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underdark-dreams · 2 months

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It's finally here, all 7k words of it 👀 Thank you for everyone who read chapter 1, and waited so patiently!

[ch1]

Birds and Bees - Ch.2

Rolan isn't usually the type to accept help. In his defense, Tav is very persuasive—and he is very, very desperate.

Tags: Tailplay, Oral Sex, Biting, NSFW | Word Count: 7.7k [Read on AO3]

Rolan didn’t appear again for the rest of the day.

After their awkward exchange this morning, Tav felt she might be somewhat to blame. She tried to recall the bits of Tiefling etiquette she’d picked up from the Elturians; perhaps touching his tail had crossed some sort of line? Either way, the gesture seemed unthinkably forward to her now.

Then again…Rolan was the one who’d coiled his tail across her desk like that, its tip nearly brushing her hand as she wrote. She’d never seen him do anything like it before. If she didn't know him so well, she’d have found the move almost flirtatious.

At shop’s close, Cal took charge of locking up the front. Tav caught sight of the large iron keyring he carried and realized that it must be Rolan’s. So his brother had checked in on him today, at least—that gave her a modicum of relief.

Lia pitched in to help wipe down all her equipment and carefully fill the many waiting bottles with her cooled elixir. Tav held her tongue from repeating any of the worries she’d made after Rolan during the day—but it seemed her silence was just as damning.

“Stop fussing,” Lia repeated firmly. “Rolan’s just overdue for a rest. I mean, you saw his face.”

“I did.” Rolan had never been the type to slow down or show weakness easily. To Tav, the fact that he’d willingly taken himself to bed worried her more than anything. “Just promise you won't let him turn down a healer if he needs one?”

“If it comes to that, which it won't,” Lia said down to her work. “I promise we’ll find someone, okay?”

Tav kept her tone teasing as she packed away the sealed bottles in their crate. “Hmm, yes…if only you already knew someone with some knowledge of healing.”

Lia let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, you’re the last person Rolan wants to see right now.”

The sting of those words took Tav by surprise herself. Lia caught their edge too; she pulled up with a grimace, letting a few drops of antidote dribble onto the desk. “Shit, Tav, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Tav replied, making a fuss of sealing up the filled crate. The thought made her feel rather less than okay, which she didn't want Lia to see. “I think—I don’t know. I feel like I did something rude today, anyway.”

“Oh?” Lia’s tone was light, but she allowed a conspicuous pause to stretch between them. Tav pushed through a twinge of embarrassment to turn to face her.

“Lia, what would you think if I touched your tail?”

Lia glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “What, right now?”

“No, just—say I did by accident.”

Lia straightened to take a thoughtful inhale. “I mean…it depends on the context. You and I are friends, I wouldn’t think much of it. Unless you grabbed it up by my backside or something,” she added with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. If I’m walking somewhere crowded, lots of people might brush against it unless I’m careful.”

Tav had moved around to reset the rest of her clean glassware as she listened, feeling marginally relieved by the explanation.

Then Lia paused her work again. “Are you saying you touched Rolan’s tail?

“You what now?”

With impeccable timing, Cal skidded to a stop at the edge of the conversation, a heavy lockbox under one arm.

Tav glanced between the two of them. “Yes?” The word came out as a question somehow; her mouth went dry as they stared at her. “Like you said, I didn't think it was a big deal. He laid it on my desk while I was working, so I just kind of—” She mimed a little picking-up motion with her hand.

The siblings exchanged a significant look with each other.

“What?” Tav felt her face burning and knew the color must be noticeable to either of them. “How does it being Rolan’s tail make it different?”

Cal turned back to her with a frown. “What do you mean he laid it on your desk?”

“I don't know, damn—clearly I’m no expert!” She flailed her arms out a bit. “I just turned around and it was sitting there by my hand, all right?”

Another shared glance.

“That explains it,” Cal decided. It earned him a swift pinch on the arm from his sister. “Ow, hey—”

Tav looked between them again, trying to translate. “Explains what? Seriously, if I offended Rolan somehow, I want to kn—”

“You didn’t,” Lia cut in firmly. “This one here's just an idiot. It’s harder to control your tail when you're sick or tired, and Rolan’s been both, that’s all. I'm sure it was a mistake. And he shouldn't have minded you moving it,” she finished with a decisive nod.

With that, Lia snatched up the filled crate from her with one arm and grabbed her brother’s sleeve with the other. Cal stumbled slightly as she pulled him along, but he wisely held his tongue as they headed for the back stockroom. The hinges creaked shut behind them both.

