black-noir-ink

Latest Posts by black-noir-ink

not now kitten, daddy has to write strange self indulgent fan fiction.

his new high

Warnings: DUB-CON, Organized-Crime, Drug (Shimmer) Use, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness

Summary ~ You soothed his pain in a way shimmer never could, and now he’d rather destroy your dreams than watch you leave his arms.

The first time Silco saw you, it was in the fading light of a backroom chem lab. You were bent over a half-conscious man, stitching his torn arm with mechanical precision. His screams filled the room, curses and desperate pleas, but you remained calm, steady, your voice soothing. There was no hesitation in your movements, no tremor in your hands. You didn’t look up when he entered. Not even when the room fell into that particular kind of silence, the delirious ramblings of the injured man fading as he slipped into unconsciousness. It was the kind of silence that settled when someone powerful walks in.

You didn’t fear him. That was your first mistake.

“Most people flinch,” he said eventually, his voice a smooth rich timber. One eye gleamed with an unsettling interest. The other was ruined, unblinking.

You tied off the final stitch and set the needle aside. “Then most people aren’t busy saving someone’s life.”

Silco smiled, it wasn’t a kind smile.

He started showing up more often, sometimes to have you patch up one of his men, stitch a wound, or set a broken limb. Then came the calls for help with research, concoctions, healing. Gradually, he began to trust you enough to assist him in administering shimmer to his red eye. He always had a reason. But over time, those reasons began to wear thin. You were sharp enough to notice

“You don’t need me, Silco,” you told him one evening, after his lieutenant left with freshly bandaged ribs. “You just want something.”

He stepped closer, the scent of smoke and oil clinging to him, the faint metallic tang of shimmer still lingering around his skin.

“And you’re so sure that’s a bad thing?” he murmured. “Wanting something.”

The obsession wasn’t sudden. It was a drip. Slow. Poisoned.

A package on your desk one morning, a vial of rare solvent, only available in Piltover, wrapped in black silk. A gift of soft velvet-lined gloves, with a note: “To protect your hands. We can’t afford to lose them.”

A word to your landlord, suddenly, your rent dropped to nothing. "Consider it... gratitude," Silco’s voice had been like a velvet noose, tightening around you.

You told yourself you weren’t his. But his people stopped calling you by name. They started calling you Silco’s medic. Then, simply, Silco’s.

He kept coming back. Each time, it was a new wound, a dislocated shoulder, a burned hand, a poisoned operative. But he never left right after. He lingered, watching you as you worked. Sometimes, he brought rare supplies, claiming they were for your patients, but he always insisted on giving them to you directly.

He learned your rhythms. What made you laugh, when you skipped meals, how your brow creased when you were focused, how you chewed your lip when you were uncertain.

And somewhere in that quiet obsession, shimmer began collecting dust.

You never saw the moment it shifted. The moment his need for you went from admiration to something darker. Something possessive. Addictive.

One day, while you were restocking shimmer, you mentioned it, absently. “I’ve applied for a fellowship in Piltover. Medical sciences. If I get in... I’ll be gone for a while.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

You turned slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze, a cold burn against your skin. Silco was staring at you like you’d just ripped the breath from his lungs.

Piltover. The word alone was bile in his mouth.

“You want to leave?” he asked, too calm, like it was a simple question.

“For a year. Maybe two.”

“For them?”

“No. For me.”

He stepped closer. You could feel the heat of him now, the tension building between you. “You don’t need that. Everything you’ve built ... we've built, it’s here. These people need you. I need—”

He stopped himself, like he was choking on the words.

You stared. “You need...?”

He looked away, jaw clenched, before answering coldly, “The undercity needs you.”

But the lie hung in the air, thick and suffocating, like smoke.

After that, things changed. The guards around your clinic doubled. Your mail stopped arriving.

And one morning, you found a letter from the Academy , torn at the seal, empty, discarded in your trash bin.

You confronted him, and he didn’t even pretend to be innocent.

“You belong here,” he said, they will use you. Break you. Strip you of everything that makes you... you.”

“And you won’t?” you shot back.

He stepped closer. So close that you could feel his breath on your lips. “No,” he whispered. “I’ll worship you.”

“You belong here,” he repeated, the words trembling with a quiet madness that sent a chill skittering down your spine. “With the undercity. With me. Piltover would ruin you.....strip away everything that makes you… you.”

“Ruin me?” you shot back, your voice rising as you took a defiant step toward him. “You’re the one caging me! The guards, the missing mail, this—” You thrust the torn letter toward him, your hand shaking. “You don’t get to decide my life!”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Don’t I?” he murmured, closing the gap between you with a predator’s grace. The heat of his body was suffocating, the scent of him, smoke, oil, and that faint metallic tang, wrapping around you like a chain. His hand rose, fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt like a lie, a trap disguised as affection. “Everything I’ve done, the rare solvents, the gloves, your rent, it was for you. Because you’re mine.”

You jerked away, but the examination table pressed against the backs of your thighs, cold and unyielding, trapping you in his orbit. “I’m not yours,” you said, your voice wavering despite your resolve. “I’m not some… thing you can own, Silco. This is obsession, it’s not love. It’s control.”

His hand froze, his expression flickering...pain, anger, then something deeper, more unhinged. “Control?” he echoed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “No, my dear. It’s devotion.” He stepped closer, his body crowding yours, his breath hot against your lips. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The way we fit. The way you calm the storm inside me.” His fingers slid to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair, not pulling but holding you in place, anchoring you to him. “You’re my salvation.”

Your heart pounded, a traitor that refused to still. You wanted to push him away, to scream, but his proximity, the raw intensity of his gaze, stirred something within you, fear, yes, but also a flicker of something else, something you couldn’t name. “You’re wrong,” you said, but the words lacked conviction, your voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed the pulse point at your throat, and you hated the way your body responded, a shiver racing through you, warm and treacherous.

“Liar,” he purred, his lips grazing your ear, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “You’ve never flinched from me before, not when you stitched my men, not when you held my gaze while dosing my eye. Why now?” His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of your throat. His lips brushed there, a fleeting kiss that made you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing his coat, unsure whether to push or pull. “Because you know what I want… and part of you wants it too.”

“No,” you said, louder, shoving against his chest. But he was immovable, a wall of lean muscle and unshakable will. His free hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist, possessive and warm. The touch was electric, and you shuddered, caught between revulsion and a spark that flickered low in your belly. “Silco, stop,” you said, your voice trembling. “This isn’t right.”

His eyes softened for a moment, a glimpse of the man who’d once brought you rare supplies, who’d watched you work with quiet reverence. But the darkness surged back, drowning that fleeting light. “Right?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through you. “Nothing in this world is right. But you… you’re perfect.” His lips crashed against yours, not gentle but desperate, hungry, as if he could consume you, bind you to him through sheer force of will.

You turned your head, breaking the kiss, but he didn’t stop. His mouth moved to your jaw, your neck, leaving a trail of bruising kisses that drew a whimper from your lips. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up to expose the soft skin of your stomach, his fingers tracing the curve of your ribs with a reverence that belied the coercion. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were a plea, not a command, and he heard it.

“You say no, but your body begs for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with triumph. His hand cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your undershirt, his thumb brushing over your nipple, coaxing it to a peak. He groaned against your skin, the sound raw and primal, and you hated the way it sent a pulse of heat between your thighs. “You’re mine,” he said, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, his touch both gentle and demanding, a paradox that left you dizzy.

You pushed at him again, but your hands faltered, your resolve fraying under the onslaught of sensation. His other hand moved lower, deft fingers unbuttoning your pants, slipping inside to find you already wet, a betrayal that made him groan low in his throat. “See?” he said, his voice a dark caress. “You want this. You want me.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head, but your body was a traitor, responding to his touch with a heat you couldn’t deny. His fingers teased you, slow and deliberate, coaxing pleasure you didn’t want to feel. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were softer now, your voice breaking as he pushed you toward an edge you didn’t want to cross.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, pulling back to meet your gaze, his good eye dark with need, the ruined one a void that seemed to swallow your protests. “Tell me, and I’ll make it good for you.”

You stared at him, torn between the fear in your heart and the heat in your body. “I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what you wanted. The uncertainty was a crack in your armor, and Silco seized it.

He kissed you again, softer this time, but no less possessive, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers worked you, pushing you closer to a precipice. When he pulled back, he lifted you onto the examination table, the cold metal biting into your bare skin, baring you to his hungry gaze. His hands were everywhere, on your thighs, your hips, your breasts, claiming every inch of you as he spread your legs and stepped between them.

His trousers were already undone, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh, and you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, unsure whether you were pulling him closer or pushing him away. “I’ll worship you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he positioned himself at your entrance. He entered you slowly, deliberately, each inch a claim, a promise, a curse. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you, the stretch both painful and intoxicating.

He moved with a reverence that belied the coercion, his thrusts deep and measured, his hands cradling your face as if you were something precious, something sacred. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a low chant as he drove into you, each movement pushing you closer to an edge you couldn’t escape. And as pleasure built despite your protests, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the storm that was Silco, his touch, his voice, his obsession.

He didn’t shoot shimmer anymore.

He had traded one addiction for another.

You were his new high now.

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

um men who are bigger than you and tower over you in every way possible but he's obsessed with the overwhelming intimacy of missionary sex. his whole entire body covers yours, and he loves the way it's almost like he's shielding you from the world, that the wanton expressions you're making and the way your body reacts is all for his eyes only. he can control how deep he fucks into you, can carefully watch the faces you make to see if he's hitting all the right spots. loves the way he can hold your hand as he thrusts into you; especially loves the feeling of every cell in his body going weak from how overwhelmed with his love for you he gets. the eye contact is the best and worst part for him; best because he loves looking at you, to know you feel the same, but worst because you always make him go weak in the knees. his arms can barely keep him upright, and he has to bury his face into the hollow of your neck and shoulder and-

I'm almost done with two mods, just need to take some screenshots and post them. But my mind seized upon an idea that just would not leave me alone until it was made real.

I had to get the devil's slutty, slutty forearms out.

I just pray I don't get banned from Tumblr for posting such obscenity.

What about Raphael monologuing and/or being his smug self only to be surprised by "his" little mouse interrupting him by grabbing the collar of his clothing and dragging the cambion in to a searing kiss before she says something like 'You talk too much' or 'I got the gist, thank you' and gracefully striding off before he can even think to react? (your choice if Tav does this when it's just her and Raphael or if she pulls this stunt in front of a group of her companions who would likely be left there stunned for a few moments as well)

I took forever to get this done but I did your request with a bit of a twist I hope you enjoy!

Warning: last step is NSFW! MDNI! 18+ only!

How to shut a devil up in 5 easy ways

If you had to describe Raphael, you would say he is dangerous, mysterious, and admittedly very pleasing to the eye… the only problem? Raphael doesn't know how to shut up… is it a bard thing or a devil thing to have the inability to shut up? Personally, you wouldn't mind listening to him talk all night; he has a magnificent voice… But you're busy; you can't always sacrifice your time to entertain him. Though he doesn't always get the hint, so you will have to get creative… 

Be honest, 

It's been… What 30 minutes? 30 long minutes of you and your party standing outside of the abandoned village's gate listening (without interruptions, mind you) to Raphael go on and on about some cryptic warnings and strange tales. Honestly, you stopped paying attention ages ago when you had to tell Lae'zel via tadpole that, no, she can't cut his throat. Hells, even Gale is getting impatient, and he's as long-winded as they come. Everyone was over it, so putting on the leader pants, you go to silence the chatty cambion… of course, it didn't work when you, being a person of few words, tried the subtle approach and he was still trying to make his poetic points. Then your patience snaps. "Alright, we get it! Could you shut up already?!" Raphael goes silent from your burst of bluntness; it was rude and coarse… but he couldn't help how it made the slight smirk tug at the corner of his lips, something you immediately noticed. "Well, what kind of decorum is that? I try to give you sage words of wisdom, and this is my thanks, mouse?" he tsked his lips with a smile, his eyes lightening up at your annoyance… You roll your eyes, pushing past him with your party in tow. "Fuck off…" is all you utter before hearing a smooth laugh and a rushing flame. Seems like honesty worked.

2. Catching him by surprise, 

You are completely exhausted; your head and body scream and ache as you try to stretch your worn-out muscles. All your other companions have gone to rest for the night, something you are egar to do but the viscera and sweat that cling to you are too uncomfortable to ignore. So, gathering your things, you head down to the river for a cleansing soak to finally relax. However, as you head to your destination, a familiar figure leaning against a tree catches your attention and makes you roll your eyes... Raphael... "Well, mouse, you look completely worn down, not your usual bright eye look. You look miserable in fact." his voice purs as he walks beside you. With a sigh you continue on with him in tow mocking you. You don't need to look up to see that he's smirking at your annoyance. "I wouldn't say miserable, just not to be tested." you snip back, but Raphael only chuckles further, "I guess I should be careful when teasing you then..." He can tease you... but not with his words; you would want him to tease you with his hands... With his body... No, you can't be thinking like that for the annoying devil. Raphael starts his usual long-winded speeches, but not being in the mood, you ignore him. Finally getting to the river bank, you begin to undo your shirt, and as the fabric hits the ground and you undo your underclothes, that is when you hear silence? Turning, you See Raphael looking a bit surprised, and that just fuels you more. Stripped down you finally step into the water keeping your eye contact with him, he's finally quite and you can't help but feel smug. "Want to finish your rambling in the river with me?" You ask with a broad smile, perhaps showing off your assets just a bit to taunt him some more. Raphael thinks for a moment, his eyes drinking you in before responding, "Sorry, mouse, but I am afraid I have lost my train of thought... Another time, though..." With a snap, he's gone, leaving you to soak in silence. It's a bittersweet victory.

3. Interrupt Nicely 

You're in the middle of a celebration, one step closer to the city and another successful job of saving those you've become close to. Everyone in Last Light has been drinking, and you are feeling tipsy as you continue to drink more from the goblet filled with dry wine. Then you hear a familiar voice, "You're looking quite flushed, mouse... Careful not to indulge too much; your journey is far from over." Even drunk, you can tell who it is without looking, but you do (he's too pretty not too). Turning, you meet his smirk with a broad smile; warm and giggly, you can't help but feel unintimidated by him in this drunken haze. "If it isn't my stalker. Come to try and trick me out of my soul again?" Amused Raphael sits next to you, "I wouldn't dare try and take it from you in this state; it would be far too easy..." You giggle, leaning in close to him, taking a second to bask in his warmth and the curves and lines of his face before placing a finger to his lips, shushing him. "Shh, stop flirting with me, or I will think you're falling for me, devil." Raphael chuckles as he moves your hand and kisses your knuckles and your wrist. "Don't get cocky, mouse... That's what gets you mortals in trouble..." You lean in closer, resting your head on his chest, "Fine, fine, I won't be cocky; that's a better look on you anyways..." Raphael just lets you lean on him as he softly plays with your hair. He would never say it... but you might be right…

4. Interrupt Rudely 

He helped you... Why would a cambion like him have helped you? Of course, you knew his interest in your soul and aid in getting the crown, but you had been clear that you were not taking his deal... yet here he was, burning the wretch you were fighting to a crisp before they got the upper hand on you; he said he could be a savior of sorts, but this should be against his nature... As everyone is tending to their wounds, you are listening to him monologuing in, of course, the most flowery language. You start to wonder if this is always how he talks... Surely not; he must crack sometimes... Everyone has a weakness. Looking at his distinguished face, listening to his rich voice, you realize that he has a weakness for you—a weakness that has slowly grown on you as well. So, in a moment of impulse or maybe just wanting to shut him up yet again, you grab him by the collar, causing him to look down at you confused as you drag him closer and press your lips to his. It takes Raphael a moment to realize what's even happening before he's leaning into you, running his fingers through your hair. Then, when you slip your tongue through his lips to lick against his searing tongue, he groans, pulling you closer to his body as he takes in your taste (finally). After a few moments letting the passion overtake you both, you push him away. You look up at the shocked cambion, who seems to be at a loss for words. Smirking, you pat his cheek, "You talk too much." and though part of you wants to walk him back to your tent, you say goodnight and walk away. Raphael watches as you go to your tent, leaving him gawking at you. Meanwhile your companions watch with mouths agape at the scene that has just played out. "What the fuck is going on?" Karlach says while Gale stares unblinking, "I don't have the faintest clue..." Raphael eventually leaves, amused and eager to see you again. 

