenticeship soon. Tav was not in any way dissatisfied with her life. She finally had a home and family to call all her own after so long without either. There was no way to describe the feeling she got from just being able to be present, nurturing them, and loving them. Her greatest joy and sense of purpose was deeply rooted in simply basking in watching her children grow with the love of her life at her side. It would be incredibly foolish to covet any more than what she had been provided with.
And yet.
At home the house is quiet. The children spend every possible minute they’re allowed out in the forest during the day. Whiling away the hours of youth playing with Thaniel and Oliver till, exhausted and hungry, they reluctantly troop back to her. At any rate they’re not home yet and the house feels desolate. Yet another finger pressing on the bruise of Tav’s melancholy.
When she finds her lover he’s in his study, sorting through his never ending pile of correspondence. Unlike her, he is conscientious about not letting a letter go unanswered too long and she is loath to steal away his time.
And yet.
Halsin stands, grabbing a book off the shelf behind his desk before perusing the letter in his other hand once again. He seems to be puzzling out an answer to a specific question, his brow furrowed and his lips puckered in thought. The entire effect is so domestic it soothes some of the grief from before and lingering in the doorway Tav takes a breath, gathering her courage.
“I want to have a baby.”
The book in Halsin’s hand promptly drops to the floor. He stares at Tav in surprise, mind completely wiped clean of all coherent thought.
“With you,” she amends when he remains silent.
The expression of surprise slips into something gentle and soft. “Is this about Marigold?” He frowns, picking up the book to put it on his desk and shakes his head with a shine of regret in his eyes. “I should have gone with you. I’m sorry, my heart. That parting was destined to be perhaps the most difficult of them all. I know how deeply you loved her especially.”
Tav crosses the room and takes one of his large hands in hers. “I am sad she is gone but I am also happy she is where she is meant to be. They will love her well. I,” she swallows. “I know the timing of this might seem odd. But it’s not just because of Marigold my mind has turned to…to this.”
“To having a baby,” Halsin clarifies, his tone strange.
“Yeah,” Tav avoids his eyes while she struggles to translate her errant feelings into words.
Her thumbs stroke the warmth of his hand in hers absently. It never ceases to amaze her that to simply feel his skin against hers, chaste or otherwise, had become an anchor for her. When the storm of her thoughts threatens to unmoor her she merely has to turn into his embrace, and she is put at ease.
“Some might reconsider the toils and labors of bringing new life into the world when their home is already bursting with shoots and sprouts aplenty.”
Tav smiles and brings his hand to her face, brushing her lips across his knuckles. “When have we ever shied away from toils and labors? Or balked at adding fresh life to a garden well tended? With these hands to hold me and lend me their unerring counsel and strength, I know we can do anything. I want this…with you… if you do.” She sobered as another thought occurred to her. “But we walk this path together. If you do not–”
“Oh but I do,” he growls, hands finding purchase on her hips as he crowds into her space. “I very much do.”
The kiss is sudden and fierce; a tangle of tongues and teeth that steals her breath. Hands cupping her ass he lifts her, directing her legs around his hips. When they part for breath, Tav stares at him in wonderment.
“I honestly wasn’t sure,” she admits with a tiny huff of laughter. Tav scans his face, taking in his barely restrained hunger, the raw desire in his eyes. “You really want this, don’t you?”
The hazel of his eyes is dark, his jaw tight. “Yes.” He presses his face to hers gently, breathing deeply to quell the rising tide of his lust. “Before the Absolute I wondered if I would ever get to experience the joys of having a family again. I hardly dared to imagine a future with children. And then came you,” he pauses, a breath shuddering through his chest, “and that dream was realized in more ways than I could’ve ever hoped.”
With one hand Tav threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and with the other she caresses his cheek. Despite the grip he has on her, the evidence of his tightly reigned in passion, the moment feels fragile. When he opens his eyes the depth of emotion there tugs at her heart.
“When I told you of my hopes and dreams of achieving some measure of balance you supported me.” He punctuates the statement with a chaste kiss to her cheek. “When I found my new purpose here, in this place, far away from everything and everyone you know you didn’t even hesitate to abandon a life of ease in a city that was ready to celebrate you in every way you deserve.” He presses a lingering kiss to her temple. “When you followed me into the wilderness with,” he huffs a laugh, “so many children I began to worry, wondering what I could have possibly done to be worthy of such a person. It was too much. You don’t know what you’ve given me. You cannot possibly know.”
Halsin turns and sets her down on the edge of his desk, placing his hands flat on the surface on either side of her legs and leans in to steal another, longer kiss.
“I told you once that I wanted more than to be your companion, your ally, your friend. I wanted to share in your heart and your body. And instead you rewrote my entire life with your name across my very soul. Asking for nothing more than the privilege of being at my side. You don’t seem to know the privilege has always been mine.” It’s Halsin’s turn to cup her face, tracing the branch of scarring that trails down her neck. “I am undone by you.”
Tav’s eyes burn.