Tav was left standing alone in the cavernous interior of Sorcerous Sundries, beside the desks that she and Rolan used to comfortably share—not sure if she should feel better or worse.

—

The next morning, Rolan was once again nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t even conjured his projection the way he usually did when occupied with research in the Tower. It was a shame; the shop was unusually busy by midday, and Cal and Lia worked without pause. When she could, Tav left her alchemy just to lend a hand with customers or make runs to the supply room.

She found herself worried to the point of irritation. Was Rolan really so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a potion? Or accept healing from someone he’d claimed was a trusted friend and colleague? She tried and failed not to be hurt by it.

Then again, Rolan had always been the type to shoulder his way through awful things alone while firmly turning down help—particularly from her. His apprenticeship, most recently. The memory made her radiantly angry on his behalf even now.

“Shit—”

Tav jerked away from the flask and sucked on her freshly scalded thumb. She must have the ratios off again; this recipe wasn’t new to her, but the nuances had escaped her all morning. These sublimates shouldn’t get nearly so hot when mixed.

Might as well admit defeat and review the recipe before she wasted yet another bunch of black oleander. Surely there was a reference text somewhere in Rolan’s library?

Tav glanced around to the front of the shop. Cal was recording a sale at the front desk; Lia was chatting with a very large half-orc over near the conjurement runes. Things seemed well enough in hand. Tav damped the flame at her station and quietly took the stairs for the portal.

For lack of a better word: the library of Ramazith’s Tower was absolutely magical.

Tav stood breathing in the quiet afternoon sunlight, taking an appreciative look up around her. The collection must be the best one this side of Candlekeep, with all sorts of books on spellcraft, Weave theory, alchemy, religion, the history of Toril—just to scratch the surface. She could think of no hands more deserving than the ones its ownership had fallen into.

Just as Lia mentioned the other day, Rolan had clearly been hard at work reorganizing the place. She ran her fingertips over the books’ spines as she walked around the perimeter of the main floor.

She imagined Rolan with his robe sleeves pushed to his elbows, enthusiastically at work in his book stacks, and bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his passion for taming disorder. As she walked, she found her gaze drifting to the delicate staircase at the far end of the main floor. It spiraled upward invitingly.

She’d never been to the upper floors of Ramazith’s Tower—nothing past the library. Certainly she hadn’t stepped foot in any of the private quarters of Rolan or his siblings. She wouldn’t even know which door led to whose.

But her mind wandered readily at the thought of Rolan’s bedroom. What it might look like…smell like.

No doubt it was packed with shelves of books and scrolls, filled with the scent of fresh parchment and leather-bound volumes. That warm, bookish smell that seemed to be woven into his robes. The fresh hint of cedar from the way he kept his clothes meticulously cleaned and stored. And that other faint spice that she could never identify, but always picked up when he stood close to her.

The same scent that had filled her lungs with dizzy pleasure when he’d hovered close to her yesterday, chin brushing her shoulder and arm circled possessively around her waist—

She bit her lip as heat pooled between her legs at the memory. She couldn't help it—how very fucking nice it had been to feel Rolan’s elegant hands on her, casually and effortlessly touching, as if he was accustomed to touching her much more often and much more intimately.

It would do no good to dwell on that moment. If anything, the uncharacteristic gesture was just proof of how out-of-sorts Rolan must be feeling. He was her friend, and by all accounts, he’d been too sick to leave his room for days.

With a sudden burst of determination and a disregard for the consequences, she strode for the stairs.

Taking the curving ascent so rapidly left her dizzy. Tav planted her boots on the landing for a moment, holding onto the railing while she took in her surroundings.

This upper hall was also quietly sunlit, filled with fine carpeting and oak paneled walls; but the atmosphere was somehow less grand than the cavernous library below. More intimate.

Two doors stood on both ends of the hall. Hazarding a guess, she stepped to the closest one on her left. Its heavy oak panels swung forward with the slightest touch.

Not a bedroom at all, but a bath—and a tremendously fine one at that. All the fixtures seemed to be wrought from polished gold. Underneath a towering stained glass window stood the deepest, widest clawfoot tub she’d ever seen.

As she gazed around, Tav caught sight of her reflection in a large glass above the sinks. Her hair was all frizzy flyaways from a day over her potion work. Indulging a bit of vanity, she paused to tame it with her fingers.

One of Rolan’s many endearing habits was his dedication to fastidiousness. Never a hair out of place, horns polished and shining, robes immaculately pressed—knowing him, with a bit of the Weave.