5. Keeping his mouth busy

This has to be the best one out of all your ideas to shut Raphael up. His dark wavey hair is held in a tight fist, as your back arches from the intense feeling of his tongue licking slowly against your folds, before swirling on your clit, it's utter bliss. His tongue was constantly being used before, but now having it licking against your wet sex is much better employment for his mouth. When you first met the half-devil, you had to admit you found him quite a fearsome sight but later he just turned into a reoccurring annoyance. Now here you are, your talkative cambion lapping and diving his hot tongue into your cunt as your thighs shake, almost as if he was tamed. Raphael looks up at you with his brown eyes practically black as he swirls then nips at your clit, making you moan his name like a song. He will always agree to eat you out for hours, his thick fingers stretching you out as he licks down your arousal as long as you're singing his name like a prayer. "Rapheal... ah! Gods!" Raphael breaks away from your cunt, smirking down at you, "Gods? Mouse, no gods can help you now that you're within my cl-" Before he can finish, you're pulling his mouth back down with a whine. Raphael smiles, flicking his tongue over you again in quick licks, making you keen, "My mouse...So demanding..." he whispers into your pussy, his hot breath making you tremble and quiver against his thick fingers. You can't hold back any longer, grinding your hips against his face, whining for him, "Please just shut up and let me cum!" Raphael has to hold back his laugh as he takes out his fingers and fucks you with his tongue; you can shut him up anyway you want as long as, in the end, you let him devour you.

sleepyhead | gale dekarios x afab!reader

(18+!!!) afab!reader. second person pov. literally just smut: oral (f receiving), piv, dirty talk, consensual somnophilia. gale lives to please as always

my first gale fic... this man has taken over my entire life.

2k words

Gale’s lips press against yours in the dark, gentle and coaxing. A push and pull. You blink blearily awake from slumber as his hand finds your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleep shift. His brown hair falls over the two of you like a curtain, shielding you from the terrors of the darkness.  

“Mm hello,” you purr against his lips. “What time is it?” You ask when he pulls back. He looks a bit wild, pupils blown wide, his eyes practically look black even in the dim candlelight. He’s breathing heavily, his gaze traveling over you, heated, like the air surrounding fire. He doesn’t answer. 

“Gale?” you repeat, warmth pooling in your belly at the pure desperation on his face. At the want curling in his eyes like a flame.

“It’s late,” he murmurs, voice rough, as though he’s parched. “Though I cannot stop thinking about you. I must…” he trails off, mind moving faster than his mouth can.

One thing you love about Gale is his ability to talk for seemingly hours on end with such eloquence and poetry. But when he’s like this…already hard against your thigh, slowly rutting his hips in circles, captured within pleasure, the words seem to leave him. You love it just as much, if not more. 

He leans in and runs his nose along your throat, breath ghosting over your skin. His teeth graze you, and his tongue follows, licking a stripe up your throat. You moan shakily, cunt clenching around nothing. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, though it’s more breath than substance. Your brain is already beginning to short circuit, especially when the hand on your waist travels down to your thigh, fingertips pressing into the muscle there. 

“You just looked so beautiful on the battlefield today… I tried to contain myself because we had so much to do, but… fuck,” he breathes this against your neck, desperate. He hardly ever uses such vulgar language. “I need you, love.” 

“So you really weren’t lying when you told me you were turned on by my fighting,” you say, surprised.

“I am a lot of things, darling, but a liar is not one of them.”

The sound of his inhale as he leans down to kiss you again sends more molten pleasure swirling through you. 

His hips press against yours, grinding against your clothed cunt in a steady rhythm. You moan into his mouth, your hands reaching up to clench at his sleep shirt stretched over his broad back. 

You’re still sleepy as his hand drifts to the hem of your shift. He slowly pulls it up your thighs, up over your breasts, revealing your undergarments. He paws at your waistband like a cat begging for food. You lift your hips so he can pull them down over your ass. He undoes the ties to your bralette and slides it off your shoulders. 

Gale kisses his way down your body, stopping to close his warm mouth over a nipple while his dexterous hand squeezes and tugs at the other. You moan lightly, pleasure easing through you. He hums appreciatively against your skin, and the vibrations travel pleasantly through you.

“Gale…” you half murmur half moan as he moves his mouth to your other nipple. “I can hardly stay awake…” You feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness. The gentle chirping of the crickets outside your tent doesn’t help.

“Of course,” he says, leaning back. “We can stop.”

“No—no wait,” you stop him with a hand curled around his wrist. “You can keep going while I’m sleeping, I don’t mind.” 

His eyes darken, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips. “Really? Are you quite sure?”

You nod with a sleepy smile and settle back comfortably. “Mhm.” 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

Your eyes flutter shut, your breathing slowing as you succumb to your exhaustion. Your limbs feel heavy, even as Gale continues his way down your body. 

“You’re so gorgeous, so perfect,” he whispers into your skin. His fingers curl into your thighs before he slowly pulls them apart, baring yourself to him.

He runs his hands appreciatively up and down your thighs, squeezing and kneading before hooking them over his shoulders.

Gale presses a kiss to the inside of your right thigh before retreating. You feel his lips again a second later, just between your thigh and cunt, mere centimeters from where you’re wet and aching for him.

And then you feel his warm breath puffing against your core, and your body squirms impatiently. You peek an eye open to watch him.

He looks so handsome as he glances up at you, eyes soft, mouth twitched into a smirk. “I thought you were going to sleep.”

“I am,” you reply, closing your eyes again. “Just wanted to admire the view one last time.” 

He chuckles lowly, “Sweet dreams, darling.”

He doesn’t move for a while, and you find yourself drifting off in the stillness. Your breathing slows, your mind growing quiet as sleep takes over you.

---

The moment your breaths even out as your hands fall slack against your sides, Gale presses his face between your thighs. He uses the flat of his tongue to lick a long, hot stripe through your folds. You taste delicious on his tongue, and gods you’re so wet. You’re soaking his beard, and he’s hardly been between your thighs for longer than ten seconds.

He doesn’t care. You keep releasing cute little moans in your sleep as he takes you apart brick by brick. Or rather… lick by lick.

His hands grip your waist, keeping you close. Your hips buck involuntarily to meet his mouth, grinding against his face. Even in your sleep you’re seeking out pleasure from him. 

God forbid he won’t deliver.

He pulls back one of his hands to slide a finger into you. It goes easily. He adds another without any resistance. You’re so incredibly wet. He wants to remain between your thighs forever. Your sweet, slick arousal runs down his hand to his wrist, and he bends his head to lick it off. 

His hips rut against the floor of his tent, the act of eating you out so arousing to him he has to seek his own pleasure to mitigate the pain. He doesn’t mind. He’d rather see you cum over and over again before he ever does.

He slowly thrusts his fingers into you while mouthing at your clit, delighting in your shaky breaths and wanton moans. You look gorgeous, brows screwed together, sweat beading on your temple. You’re going to wake up soon, and damnit he’ll make sure it’s while you’re cumming.

---

Warmth kindles between your thighs, pleasure and arousal pooling deep in your belly, tingling in your toes and rising through you.

Sleep drifts away from you, hanging onto the recesses of your mind, but ultimately not strong enough against the building pleasure you feel. 

You chase the feeling, the promise of sweet release. Your surroundings slowly begin to materialize around you. The feeling of your bedroll clenched between your fingers, the undeniable feeling of a mouth between your legs, the sound of low, rumbling, appreciative moans that vibrate through you.

Even the sound of your own cries are registering in your mind. 

The melting pleasure collapses into one pinpoint. A supernova explodes within you as your clit is sucked diligently while the two, long fingers buried inside you hook to press against your g-spot. 

Your back bows, eyes flying open as you cum against Gale’s warm and inviting mouth with a cry of his name. He guides you through it with gentle laps of his tongue through your folds. He mumbles words of encouragement, but they’re lost against your skin. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Gale.”

“Mm.” You can practically feel his pride radiating off of him from making you come. 

He continues to lick you through it until you’re coming again, hands fisted in his hair as his lips suck once more on your clit, his fingers fucking into you. Your legs quiver atop his shoulders, your mind utterly fucked into emptiness.

When it’s all too much you push him away, breathing heavily, contented tears in your eyes.

“Holy shit,” you huff, trying to catch your breath. “Maybe you should wake me up like that more often.”

His eyes sparkle excitedly. “If that is what you wish, I’d be glad to.” 

“You are such a giver. You really should let me take care of you sometimes.”

He shrugs. “I like giving. It brings me great pleasure to reside between your thighs for as long as you can stand.”

You sigh at his fanciful words, but you appreciate his adoration all the same. He crawls forward as you lean up to kiss him, the taste of yourself on his tongue rekindling the fire in your gut. His hand winds its way into your hair, the other squeezes your hip. 

“I need you inside me,” you whisper against his lips. “Now.” 

He groans, fingers flexing in your hair. Your body jolts with arousal at the sweet tug. 

“Say no more,” Gale says. “Your wish is my command.”

He takes off his trousers then rolls you onto your stomach. His hands grip your hips, pulling your ass up and backwards, and his knee comes between your thighs to press them apart. 

He guides the head of his cock through your slick folds and your hips squirm in anticipation.

He leans across your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “I wish you could see yourself on the battlefield. The way you look with someone else’s blood on your armor… The flush on your cheeks… The way you breathe… You’re so capable, so strong. I cannot help but stare.”

He eases his cock inside you and the two of you moan in tandem at the delightful feeling. Him, at your warmth. You, at the undeniable feeling of being filled. 

He bites lightly at your shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Sometimes I wish I could take you right there. In front of all of our friends and dead foes.”

You clench around him at his words, and he groans, hips snapping forward. You jolt against the bedroll, elbows digging into the feather down material. 

“Gale,” you whimper. 

He hums, “Yes. You’d be saying my name just. Like. That.” He delivers those three last words with hard thrusts, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the tent. 

He builds up the pace, fucking into you steadily. Your cheek squishes against your pillow as he fills you, your mind still sleepy but undeniably consumed by lust and love.

“What do you think? Would you like that, love? Would you like to be fucked in front of all our companions?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please, Gale. Need you—“

“Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs. His hand skates across your stomach as his warm fingers settle over your clit. “As much as I’d love to indulge the fantasy, I’m not sure I’d want them to watch.” 

He begins to circle your clit with reverence, in time with his thrusts as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“I want you all to myself,” he grits. 

You cry out, melting against him, knees buckling as you reach your release. It rips through you, hard and fast. Unrelenting. A wildfire raging through your nerves. 

Gale chases after his own climax, thrusts growing sloppy and deeper, moans and praises spilling from his lips before he finally cums inside you, hips twitching. 

Your body trembles as the aftershocks roll through you. 

You collapse onto the bedroll, breathing heavily, and Gale pulls you into him. You both lie on your sides, him softening inside you. He buries kisses into your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“Are you all right?” he asks you, his thumb brushing comfortingly along your rib cage. 

“So good,” you respond, brain blissfully empty, as if the tadpole never existed. You already feel sleep crawling across your mind again, pulling you under. You yawn and grin happily, like a cat that’s gotten its warm milk. 

“Going back to bed already?” he teases, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “I wear you out that much?” 

“Mhmm…”

“All right. Go to sleep darling. I’ll clean you up.”

You’re already halfway asleep when you feel his tongue dip into you once more, licking his cum out from inside you—

Oh well. You can catch up on sleep tomorrow.

Silco's genuine smiles

i've had this fantasy of like, cockwarming except there's a vibrator involved, so i'm not actually riding his cock, but i'm on it and he keeps making me cum over and over and over, just using the squeezing of my cunt to get himself off until he's too desperate to cum and he just shoves me down onto my back and pushes me into the meanest mating press and fucks me until i pass out (assuming i haven't already from the countless clitoral orgasms)

Y'all ever think about how Gale has daddy issues?

Y'all ever think about how Gale is very close to his mother?

Y'all ever think about how Gale deeply admires and respects his mother?

Y'all ever think about how Gale and Tara only talk about his mother, and not his father?

Y'all ever think about how the way Gale's father is seemingly, purposefully, never specifically mentioned implies that he walked out on Gale and Morena when Gale was young?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster was a young Gale's replacement father figure? (Gale was 8)

Y'all ever think about how Elminster, hopefully unintentionally, primed Gale for Mystra's grooming/abuse?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster used to be Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about how Gale was also Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about the fact that Gale knows Elminster used to be Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about how it was Elminster who told Gale that their ex-lover, and their literal goddess, wanted him to kill himself?

Y'all ever think about how the way Elminster told Gale their ex wanted him to kill himself was the Faerun equivalent of a video call?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster couldn't even be assed to deliver the "request" to Gale in person? (He used a simuclarion? Idk how to spell it, basically a shadow clone)

Y'all ever think about how Gale has never had a stable, healthy, normal, loving, relationship with a father figure?

Y'all ever think about how deeply and intensely Gale feels his emotions and feelings?

Y'all ever think about how Gale says he thinks he'd make a horrible father?

Y'all ever think about why Gale thinks that he wouldn't be a good father?

Y'all ever speculate on how Gale's reluctance to see himself in a paternal role might have something to do with everything mentioned above?

Because I do.

"Sure Raphael, I'll give you the crown, if you agree to read me a bedtime story..."

Art by @oniishi (Thank you so much again! Go check them out ❤)

Sullied

Day 3. He's a devil, mind the tags. Today's song is The Wolf by Phildel.

It was alien, feeling the soft squishiness of her stomach in his hands. They radiated heat, pressing insistently to keep her back flush against his body, even as he surrounded her, engulfed her entirely, folded his wings around her. She could see nothing but red, feel nothing but fire, hear nothing but the involuntary cries from her lips and the deep croon of his voice praising her.

She had long since melted into a thoughtless, selfish thing, a puppet under his hands, her ears tuned to his next command. She was hot and wet and wanting and she hated herself. She hated herself every time she came back, as he knew she would. She'd return again, repeat the cycle, return to the surface as though she weren't tainted.

Or she told herself she hated, anyway.

Here, she was no hope, no leader. Simply his.

'Oh, if they could see you now,' he growled in her ear, the vicious sharpness of his claws keeping her anchored in the present as they danced over her belly, toyed with ripping it open. 'Their supposed saviour at my mercy.' He trailed a hand up to her throat, held it tightly, fine as glass in his grip. The other wound into her hair and pulled; her screams turned to sobs of pleasure-pain, choked off with a mere flex of his fingers. 'I love hearing you cry for me,' he purred. 'You precious, beautiful little liar.'

'Don't- get used to it-' she choked out, just barely audible. 'I fucking hate you.'

He laughed, threw back his horned head and cackled joyously, released her throat and listened as she sucked in air in desperate gasps. 'I know. Don't you worry, little mouse. I won't tell anyone what you look like when you leave me. I didn't last time, either. Although...' he pulled her up, turned her head to smirk down at her. 'Perhaps this time I'll make you stay.' He crushed their lips together, invaded her mouth with a tongue that knew it by heart.

'You- can't-' she ground out between thrusts as they broke apart. 'They- they'd all-'

'Die, yes,' he whispered. 'And who would explain the reason? What would they say?'

'You- can't- keep me here-'

'The way you're taking my cock like a greedy little whore begs to differ, darling apple of my eye.'

'The last time-'

He bit down on her shoulder, lapped at her blood with lashing tongue. His hum of pleasure quaked her whole body and she came again; she'd lost count now, tears and sweat falling to the deep red covers.

'No,' he snarled as she went limp underneath him, pulling her up like she was nothing but a doll. 'You're mine. I'm done playing games, little pup. You'll return to the surface when you admit it, and not before.'

'I'll never be yours,' she whimpered, exhausted.

'Pity,' with a last hard thrust he came inside her, his weight pinning her to the bed. The devil pulled out of her, flipped her onto her back to see the blazing passion of hate in her eyes. He stroked her sweat-soaked hair off her forehead, admired his handiwork: a patchwork of bruises and bites, though she'd given as good as she got, and the soft swell of her belly filled with him, over and over and over again- spilled out between her thighs, onto the sheets. She was almost celestial like this, the radiance of her.

Sullied, again.

They both knew there would be a next time. They both knew she would not return to her friends.

If she had the energy, she might have tried... but he was whispering softly, lying as easy as breathing; she played the same game- knew they meant nothing to one another- and yet he soothed her into sleep, all the same.

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck

I need more of Astarion being an absolute undead fucking weirdo. No more suave charming elf man NO this man forgets to breathe for prolonged periods of time and randomly gasps or croaks because he can't speak without air in his lungs. He lurks in dark corners with weird reflective eyes and doesn't move until you notice him. He's SUPER into the scent of his lover and buries his face in their neck or chest while taking in a BIG snorf. He gets very affectionate when he notices his partner is on their period or is bleeding from other causes. He doesn't make noise when approaching someone and often scares the shit out of them because he just silently shows up behind them. He's addicted to the warmth of his partner and rubs his body against them like a cat. He makes animalistic grunts and moans while he feeds. He forgets to blink and just stares at people with wide eyes while they talk. He stares at his lovers pulse point instead of looking in their eyes. He growls when displeased. Sometimes he smiles just a tad too wide. He watches his lover sleep and waits for them to wake up for them to find him just staring them down, unblinking. He's a fucking freak and I love him to bits I need more weirdo Astarion.

sorry I always felt undesirable my entire life and it gave me kinks of wanting someone to desire me so extremely it's uncontrollable for them as if that's my fault

forgive me father for i have sexualized an older man

trees are very 🥺 because sometimes i’ll stand under the shade of a tree and look up at it and it’ll sway its branches about in the wind and i’m like oh my God i’m alive and YOU’RE alive. we are alive together and made up of the same starry stuff and standing right next to each other in this moment on this earth. do u feel it when i reach out and press my hand to your trunk? can you hear me? i think you’re so neat. and then the sunlight filters through its leaves just so and that lovely green color leaves me dazzled. it’s just very nice to be an alive thing next to a different sort of alive thing

so turns out I'm into some nasty shit

Calling cumming "finishing" is fine and all but like...we are not finished though. The bell does not dismiss you, I dismiss you. Sit back down.

kitten i'll be honest daddy isn't sure he's cut out for full time employment

Giggly sex where you say “you’re so good to me” as you laugh and it makes your partner growl and nip at your lip and when they pull back they say “let me show you how good”

Exception

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

5.8 wc

Synopsis: You never bothered with Suguru's crush on you, knowing it would fade. After meeting him again years later, you make the horrible discovery that his feelings for you have only festered.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, murder of a side character, slight gore, violence, rape/noncon, vaginal fingering, piv sex, unsafe sex)

When you were in your first year of college, you got a part-time job at a nearby cafe. 