“I had not let myself even entertain the idea of more. But I know your heart as well as you know mine so let me at last extinguish that ember of doubt in your eyes. Yes. I want this. How could I not? To know that you, who carry my entire heart in your hands, wish to carry my seed and with your body nurture our child.”
The druid’s eyes flash and Tav feels like she’s stopped breathing. Every nerve ending feels raw and buzzing with anticipation. He’s so gentle and easy going it’s easy sometimes to forget how his gaze can pierce through her. The sound of her thudding heart is so loud she wonders if it’s the wind shaking their home in the trees or the tempest of his love threatening to unmake the world. Halsin’s thumb wipes a tear from her face she had not been aware she had shed.
“We walk this path together as one. Our hearts beat in sync.” The next kiss is hot, barely restrained passion. When he pulls away their breathing is equally unsteady. “Now let our bodies move in sync also.”
Halsin grips her hips hard and yanks her body towards himself, to the edge of the desk before claiming her mouth again. Breaking the kiss he zeros in on the spot between her ear and neck, pulling a needy moan so soft and sweet from her parted lips that something primal rumbles out from his chest in response.
He slides a hand in her hair, fingers brushing her scalp before he fists his hand and tugs her head back eliciting a gasp. Greedily he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, his excitement only fanned by the way she trembles under his touch.
Tav feels hot from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of each finger and toe. She tugs the loose shirt he’s wearing from the band of his pants but only gets a moment to trace the blazing skin beneath before Halsin is tearing himself away to rip it off.
Her dress is next; he picks her up like she weighs nothing and divests her of the simple frock, the fabric fluttering to the floor while he tugs at the lacing of her stays. He peels the soft underclothes from her body like a child unwrapping their first gift. With great joy, expectation, and–by the telltale popping of a few stitches–a little reckless violence.
Not bothering to smother the laugh that bubbles up at his slightly contrite expression, Tav slips her fingers through the belt at his waist and tugs him closer with a smile. “I’ll need new ones anyway,” she points out with a sly look in her eyes. “When I’m enormous with your fat babies.”
Halsin’s hand drifts to her belly, hovering over the place where her empty womb waits for his seed to catch and huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “I can hardly wait.”
“Then less waiting, my love,” she casts a meaningful look to the window where the late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, ”unless you want to give the children a first hand demonstration in reproduction.”
Halsin grins with mischief but takes her point and pushes his trousers down, freeing his already leaking cock. Despite the aching hunger burning under his skin– the primitive need to fuck, to claim, to breed her till she’s screaming– his touch is soft when he takes her hands and tugs her into his embrace.
He runs his hands from her shoulders down her arms, to her chest to knead the soft flesh of her breasts. Were he afforded more time he would worship every inch of her soft curves, each freckle, every scar. Alas, time is a luxury for those couples without a full brood vying for attention and the beast within gnaws at his control with teeth and claws.
He spins her around and presses her torso to the desk, nostrils flaring at the scent of her open cunt, already wet with arousal. She widens her legs eagerly, pressing back into his touch and though he’s had her innumerable times in the same position, it’s only this time, for the first time in a very long time, he feels his tenuous control flicker in and out of his grasp.
“This will not be gentle,” he thinks to warn her but the look she gives him over her shoulder is anything but meek.
“Stop talking, papa bear, and fuck a baby into me.”
Lining up to her wet slit he sinks home with a groan that’s more beast than man. Tav’s head drops back with an answering guttural exhalation. A hand on each generous hip he sets a punishing pace, the sharp snap of his hips, the wet hot suction of her pussy consuming him. His lover mewls a needy whine that snaps his threadbare control and he falls forward with one hand on the desk the other on her neck, pressing her face to the desk and he snarls.
Pressing into his touch Tav’s trembling voice whimpers and keens, begging for his seed, his body, his child. His rough hands and nearly violent display of ardor has reduced her to a quivering mess of desire. Each thrust of his body into hers, has her gasping, arching, desperate for more, teetering on the precipice release.
He licks at the sweat on her back and with teeth just slightly too sharp he bites the soft flesh of her shoulder. She cries out, dragging her nails across the surface of his desk, and so he does it again, lapping at the red mark in satisfaction. Removing the hand at her neck he reaches around to palm her breast, raising the top half of her body just enough to set his teeth at the nape of her neck.
The prick of sharp canines does it for her and she jerks with the release of her orgasm, crying out with a curse and a howl. At the height of her rapture her scent changes and Halsin’s grip on her neck with his teeth tightens in tandem with his balls. As she comes down from her high, the walls of her body spasming around his erection, Halsin slams into her with one final thrust. Face pressed to the sweat slick heat of her body he groans his release at last, filling her up with thick hot cords of his cum.
With great affection Halsin nuzzles her skin mindlessly in the afterglow while Tav lays boneless beneath him, her expression incandescently satiated.
They stay like that for a moment, catching their breath. Conjoined by their sex and luxuriating the culmination of their bliss.
Until a familiar voice pipes up with intense curiosity, “But what are they doing in there?”
“Making babies,” answers a disgusted teenager, her footsteps stomping down the hallway past the office door.