She must look like some sort of wild hedge witch by comparison. Tav had never minded life in the wilds as a wayward adventurer, even after the Elder Brain was felled to the Chionthar. It was part of what drew her to the career of a traveling alchemist.

But there were moments…most of them in this Tower, with Rolan and his siblings. Sharing a meandering dinner at a real table with actual chairs. Sitting with Rolan out on the starlit balcony, discussing blood alchemy over a glass of wine as they watched the harbor.

Tav forced her hands still and stared back at her reflection.

“What do you want?” She muttered to herself. The Tav in the mirror had no answer. But in her mind, one softly bloomed.

Over the past months, her feelings had tumbled forward faster than she could keep up with them. Seeing Rolan, talking with him about anything and everything, working beside him in quiet moments—she found those were the moments she looked forward to most.

His offer to turn one of the Tower’s empty vaults into a greenhouse for her. Essentially giving her a permanent place in his home, if she wanted it. Was it stupid to hope that he wanted more, too?

As she stood frozen silent in the confines of her lavish surroundings, a muffled sound came from her right.

She hadn't noticed the second door past the bathtub; presumably connecting to one of the bedrooms. She realized it most likely led to Rolan’s.

She stepped toward the heavy oak paneling and raised a hand to knock. As she did, more muffled noises came from within. Tav hesitated, questioning whether she should—then leaned in to press one ear to the wood.

There were the sounds of labored breathing, as if from pain or exertion. She strained her ear harder. There was something almost…rhythmic in it.

And then—she could swear—she heard Rolan's voice groan her name aloud.

A shock of heat ran through her chest, prickling up her neck and diving between the cleft of her legs. The rapid, hot ache at her core made her gasp out in surprise, then clap a hand to her mouth lest he heard. She felt her cheeks burning with realization.

Whatever she had expected to find by wandering up here…this had never been on the list. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Rolan, sweating and panting and desperate. And that thought filled her with overwhelming want in response.

Tav pushed herself back from the door with a jolt. She turned and ran, not knowing or caring whether the ring of her footsteps on tile carried past the door. Her pulse pounded against her ears as she rushed out of the room and back for the staircase.

Even before Tav’s foot hit the third stair, she knew she was headed for the Elfsong. And a very stiff fucking drink.

—

Day passed to night and back to day again in a feverish jumble. Like a vessel adrift in a vast ocean, Rolan was passed along wave after wave of searing impulse.

Had his ruts always been this overwhelming, and he’d just forgotten? Or was there something different about the drives this time around?

Even the little dignities were stripped away, one by one. He began by conjuring mage hands at first, but his concentration faltered too many times at the cusp. He finally just settled for his own grip. Desperate sounds rose in his chest each time he neared his next finish, the likes of which he’d never utter voluntarily.

And he quickly gave up on clothes altogether. He lay naked and spread-eagle on his sheets and tried to sleep when he could, before his demanding cock inevitably twitched back to life again. The fever turned his dreams shockingly lewd whenever he did manage to drift off.

By sunset, another strong wave of need was pulsing through his core, demanding his attention. Rolan lay back against his pillows and groaned open-mouthed as he stroked himself.

Even slick with oil, the friction between his hand and the raw, overstimulated ridges of his cock bordered on painful. His finish danced out of reach to the back of his mind.

With an impatient growl, he flipped over to his knees and snatched up a feather pillow, folding it into a sleeve for his cock. A crude solution—but with his first few thrusts, the cool softness of the silk caused a moan of relief to rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fucked his own pillow in a desperate chase for relief.

And behind his eyelids, there she was again.

Tav appeared there so easily now. He’d tried to fight it at first—ashamed to be using her like this, without her knowledge or consent—but he found that nothing satisfied his urges so well as when he pictured her on his cock.

So he closed his eyes and imagined Tav…pliant, eager, hungry. Legs spread and center dripping with desire for him. The shameful depth of his need faded away as he fantasized her own. How her eyes might shine as she panted and gasped under him, calling him by name and begging him to fuck her and fill her and mark her as his—

What would she sound like as he took her? He conjured the timbre of her voice, always warm and musical, now canting to a whine as the ridges at his base slammed against her with each thrust.

Pressure coiled rapid and hot at his loins. Rolan slid off the mattress with legs braced, the pillow cast aside, and tugged frantically at his stiff length again. His tail arched and flicked behind him.