It was easy work. Make coffee. Bake some pastries. Attend to the customers. Nothing too unmanageable. It was an insignificant part of your life. 

Then, Gojo and Geto came along.

Insufferably annoying. Especially, the loud one. They always caused a havoc in the cafe, often to the point where the manager had to physically kick them out. It was a turbulent two weeks, until one day you promised them if they kept it down, you'd let them try a few of your experimental pastries. 

Really, it was your own damn fault. They started coming every day after that, mostly to bother you. The only reason management hadn't outright banned them was probably because Gojo made 50% of their entire revenue. 

You warmed up to them eventually. Your fake smiles turned into more amused ones because of their antics. Once or twice, they'd get a good laugh out of you. You've heard rumors of a private, religious highschool nearby. You always assumed they were a byproduct of that. 

Eventually, Gojo becomes Satoru. Geto becomes Suguru. Nice kids, if not a bit overzealous. Despite refusing to hang out with them after work, you had to admit, you grew a bit attached to them. You found yourself asking about their day, hiding sweets for the two of them, sometimes you'd even let them steal a croissant or two. 

You bet the reason they hung around you was because, to them, you were some cool college student. Secretly, you found it a little flattering. Some days, their friendship was the highlight of your shift. It's clear Satoru is always the instigator, always looking like he's about to bounce off the walls (you have told him to lay off the sugar), it's not like Suguru was any better. He tried to act like he was the more refined part of the friendship. He often fails, at least in your eyes. 

It becomes pretty apparent that Suguru had a crush on you. You're not sure when exactly you started to notice the bashful looks, the slight flush on his cheeks whenever you accidentally brush his hand, the fact that he visits far more often (even though Satoru has the sweet-tooth) but you can't unsee it now. It doesn't help that Satoru looks downright giddy whenever his friend talks to you, barely controlling his giggles in the background. His reaction and Suguru's irritation often start a few skirmishes right outside the cafe doors. You've told them multiple times to take their fights in the alley at least. They never listened. 

For his sake, you don't acknowledge it, already knowing what it is. A schoolyard crush. Harmless, it'll pass. Eventually, when you're a distant memory to them, Satoru will tease him about it and Suguru will give a playful elbow nudge. Much to your relief, Suguru doesn't pull you to the side and confess. He's refined, in that way, never giving too much until you have the evidence and clues yourself. 

It continued like that for months. And then, something changed. 

They stopped coming around as much. Daily visits turned weekly. Weekly turned to every so often. Their energy felt off too. Satoru seemed the same as always, if not a bit more mellowed out. It was Suguru you mainly worried for. Each time he returned, he looked worse and worse. Darker circles. Eyes filled with exhaustion. 

You pull him aside eventually, asking if anything is going on, asking if he's okay, asking if he wants to talk. As sincerely as you can, you tell him that you're here for him. He at least attempts to smile at that. When you press, he shakes his head. 

"It's nothing," you both know he's lying, "it's just....it's nice to see that there is one exception." 

A little while after that, they stop coming entirely. You notice, but you aren't able to focus on it. School gets harder, you're cutting back your work to focus on it. You don't even recognize Satoru at first when he walks in nearly a year later. 

He's different. So much taller. Despite being a few years younger than you...he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. An easygoing smile is pulled on his face when he sees you, giving a lazy wave. You return it, though a bit hesitant. He talks to you as though no time has passed at all, asking what you made for him this time. He talks fast. His voice is too laid back. Too casual. Like he's avoiding something. You think you know what. 

"Where's Suguru?" you ask when you glance behind Satoru for the third time, "I haven't seen him around lately." 

He freezes, like he's been dreading that question ever since he came in. Finally, he shrugs, making a noncommital hum. His sunglasses obscure his eyes but it isn't enough to hide how cold he suddenly turned. Satoru seems to realize that too. His answer is pulled by reluctance. 

"We don't talk anymore." He doesn't say anything more. You don't need him to.

When he pulls out his wallet, you tell him it's on the house. He looks at you then. His mouth opens, searching for the right words. He waits too long. His mask slips back into place. 

Gojo grins at you, painfully fake. 

"Take care of yourself, will ya?" 

You never see him again after that. You know it's your fault. 

You think about them every so often when you can, Suguru especially. He rests in the back of your mind like an old piece of furniture you can't bring yourself to throw out. Suguru sometimes haunts your dreams with his darkened eyes and the pure brokenness on his face. For some reason, you think you failed him somehow. You felt like you could have done more. Maybe, if you'd tried harder to reach out, things would have been different. Two boys wouldn't be utterly heartbroken. 

Years pass by. You quit working at the cafe. You graduate college. You move cities. You get a job. Eventually, you settle into a nice apartment. You forget all about your days in that quaint little restaurant, your attention hogged by a couple of annoying high schoolers. You don't think about Satoru for years. You don't think about Suguru for years. 

Until one day, when he calls your name in the street. 

He was bigger now, towering over you with broad shoulders. His hair was longer, darker too, less of a green, more black. He's ditched his school uniform, trading it for a more casual outfit. It's his face that makes you hesitate before you use your voice, that same smile, physically at least. He looks the same, but then he doesn't. 

"...Suguru?" It's a question because you're still not sure. 

He smiles wider. 

"Long time, huh?" 

Somehow, your reunion culminates in a restaurant. You still feel out of it, somehow, like you're watching yourself in an out-of-body experience. Between the food and him, you're not sure if you can even believe it. 

He tells you he heads a temple now. A pious man. You shouldn't be surprised, considering his education, but you never knew he was so invested in religion. The two of you converse about other meaningless things. The conversation becomes less stilted. More sincere. You learned your lesson from last time. You don't bring up Satoru unless he does. 

Much to your disappointment, he doesn't. 

Compared to yours, his life is so crazy. Not just with the temple. Suguru tells you he's a father now too. Adopted two little girls. He's barely 22. You can barely hold your disbelief, shaking your head as you take another sip of your coffee. 

"In any case," you say when the conversation draws to a lull, "I'm just really glad you're happy, Suguru. You deserve it." 

When Suguru gives you a questioning look, you continue. 

"The last time we saw each other, you looked miserable." 

 His eyes widen in realization before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Deep, rich like chocolate. 

"Back then, I was going through a lot." He sighs. "I was figuring out what I wanted. It...it was a tough time for me." 

You nod along, hoping you aren't forcing him to pry. However, the Suguru you're faced with now doesn't seem like that type of person anymore. He won't give if you press. He talks on his own terms. You never once thought of him as a pushover, but he's less open now. Perhaps it's because he's no longer a child. 

Suguru smiles then, a little more sincere than his first. 

"You know...I've always wanted to thank you." 

You tilt your head. "What for?" 

He plays with his empty cup like he's searching for the answer himself. "You gave me hope when no one else did. Everyone was so quick to tell me if I was wrong or right."

He leans back on his chair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, "Other humans, they're always so enraptured by their own lives. You were the only person who reached out. At least, who cared enough to." 

The guilt from years ago slipped back into your throat. So he had been suffering. You should have done more. He was just a kid. They both had been. You could have done something. Maybe you could have saved a little more.

His hand finds yours on the table. They're rough, calloused. You can feel the scars. He squeezes your fingers. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, "For being an exception." 

You squeeze back. 

It's a tumultuous friendship, at first. It's much like a burn. Sensitive, it hurts at first. The wound is too fresh. Eventually, dead skin and memories fade away. You find yourself texting him. Once a week. Maybe a little more, if you get brave enough. 

Once, he sends you a picture of a white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

looks like Satoru, he types. 

(You stare at the caption for a long longer than necessary.)

It does, you send back.

You visit his temple once. He invited you, actually. A free tour, he had joked. It was beautiful. A large expansive garden filled with all types of flowers. The courtyard felt like it stretched for miles. That was just the outskirts of the temple. The building was something else entirely. A large ceiling. Expansive walls. White pillars that keep going higher and higher and higher. 

You notice his followers are everywhere. Most carry the same smile on their face. Bright, happy, cheery, but too strained. Like it's a job for them. It feels weird to say, but he fits nicely here. You think that because this wasn't the place you thought Suguru would end up. He dons the traditional clothing perfectly. Like they were made for him. They probably were, considering how high his reputation was. 

If he hadn't had the same face, the same hair color. You wouldn't have recognized him at all. He's managed to replace every single thing in his life with something new. It doesn't go unnoticed by you that you're the only thing he keeps from the past. A momento of sorts. You're a keepsake, for him. You don't mind the symbolism. You've always been easily flattered. 

You just failed to realize that not all of his feelings had changed. 

It was in front of your house. After, yet another visit to the temple (much at Suguru's insistence), he'd offered to walk you home. You would have declined if it wasn't so dark out. In the end, you accept his offer. 

"The girls have come to like you," Suguru says after a lull of pleasant silence. When you glance at him, you find his eyes on you. 

"Have they?" you prod. 

In all honestly, you didn't think they liked you at all at first. You don't have that much experience with young children, but you found it odd how unnerved Nanako and Mimiko seemed to get around you, practically hiding behind their father's figure, peeking out with untrusting eyes. Suguru had to gently coax them out with soft words, insisting that you were a close friend of his, you were 'different'. 

"Yes, they talk about you all the time," he continues, rolling his eyes in affection, "Mimiko especially gets very animated." 

Your heart skips a beat at his answer. You never felt one way or the other about children, but it felt nice when two little girls felt so highly about you. Those two especially. 

"It must be from all the sweets I bribed them with," you say, jokingly, "Please tell me I didn't cause them any stomach aches." 

He laughs, light and pretty. 

"It's not that," he responds, "it's because of you, mostly. You're different from the others."

You smile, but it's half-hearted, an attempt more than anything. It takes you a while for you to work up for the question. For some reason, you feel a bit nervous, like you're stepping on something you shouldn't be. 

"Different," you start, "you keep saying that. What does that mean? What am I different from?" 

He stops, just at the entrance of your flat. Suguru's fingers drum on his pants. You stare at him. He stares right back. 

"You are different, in so many different ways," he says, though it feels as though he's speaking to himself, rather than you. 

He takes a step forward. Tiny, he barely even moved. And yet, the distance between the two of you has vanished completely. 

"You've always been. Different from everyone else. The only one." You can't tell if he cut himself off, or if there was truly nothing else to say. 

It was barely a kiss. His lips brushed against yours, barely touching. Soft, like he cherished you the most out of all his possessions. The gentleness of it all is enough for you to freeze. 

Then his hand curls around your waist, and you jolt back into your body. 

You splay your hands on his chest, pushing him away until you have enough momentum to step back. His loose hold on you falls away. You can't look at him, even when you can feel his stare burn into you. 

"Suguru," you say, because you're mind is still running to catch up to your heart, "I-we-" 

Your name being called stops your babbling. You don't think he saw, god you hoped he hadn't. When you look over, he's smiling, so you don't think he did. He was never one to hide his feelings. Still, you step away from Suguru, ignoring how stiff the man had become. 

"Hey," you say, mostly out of relief because you couldn't deal with this anymore. When he wraps you into a hug and a chaste kiss, you wordlessly accept. Suguru's gaze on your back only gets stronger. 

"Who's this?" he asks, gesturing at Suguru. Your smile falters as you glance at Suguru. His face was blank. He wasn't even smiling anymore as he continued to stare at your man. 

"A friend," you say before Suguru can make this already worse, "and he was just leaving." 

"Oh," he says, before smiling down at you. Delightfully oblivious. 

"We'll talk later, okay Suguru?" You send Suguru a hurried smile before dragging him into your shared flat. 

You lock the door behind you. He says something just then, you laugh, trying so hard not to sense Suguru's presence through the door. You don't think he leaves. Not for a good long while. 

You don't speak to Suguru, after that. 

You wince whenever you see his name through your contact list now, as though even seeing a remnant of him is painful. You don't go to the temple anymore. Your communication with the girls turns nonexistent. 

Suguru hasn't said anything to you either. The line has grown dead both ways. 

You feel guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault, you still can't help but wonder if you could have done something different. Did you do something that made him think you were interested? You probably had, knowing how unaware you could be, sometimes. You couldn't help but feel ecstatic when the two of you reconnected again. You'd been so excited for Suguru, happy for him because he'd finally found his way. You didn't know he still liked you after all these years. It was a schoolyard crush, at least, it was supposed to be.

Looking back, you didn't think you'd even told Suguru that you were already seeing someone. One blunder after a blunder. 

It must have been embarrassing for him, you can't help but think. Even when he was younger, Suguru had always held onto his pride dearly. You don't know if your friendship could ever be the same after this, but you'd like to extend the olive branch. If he'd take it. 

You tell your boyfriend about the incident eventually. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. He takes it well, once you explain, looking at you sweetly. 

"I could tell something was going on between you and him," he says, "but thanks for telling me." 

"You aren't mad?" you ask, half-afraid of the answer. 

"At you? Course not. Him, however"- he made a swing motion with his fist "-he does something like that again and I'll punch his lights out." 

You laugh, knowing it's a joke, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He beams. 

It takes a week of radio silence to forget about the mishap. You're humming a song you've forgotten the lyrics to when you arrive at your apartment. Your boyfriend said that he was coming home early tonight. You'd planned something quiet for the evening. A movie, cheap drinks. 

"Welcome home." Suguru grins. You freeze. 

He sits on the couch, splayed out like he belonged there. He's not wearing his priest garment, now garbed with a simple shirt and jeans. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you're looking at. Slowly, you close the door behind you. 

"Hey," you say, hoping your tone doesn't indicate just off-put by this encounter you are.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind your reluctance. 

"He let me in." Suguru points to somewhere behind you. Oh, your boyfriend is probably in the bathroom. "He was such a nice man. You were very lucky." 

"Thank you," you find yourself saying, "I am." 

His smile grows bigger, and you wonder if there's a joke you aren't let in on. Like he's saying something that's going right above your head. 

When you take a glance behind you, your partner is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if you should say something to Suguru right now. Mend the bridge that's shattered between you. Currently, he seemed to be in a good mood. 

"Suguru," you start, taking a tiny step forward. You twiddle with your fingers. 

"Listen, I'm really sorry for how things went the last time we met. I just-" He hushes you, putting a finger to his lips. 

"You shouldn't air out your affairs in front of him like that," he tells you, "you might hurt his feelings." 

What? You look behind you again. Nothing. 

Suguru laughs. It sounds off. Wordlessly, he points behind you again but angles his finger a tiny bit higher. You follow his direction. 

Immediately, you wish you hadn't. 

He's in pieces, scattered all over the ceiling. A hand is above the door, a leg is above the kitchen. It's like his appendages were chopped before being glued onto the ceiling. There's no blood, just body parts. 

The worst part was that he was still alive. His head was still attached to his torso, the only part of him that was still intact. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and it took you a second that he was trying to tell you something. Repeating a word over and over. 

Run. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you continue to stare up at him. What was left of him. You think your knees are threatening to give before Suguru's holding you up. You can feel him lead you towards the couch, sitting you down in the plush mattress. He curls an arm around you, letting out a sigh.

"I meant what I said." Suguru adjusts your hair. "He was such a nice man, for a monkey anyway."

It doesn't occur to you that Suguru had done this until he speaks. You'd known Suguru said he performed exorcisms in his temple. You didn't-you couldn't-

"You?" you can barely push the wavering words out, "you-how-Suguru-" 

He hushes you, drawing you closer to his body. You're completely dwarfed by him as he rests his head on your neck, breathing in your scent. You are barely coherent, sucking in air as your voice dissolves into sobs. 

"I would have liked it if things hadn't turned out this way," he sighs, "but I don't believe it would have turned out any differently." 

His tone is almost pitying. 

"You may be the exception, but you are still one of them. Unaware of the true hierarchy." Suguru hums. 

"That's alright. It wasn't your fault. You were simply born this way," he continues, "I don't mind teaching you." 