Tav and Halsin share a look before bursting into laughter.
“Daddy Halsin?” Says their youngest, sounding as if he’s talking with his face pressed against the door. “Can I come in and see the babies?”
“Not just now, my love,” answers Tav with a nearly hysterical edge to her voice.
“Just a moment,” says Halsin in the same breath and catching each other’s eye, still high off their quickie, they nearly collapse into giggles all over again.
They scramble for their clothes, wary of the unlocked door but both snickering so much Halsin has his pants on inside out and Tav is wearing his shirt when another voice drifts in.
“Come on, Ermir,” says Yenna with a no nonsense tone. “They’ll be out soon. Babies take ages to bake.”
“Bake?”
“Yeah. Like in Momma Tav’s tummy.”
“Wow,” whispers Ermir. “How does it get in there?”
“Ummmm,” says Yenna, stumped. “I think a bird brings it?”
“Ohhhh.”
Their footsteps fade deeper into the house.
Tav, hands on her hips with cum dripping down her leg gives Halsin a shrewd look. “It’s your turn for The Talk, I already had my turn with the older ones.”
Halsin grins and picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder and swatting her ass. “Anything you say, my heart. But first we should make sure the oven is well stuffed, don’t you?”
Was wondering if you could do one with Halsin or Astarion (or Gale👀) where Tav/reader has never let him finish inside them before and it’s something he reallyyyy wants to do so he spends a long time getting Tav all worked up (maybe even days saying he’s too busy to do anything right now) and then keeps bringing them to the edge before telling them what he wants and saying he’ll let Tav finish if they beg for him to finish inside of them
AHHHHHH OKAY WAIT all three would work so perfectly but I feel like this is especially Halsin coded so ding ding ding, he's the winner today. This is going to be a little out of order canonically because I have a very specific time period in mind for this to go down. HERE WE GO!
Just as nature intended.
Pairing: Tav (f) x Halsin (m)
POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)
Rating: 18+, Minors DNI
Warings: SMUT, edging, piv sex, breeding kink, fluff, oral (f receiving), lots of scratching (with some blood), finishing inside, game spoilers
Camp is especially quiet tonight. Gentle waves lap at the short rock ledge, sea mist floating through the air and invading your nostrils with the salty scent. You sigh and relax your tired bones into the cracked stone. The barely audible crackle of the campfire lulls your shot nerves and you rub your temples, the tadpole wriggling just behind your eyes. To put put it plainly, you're exhausted. The shadow curse has really taken it out of you and your group today, evident by the lack of usual banter and comradery that camp often bustles with at the end of each rough day. Instead, everyone has retired to their tents immediately after dinner. You tap your fingers against the rock in a random pattern, doing anything to distract you from the pounding headache in your skull. Carefully pushing yourself from the ground, you move to retrieve your bedroll, preparing to settle in for the night. Whether or not sleep finds you is up to the tadpole at this point.
An idea works it's way into your thoughts and you pause your busy hands for a moment. You know a perfect way to relieve the thundering between your ears. Your lover, Halsin. His large hands and incredible sex drive often offer you solace when nothing else will. Even if he declines your offer for sex tonight, you're perfectly happy to curl up in his arms and search for sleep that way, although you'd much prefer the former option. You plop your bedroll down next to the fire and start towards where he's set up, the familiar scent of oak and basil wafting in your direction from the narrow opening in his tent and you salivate.
"Is that you, my heart?"
His words trickle like honey into your ears and your core burns like the fires of Avernus. You reach a trembling hand out and move the right tent flap to the side, ducking into his spacious living quarters. Halsin is sat cross legged on his bedroll, careful hands whittling a comically small piece of wood, the shape of a duck barely visible past his large fingers. He looks so handsome. Caramel hair tied back in a messy half up, half down bun. Pale green eyes carefully scan the small piece of wood that his knife works at, chipping away little chunks here and there. You giggle quietly to yourself, chewing on the middle knuckle of your index finger to stifle the noise, taking care to not startle him while he works. His attention shifts to you and he immediately sets his work down, muscular arms spreading wide to welcome you into his warm embrace. You oblige and slink into his arms. Your face instinctively nuzzles into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musk. He tightens his grip on you with one arm, using the other to adjust your seating position until you're straddling his muscular thighs. You grin, testing the waters of tonight's potential plans, nipping gently at the side of his neck. He groans, both hands reaching down to grasp your plush ass. "Hmph.."
"Hello, my love."
You lift your head to bite the pointy tip of Halsin's ear, earning a grunt into your perked up ears. A sweet sigh escapes his lungs.
"Not tonight.. My mind is elsewhere. I'm afraid I cannot please you the way you and I both desire. I'm sorry.."
Your lips flatten into a frown and you nod. "Alright." Kicking yourself for even thinking now was a good time, you carefully move to his side, throbbing temple resting against his firm bicep. His eyes soften at your quickness to pull away.
"What's wrong?"
You groan and mumble a soft "headache", closing your eyes to soothe the new light sensitivity. Halsin nods and leans to blow out the candles lit in a row next to him, arms snaking around you, guiding you onto your side with him. He runs his fingers through your soft hair and gently scrunches the hair in random spots on your scalp to relieve pressure. You sigh contently, allowing your lids to flutter.
...
It's been about a week of begging Halsin for release, being disappointingly turned down every time and your core aches from the moment you wake up, to the moment you lie your head on your bedroll at night. It's very unlike him to turn away moments of pleasure with you, especially after he confessed his feelings during the Teifling party. He was very open with his intentions and it made your head spin. He took you that very night. Large hands grabbing and prodding and begging for you, touching every inch of your willing body. Sex with Halsin is euphoric, to be blunt. Otherworldly. With Halsin's age and experience taken into consideration, it's no wonder. His words still ring in your ears every day.
"I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. I want more than to fight at your side, or sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."
You lie in your bedroll, the thin veil of sleep still shrouding your tired eyes, but you're trapped in a dream. It's early morning, the rest of the camp still quiet, little snores breaking the dewy silence. Astarion tip toes past you, watching your body writhe in your sleep, clearly dreaming of something dangerous. He smirks and nudges you with his foot. You sit up in a panic, chest heaving, sweat beading up on your forehead and you shoot a look of surprise at Astarion. The vampire crosses his arms over his chest.
"Dreaming of me again, pet?"
"Oh, fuck off. You wish."
You scoff, shooing the man away with the back of your hand, both of your hands coming up to smooth your sweaty hair back and you groan. You quickly pull your nightgown over your knees, shielding yourself from the vampire's prying gaze. Astarion saunters off with a giggle. The small commotion stirs Halsin from his tent and he waves a soft "G'morning" to Astarion, the vampire returning the gesture with a similar wave. You squeeze your thighs together, noticing a very familiar warmth between them. Fuck. You're soaked, night garments basically ruined from the rather intense dream you had. Reaching down, you swipe the slick from your inner thigh and lift your hand up to inspect, the clear substance stretching into thin ropes between your fingers. You grin, not at all noticing your lover standing behind you now, pupils blown wide. He huffs and your bones nearly eject from the skin and muscles that hold them inside. "Sh-Shit." Halsin reaches down and grabs your arm, hoisting you up from your bedroll effortlessly.
"My tent. Immediately."
His tone is deep and hoarse with arousal. You obey and follow the elf to his tent, yelping when he throws you to the bedroll like a ragdoll. You love when he's rough with you. Primal need aches in your belly. You spread your legs for him while he clumsily fumbles with the clasps on the tent flaps. Eventually giving up, he turns to you, mouth salivating at the sight of you so open for him. So ready. He shakes his head, palming at his already erect cock through his leggings.
"Undress for me."
You nod, making a show of sliding your nightgown up and over your head, tossing it beside you, your absolutely soaked underwear coming next. You hook your thumbs into the soiled fabric and tug downwards, painfully slow. The elf grunts in approval, eyebrows knitting together. Once the fabric is at your knees, you slide one leg out, the other flicking the underwear into the air and towards Halsin. He catches them and quickly presses them to his nose, inhaling deeply. You beckon him closer with a slow curl of your index finger, a lust filled grin thinning your otherwise full lips. The air in the tent is warm, the scent of your heat getting Halsin absolutely drunk. He stumbles forward, collapsing overtop of you, large frame pressing you into his bedroll as he aggressively grinds his throbbing cock into your naked mound, desperate for any kind of friction. You wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, closing the gap.
"Halsin p-please.."
His grinding halts, body sliding down yours. You whine at the loss of friction and grab for his hair, shoulders, ears, whatever you can get your hands on to pull him back to you, desperate to feel him against you again. He nuzzles his nose into your soaked cunt, breathing you in, hands sliding to your inner thighs to firmly press them apart to anchor you in place. Your hips buck upwards into the tip of his nose, finding a moment of friction against your deprived clit. He exhales heavy against your slit, his hot breath coasting over your wet skin. Wiggling desperately beneath him, your hands fly down to his hair and he chuckles.
"Oak Father preserve me.. You'll be my undoing."
A quick flick of the tip of his tongue ignites a flame in your core that you cannot control, fire burning hotter and hotter up your spine. Grasping fingers tug and yank at his caramel locks and he grunts against your cunt, the vibrations only assisting in your molten hot pleasure. You burn as hot as Karlach's engine heart. Your climax builds and you yell into the early morning air, teetering on the very edge of absolute bliss. Then the feeling stops. Halsin pulls away, smirking up at you. You kick your legs in frustration and push your hips up towards his face, clit searching for his tongue.
"No, please! PLEASE!"
Your fire dulls to embers and you whine down at your lover, head lifted just enough to meet his eyes. He waits there. Breathing slowly. Each huff of air fans out over your begging cunt. Your eyes well up with tears at the lack of touch. Halsin hushes you sweetly, lips wrapping themselves around your clit once more. He laps at you in slow, painfully slow motions, his head bobbing slightly with the movements of his tongue. The aching builds again and you flex your stomach muscles, walls clenching tightly around the emptiness. The agonizing emptiness. Your sharp nails dig into his shoulders and he groans loudly into your folds. Teeth scrape over your clit, your hips bucking upwards quickly in response and you cry out. "Gods!" Halsin grins and moves his hands under your ass, pushing you up roughly against his tongue as we works you to the edge once more, listening for your change in moans before he pulls away again. You sob. Tears stream freely down your cheeks, back arching up off of the bedroll beneath you and you babble incoherently.