You wiggle, trying your hardest to get out of his grip. Suguru only clicks his tongue. A harsh grip on your waist is enough to still you. You can't understand what's going on, maybe you never will, but you know one thing. You let a monster back into your life. Geto Suguru was not the same person you knew when you were younger. 

Or perhaps, he was always this way. He was just better at hiding it, back then. 

"I'm sorry," you finally let out, "Suguru, I'm-I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever-whatever you want. Anything just please please please-" 

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him," Suguru doesn't sound too apologetic, "though, I could put him out of his pain. Would you like that?" 

You didn't need him to elaborate. Suguru would kill him. Or perhaps he was already dead. His moving eyes, his twitching lips, were all just muscle memory. The last of his brain synapses. There was no science, no magic, that could bring him back from this. 

And maybe, that tiny selfish part of you wanted to stop seeing his mangled body. 

You nod and you can feel Suguru's grin. He snaps his fingers. The thing disappears, vanishes into mist. 

"All gone!" Suguru declares. "There. Isn't that better?" 

You wince when he touches your face, brushing away the tears. You're too scared to do anything more. You don't fight when he kisses your neck. You don't fight when he kisses your jaw. You don't fight when he kisses your lips. 

It's with the same gentleness as the last time he'd kissed you, right outside of your apartment. Soft, warm, loving. 

You start sobbing then. Ugly, heaving, heartbroken. He takes it in stride, humming as he pushes your body down until your back is pressed on the couch. His lips brush your damp cheek. 

"There's no need to be afraid." Through your tears, you can see him smiling down at you. "The worst has passed. I'll take care of you from now on." 

The worst part about all of this is how honest he sounds. Like he truly believes he's doing this for your good. It makes you wonder who the delusional one is. Him or you. 

He's tuts in sympathy as you lay there, shivering underneath him.

"You must be so confused, poor thing." He tilts his head, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. "I should explain, shouldn't I? Unfortunately, I'm more interested in other things right now."

You must look horrible, but Suguru doesn't seem to mind, bending down, melding your lips with his. He sighs, like he'd waited eons for this. You stiffen when you feel his hands play with the band of your skirt. As if he can feel your beginnings of struggle, he pulls back, staring you down. Brown, almost black, eyes peer down at you. There's a hint of a warning curling on his lip. 

You still immediately. If he could do that, what could he do to you?

"None of that," he chides, and yet he's so painfully gentle about it, "be good." 

What was he? How did he do this? How could he? You want to ask them all but you can only get one out when you lift your head, getting your voice to work. 

"Why?" 

You don't know what you're asking. He clearly does. Another soft smile. You wish you could tear it off his face. 

"You were always the exception, even back then," He says quietly into the stale air of the apartment. His eyes drift and you wonder if he's remembering the you all those years ago, secretly passing pastries to him and Satoru, giggling at jokes only a highschooler could make. "The only one of the humans who didn't utterly disgust me." 

Fingers reach for the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your bare legs. 

"And it's natural, isn't it? To protect the exceptions, the rarities of the world," he says, "To keep them away from the impure." 

You start crying again. He patiently hushes you, kissing away your tears. This time, you don't bother putting up a fight. You just squeeze your eyes closed, flinching when he reaches to your inner thighs, feeling the cotton of your panties. His breath hitches. So does yours. 

He bypasses the cloth with two dexterous fingers. When he touches the skin, you flinch, trying to squeeze your thighs closed. It doesn't help. Suguru leans forward, you can feel his breath on your cheek as you shiver underneath him. He finds your clit, teasing it with a calloused thumb. You think you're mouthing it, even when you can't bring yourself to say it. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me. 

He doesn't listen. You don't know if he heard it or not. It didn't matter, either way. It wasn’t like he was planning to stop.

Despite how much you don’t want this, your body doesn’t listen. His touch is gentle, soothing on your pussy despite the horrors you’ve seen him do. It doesn’t take long for your cunt to adjust, dripping.

There’s a satisfied sigh above you and you know Suguru had felt it too.

One finger pushes into you. You gasp, curling your back, unprepared but Suguru’s giving a pleasant hum, easing you into it. Despite how humiliating this entire situation is, your one reprieve is being able to bury your head into his neck, keeping yourself there as he continues to have his way with your body. You can feel him kiss the crown of your head, an action that completely juxtapositions another finger entering your wet hole.

He’s gentle, but not slow. He fingerfucks you with earnestness, curling his fingers when your walls tighten around him. Your crying is interrupted by the reluctant moans and gasps every time he presses deeper into you, finding a spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You bit your lip, keeping the noises inward. He tuts at that.

“Don’t be shy,” he coos in your ear, “it’s okay to enjoy it. I want you to.”

As if to highlight his words, he gives another particularly intense push, you wince when you can hear the wet squelch of his fingers.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Suguru asks, “I could always be this nice with you.” You let out a squeak when his thumb presses against your clit, unable to keep it in. Suguru gives a breathy laugh.

His other hand starts to explore, reaching up to your button-up, flicking them off with a single-experienced hand. The bra you wore is barely seductive, but Suguru’s tracing the ends of it anyway, touching the fabric just by your skin before pushing the undergarment down.

Whether it’s from the air or his fingers fucking your pussy, your tits are already sensitive. You let out a breathy whine when Suguru grips on of them too hard, squeezing the fat in his large hands.

“So sweet for me.” You can hear the smile on his lips.

Everything becomes too much, and before you can think, your hand is shooting down, grabbing onto his wrist, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Your other is pushing against his shoulder. He barely seemed to even notice, holding you down with his weight, thrusting in his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Suguru I-” It’s supposed to be another plea for him to stop, but your weak voice calling out his name only seems to excite him further. His thumb dances on your swollen clit, his fingers never relenting until he’s pushing you higher and higher until you fall.

White hot electric pleasure snaps within you, forcing your body to jolt, as you curl up from the sofa. You think he’s saying something, words of comfort as though he could be any crueler, but you’re not listening. You came so hard you almost forget where you are, who you’re with. You can feel Suguru watching until you fall against the cushion again, utterly spent. Your grip slackens against his wrist, before falling away completely.

“See? Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?” You don't even have the energy to glare at him.

He’s giving another laugh, kissing your cheek before he’s leaning back. His fingers slip out of you, and then there’s a sucking sound. You can’t help it, blinking open your eyes. Suguru stares back at you, eyes half-mast, a pink tongue flicking out to lick at his fingers before he puts them in his mouth completely, swallowing down the evidence of your orgasm. A lewd moan escapes him, muffled. You once again wished you hadn’t looked.

You’re already expecting it, but you still flinch when you hear the zipper loud and clear. He moves his jeans low enough to pull out his cock. He’s already hard, a bead of precum right at the tip as he gives a few cursory pumps. He’s big, you blearily realize. Despite the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just given you, you doubt it’d be enough to even take him.

“It won’t fit,” you find yourself whispering.

Suguru just hums in acknowledgement, giving you a knowing look as he finishes tugging off your panties. The fabric slides off your shaking leg before dropping onto the carpeted floor.

It’s too late for a fight, but you’re rising anyway, pressing your hands against the cushions, trying to create some space. Suguru is quick to shut it down again, leaning back into you as he palms himself some more.

“You’ll be alright,” he assures but it doesn’t help the panic the fear in your soul, “I cherish you too much to break you.”

With little effort, he spreads your thighs. His cock rubs against you once, twice, before entering your throbbing pussy.

Already it’s too much. He’s thick, stretching out your walls, threatening to rip you in half. You close your eyes again, squeezing them shut as the pain starts to edge a little too close to bloody. Helpless, your hand finds his shoulder, not pushing but digging your nails into his shirt. He purrs when you grip him tighter, moving until he’s seated fully into you.

He stays like that, keeping himself there as your walls squeeze him tighter. It’s almost a relief that it ended, but now, he’s taken everything.

“Look at me.”

His voice is rough, almost a rasp, an order. You find yourself obeying. Through your tears, you blink up at him, finding his gaze.

He stares down at you, a look of satisfaction in his eyes and you don’t think you are yours anymore.

He pulls back, your cunt tries to suck him back in, but he drags his cock out anyway until only his head is barely inside.

“Perfect,” Suguru murmurs as though it’s a secret not even you should hear, “absolutely perfect.”

You cry out when he pushes back in. It’s a gentle pace, slow and steady like he’s easing you into it. He’s being kind, you finally realize, a thought that makes your skin crawl. It’s so much worse than if he had been nasty. Harsh and biting with thrusts that would make your body sore and weak afterwards. If he was abusive, not caring about you, just his own pleasure. You wish Suguru was being mean, being cruel. At least then, you wouldn’t like it.

Despite the unexpected size, your body is adjusting. Pain ripples into reluctant pleasure, numbing your mind as his hips meet yours. It gets even worse when Suguru leans down, biting and sucking at your tits, enough for there to leave a mark. Something that will bruise and remind you of what he did.

“You don’t know how long I wanted this,” he’s saying somewhere above you but your head is swimming and you can’t focus where you want to, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

Suguru sits up again, grabbing one of your legs, hiking your hips up so his cock can go that much deeper inside of you. You babble something that you yourself can’t decipher. Suguru’s lips curl into another painfully soft smile.

“Ever since highschool,” he’s confessing like he’s a sinner and you’re his God but you know that isn’t true because what sort of god would be humiliated like this? “Remember that apron you wore?”

His hand reaches over, spreading over your pussy, stretching the fatty part of your cunt so he can have a better view of him disappearing inside of you.

“I always wondered what you’d look like wearing nothing but that on, spread out on the counter for me.”

He flicks your clit, and for the second time that day, you can feel yourself crashing. As though he can sense it, his thrusts shorten, grinding against your pussy and there’s a hand catching your chin, forcing you to look.

Suguru’s smile is gone, replaced by a snarl that promises to eat you alive. His eyes are blown wide, and he’s gritting his teeth, barely holding control by a hair.

“Come for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but listen.

You stutter in his grasp, arching your back, cumming with a breathy whine. It’s like a tide, pushing you out into sea, refusing to take you in. Unconsciously, the leg he holds tightens around his waist as you pulse around his cock.

He follows after, barely holding himself together, not when your cunt is milking him for all its’ worth. There’s a few particularly harsh thrusts before something warm and sticky fills your battered pussy before he's falling into you, pressing your body against the soft cushions.

You lay there, panting with him on top of you. Slowly, you come back to yourself, feeling your arms your legs. Your brain resets, and you’re suddenly remembering that you have a murderer’s cock inside of you.

Suguru’s face is buried in your neck. He gives a shaky kiss to your jaw; another on the corner of your lips. You can only stare at the ceiling, where the remnants of a body used to be.

"You know, the girls have always wanted a mother," Suguru's saying into your skin.

"I'm sure they will be very pleased with my choice."

𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬.

 pairing. anakin skywalker x f!reader 

synopsis. anakin finds loopholes in the jedi code.

warnings. 18+. this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. cock warming, p in v penetration but no movement. whimper-y anakin, if you move i'll leave the jedi order type beat.  

an. just a little something i wrote for the kinktober i never did. I thought i'd post instead of letting it collect dust in my drafts. the prompt was cockwarming! hope i did anakin justice<3 pls comment & reblog.

You find him at the window.

Sitting, with his thighs open and chest bare, staring out into the abyss. The night glints at the beads of sweat sliding down his chest, and his fingers drum endlessly against his thighs.

He heard you wake up, so he’s expecting your company, and has leaned back against the chair – thin black gown falling open – ready for you to climb all over him.

It happens often.

It’s not uncommon to wake up without him.

Most nights, you startle out of your slumber – as if even asleep, you’d sensed a shift – and blink at the space on the mattress beside you.

Finding him was easy.

You pad through the living room and wordlessly reach him in his post-nightmare state. His hair is tousled, sculpted chest is slick with sweat -- there’s an energy vibrating off of him, and you can taste it in the air.

Stepping behind him, you gently run the tips of your fingers over his shoulders, and the whirlpool in Anakin’s belly settles for a second. When you move into frame, it’s gone completely, replaced by a warm heat that has roots. He breathes a smile.

“Like clockwork.”

You give him a sheepish grin in return and fiddle with the fabric of your small nightgown. There’s a moment where Anakin gets to look at you – all sleepy and cuddly – and he’s ready to escape with you off of this forsaken planet.

His will holds strong.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” he asks, raising a scarred brow, and despite your groggy state, you still manage to roll your eyes. Stepping closer, you use his broad shoulders as anchors to slip onto his lap.

“Don’t make that face,” Anakin hushes, and while you settle back onto his thighs, his metal hand comes up. He traces the line of your jaw, “You know I let you do what you want.”

His spare hand steadies your hips, and it’s still warm from his lightsaber. Calloused fingers run over your skin, reminding you of the fight that’s leaving scars – the war that’s brewing, both inside and outside of his mind.

In moments like this, though, there’s a subtle calm.

An impenetrable force that hums over the pair of you.

You lean into his palm and whisper, “Not everything.”

There’s a haunted edge to your gaze, and your words are loaded. Anakin knows what you mean, knows all the intricacies of your subtle dig, and yet, he still manages to smile.

Well, smirk.

“What do you want? Just say the word.”

You wouldn’t, and Anakin knows that. He’s caught your bluff, and you manage a bashful smile before gently leaning forward, dragging your hips against his lap.  

Anakin’s cloth-covered thigh nestles against the thin fabric of your underwear. Your smile falters, lips parting. You push your forehead against his, and whisper, “If I say the words, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I know,” he breathes, “I know.”

I want more.

A life together, not stolen moments when the sun is down.

An attachment. A bond.

But it’s forbidden.

It’s why it can’t go any further than this.

“What’d you dream about?” you wonder. Anakin pulls his eyes away from you, instead looking to where his thigh sits. The silence is your answer.

“I’ll still ask, even if you never tell.”

He takes hold of your bare thighs, rubbing his hands up and down, and you hum his name, reaching out to push his hair behind his ears.

“Pretty boy.”

“Stop it,” he huffs, cheeks reddening.

But how can you? When he’s all sharp lines and long hair. You run your hands up the bare panes of his muscular chest, feeling the deft of his muscles, and the dampness on his skin.

The air changes – hums electric – and it buzzes as you push his gown off his shoulders.

Carefully, you lean forward and place a chaste kiss against his collarbone.

“That’s better.”

Anakin hums a laugh. His hands snake around to your lower back, dig into the fat of your ass, and using the grip there, he gently rocks you forward once, forcing your clothed cunt to drag against his muscular thigh.

You whimper. It’s quiet, but Anakin can hear it, even if it’s muffled by his shoulder.

“’ S’what you came out here for, huh?” he whispers. The electric flooding through the walls hums, but the room is still eerily silent. Anakin’s voice is a roar.

You lick your lips and drag your face up to see him. “No,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss against his top lip, “I like being with you, even if we don’t do this.”

Anakin has to close his eyes. Words like those are fuel to the fire brimming in his chest, and it doesn’t help that you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the tail end of his hair.

Arching your back, you slowly roll backwards, then forward, teasing the bulge between his legs.

Releasing a shaky breath, you repeat the motion, again, and again, near humping his leg.  

A familiar ache begins to swell, coiling between your thighs and up into your belly. It makes you clench around nothing, and you mewl quietly, wishing for more – always wishing for more.

Still, you continue, slick pooling into your underwear and against his thigh.

Anakin can’t look at you. If he sees your face, his resolve will falter.

His nerves are shot. If he couldn’t feel how wet you are, he could smell it, and it makes a groan bristle behind his teeth.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck and busies himself with kissing at the soft shell of your throat, careful not to leave marks.

Once, you left a mouth-shaped mark against his stomach, and he looked at it every day for a week.

Caught himself with his top up in the mirror looking at the reflection, eyeing the way the mark sat on the firm lines of muscle, fading away with time.

A dark part of him wanted the mark on the slope of his neck.

“Wanna be inside of you.”

His admission rests heavily against your throat, and you’re thankful that he can’t see the way you clench your eyes closed.

Though, he does feel you tighten your grip on the back of his head. Feels you shift up against his thigh, and the warmth pooling in your underwear burns against him.  

He can sense you’re hesitant.

“’ can be like last time. Just – Just --” he stutters, licking his lips and struggling to release the words from the back of his throat. Finally, he manages. “--Sit on it.”

“Anakin.”

He pulls away from your neck and looks up at you.

“We can use it as an exercise.”

A laugh bursts from your throat, “To test your will?”

He smiles, and because you have to, you push your cunt against his crotch, uttering, “Want me to make It difficult for you?” and white flashes through Anakin’s eyes.

He grabs your hips to steady you, tensely pushing his fingers into your skin.

“Hardest challenge I’ll ever encounter.”

“You eager to impress?”

He kisses your jaw, “Don’t I always?”

“Mm,” you hum, cradling his chin. You shift back so he can pull his trousers down, and when you take his cock in your hand, he melts. His commanding aura switches for a moment, and you watch Anakin still his breathing.

You push your underwear to the side, and as you lift yourself to sink onto him, Anakin breathes, “Just the tip – just a little bit, j-just—” and he chokes on his words, gasping as you brush the leaking head of his cock through your folds.