He repeats this process until you're absolutely broken, begging, screaming for him to give you what you so desperately crave. Release. You're positive your other companions are awake now, eating breakfast around the fire to the sounds of Halsin destroying you. The thought definitely arouses you further. He stands over your writhing body and kicks off his leggings, angry and erect cock springing forward. A thin rope of precum drips onto your thigh and you mewl. He bends over to grab your hips, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the same spot on his shoulder before. Halsin hisses. You grin and try to sneakily lower yourself onto his cock, Halsin catching on quickly. He tuts.
"Patience. I want to savor you for as long as I can."
His lips crash to yours, tongue begging for entrance, the subtle taste of your cunt lingering in his mouth. You accept his advance, wrestling your needy tongue with his, a mesh of wet sounds filling the tent. Without warning, he lowers you onto his cock. You moan loudly into his mouth and he follows suit at the grip your cunt has on him. He breaks the kiss to mumble under his breath.
"By the nine hells, you're tight. This is going to be harder than I thought."
Your hands move down his back, nails dragging behind them, slicing long bloody marks into his tan flesh. He throws his head back, bottoming out inside of you before lifting you all the way off of him once more, tip popping out of you with an audible squelch. You keen at the emptiness. Slick drips down beneath you, creating a puddle on the bedroll. Halsin slides in again, then out, then in, teasing your insides. You growl in frustration.
"Fuck me, gods damn it!"
Tears sting in your eyes from the way he's toying with you. You can't take it anymore. Your entire body burns. Aches. Needs.
"I will, my heart. And I'm going to fill you to the brim once I'm done. Only then, can you cum."
Your breath catches in your throat. Halsin had asked to cum inside of you before. And you declined every single time. The idea of potentially carrying a child terrified you. He often reminded you of the resident cleric in your camp, had the need for her become necessary. Now.. Now you're intrigued. You quirk an eyebrow at him and nod slowly, teeth catching your bottom lip. You chew the skin there nervously before settling on a decision. You craved Halsin. Needed every inch of him inside of you. You agree.
"O-Okay.. Just please.."
Halsin slides in before you can finish speaking, the tip of his weeping cock slamming into your soft cervix. You cry out loudly, head falling back, jaw falling open. Your eyes cross, your fingers and toes go numb, you're floating now. Black spots speckle your vision as Halsin aggressively ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him and he chokes on his breath, hips struggling to keep a consistent rhythm. He nears his end, and you're not far behind. He curses under his breath, grip on you impossibly tight, the indents his fingers leaving on your thighs and ass sure to bruise later. You cry his name into the air of the now steamy tent, the shuffling noises of the rest of the camp making you painfully aware of just how loud you're being. They definitely hear you. Halsin encourages your loudness, nails digging into the flesh of your ass roughly as he continues his thrusting, your entire body bouncing in his arms.
"Gods, I'm close. Beg for it. Beg for me to fill you, just as nature intended."
You pull yourself closer to him, torsos melding into one. Leaning close to his ear you let out a deliciously low moan, tongue working your way along his earlobe.
"Cum inside of me, Halsin. I want you to fill me up. Please.."
Halsin reaches a hand between the two of you, relying on your grip on him to hold you up and his fingers find your deprived clit, rubbing in furious circles. He thrusts one final time. Hot ropes of cum spew inside of you, the large elf grunting in pure ecstasy. He works your clit still, your climax very suddenly slamming into you and you scream his name. Your walls tighten around his softening cock and he slides out of you. You ride the waves, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you come undone. He holds you for a moment, cooing into your ear about how well you did for him, how much he loves you, how proud of you he is. You mewl and press tired kisses to his chest and shoulders, asking to be put down. He sets you on your feet and you squirm at the mixture of his cum and yours dripping down your inner thigh, legs barely able to hold you upright. You giggle.
"I need to bathe.. You've ruined me."
Halsin chuckles and pulls his leggings back on, reaching down to retrieve your nightgown and he hands it to you. You slide it on carefully, turning to catch Halsin taking another deep inhale of your underwear. You shake your head and he smirks in your direction, tucking the fabric under his pillow. "I'll be keeping these." He slides his hand into yours and leads you out of his tent, the rest of your companions snapping their attention to the two of you as they're finishing breakfast. Your face turns a deep shade of red and you lower your head in embarrassment. Yeah, they heard you. Astarion stands, moving behind Gale, placing his hands on Gale's hips and rutting playfully into his behind.
"Oh gods, Halsin! Please Halsin! I'm so close Halsin!"
Astarion mocks your loud moans, squeezing his eyes closed tightly as he pretends to cum. Gale rolls his eyes and shoves the vampire backwards, smoothing the back of his now crumpled robe down. Karlach and Shadowheart throw their heads back and laugh, Wyll shakes his head and sips his tea, blinking through the steam. You scurry out of sight of everyone, hand covering your face to somehow shield you from their taunts. Halsin slaps a hand onto Astarion's shoulder, leaning in to his ear, the smell of you still evident on his breath.
"Wishing she'd cry out for you like that, blood sucker?"
NSFW. L x F!reader. Vaginal sex, cunnilingus. L realizing he has feelings for you. Approx 2.6k words.
Stress impaired neural circuitry and was detrimental to cognitive function, and L couldn’t afford to lose brain power.
His most recent case required it all. The longer the case went on the more his brain seemed to fog, and the more it fogged, the longer it would take to catch the murderer. There was only one thing for it: you.
He needed you, craved you, couldn’t get you out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to focus, the image of you appeared; a temptation he couldn’t get past.
Put simply, he was horny.
He dreamed of you in the few hours of sleep he stashed away from the relentless pursuit of victory. Vivid dreams of your scent, your touch, the sound of his name on your lips. He awakened from those dreams flustered and panting, his spend soaking through his jeans. But no matter how graphic and convincing those dreams were, it couldn’t compare to the real thing. To You.
With you it was never just sex. L was very fond of you, comfortable with you, his heart was made lighter by your company. You'd been friends for a while, then good friends, and then close friends who indulged in sex together. And lately your relationship was evolving into something else. Something neither of you had stuck a firm label to. Not yet.
He had Watari call you and patch you through to his line.
“L? Is everything okay?”
The moment he heard your voice, he felt the fog clear just a little. Enough to know this was exactly the right thing to do. “Yes of course. But I need to see you. How soon can you fly out to me?”
“Uh…”
“I would like to have sex with you.”
“... I’m on my way.”
Two days later you knocked on the door to his hotel room thousands of miles from home. You'd dropped everything to be there, and the gravity of that was not lost on him.
The moment you stepped through the door he wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him in a desperate and much-needed embrace.
“I appreciate you coming,” he said, relief immediately flooding through him, as if your arrival was the antidote to a toxin which had been slowly seeping into his system in your absence. “I need to switch off my brain… for a short while at least. And you’ve always been rather adept at making me feel at least a little mindless.”
The sound of your gentle, never unkind, laughter made him smile. As did the way your arms tightened around his rounded shoulders. “I missed you too, L.”
“Ah, well, yes, of course I missed you. Having you here while I’m working on a case is too much of a distraction. Yet being apart for too long also obstructs my focus.”
“We need to find a balance, don’t we?”
“Yes.” he hooked his index finger over his bottom lip and glanced at the ceiling. “Perhaps a schedule. Though as you know, I do tend to sleep quite heavily after sex, and that will need to be factored in when calculating the amount of time I can spend working.”
You smiled at him, and he realized just how much he’d missed the sight of it. “Do you have time set aside now?”
“Of course. I have the next eighteen hours blocked off.”
“Eighteen hours?”
“Yes… as persistent as my urges are, I have no intention of rush– mmh—”
Your lips on his silenced him, physically and– at least momentarily– mentally. Your kisses never failed to raise his heart rate and his temperature. They were devastating. Wonderful. Addictive. He was hardly aware of the little muffled moans escaping him as you backed him toward the couch and had him sit.
“Is Watari here?” you asked, straddling his lap and running your fingers through his wild raven hair.
A subtle smile curved L’s lips as he gazed up at you, dark eyes drinking in the familiar yet exciting sight of you. Only a matter of minutes together and already he felt the weight on his shoulders lifting. “No, Watari has his own room. We're alone.”
“Good.”
God, the heat in your kisses then, the hunger which tightened a coil deep beneath his navel. The sensation of you sucking on his lower lip made him shiver, the gentle touch of your fingertips on his neck gave him goosebumps. It was wonderful. Every touch, every second, every kiss. He clung to you tightly, his bare toes curled against the carpet, breaths labored, pupils so dilated they nearly drowned out the gray of his irises.
A moan of protest escaped him when you pulled back, leaving his lips feeling swollen and tingly.
“You’re very cute, L.”
“I’m cute? Hm… Interesting word choice.”
“It’s true. You’re so very cute, and so very, very sexy.”
“Sexy…” he repeated back as you trailed kisses down his neck. “I’ll admit, I’m inclined to believe you. You’re making me feel many things right now and sexy is certainly among them.”
You grinned against his collarbone. “What else?”
Goodness, your kisses made it hard to breathe. But when you were around oxygen seemed superfluous. He needed your lips more than he needed to fill his lungs.
He tried to put into words the way you made him feel; hot, breathless, complete, present, safe, happy, loved. But the only sound he managed to choke out as your hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt to caress his stomach was a strained, fractured moan.
You chuckled quietly. “Good, that's what I was hoping.”
Eloquence out the window, he let his hands and his lips speak for him, fingertips gliding up your back, pushing up your shirt, making you shiver. The sensation of your skin beneath his palms was so lovely he never wanted to feel anything else.