You halt. Whimper. Have to grip his shoulder to steady yourself, or you’ll push him inside of you all at once and hurt yourself.

You inhale steadily.

“Have to – have to go slow,” you spurt, trying to calm your tremors.  

“It’s been a while since…”

You don’t have to finish your sentence. Anakin knows, and he feels a mix of pride and guilt. Only me, he thinks, and then, like a flash, only me, he swallows. And I can’t give her everything.

This. This is as far as it’ll go. He knows he’s pushing it. Knows that he’s come up with some convoluted rule to both have his cake and eat it too.

If he fucks you the way he wants to, he’ll fall in love with you. As if it hasn’t happened already.

Anakin has made lying to himself a speciality.

You push against him once more, and the tip of his cock nudges between your folds, forcing an ache to shoot through your clit and make you dizzy. You stop. Pause and curse yourself.

A slow burn builds in your thighs, and you clench down to try and mediate the burn. Anakin grunts.

“Maker,” he utters. “Sorry—” you splutter, sucking in a tight breath.

Anakin wraps his metal arm around the back of your hips, hoping to steady you. “Lemme,” he mumbles, and gently, he flexes his hips up, slowly feeding his cock into your soaked pussy.  

Your lower abdomen immediately burns.  

He’s being calm about it – using all his training – but there’s nothing calm about the words trickling out of his mouth.

“Oh stars,” he groans, voice wrecked, “You gonna take all of me, sweet girl? Gonna let me fill you up?”

When you finally sink to the hilt, your resolve snaps. The pair of you moan out in unison, loud and high-pitched.

Anakin buries his face in your chest, and the heat of his mouth against your breasts adds to the tension coiling in your belly.

“Don’t – don’t move,” he grunts, and you shake your head, “I won’t – I’ll come on your cock if I do,” and you don’t mean to say it like that, don’t mean for the words to come out like that, but you feel Anakin pulse from inside of you, warm and hard and wet.

He manages to laugh.

“Tryna kill me,” he shakily breathes, shaking his head. His wet lips brush against your breasts, and you want more – want all that he can give you – so you clutch the back of his head, pulling him closer, hoping he gets the message.

His wet kisses make your skin prickle.

You’re full up. Can feel him stretching you out, this feeling something that’s only happened a few times before.

“If you move,” Anakin begins, out of breath, “I’ll leave the Jedi order and spend my days inside of you.”

“Don’t t-tempt me.”

He laughs, and you accidentally clench around him, causing him to groan deep and long against your tits.

“If you do that again, I’ll come inside of you.”

You imagine it. Imagine him spilling out, the wet white of it dripping out of your cunt and back onto his cock, and the mere image of it has your clit throbbing.

Keep still. Don’t move.

But he wraps his tongue around your nipple and begins to suck.

You cry out, and all of your muscles tighten, forcing you to clench tight around his cock. Anakin jolts and whines your name against your tits.

“S’your fault,” you mewl, moaning. You hang your head back, “Stars, Anakin.”

“Try and stay still,” he mumbles, and you stutter a laugh, “Impossible.”

“It can’t be,” he responds, and while he speaks in jest, his words are sincere. The line between love and lust runs thin, and if Anakin is being honest with himself, it’s close to snapping.

under discussed astarion fact is that he's sooooo obnoxious about publicly showing affection for his partner. like when durge refers to themself as a leaking blood bag he goes "aww, but you're *my* leaking blood bag". if you hiss at that cat he says "well, at least you purr for me ;)". the full on two handed ass grab during his kiss animation. the man cannot keep his hands to himself or his mouth shut

Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up. 

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel? 

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out. 

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale. 

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out. 

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant. 

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you. 

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions -  but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own. 

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad. 

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going. 

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear. 

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope. 

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.” 

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest. 

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him. 

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction. 

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair. 

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more. 

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever. 

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines. 

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.” 

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood? 

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him? 

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising. 

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth. 

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours. 

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time. 

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again. 

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want. 

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it. 

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.  

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture. 

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same. 

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy. 

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.” 

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates. 

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale. 

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you. 

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea. 

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering. 

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him. 

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

Following Instructions

[Explicit] AO3

Silco x f!reader, BDSM, Smut, Established Relationship, Impact Play, Spanking, Sex Toys, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Dom Silco, Dom/sub, Praise Kink, degradation kink, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Aftercare

Word count: 3.7k

Inspired by an impact play session/demo I got to enjoy this weekend, I wrote a Silco/reader fic. Thanks to my bestie for the lesson and my husband for indulging me and learning alongside me.

Silco does not take kink lightly. If you cannot follow his rules, he will not indulge you in your fantasies. You try impact play for the first time with your pain and pleasure entrusted to his practiced hands.

"Knees on the bench, elbows on the bed."

Standing in Silco's bedroom, your body buzzes with anticipation and anxiety. You've been wanting to try this for a while, but wanting and actually doing are two very different things.

A bench with a red velvet cushion on top of it sits at the foot of Silco's bed. When you kneel on top of it and bend over as instructed, you realize just how perfect the position and height is for both of you for this activity. Makes sense, given that's the exact reason he has such a piece of furniture.

The cushion is soft against your knees, but not nearly as soft as the thick comforter that lay across Silco's bed. Rich textures tickle your forearms and your palms as you get into position.

"Now repeat to me what we're doing."

Silco's voice is even, a calmness that comes with the quiet confidence he exudes. But you can hear the hint of possessiveness underneath it and it sends heat to pool in your core.

You wet your lips and nod. Silco was very clear that, if you cannot speak explicitly about what you're doing, what you're comfortable with, and what the rules are, he would not be indulging you in this. The professionalism you've come to admire as his business associate does not end at the bedroom door. If anything, he's even more strict.

"You will be…hitting— spanking me…"

Out of your periphery, you see him nod, beckoning you on.

"With a series of instruments."

The aforementioned instruments lay on the bed in front of you, just out of your reach. Silco has four in order of severity. Before you had crossed the threshold into his bedroom, he had made it clear that you are fully in charge of how many of these he will use. He had also told you what type of pain to expect from each.

"Good."

Your walls clench. He prompts you again.

"Where?"

"My… ass."

You hear footsteps behind you as he paces, watching.

"And?"

"The back of my thighs."

More footsteps. He walks into your line of sight, appearing to the side of the bed. A slender arm reaches down and picks up a leather paddle, its handle about five inches long. The business end of it is a rectangle about seven by three inches wide.

He straightens up, mismatched eyes locking with yours.

"What are you to do after each hit?"

You recall his instructions and recite them out.

"Tell you a number from 1-10 on my pain scale."

He nods, his left hand bracing the flexible paddle as he rests the flat end on the palm of his right.

"For today, the highest I will do for you is seven."

You nod.

"I will not do anything past seven until I've deemed you've had enough personal sessions with me."

He leans forward bringing you almost nose-to-nose.

"Do we have an understanding?"

Your throat bobs.

"Yes."

His eyebrows cocks.

"Yes, sir," you're quick to correct yourself.

He straightens back up, hiding the instrument of your pain and—if this goes as you think it will—pleasure behind his back before stepping out of your view to hover behind you.

"Last question. What do each of the colors mean?"

Your lips part as your eyebrows furrow, confused. But then, you suddenly remember.

"Green means to keep going. Yellow means pause or I need a break."

"And red?"

"Stop everything entirely."

You hear the unmistakable sound of leather creaking as Silco's grip tightens around the slapper. Your heart is in your throat, the molten lava in your core growing even hotter by the second as you wait. As you kneel with nothing but a pair of lace panties on, you wonder if Silco can see how wet the fabric is getting as it clings to your pussy.

"Good girl."

Your walls clench again and you almost sigh from his voice alone.

"Eyes forward."

Your eyes stare ahead at the wooden headboard. And then—

Thwack!

Silco hits your right cheek. The strength behind it is weak but your hips jump forward nonetheless, startled by the sensation.

That wasn't too bad.

Silco clears his throat behind you.

"One."

Thwack!

Silco hits the exact same spot again, this time with a bit more force behind it. You can feel the sting of his swing, a wonderful warmth blooming on your skin.

"Two."

Footsteps. And then—

Thwack!

Silco strikes you on the left cheek to even out the sensation. A small sigh escapes your lips and your eyes flutter closed. For a moment, you forget yourself, lost to the buzzing feeling in your head and the stinging sensation on your ass.

Silco says your name sternly.

"Sorry, sir!" You squeak out. "Three."

Thwack!

"Ah!"

Your voice comes out as a startled cry, Silco's timing between hits speeding up. You want it again, so you try to think of a number as quickly as your lust-adled brain can conjure.

"Three."

Thwack!

Silco hits the back of your right thigh and a low moan hums along your throat. You press your face into the mattress, eyes closed and lips curled into a drunken smile. Heat pools between your legs and you let you mouth fall open to let out a contented sigh. As you do, your number tumbles past your lips.

"Five."

Thwack!

Same intensity, other thigh. 

Your fingers dig into the comforter, balling up the fabric into your palms as you let out another sigh. 

Silco lets you savor the moment, not prompting for your number just yet. You wiggle your hips happily as you feel your pulse in your skin, little fires all along the places he's hit you.

Your head feels light, your thoughts a blank slate. All you are is this moment with Silco.

In his bedroom.

Face against the sheets.

Ass in the air.

Your pain and pleasure entrusted to his practiced hands.

"Five," you sigh.

Silco hums behind you. You can feel his warmth as he steps a bit closer. Without warning, he starts to tap the paddle against your right cheek, light and fast. Each slap is only a one on the pain scale, but he's doing each in such quick succesion that it makes your head buzz. There's a wonderful fluttering sound as the leather continues to slap your ass, a sweet stinging against your skin.

He adjust his grip and gives your left cheek the same treatment. Light taps, as if he's trying to keep the warmth underneath your skin from cooling down.

Just as you think he'll maybe do the same treatment to your thighs, he adjusts his stance, pulls his arm back, and sends the paddle thundering onto your right cheek.

Thwack!

"Ahhh!"

Your walls clench as your pussy weeps to soak your panties. Speechless, you arch your back as you ride out the stinging sensation. You can feel pleasure coursing through your veins, radiating outward from your ass until it's rushing through your limbs and settling behind your eyes.

Silco calls your name, a little warmer than before.

"Seven," you whisper.

Thwack!

Equal strength, left cheek.

A long, low, wanton moan purrs along your throat. You find your breath growing shallower as the line in your stomach tightens. You're desperate for friction against your core, to feel Silco's skin on yours. 

While you and Silco have had sex before, it was never after something like this. Before this session, Silco had made it clear that sex was most certainly on the table for tonight and that all you need is ask.

Correctly.

"Sir?" 

Your voice is shaky with anticipation.

"Yes."

"May I…"

He hums and your walls clench at the low rumble.

"May I have your fingers, please?"

Silco steps forward to stand next to you, one warm hand pressed against your left cheek where he struck you. He rubs soft circles into your skin and you hum, content.

"Just my fingers?"

Your throat bobs.

"I want your fingers and then your cock."

He hums in understanding as he soothes the ache in your other cheek with his hand.

"You're done with the demonstration?" he asks.

There's no disappointment or teasing in his tone. Simply asking for full clarity.

You nod your head. He squeezes your ass in response, his instruction from earlier ringing in your head.

I will not accept any non-verbal answers. You must use your voice to answer me.

"Sorry! Yes, sir."

There's a soft thud as Silco tosses the paddle onto the bed to join its unused brethren.

The hand at your ass smooths down, led by the pad of his middle finger. It glides along your panties until his hand is cupping your mound. Your walls clench and you briefly wonder if he could feel it.

He leans down, bringing his chest to push against your shoulder blade, his nose pressed into your hair. His breath is warm as he whispers into your ear and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of being caged by his body.

"Are you done taking orders?"

"No, sir," you reply immediately.

The pads of his middle and ring fingers find your entrance and massage it over your panties. 

"Mmmm," you hum, smiling.

"You want to be my plaything?"

You wet your lips, arousal soaking through the fabric of your panties to reach Silco's fingers.

"Yes, sir."

You're rewarded for your ability to follow instructions with Silco's hands dipping under the waistband of your underwear to pull them down. You shimmy your hips as he does. You feel his hands maneuver your legs so he can fully slide them off you.

With your panties discarded to the floor, you're now fully naked, still on your knees with your ass in the air. 

Silco's hand is at your core again and you feel as if you're going to melt and fuse with the comforter with how good you're feeling. He coats his fingertips in your arousal and the skin to skin contact has you so high you might as well be on shimmer.

"You want these fingers?"

"Yes, sir."

A beat.

"Beg."

You let out a whimper, unable to form words with how desperate you are for relief. Finally, you find your voice.

"Please, sir! Please fill me up with your fingers. I need them inside me."

His fingertips massage your entrance and you mewl at the sensation.

There's a melody behind his voice when he speaks, a teasing, playful tone.

"What pretty begging."

He dips just the tips of two fingers into your pussy, leaving you wanting.

"But I think you can do better."

You whimper again, searching for the right words.

"Please, sir. I only want you. I don't want anyone else inside me. My pussy is all yours."

Both fingers breach your entrance, pushing into you until they can't push in any deeper. Your walls stretch around him and your voice comes out as a low moan. Silco curls his fingers and it almost threatens to send you over the edge.

For a moment, you can't decide how you want to come. Wait for his cock? Come on his fingers? If you come on his fingers now, will he let you come on his cock, too? Will he let you have multiple orgasms or limit you to one?

When all else fails, ask the question.

"Sir?"

"Yes."

"I'm — ah! — getting close."

He hums as if taking notes.

"May I come on your fingers and your cock?"

Another hum, this one with more teasing behind it.

"Such a greedy girl."

You moan at his words.

"Haven't come once and you're already wanting more."

As you continue to have this strained conversation, Silco's fingers curl within you. Meanwhile, your clit has gone completely untouched and seemingly isn't even necessary. You've never felt that before. You've always needed clit stimulation. But with the impact play as foreplay, you're so close already without him even getting close to it.

Your mind scrambles.

"I— I'll come as many times as you want me to."

He chuckles.

For the first time since you entered his domain, you panic. You realize you left yourself open to a very terrible possibility, one you know Silco would notice.

Your assessment is correct as Silco's voice teases behind you.

"Even if that number is zero?"

Your mouth opens and closes idly like a gaping fish. Maybe begging for at least one could work? But something deep within you wants to show just how dutiful you can be, just how well you can follow his instruction. 

And, hell, maybe if you deny yourself orgasm tonight, it'll make the next one even wilder when he does let you do it.

"Yes…sir."

Then, Silco does the most startling thing since you started the entire session. Fingers still curling within you, he leans forward, uses his free hand to swipe your hair away from your neck, and plants a tender kiss to the space between your shoulder blades. It's quick and soft and warm. When he straightens up, you realize you would do absolutely anything for this man.

"Don't worry. It's your first time."

His fingers pick up pace and your walls clench around them in response.

"I won't be that cruel."

The wet sounds of him pleasuring you and his words confirming he won't deny you your orgasm sends you toppling over the edge. Your voice cries out in a long moan as you come undone around him, pleasure flooding your system and making your body feel weightless. He guides you through it, pumping and curling his fingers into you as your walls flutter and pulse.

As the feeling subsides, Silco pulls his fingers out of you. You bask in the afterglow, right side of your face pressed into the mattress as your eyes drift closed.

Then, you feel something at your lips. You open your eyes to see Silco's hand—wet with your arousal—pushing two fingers into your mouth.

"Suck," he instructs.

Obediently, you suck on your own juices. As you do, you can hear and feel Silco's free hand working the button on the front of his pants.

"Very good girl," he hums.

Your walls flutter weakly.

He pulls his fingers from you with a pop and you swallow down your release, humming contently.

In your blissed out state, Silco rubs the head of his cock along your entrance, coating himself in your arousal.

"What a pretty little thing you are."

His cock slides along your folds and for the first time, you feel him rub your clit. A soft moan hums in the back of your throat.

"What pretty little sounds you make."

You whimper in response and you feel his cock stutter a little in reply.

"Does my pretty little thing want my cock?"

You hum, content to be used by him.

"Yes, sir."

He leans forward. The intricate textures of his waistcoat dig into your back as he brings his lips to your ear. He whispers and you can hear the slight shake behind his words as he allows himself to get excited.

"The only word I want to hear from your mouth from here on out is my name. No more 'yes, sir' or 'please,sir.' Do you understand?"

"Ye—"

You catch yourself.

A pause.

You nod.

"Good girl."

Silco's cock pushes into you inch by glorious inch, stretching your walls so that you feel the fullest you've felt since the last time you two fucked. The position allows him to push himself all the way to the hilt, reaching deep, deep within you.

"Silco!" you cry out, hips jumping as you feel his pelvis flush with your ass.

His hands are at your waist, long fingers curled around you as if to say, "Mine."

Silco pulls his hips back to draw his cock along your walks before pistoning forward again.

"Ah! Silco!"