Early on in your relationship he’d mastered the art of smoothly unhooking your bra, and he did so now, stroking his fingers along your upper back, feeling your shoulder blades flex beneath his hands as he lifted your shirt up and over your head. He set your garments aside so carefully it made you smile. Well, it wouldn’t be polite to simply toss them.
And you pulled his shirt off too, setting it on top of yours before your hands slid over his chest and abdomen. You were so greedy for him; gentle and adoring, but unmistakably hungry. Squeezing, stroking, holding, making up for the weeks you’d been apart. Every touch left a desire for more in its wake. And the intimacy of your bare skin on his, the way your hardened nipples prodded and brushed against him every time you leaned in to deepen your kisses… heaven. Perfection.
You made him feel incredible. So good he couldn’t help but squirm beneath you, his cock aching and so desperate for your touch he couldn’t bear it. And you knew him well enough to see it in his eyes; the almost pained expression pinching his brow, the way his mouth turned down as he succumbed to the sensation of your lips on his throat, your tongue warm and soft, slippery against his clavicle.
L wasn't quite sure when he had come to realize the wonderful truth; that you needed him as he needed you. It wasn't a sudden dawning, more an intrinsic fact which became second nature to him. Being with him, kissing him, grinding yourself against his lap was simultaneously as indulgent and as necessary for you as it was for him. You were working out your own stress, clinging to him as he was to you. Adoring him as he adored you.
You'd missed him; you’d said as much but he could feel it. It was apparent by the way your kisses lingered, the desperation of your touches, the ragged quality of each overwhelmed breath. And that feeling, of being needed, wanted, craved, was almost enough to make him lightheaded.
“Beautiful…” the word tiptoed from his tongue and into the heated air between you. It was all so beautiful; you, the sensations, him, that moment, all of it.
He’d spent the majority of his life contemplating the very worst facets of human behavior; analytical detachment as much a necessity as an inevitability when the world around him was saturated by cruelty, violence, and death. But you… no he could never detach from you. He was wholly and willingly consumed by your loveliness, your beauty, your imperfections. All of you.
He heard himself groan in protest as you clambered off him, but he needn’t have worried. You simply finished undressing before unbuttoning his jeans, tugging them down his slender thighs as he arched his back and lifted his hips off the couch to ease your endeavor. His erection tented his boxers, aching and twitching at the sight of you stripping off your underwear, and the arousal glistening at the apex of your inner thighs.
“So wet,” he said, tapping his lower lip with his thumbnail, his dark eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you. “You're excited.”
“Of course. You turn me on, L.”
“Clearly. I enjoy it immensely.” He glanced down at his erection, and the little wet patch soaking through the fabric of his boxers. “And… oh, hey… likewise.”
Goodness, he enjoyed the way you smiled. Even at a time like this when he was in real danger of ruining the mood. You didn’t roll your eyes or barely tolerate him, and you didn’t simply appreciate him for his intelligence, his money, or even his looks which you had very quickly seemed to have acquired the taste for. It was all of him for you too.
Love, he was quickly learning, was all about those little moments. The awkwardness, the fumbling, accepting someone as the flawed and wonderful person they were. Every little thing he adored about you was reflected back in your eyes: personality, humor, mannerisms. He adored you down to your very core and there was no doubt in his mind that you felt the same way about him.
He stood from the couch, stepping out of his boxers– hopping on the spot to keep his balance as he unhooked them from his ankle– and stood before you completely naked.
“As much as I would enjoy sex right now, I’d also very much like to taste you.” He scratched his belly as he headed toward the bedroom door. “And I feel we’d benefit from moving to the bedroom. There’s room there to maneuver. The bed is comfortable and… If I'm honest, I’d enjoy lying with you. Particularly being held by you. You’ve given me quite the fondness for cuddling you know.”
Of course convincing you was unnecessary. He’d only ever have to ask to move to the bedroom and you would've headed straight there. But he liked the way the color rose in your cheeks when he mentioned his desires, and the way your smile took on new meaning. The little flirtatious glance you gave him as you slipped by him in the doorway made his heart pitter patter. The way you sat on the bed, parting your thighs and inviting him to indulge in you made his cock ache.
All his life he’d been treated as something other– he'd felt it too– but with you, crouching between your feet, breathing in the heady scent of your arousal as your breath hitched in anticipation, he felt like any other lovesick fool. And for that he was endlessly grateful; a gratitude he expressed by leaning in and kissing your clitoris. He knew how you liked it. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, heavy on the tongue, making out with your sex as you moaned and sunk your fingers into his hair and writhed beneath his lips.
Dear God, the taste of you. If only cunnilingus provided adequate sustenance, he’d never touch anything else again. He’d live between your thighs, lapping at your core, devouring you, parting your folds to drive his tongue into your entrance, enjoying the way you bucked your hips toward him, always seeking more.
Ordinarily he’d take his time, savor the slow-build toward your climax, but he was starved, desperate to sink into your heat and be enveloped by your presence which he’d denied himself for far too long. He dragged his tongue along your slit, circling your clitoris before surrounding it with his lips and sucking upon it.