Again and again, Silco's fingernails dig into your waist as he pulls out to the head of his cock before slamming forcefully back in. Over and over in a steady rhythm.

Slow out.

Fast in.

"My sweet girl," he hums, voice ragged with desire. "Being ravaged by my cock."

You whimper at the juxtaposition of his words, the tone of his voice, the heat of his hands on you. You want to hear more. More dirty words. More shaky breaths. But with only one word at your disposal, how can you make your desire known?

"Ah!" You hang onto the bed, desperate for release. "Silco?"

"Yes? What do you want?"

You let out a whine, needy and long.

"Do you want my fingers?"

That actually didn't even occur to you. While, yes, you would love his fingers at your clit, that's not actually what you think you'll need to send you over the edge. Not today. 

You shake your head.

He hums in surprise. He does nothing to hide the curiosity in his tone.

"You don't want my fingers?"

You nod.

"Then what do you want?"

You desperately look over your shoulder. Quickly you lock eyes with him. Some of his hair sticks to his forehead and the messy look causes you to clench your walls around him. As soon as you know you have his attention, you dart your eyes to his lips, lingering there for a moment before going back up to his eyes.

Understanding slowly paints across his face.

"You want me to keep talking?"

Your eyes alight and you nod enthusiastically.

He chuckles.

"Oh, my dear," he growls as he presses his chest into your back. "I'm happy to oblige."

His pace quickens and you can feel his cock harden further within you.

"Does my little toy want me to tell them how good they've been?"

Your eyes flutter closed and you press your forehead against the bedding, mouth hanging open as you sigh and moan.

"You've been so good for me," he whispers. "So obedient. So clever."

Silco lets out a groan of his own and you answer back with the only word you're allowed.

"Silco!"

"I must admit…" he continues to rut into you, less pistoning and more grinding into you, his cock seated deep within you as he does short staccato thrusts. "I am—ngh!— impressed by how quickly you picked it all up."

"Ah!"

"It's as if this is what you've always wanted," he growls, low and predatory.

"To be trained."

His speed picks up.

"To be used."

You feel your body relaxing into the sensation, your building climax promising to be the strongest you've ever had in your life.

"To be mine."

"Silco!" You cry out as you tumble head first into your orgasm, your walls fluttering and milking Silco's cock as he too reaches his peak. He lets out a long, low groan as he drives himself deep into you and halts, his cock pulsing and drawing out your pleasure.

You feel euphoric and weightless as the sensation goes on and on, flooding your senses. As your body ascends to the heavens, you have one fleeting thought.

I don't think I can go back to vanilla sex ever again.

Silco's death grip on your hips finally loosen. You could swear you almost feel the way his hands shake as he pulls out of you. He's about to step away when you stop him.

"Silco."

He wipes his forehead with the back of his clean hand.

"Speak freely."

"Don't go. Not yet." Blindly, you try to reach for one of his hands, which he offers. "We can get clean in a second; I just want your warmth."

He nods. Then, similar to before, he presses his chest against your back, caging you in. The weight of him is comforting and warm, drawing out your afterglow and the heady feeling of subspace.

"Ah, yes," he hums behind you. "It's hard to know what aftercare you want until your first time."

He speaks into your skin, fingers featherlight as they play on your arms.

"You're so good to verbalize so readily."

You hum.

"And you were so good to me," you whisper.

"Yes?"

For the first time, possibly ever, you hear uncertainty in Silco's voice. As calm, collected, and authoritative as Silco is in his daily life as a businessman, he is still, after all, just a man. A man with insecurities. A man capable of caring very deeply for his people. Who wants the best for them.

And does not want to hurt them.

"This was exactly what I was hoping for," you say with a soft, cockdrunk smile on your face. A look you're not sure Silco sees, given how your eyes have fluttered closed yet again. 

"I love the way you made me feel."

Silco shifts above you and you open your eyes to meet his.

"You enjoyed the impact play?"

"I enjoyed you."

His face softens and you continue.

"I don't think I've ever trusted someone as much as I trust you."

The scar at his lips tugs upwards slightly as Silco allows himself to smile.

"I'm glad I could give you that."

He continues to hold you, long after your respective releases have dried on your skin. When finally you signal he can get off you, he does so with a gentle kiss to your hair.

You remain in the same position as Silco retrieves two hand towels from the adjourning bathroom, which he's dampened with warm water from the tap. He carefully wipes you clean with one and then cleans himself with the other, discarding both into a small hamper in the corner.

Then, another unexpected turn. It would seem this encounter with Silco is full of them.

The two of you hadn't discussed what would happen afterward. So it comes as a pleasant surprise when you see Silco start to disrobe until he's as naked as you are. 

His hands at your hips, he guides you into the bed. With a lackadaisical push of his hands, he shoves the four toys onto the floor as he pulls the sheets back for you both. You climb in after him, quick to nuzzle your face to his chest.

In the warmth of his bed and the comfort of his arms, you feel calm. His hand plays with your hair, a light massage on your scalp. After pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he whispers into the small space between you.

"Thank you for this."

Your eyes start to drift closed.

"I would like to do it again, if you're interested."

You hum content, drifting to sleep, two words a soft whisper on your tongue.

"Yes, sir."

A/N: Dom Silco but make it actually have healthy kink practices lol

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i think the hottest look you can give someone after they commit acts of unspeakable violence is approval. like don't get me wrong if there's lust there too that's great, but staring at someone with gore dripping down their chin and coating their hands to the wrists with undisguised appraisal and admiration. maybe giving them a little nod as if to say 'well done'. THAT'S what says "yeah we're gonna fuck nasty later".

hope everyone's having wonderful lust-filled thoughts over fictional men today

GN tiefling TAV who basically tames Raphael. Like TAV treats him like a dog and Raphael just gives in. I just like the idea of Raphael the powerful devil being 'domesticated' by his lover🤭NSFW perhaps?

Obedience (Raphael x GN Tiefling Reader)

Author's Note: As soon as I got this ask, I had an image in my mind and I hope it lives up to expectations. Thanks for the request, darling. Thanks for reading, friends! *Also smut, degradation, and wicked fun.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

"Tav!"

Your foot ceased its rapping on the floor.

"Yes? Sorry."

"What's got you so worked up, soldier?"

Karlach's concern made you sigh and drag your hands down your face. How could you ever explain what was running through your mind?

"I've just been thinking about Raphael's deal."

Her eyes widened as she slapped her hands on her knees.

"You aren't actually thinking of taking it?"

"Ha! Hells no. But I'm tired of him. I think he's reached the end of his usefulness when it comes down to it."

"Well, we still need the hammer."

"Yes, but we didn't come all this way and go through everything we did just to not be able to steal a hammer from some puny cambion, did we?" Your sharp teeth flashed wolfishly at her. "I'll be back. I have an idea."

"Do you need backup? Hello?!"

Her voice followed you out of the room. Your daggers were still at your side in their sheaths, thank goodness. Your hands were itching for a fight, but you stayed your impulses. For now.

~~~

You slunk through Sharess' Caress, shooting a wink at the drow twins as you passed them on the staircase. Following the stairs up and out to the upper level was easy, if you didn't count all the bodies molded together along the sides and in dark corners. Thankfully you managed to slip by them and burst out through the doors into the crisp air of the evening. Turning right, you took long strides until you were right outside the Devil's Den. With a raised fist, you pounded on the door. Steps hastily came to the door, incoherent raging heard as he moved closer.

"What in the hells is the matter with- Oh, you've returned to me."

Raphael stood in the doorway, lips curled up as his face twisted into a smug smirk. Hells, I'd love to smack that expression off his face. He waited as you glared at him, curiosity piquing the longer you stood without saying a word.

"Well, are you coming in or have you just shown up to stare at me? Not that I would blame you, I am positively delightful to look at."

His pompous demeanor was the last straw. You whipped out a dagger and before he could blink, pressed it on his neck, forcing his chin back. You stepped forward, causing him to step back into the room. With a whack of your boot, you slammed the door shut and used your other hand to lock it. His eyes narrowed at you, rage simmering in their depths.

"Fine. I'll play along. What are you hoping to accomplish with this absurd stunt?"

You kept your mouth shut and walked him back until he was pressed against the wall. Your free hand started at his waist and slid up his chest and around the back of his neck. A wicked delight coursed through your body as you watched him becoming more and more unsettled the longer you kept silent.

Finally, you curled your fingers around the side of his neck and dug your nails in just enough to hurt. You brought your face close to his, cheek pressing firmly to his own. you suppressed a shudder and squeezed his neck just a mere bit more. Your tail flicked in agitation.

"I’m tired of this, Raphael. I’m tired of you following us around, tired of your meddling. What is it that you really want?"

"I didn't think you a blabbering fool," he spat. "I've told you that I will give you the hammer in exchange for the Crown of Karsus."

"Mm. I don’t think so. Do you want to know what I think? I think you want someone to play with. And I think you’ve gotten too used to playing with people and now it’s time for someone to have their turn at it."

His face contorted into a scowl.

"You insolent little beast," he snarled.

"Ha! You are absolutely right. I have no respect for you. You who sat in your palace above while my kin suffered. You who, with a wave of your hand and sign of a pen, control lives and distort them to a shadow of what they were. I won’t stand for it. You have no right," you hissed.

His hand jerked up and you slapped it away. A growl reverberated between you, both of you with your teeth bared.

"By my birth, I have every right."

"And there lies the problem," you mused. Daddy’s little boy who's upset about not getting his way. A pathetic man who knows nothing of sacrifice. Who’s never had to work for anything. Who lives on as mortals fight and die for what they believe in. You are a waste of my time, a waste of life."

"Then why did you even bother coming here?"

"Because, Raphael. I told you I wanted to play," your lips split into a wicked grin.

“You-“

You pressed even closer, lips brushing over the lobe of his ear.

“Hush now, Raphael. I meant what I said at the beginning of our journey. Speak another word and I will cut out your tongue.”

He glared at you, but remained silent.

"I want you to leave my friends and I alone. No more deals. No more tricks. You're finished. It's time for you to go back and sit among the souls you've tormented for so long."

He sneered, his lip curling up in distaste. You pressed the knife harder, a vicious gleam in your eyes as you watched a single drop of blood slide down and stain his collar. You'd come this far, why not take the risk and mess with him further? As the next drop slid down, your tongue darted out and licked a line up his neck. He looked mildly horrified as your tongue darted out to lick your lips.

"Hm. Seems you were lying to Astarion when you said your blood burned hotter than wyvern whiskey."

His hands balled into fists at his side.

"Easy now, wouldn't want you to get all... emotional."

He snapped his fingers and you swayed, clutching onto him as you were transported to the House of Hope. You tamped down your rage and nausea, holding your knife up in a fighting stance, realizing that as you'd arrived, he'd moved you further away from him.

"Out!" he yelled.

The tortured souls fled the dining room, doors shutting on their way out, leaving just the two of you facing off on opposite sides of the table.

"Put the godsdamned knife down, dear. Wouldn't want you to get hurt." He pressed his fingers to his temples and shook his head. "You're becoming more trouble than you're worth, little mouse."

You circled around the table, a fire blazing in your eyes and pointed your knife at the nearest chair.

"Sit."

He analyzed you, trying to decide his course of action.

"Fine, I'll play your little game."

He sat down with ease, but his body betrayed him. He was tensed and ready to spring if you misstepped. You sheathed your knife and held up your hands in a gesture of peace, albeit a temporary one. You spun the chair around next to his and brought it closer, dragging it across the floor. He gritted his teeth and tightened his fists on the armrests of his chair.

"Why do you insist on antagonizing the cat, little mouse?"

You grinned, leaned in close, and put your hands on his knees, squeezing and running your fingers up his thighs. He froze, eyes glued to where your touch was tracing over the smooth material of his trousers.

"You keep calling yourself a cat," you murmured. You rose slightly and moved closer, surprising even yourself as you nipped at his neck, nudging his head to the side with your long horns. Your tail snaked around his leg, squeezing tightly. "But all I see," you continued, "is a mangy cur who's all bark and no bite."

"Mangy?!" he cried, "I am not-"

You cut him off and emphasized your last word by biting down on his neck and sucking, being sure to leave a mark. Your hands danced over his legs, upward to the apex of his thighs where you grazed the tips of your fingers over where his cock lay. He jolted in the chair and you clamped both hands on his wrists. You leaned forward, forcing him back and reclaiming control of the situation.

"You sat here in your palace while my people were dragged to Avernus and suffered. And you know what? I don't think you deserve any of it," your lips drew back from your teeth as you hissed at him. "And you know what else? I think you know it. You know I'm right and that you're just a pathetic little man, trying to get his fingers into something that he is ill equipped to deal with."

Raphael's jaw dropped at your audacious remarks and you couldn't help the devilish smirk that spread across your face.

"What is it, darling? Cat got your tongue?"

You laughed and pushed away from him, pressing on his wrists as you did so. He rubbed them, easing away the ache from your rough movements, and growled lowly at you. You got on your knees and grabbed his thighs, spreading them apart.

"Unbutton your pants, Raphael."

"I beg your pardon?"

He stared down at you in disbelief as you waited expectantly. You laughed and his brows drew together in anger, the tips of his ears turning red.

"I already knew your personality was terrible, but I didn't realize it affected your hearing."

His jaw dropped as he blinked slowly at you, unsure what to make of your behavior. After a beat more of silence, his hands slowly undid the buttons and folded the flaps to the side, waiting on your next words with bated breath. You squeezed his thighs again, your hands roving over his legs as you made him wait.

"Take your cock out, Raphael."

"Has the tadpole already taken over? You've completely lost your mind," he snapped.

"Maybe so," you sighed dramatically. "I suppose you don't want me to continue, then. Alright, take me back."

He grabbed you as you began to stand. He stared down as his hand as if it had acted without his permission and groaned in frustration.

"Fine. I'll play along a bit longer," he grumbled.

You lowered once more and he paused before reaching into his trousers and taking his already hardened cock out. He pursed his lips and watched your expression for some kind of reaction. You remained blank-faced as you reached out to wrap your hand around him. He hissed through his teeth at the contact and the way you squeezed the base and twisted your hand as you went toward the head. His knees shook slightly and he slapped his hands down on his legs to keep them still. You let go of him for a moment and grabbed the sides of his trousers.

"Up."

He lifted his hips and you smirked to yourself as you tugged them down to his ankles. This was the most exposed he'd been around anyone aside from Haarlep in a very long time and he fidgeted, unsure if he would come to regret it. Your hands moved back to touch him and he grunted as you grabbed his balls. You weren't rough by any means, but you refused to let go as you squeezed.

"I didn't realize the banter was what got you going, Raphael."

Your canines poked out as you grinned and rolled them in your hand. His legs kicked slightly and you let go, surprised when a whimper slipped out of his mouth. He turned his head slightly and covered his mouth with his hand as he avoided your gaze. The blush had spread from his ears to his cheeks and now even down his neck.

"Go ahead, mongrel."

"What did you call me?"

Your hands tightened around his cock and balls as you danced along the line of pain and pleasure.

"Bark."

He laughed and leaned back in the seat.

"You can't be serious," he wheezed as you squeezed tighter.

"Deadly so, I'm afraid. And you're in quite a predicament here, so I suggest you do what I say if you'd like to keep all appendages attached."

Hatred blazed in his eyes as embarrassment covered his face. He inhaled sharply and shut his eyes for a moment before looking down at you. There was murderous intent in his gaze as he uttered, "Woof."

You laughed at him, your hands releasing him as a fit of giggles spilled from you. He decided then and there to ignore adventurers and never attempt to make deals with them ever ever again. He started to rise, but you clamped down on his knees again.

"I didn't say you could go."

"Why won't you just-"

He choked off his words as you took him in your mouth. He gripped the edges of the chair, squirming as your tongue licked up the underside. You rolled his balls in your hand, gently massaging them. His hips bucked against your mouth as you sucked hard and he gasped, beginning to reach for your horns to gain some control. At the movement of his hands, your tail rose and lashed across his palms.

"Don't. Touch. Me," you hissed as you pulled your attentions away from his swollen tip.

His eyes were wide, a spark of dread flashing quickly by. He raised his hands in surrender and put them back on the chair arms.

"Good boy," you murmured against his cock.

The words and the vibrations brushed deep inside him against his desperate desires for approval and for the way your warm mouth was pleasing his aching length. You continued on, flicking your tongue against his tip and pumping your hand up and down as he rocked lightly against your mouth. His breaths were hot and heavy as your motions sped up. He bucked wildly, trying to remain still and stay your wrath. His whines were pitiful, so fucking desperate for your touch.

His knuckles turned white from where he gripped the chair so hard to prevent himself from grabbing you. His release was near and it was coming hard. With a final twist of your wrist under the flared head, he came, spurting into your mouth. He groaned as he slumped against the back of the chair, his mind spinning wildly. His chest heaved as he stared down at you, hair slightly mussed and cheeks heating.

You stared at each other, the heightened senses of the moment draining away and leaving behind a surprise and deep within him a... longing for you? He wanted your hands on him again. Your warm mouth wrapped around him. He wanted to be your good boy. You both startled when you heard clapping and Raphael's simmering rage returned as he saw Haarlep coming out from behind a pillar, smiling with wicked delight.

"Amazing! Spectacular! You know, little tiefling, I might be able to learn a thing or two from you."

Your eyes widened as you realized he was an exact copy of Raphael's more devilish form. You looked back and forth between the two. One in strappy lingerie and the other switching between shock, anger and embarrassment as his cock softened and twitched in his lap.

You waved your hand in their direction and mumbled, "You know what? I don't want to know."

You reached for a napkin to wipe your mouth and left it on the table before turning back to the copy.

"How do I get out of here?"

Haarlep grinned and waved a hand to direct across the room.

"Just through those doors, darling! Nubaldin will be more than willing to show you the portal home, I'm sure. And do come back. It gets so boring here with just Raphael for company. Maybe we could-"

You held up a hand firmly.

"Nope. Thanks for your help, though."

As you turned to walk away, you saw him leaning over the back of the chair, whispering to Raphael.

"Get away from me!" Raphael spat as he swatted at Haarlep.

Laughter followed you all the way through the doors and to the portal.

~~~

Your legs ached from walking all over the city and damn why were his floors so hard? You decided to ask Gale about the knee stretches he does when you walked through the doors of your rooms at the Elfsong and halted abruptly. Everyone had turned to look at you, analyzing your appearance.

"There you are! We've been worried about you."

Karlach jumped up and ran over to throw an arm around you and check you over.

"Did everything go okay? What did you- wait." She leaned in and sniffed lightly, then grabbed your cheeks and pressed her face into your hair for a longer inhale. "Why do you smell like Avernus?"

Your cheeks heated as you knocked her hands away from you. You cleared your throat and smoothed down your hair, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"All you need to know is that Raphael shouldn't be bothering us anymore and no, I will not be answering any questions. Good night."

~~~

As you lay awake in your bed that night, you replayed the memory of the day, unable to comprehend that you had enjoyed having a taste of the devil.

devilish intent

summary: being an adventurer in the lower city was growing quite boring, so why not sneak into the home of the devil himself! surely nothing could go wrong, right?

warnings: darkish content, manipulation, rough sex, throat fucking, threesome (harleep & raphael), degradation, dom!harleep, dom!raphael, biting, blood, overstimulation, begging, dumbification, fem!reader, breath play, dacryphilia, dubious consent, hair pulling, slight praise

note: i dont think there are words to describe how filthy this is. i've been working on this for awhile cus i was trying to find inspo but i'm pretty happy with how this turned out! enjoy <3

this is was a comically bad idea. what led you to make the decision to sneak into a devil’s home? boredom - an emotion that many other people would deem easily avoidable. a normal individual would go to a bar, perhaps take a walk around the city, maybe even find a companion for the night; but not little old you.

you’ve heard whispers around the streets of people sneaking into this so-called ‘house of hope’. at first, you brushed it off as some silly fairytale - there was no way that normal folk could find a way inside a devil’s house. well, that was until you had stumbled into the devil’s fee on a particularly stormy night. you had just stopped there to wait out the weather, allowing your now soaked clothes to dry off in the midst of this peculiar shop.

you found yourself carelessly browsing around the store, observing the various skulls and mementos scattered across tables. “ah, welcome to the devil’s fee!” a feminine voice spoke from behind the wooden counter, drifting your attention from the objects to the woman herself. “oh, um, hello!” you awkwardly replied with a wave of your hand, approaching the owner at the counter. she watched the way you nervously shuffled over towards her, an eerie grin manifesting itself on her face.

“are you looking for anything in particular, dear?” she paused, “or perhaps somewhere in particular?” you looked at the woman with a confused expression, what did she mean by somewhere? with a shake of your head you replied, “oh no, just waiting out the storm!” the woman frowned, but soon she began to smile again. “you look like quite the adventurer; have you ever considered going somewhere more, extravagant?” a sense of intrigue flooded your body before you sheepishly nodded at the strange woman. “where exactly are you talking about?” thunder erupted the moment you finished your sentence, your body twitching from the loud sound.

“why, the house of hope, of course!” she exclaimed with excitement in her voice. “i have the means to get you there without a soul knowing.” it was a convincing offer, you hadn’t had much excitement in months - so why not give it a shot? “i assume you’re not charging for free?” the girl laughed with a shake of her head. “of course not, i’ll take you there for the right price.” she hesitated before continuing, “fifteen thousand gold and i’ll give you the instructions.” you nearly choked on your own spit; fifteen thousand? maybe you were stupid, or just insanely desperate, but before you could think even further you were handing this stranger a pouch of gold.

“a pleasure doing business; here’s the instructions on how to make the portal, just head upstairs and it’ll all be there for you, dear.” her finger pointed to the staircase at the right of the counter as she handed you a small book, a piece of paper and a golden key. “ah, thank you..” she smiled at your pause before replying, “helsik, dear.”

you gave a polite nod before ascending up the stairs, a feeling of anxiety coursing through your veins the closer you got towards the door. you slid the key helsik had given you into the hole, a soft click! signaling that it was unlocked. you breathed in heavily before finally stepping into the room, rows of bookshelves filled the walls as various tables flooded the corners.

your eyes caught sight of a pentagram drawn in blood on the floor, the one you assumed you’d be using to enter this devil’s home. you began to read the list of items you’d need to grab as you aimlessly searched around helsik’s room to find them. after locating the variety of objects, you began to align them on the pentagon in accordance to how it was described.

you noticed how each item lit up into a hue of orange the moment you placed them on the point of the star, almost like they were set on fire. once the final object was placed, you watched as the wooden floor transformed into what you assumed was a portal; a void of black consumed the center as the rest of the star glowed a bright orange.

‘this is such a bad idea.’ you thought while placing the instructions back into your bag, your eyes scanning over the mass of black you’d have to eventually step into. with a nervous sigh, you stepped one foot into the center, and felt your enter body get sucked into the ground. your eyes squeezed shut for just a moment, and before long you felt yourself land onto what you assumed was your destination.

as you slowly opened your eyes, a wave of heat washed over you; beads of sweat beginning to spill from your pores. you finally began to take in your surroundings, a series of pillars pulsing with some sort of magic stood in each corner of the room you’d appeared in, and a massive door placed itself at the front of the room.

you slowly approached the door before lightly pushing it open, revealing what you assumed to be a dining room of some sort. various plates of food were scattered across the table, making your mouth salivate for just a moment. your legs began to move on their own as a sense of clarity washed over your mind - you had never seen a place like this on all of the journeys you’d been on. after walking throughout the halls for a few minutes, you stumbled across a doorway that was blocked by a magic barrier.

a frown appeared on your face, but you quickly noticed a opening that led to the outer parts of this odd place. you approached the ledge with caution before clumsily jumping onto the rocks below, steading yourself before walking amongst the ragged path.

as you began to grow closer to the blocked off room, you noticed a bed was placed against one of the walls. ‘must be the owner’s bedroom.’ you approached the railing fairly quickly, hoisting yourself atop it before quietly dropping to the floor. your eyes quickly caught sight of something— no, someone laying on the bed you had saw earlier.

anxiety rushed through your veins as you started to plan out your next move, maybe they wouldn’t notice if you snuck towards the doorway. with a shaky breath, you began to stealthily walk towards the front of the room. “and where do you think you’re going, little mouse?” your entire body froze in terror, a gasp escaping from your throat. “u—um,” you stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought to reply with.

“aren’t you just a cute little thing.” the voice spoke, their tone bordering on erotic. you finally found the courage to turn and face them, your entire body flushing with pink as you did so. their skin was a deep red, wings splayed across the pillows as horns protruded from their head. the most striking component, however, was the skimpy bondage that brandished their body.

a daring smirk spread across the devil’s face as their eyes seemed to see right through you, eyeing the entirety of your being. “i, um, didn’t know there was someone in here.” you finally spoke, trying to claw your way out of this mess before anything extreme happened. the devil was silent in response, the same expression cast upon their face as your eyes moved between them and the doorway. “i’ll just, um, make my way out of here!” a laugh erupted from the creature before you heard a creak come from the bed, signaling they were moving about.

“oh raphael is going to love this.” they spoke before leaning against the headboard, one of their arms resting behind their head as they peered at you. “come pet, i must know why you’re here.” with a nervous sigh, you walked towards the bed, sitting on the edge carefully before fiddling with the skin on your fingers. you felt their gaze burning into the flesh of your thighs before finally shifting to your face, their tongue coming out to lick the skin of their lips

. “go on, tell me why you’ve come.” you paused, unsure if you should be truthful or not. “i was, uh, bored.” silence filled the room, and for a moment you thought this might be where your end is, until laughter began to echo throughout the room. “oh that’s, that’s quite the reason!” the devil calmed themselves before leaning forwards, one of their hands brushing against the plump of your leg before landing on the sheets besides it.

“this is very naughty - what shall i do with you?” they paused for a moment to think, before a sinister grin clouded their expression. “how about we play a game, hm? if you win, i’ll give you everything you desire.” you looked at the devil, an anxious feeling rising in you. “and if i lose?” they stifled a laugh before trailing one of their hands against the side of your thigh, “well, you’ll enjoy yourself much more if you do.” you looked into their eyes for a moment, getting lost in them as they trailed their hand further and further up your thigh until it brushed against your center.

a whimper caught in your throat, and before long, you whispered a quiet yes, allowing the devil to play whatever game they had mentioned. they smirked before standing up from the bed and walking towards where you sat, towering over your quivering form.

“on your knees, pet.” your entire body felt like it was on fire, lust flowed through your veins as you felt yourself obey every word that left the devil’s lips. as you shifted from your spot on the bed, a hand rested itself on the top of your head, guiding your body to its knees. “such an obedient toy, we’re going to have lots of fun together.” as they reached to pull down the fabric that covered their cock, they paused for a moment before bringing their free hand to cup the underside of your chin, tilting it upwards so you could look in their eyes.

“would you like to know my name, mouse?” you nodded, feeling yourself melt into the devil’s touch. “i am harleep, raphael’s personal incubus.” harleep noticed your head tilt at the mention of raphael, forgetting that you had zero idea of who he was. “raphael is the master of this house, pet. it’s quite impressive you managed to get here without him noticing.” they watched you nod in acknowledgment, unaware of the consequences there would be when raphael did return home.

“such a naïve girl you are.” harleep whispered to themself before finally tugging down the fabric of their underwear, revealing the sight of their hardened cock. your eyes widened at the sight, and you felt yourself grow nervous at the thought of having to take it. harleep guided the tip of their cock to your lips, pushing it past them before finally entering your mouth. “gods - that’s it, take it down your throat.” your eyes glossed over with tears the further harleep’s cock moved down your throat, the incubus letting out low growls as they began to slowly thrust into your mouth.

trails of saliva began to drip from the sides of your mouth as their thrusts became more rough, the tip of their cock brushing against the back of your throat with each move of their hips. all you could do was gag and moan around them as they used your mouth like it was some toy, their hand tangling into your hair to support the weight of your head.

“you take my cock so well, pet. maybe i should- ah, keep you around.” you whimpered around their length, unable to utter a word as they sloppily fucked into you. harleep’s grip in your hand tightened as they started to let out animalistic moans, their head leaning backwards while the speed of their thrusts quickened. within a moment, you felt them push once more into your throat before feeling hot spurts of cum spill from their cock.

warmth filled your mouth as the liquid began to dribble down your throat, burning the flesh of it in the process. “good girl - swallow every drop of it.” you could barely breathe as harleep’s cock stayed pressed against the depths of your throat, forcing you take all of their cum. once they were satisfied, harleep finally removed themself from your mouth, leaving you to cough up wads of spit onto the ground below. they watched in amusement as you wiped the saliva from your lips, a look of disgust in your eyes as you peered up at the incubus.

“is that,” you began to cough once more, your throat aching from the abuse harleep had caused. “is that all you wanted?” before they could respond, you caught sight of their eyes drifting from your own to the front of the room, their expression shifting from lustful to one you couldn’t quite read. confusion washed over you until suddenly, the sounds of heavy footsteps began to approach from the doorway. “ah raphael, welcome home.” harleep finally spoke, and it was at that moment you realized how incredibly fucked you were.

raphael was about to greet the incubus before he finally noticed your disheveled form on the ground, his eyebrow cocking upwards as he looked over at harleep for a brief moment. “harleep, who is this pest on the ground?” the devil glanced back over towards you, eyeing your body before finally putting the pieces together in his head. “it seems they found a way in here, i’m shocked you didn’t notice them here sooner.” raphael hummed before approaching you, your body quivering in fear as the man crouched in front of you. “it seems harleep has already had their fun with you.” he paused for a moment to think, and you thought that maybe he would have some mercy on you and allow you to leave.

“i—i’m so sorry for intruding in your home, mister.” your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke, too nervous to allow yourself to speak any louder. “please, please let me leave; i promise to never come back here again.” you were practically begging at this point, your eyes pleading with the devil to have sympathy towards you. raphael looked towards you with a dark smile as you begged, enjoying how desperate you sounded before finally reaching his hand out to cup the side of your cheek. “i can’t just let you off easily, little mouse. you broke into my house uninvited - i think you deserve to punished.”

you shook your head repeatedly at his proposal, trying to yank yourself away from the man’s grip on your face. raphael clicked his tongue at your resistance, an annoyed sigh brushing past his lips before allowing himself to stand up, releasing his hold on you. “how disappointing, i expected you to be more compliant.” as he spoke, you took this an opportunity to attempt an escape, your legs shaking as you tried to make a run towards the door.

seconds went by before you felt the grip of a hand on your arm, a scream erupted from you as your body was thrown face down onto the bed, another hand knotting it’s way into your hair to hold your weight. “looks like we have a brat on our hands.” raphael hissed out, his nails digging into the flesh of your arm. you assumed harleep’s hand was the one in your hair, their grip bordering painful as drool began to leak from you lips from the pressure. “they were such an obedient thing for me.”

your legs thrashed around the sheets as you attempted to free yourself from their grip, yet it proved to be futile as you felt a heavy slap against your rear - causing a whimper to escape from you. raphael leaned across your backside, his lips brushing against your earlobe before whispering into your ear, “unless you want to get hurt, i suggest you stop squirming.” your legs went stiff at his threat, any resistance you once had vanishing from your mind. a satisfied noise left raphael as he placed a kiss against the back of your neck, lifting himself up from your backside.

harleep’s grip released from your head, allowing you turn it to the side to glance at the incubus, their eyes already piercing into your own. raphael’s hand gripped the back of your pants as he harshly pulled them down to your ankles, your clothed cunt now on display for the devil. his hand hand came up to brush against the fabric, rubbing the length of your cunt with his palm. whines slipped past your lips as his ministrations continued, you teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your noises. “aht, don’t hide your voice from us, mouse.” you heard harleep say from besides you, their body now sat next to your own on the silk sheets of the bed.

you hadn’t realized your hips grinding back into raphael until a heavy hand came to grip your waist, stopping your movements completely. a finger slipped past the fabric of your underwear, teasing the lips of your pussy before dipping into your dripping hole for just a moment. “such a needy thing, aren’t you?” raphael spoke from behind you, his finger slowly thrusting in and out of your cunt while moans began to leave your mouth. “shut— ngh, up.”

suddenly, you felt raphael grip a handful of your hair, yanking your body until it was flush against his own. “shut that bratty mouth of yours.” a wave of confidence washed over your body while a smirk appeared on your face as you spoke. “make me.” it was silent for a moment until the grip in your hair lessened, the hand now trailing to wrap around the entirety of your throat, the pressure of it cutting off your airflow. one of your hands flew up to grab raphael’s wrist, desperately trying to move his hand away as tears welled up in your eyes from the pressure on your neck.

you caught sight of harleep moving to stand in front of you, one of their hands coming up to caress the sides of your cheek, wiping away the tears that now stained your face. the incubus slowly leaned down and captured your lips in a messy kiss, their teeth digging into your own as blood began to spill from them. your mind felt dizzy from the two sensations - raphael’s hand gripping your throat as harleep’s lips pressed against your mouth; it was all too much for your body to handle. not even a second later, you felt harleep break away from you as raphael’s hand released your neck, a sigh escaping you from the relief.

heavy breaths were all that filled the room as you slowly came back to your senses, your eyes blinking away the tears that were left. you felt raphael’s lips brush against your ear as he leaned forward, his hand still resting against the flesh of your neck. “are you going to behave now?” you quickly nodded your head in response, not daring to disobey the devil after his display just moments ago. his free hand began to trail down your front until it slipped into the fabric of your underwear, his fingers drawing slow circles on your clit. “words, pet.” whimpers left your lips at his ministrations, and you desperately tried to muster up a response. “y—yes, yes!”

a satisfied noise left raphael as his fingers began to quicken, your head falling limp against his shoulder at the sensation. you suddenly felt harleep’s fingers sneak into your underwear as well, teasing your aching hole before finally slipping them into you. moans escaped you repeatedly as the two toyed with your cunt, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you felt harleep’s digits reach the deepest parts of you. “you’re squeezing so nicely around me, mouse.” harleep exclaimed, the thrust of their fingers quickening as they heard you whimper at their words.

“what a filthy girl you are.” raphael groaned from behind you as his free hand began to slide underneath your shirt before finally reaching your breasts, his fingers roughly pinching at your nipple. jolts of pleasure coursed through your body from raphael’s touches, your stomach beginning to ache as your orgasm began to grow closer. “ngh— ‘m, i’m gonna cum!” you moaned, the walls of your cunt pulsing with every move of harleep’s fingers against them. your clit ached at the pace of raphael’s digits against it, your thighs squeezing against the two’s hands from the stimulation.