“Oh fuck,” you gasped, heels pressing against his backside, thighs trembling.
Your reactions only ever served to bolster his confidence. Your pleasure was as much a boost to his ego as any successfully closed case. And he was just as relentless in its pursuit, demanding, licking, sucking, groaning against your pussy, his dick throbbing almost painfully, dripping precum onto his thighs.
And then you came, and it was a miracle he didn’t follow suit.
Your gasps, your moans, the way you tensed and shuddered and cried his name. The sudden flood of heat emanating from your core, the throbbing spasms, all of it. Wonderful. Perfect. Utterly utterly maddening. He simply had to be inside you.
Your throes had barely subsided when he crawled onto you, his mouth still dedicated to worshiping your form, following a path from your pelvis, over your stomach, your chest, your throat, and finally your lips, where you groaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. And all else was meaningless. The case, the stress, whatever came tomorrow. None of it mattered. Because you were there. Because the sensation of you, of sliding into you, the way your body adjusted to accommodate him, the way your brow pinched then smoothed, and the sound of his name on your lips pared him down so completely to the true form of himself, to someone he hardly recognized.
Only when he was with you like this was he allowed to be just a man. Not a detective. Not an unsettling, infallible genius or a freak or a creep or a weirdo or whatever labels were thrust upon him. Just a man whose lungs emptied when he sheathed himself inside you. Just a man whose thrusts were uncoordinated and sloppy because it all felt so overwhelmingly good. Just a man with butterflies in his belly when you held his face between your hands and finally, finally uttered the words you’d both been dancing around since God knows when.
“I love you.”
Such a lovely sound. The gravity of it folded him. He collapsed into you, trembling, rolling his hips against you in the quest for release, his breath blowing hot and hard against your throat as he responded in kind. “I do too. I love you. Isn’t it… Isn’t it incredible?”
Perhaps he wasn’t making any sense. But he meant all of it, the simple words and their world-changing intricacies. In every imaginable way. He loved you.
Overwhelmed with the need to be closer, deeper, he pushed up your thighs, spreading them, pressing his pelvis tight against yours until his cock was completely buried inside you and neither of you could draw full breaths. Deep, unbridled, fractured groans tumbled from his lips, his forehead resting on your chest as he arched into his thrusts, watching his cock slide into you with fascination and awe. He loved every aspect of it. The scent of your body, the off-kilter rhythm of his thrusts, that he could hear your wetness even above his own moans and yours. So good. Messy and undignified, uncoordinated and beautifully, perfectly human. Mountains of sugar couldn’t hold a candle to the indulgence he found in you.
His pleasure grew, billowing behind his navel, a flurry of clenching muscles and firing nerves. And he simply had to have something in his mouth, his lips latching onto your nipple, tonguing it frantically as you cried out in bliss beneath him. And then he was filling you, his cock throbbing and leaking and stuttering inside you. Incapable of analysis or even thought beyond simply you.
It was you. Only you. Always you.
Afterwards you held him so adoringly, stroking your fingers through his hair, telling him how good he felt and how much you loved him. And what a wonderful feeling it was to be so utterly adored. Such tranquility in allowing himself to be just a man.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, curled in your arms a little while later, once his trembling subsided and left a pleasant humming tingle in its wake. Safe and relaxed and at peace. “Pun unintended.”
“Awful,” you teased him, as lovers are wont to do. “I’m taking the next plane home.”
“Ah, well, that’s a pity. We still have seventeen hours before I need to get back to work. And, it seems, today at least, little to no refractory period.”
“Is that so?”
“It is so. So I'd appreciate it if you indulged my awful humor a little while longer. Might I suggest keeping my mouth otherwise occupied?”
Your smile, your gentle, never unkind laughter, the way you flirted with him… just you. Goodness, seventeen hours would never be enough.
If you liked this check out my Masterlist! I write a lot!
So erm I like to be metaphorical about shit so hear me out on fucking L as Kira (light was aborted) and like having the pen against his neck cause you're gonna kill him after anyway. He's been enjoying the game you played so much and he caught feelings from your super smart big brain so he can't help how much he groans and huffs as he cums until he's shooting blanks yknow? Cause he loves your mind and the way your cunt is sucking him in and the feeling of the very thing that will end his life against his neck HEHEHHEE WOULD WE LIKE THAT CHAT???
Synopsis: As a graduate criminology student, you're more than ecstatic to jump at your mentor's offer to join the task force chasing down Kira. Mr. Yagami has prepared you for a successful career in the law and justice system, but with the public disappointment in the police's inability to catch Kira, finding a well paying job will be difficult. But a recommendation letter from L would open doors you can't even imagine. It's simple, you just have to catch Kira... NOT feelings.
Chapters:
one
two
three (nsfw)
four (sfw but implications)
five [little steamy]
six [nsfw]
seven [suggestive]
eight [NSFW]
nine -> coming soon! [NSFW]
more coming!
cleaning up my masterlists and want to put everything together...