sweat dripped from your forehead as you felt the cord within you threaten to snap, just one more thrust and you’d be thrown over the edge. but, with no warning, you felt both of the creatures movements pause, their fingers sitting idly against your cunt. you let out an annoyed whine from the loss of movement, your head leaning back to peer at raphael with begging eyes. he looked down at you for a moment before switching his attention to harleep, a smirk growing on his face as he began to speak.

“do you think our pet deserves to cum?” raphael asked the incubus, his fingers beginning to tease your clit while he spoke. harleep thought for a second, staring into your doe eyes before looking back at the devil. “perhaps we should make them beg, hm?” raphael chuckled at their response as the two returned their focus to you.

they both looked at you, seemingly waiting for you to say something. your mind was clouded, not a thought swimming around in the innards of your head. “go on, beg.” you finally heard raphael say, his fingers speeding up the pace at which he toyed with your clit. harleep’s fingers began to move inside you as well, their eyes focused on watching them thrust in and out of your hole.

“pl—please!” you managed to huff out, trying your best to convince the two to let you release. “how cute.” without warning, you felt a slap against your cunt, a shocked whimper echoing off the walls. “but i’m not convinced, try again.” you sucked in a heavy breath, still recovering from the impact on your pussy. “please, please let me c-cum.”

harleep thrusted particularly hard after your words, a choked sob escaping you as their fingers brushed against your soft spot. “you can do better then that, little mouse.” once again, you gathered whatever words you could muster up. “pleasepleaseplease! need to— cum, can’t hold it!” you were practically screaming at this point, the knot in your stomach growing bigger and bigger as they started to speed up their movements. raphael’s lips brushed against your earlobe, his hot breath making the skin flush with red. “cum for us, pet.”

time seemed to slowed as your release finally washed over you, a series of whines and whimpers flooded the bedroom while your body shook with pleasure. the two devil’s continued to work you through your orgasm, their fingers abusing every part of your cunt. all you could do was allow yourself to be consumed by the feeling, every touch on your skin felt like pure bliss as you calmed from your release, the fingers of the two creatures finally letting up.

raphael left a row of kisses along the side of your neck while harleep consumed your lips in a fiery kiss, their tongue exploring the cavity of your mouth. you moaned into the incubus’s mouth before they moved away, your breath being taken away from the messy kiss.

your body melted into raphael’s as his hands began to caress your sides, allowing you gain back some strength. there were no thoughts left in your mind at this point, all you felt was lust and pleasure coursing through your veins. harleep took one of your hands within their own as they guided your body towards the bed, positioning yourself in their lap while they leaned against the headboard.

raphael watched as the two of you relaxed into one another, your back pressed against harleep’s front as their hands rested on the top of your waist. you could feel harleep’s cock pressed against your back, the organ slowly hardening the more you shifted against the incubus. the bed sunk as raphael crawled over towards you, his hand massaging the flesh of your thigh as he kneeled in front you.

your eyes began to feel heavy as you laid against the incubus, exhaustion washing over your body as your eyelids began to droop. “wake up, pet.” harleep spoke from behind you, their hand wrapping around your front as they trailed it down towards your sensitive cunt. raphael began to slowly open your legs, his tongue coming out to lick his lips at the sight of your pussy.

harleep suddenly took hold of your hips, lifting your body up to hover right above their cock. you could feel the tip brush against your clit, causing a whine to slip from your lips at the feeling. raphael watched as you attempted to squirm away from the incubus’s hold on you, your legs shaking as they practically straddled harleep’s cock.

harleep easily overpowered your movements, their hold on you tightening as they began to lower you onto their dick. you could feel your hole stretching open as you sunk down further, your fingers digging into the sides of harleep’s thighs the deeper they went. “t—too much!” raphael smirked at your words, watching as harleep’s cock was only halfway into you. “you can take it, dear.”

you took a deep breath in before finally feeling harleep’s cock bottom out inside of you, a hearty groan leaving them as their nails dug into the flesh of your waist. “so tight.” they practically growled out as your cunt squeezed against their length. your back was flush against harleep’s chest, ragged breaths leaving you as your body attempted to adjust to the foreign feeling.

harleep slowly started to grind their hips up into you, their cock brushing against your cervix with each move of their body. choked sobs left you as they continued their movements, and you could already feel an orgasm bubbling up inside of you. raphael crawled closer to your body as his hand moved up the length of your thigh before finally landing on your clit, his fingers slowly brushing against the nerve to add another layer of pleasure.

moans flooded from your lips as the two continued their assault on you, your cunt burning as harleep’s cock began to slowly thrust in and out of you. “cum— gonna cum!” you felt raphael’s fingers speed up at your words, his face drawing closer to yours before crashing his lips against your own. you whined into his mouth while his tongue slipped into your own, exploring the insides of it before quickly moving away.

harleep’s lips brushed against your ear before whispering a quiet ‘cum for me’ into it. your entire body shook with pleasure as you came, whimpers leaving you as your cunt spasmed against harleep’s cock. raphael’s fingers slowed and moved away from your swollen clit, a smirk on his face as he admired your current state. harleep, once again, grabbed the length of your torso to lift you off their cock, a hiss escaping you at the feeling.

sweat dripped down your forehead as your eyes connected with raphael's, his brown ones scanning the exhaustion present on your face. "turn around." he commanded, and you immediately obeyed. once you had adjusted yourself, a heavy hand landed on the small of your back before pushing down slightly, signaling for you to arch.

raphael's other hand was busy rubbing to fat of your thigh, watching as your cheek connected with the silk sheets right below harleep's cock. with a snap of his fingers, the remainder of his clothes vanished, leaving his hardened cock to press against his stomach. you could hear the bed creak as he positioned himself behind you, his cock now brushing against the flesh of your cunt.

you sucked in a quick breath as you felt raphael slowly entering you, a moan leaving his lips as your hole clenched around him. your fingers curled into the sheets the deeper he reached, the tip just barely brushing against your cervix before bottoming out. one of harleep's hands came down to soothingly pet your head as you let out a plethora of muffled sobs, your body shaking at the sensation.

raphael pulled away for a moment, his cock almost leaving you completely before thrusting back into you completely, the both of you letting out moans at the feeling. he moved at an almost monstrous pace, not giving you a moment to catch your breath. "s-slow down!" you could hear him laughing at your words, one of his hands now tangling itself into your hair as he pulled your body to press against his chest.

"slow down?" raphael questioned, a hint of mockery in his voice. "you say that, yet your clenching around me so nicely." you could feel his breath against your ear as he spoke, your fingers now digging into the skin of his thigh. harleep watched in amusement at the scene unfolding in front of them, their hand wrapping their cock as they began to slowly pleasure themselves at the sight of you two.

that familiar knot in your stomach began to bubble again as raphael roughly fucked into you, your walls burning as he refused to lessen his pace. he could sense that you were close to cumming at the feeling of your cunt spasming around him, and he took that as a chance to guide his fingers down towards your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with haste.

"fuck- raphael," you realized far too late that his name had slipped past your lips, yet you felt no shame in doing so. the devil chuckled as his hips pounded against your own, amused at your fucked out state. "so desperate, hm?" a whine was all you replied with, drool dripping from your lips as it pooled on the sheets below you. "you know, ngh- i think i'll keep you, mouse." raphael spoke lowly as he felt his own release approaching.

you whimpered at his words, the thought of having this again made your body shiver with arousal. "oh you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you nodded eagerly, not quite understanding what you just signed up for. "my own little plaything," he paused, his eyes connecting with harleep's for a moment before correcting himself. "our little plaything." just as his words finished, an orgasm washed over you, your body convulsing at the pleasure.

raphael quickened his thrusts at the feeling of your release, growls leaving him as he felt himself grow closer to the edge. just as he was about to pull out, a grin spread across as face before he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. "do you want me to fill you up, pet?" you almost came again at his words as you nodded, your cunt clenching in anticipation. "pleasepleaseplease-"

he let out a small chuckle, "such an eager pup." raphael sped up his thrusts once again before finally feeling the knot snap inside of him, a whine brushing past his lips as his seed began to spill into your cunt. mantras of his name left you at the feeling of his cum coating your walls, the pleasure was unlike anything you had ever felt before. raphael stayed inside of you for a moment, allowing himself to come down from his high before finally slipping out of you.

your body fell limp against him, a feeling of numbness washing over you as you tried to regain some of your senses. raphael waited until your breathing had calmed down to move away, his clothes reappearing the moment he stood from the bed. "harleep, be a dear and get them washed up." the incubus hummed in acknowledgement as they also stood from their spot, beginning to search for a fresh pair of clothes for you to wear.

raphael's eyes drifted from harleep to you, admiring the number he had done on you. "get some rest, pet. i'll be expecting you to be ready for another round once i've finished my work for the day." he leaned forwards to leave a quick kiss on your forehead before turning to leave. "and harleep," you heard him say gaining the other devils attention, "do be gentle on them while i'm gone." your eyes widened, turning towards the creature who let out a chuckle in response.

"no promises, they are truly irresistible."

There was a mouse in the house

Haarlep x Female Tav and Raphael x Female Tav (kind of) | NSFW

Warnings: cunniligus, p in v sex, voyeurism kind of? So I have not been able to play this game yet but this man has possessed me and something happened and yeah. I am going purely off a couple of youtube videos, vibes and horniness. It all started when Haarlep said that the host of they body they use feels everything they are doing which obviously means Raphael was well aware of what was going on in the boudoir.

He felt it the moment she set foot into the House of Hope. His fist tightened around the glass of wine he was holding and his artfully designed smile turned brittle at the edges as he felt the not unremarkable wards around his sanctuary open for an unauthorised portal. The potential client he was currently entertaining was none the wiser to his sudden inattention but he had hardly been paying attention to their prattling to begin with. His little mouse had decided to bite the hand that would have so willingly fed it, if she had only agreed to his generous offer. He hated to admit it even now but her continued refusal to work with him, even when he had already offered her so much had stung. He had allowed his ill advised affection for this particular client to cloud his typically impeccable judgement and as he should have foreseen, it was now being thrown back in his face. 

There was only one thing she could possibly be after, that which he would have freely given, well not freely but for such a reasonable price. But his house was not so hospitable to intruders. There was time yet to finish his business here. It may not be the soul he wanted but it was a soul nonetheless. He refocuses his attention on the task at hand, carefully choosing his words as he weaves his web around the man sitting before him. It’s easy work so he has to try that little bit harder to temper the simmering rage that is growing inside him. But then it is done, business concluded and he can see to his little thieving mouse.

As he is preparing to travel he feels the first shiver run down his spine. Surely Haarlep was not entertaining when there was a little thief on the loose and yet there was no mistaking that feeling. He pauses in the doorway of his rented room, uncharacteristically affected by his Incubus’ antics but something tells him to wait. There were only a few plausible possibilities for who could be the target of his servants attentions but before he can squash it his traitorous mind informs him exactly who he wants it to be. As soon as her name flits across his mind his body begins to betray him. 

His desperation for her to sign his contract, become one of his souls, well deep down he had been aware that this masked a much deeper, more primal want. How he wanted to own her body and mind as much as he craved ownership of her soul. Better not to dwell on those things, he had told himself, over and over. His needs were simple and really he could only rely on himself so why even risk letting anyone else close. But as he succumbs to the ghostly feeling of his body being touched by another he knows he is at the brink of his undoing. 

With a snap of his fingers his clothes are gone and as he falls back onto the suddenly convenient bed in his rented rooms, he concentrates on the vague tingling caresses in a way he hasn’t indulged in such a long time, until they begin to feel almost tangible. It seems his incubus is taking his time with this one, feeling and tasting as much as he can. He feels soft warm skin against his tongue, the taste unfortunately alluding him but he can almost imagine it as he recalls the spicy earthy scent that lingers around her every time they meet. In his hand he feels a soft breast cupped in his palm, a pebbled nipple circled by the pad of his thumb. He yearns to pinch it between his fingers, pull and twist it until she was gasping her pleasure into his mouth but he is restricted by whatever it is Haarlep choses to do next and when he feels her other perfect nipple against his tongue he can’t suppress a groan.

The floodgates were opened as his phantom teeth nibbled at her, every thought he had buried about her ample bosom, always so perfectly displayed in her coquettishly revealing armour, situated just so to tease and tantalise. He had never allowed the thought to linger previously, as well as any potential attraction she may have had towards him but now, knowing that she had requested Haarlep to take his form was confirmation enough. He could picture her as easily as he could feel her, she would be completely nude, the incubus would have insisted, spread out against his crimson sheets, her skin glowing in a beautiful contrast. He would find every mark and blemish on her left by any other inferior being and cover them with his own, made by his claws or his teeth until there was no doubt who she belonged to. He only hoped that Haarlep mapped her body as carefully as he needed so he could explore them all at his leisure. The smooth expanses of skin passing over his hands and lips filled him with hope that that was exactly what was happening at his house. 

He was more aroused then he could remember but he needed more even as he was hesitant to take things further himself. His cock even in his human shell stood erect between his legs, untouched though it was, and he had to fist his hands into the coarse sheets below him to avoid ending this encounter before it had truly begun. He felt his tongue trace what he only could guess was her belly button and his heart began to race at the destination the incubus was journeying towards. He settles back against the pillows as he imagined himself settling between her legs, his fingers spreading open her sweet cunt which would be already glistening with the slick evidence of her arousal just tempting him to taste. He feels her folds against the flat of his tongue, his own watering mouth simulating her wetness for him. He doesn’t need to but he finds himself simulating the movements he can feel, rolling his tongue against thin air as he would if he had her there to feast on himself.  

His hands must leave her thighs because he is all of a sudden blindsided by the vice like heat around his fingers. How excited she must be for the incubus’ thick fingers to sink into her with so little resistance although her cunt doesn’t seem to want to relinquish them as she clenches tight around them as they slide out of her. So close, she must be so close to cuming for him and he writhes, desperate to hear the sounds she would make as he pushed her to the point of oblivion. How her laboured breathing might feel against his heated skin, how she might moan or gasp or scream his name in her ecstasy. The feel of her around his fingers and tongue is suddenly gone, ripping him gasping from his fantasy and he feels bereft, sucking in heaving breaths as he remembers where he is but he is not left adrift for long, his hands finding contact with her soft skin once again. The feel of her grounds him even as the real sensation belongs to his incubus. In his fevered arousal he struggles to catch up with the pair of them, heated hands grasping at his shoulders, frantic lips biting at his own, a strong leg hooking over his hip pulling him in as close as he can get.   

It’s only when he feels the head of his cock lining up to her entrance that everything comes back into focus. He knows Haarlep and he knows exactly how he will tease her now he has her exactly where he wants her. He feels the drag of her folds over the head of his cock coating himself in her slick and stroking against her clit. He hopes she is begging now, begging to be filled by him. He would keep her waiting too, until there were tears falling down her cheeks and she could do nothing but whimper his name. He feels the tip breach her and then stop. He can’t bring himself to move as he waits with bated breath for her to be forced to take him fully and he waits and waits. He feels the spasms in his abdomen as everything is pulled taught and he spares a thought as he often does for his incubus’ impossible will power as he resists the temptation of her clenching hole. 

He begins to move so slowly, easing his thick cock into her inch by inch. Every time he thrusts he pushes a little deeper. She opens up for him so beautifully and he yearns to feel how wet she is for himself. He can’t help thrusting in time with Haarlep as he imagines her there with him now, riding his needy cock and having to work her way down his length until she could take all of him. He is straining against his horribly empty bed when his cock is finally sheathed in her soft wet heat and even the ghost of the sensation is enough to finish him. His climax hits him like a wall, muscles clenching as the pleasure shudders through his body. He arches off the bed as he spills his seed across his own chest, too high on his pleasure to even begin to feel shame at finishing untouched.  

He should move, he knows this but his limbs feel heavy and light simultaneously and he wishes to bask in this feeling for a moment longer. It is as he catches his breath he realises that the portal his little thief had used to breach his walls has closed. How curious. He acknowledged that he had lain here perhaps a little too long but surely not long enough for them to fight their way through the house and claim their stolen prize. Perhaps this little adventure of hers needn’t be the end of their game. He sits up preparing to rebuild his composure and return to assess the damage her and her party of misfits had left in their wake but he can’t keep the smile from his face. ‘Oh little mouse, you know not what you have started.’