Through clenched eyelids he saw Tav laid at the foot of his bed, hair splayed in a messy crown against his sheets as she cried out his name. Her legs crossed behind his flanks to hold him deep inside her tight wet heat—

‘Rolan—’ She moaned louder, her heels digging into his lower back as he took her. Tav gripped two handfuls of the bedding underneath as he thrust relentlessly, chasing more of her heat around his cock, more of the delicious scent at her throat and between her legs—

“Rolan!”

“Fuck—” With a strangled gasp, Rolan’s hips stuttered one last time as his come spilled in ropes to the floor. Panting and shaking, he caught hold of the bed post with one hand as he frantically worked out the rest of his finish with the other. His head spun with the force of it.

But as he opened his eyes and his vision cleared, so did that cottony feeling in his ears. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to his room.

“Rolan, we need to talk—” Even muffled by the heavy wood, Tav’s voice was unmistakable.

“Fuck,” Rolan hissed again, this time with enough wits about him to panic. How much of that last performance could she hear through the door? He snatched up the nearest towel to wipe himself, then tripped away toward the pile of clothes on the floor that had lain untouched since yesterday.

“Go away,” he called tersely, nevertheless yanking the trousers up over his hips. Thank hells that last round had left him soft enough he could do up the laces for now.

On the other side of the door, she was undeterred. “I’m not leaving till I’ve seen you.”

Rolan cursed as one of his horns snagged the ties at the neck of his shirt. Once the fabric dropped over his torso, he whirled around to take in the state of his room.

Bedsheets pulled sideways from the mattress; pillows strewn across the floorboards; air thick with the smell of him. Absolute filthy shambles.

Using a rush of energy he couldn't afford, he cast a mass prestidigitation spell on the space. The improvement in the air was immediate. But the resulting light-headedness caused him to stumble forward; he caught himself with a hand braced on the door frame.

“I'm not joking,” Tav called loudly, unaware he was now much closer.

He could have yelled at her to wait outside for another week, then, if he wasn't so sure she was stubborn enough to actually do so. After all, this was the person who’d defeated an Elder Brain and taken on several gods in the process.

That…and he found he badly wanted to see Tav in the flesh. Hearing her voice from just beyond his bedroom door only increased that desire. Rolan’s tail lashed behind him in helpless frustration.

“What do you want?” He asked instead, lowering his voice. No use broadcasting any more of this conversation to the whole Tower.

There was a pause on the other side of the oak paneling. “I’ve barely seen you since I got here,” Tav’s voice replied, matching his volume.

“And?”

“And I'm worried about you…obviously,” she added. “Cal and Lia said you’re sick. But I’d feel better if we could talk face to face.” Even through the barrier between them, he could hear a strain in her voice. She wasn't lying.

Rolan rested his horns against his braced forearm with a sigh. “Tav, I swear I'm perfectly fine.”

“Then just open the door a moment. Please, Rolan?”

It was far too pleasant to hear her say his name outside of his own imaginings. Rolan glanced down at himself. Barefoot, shirt untucked, but technically presentable. And not pitching a tent for once in the past twenty-four hours.

“If I do, will you leave?”

There was another pause. “If you want me to,” came the reply. He unbolted the latch and drew it open to shoulder width.

The wave of Tav’s scent hit him almost before he registered her face in front of him. The sweetness of it overwhelmed his other senses for a moment. It tested all Rolan’s limited reserves of sanity not to grab her by the waist and pull her body against him.

Unaware of the silent struggle raging in his chest, Tav stood with face tilted up toward his. Her eyes had traveled over his figure immediately, checking him over with a worried little crease between her brows. Something at the side of his head caught her eye; Rolan realized his hair hung loose and rather sweaty, exposing the slender tips of his ears.

Her demeanor changed at the sight. Tav sighed, leaning her head against the flat of the door.

“You’re even handsome with a fever,” she told him softly.

Rolan blinked at her. Perhaps exhaustion and hormones were driving him to hallucinations. “What are you—”

Faster than he could react, her palms landed on either side of his face, and Tav pulled his mouth down to hers.

A burst of colors exploded behind his eyes; the sensation of her lips moving on his kindled the dormant heat in his body to wild blaze. She notched her hands upward as she kissed him, and her fingers slid up along the sensitive tapers of both his ears.

Rolan let out a hungry, animal sound against her mouth. Both hands landed on her back and crushed the line of her body forward into his, leaving no space between them. He could feel the soft hills of her breasts pressing against his chest through clothing. The warm scent rolling off her skin and hair surrounded him with dizzying force.

The higher part of his mind was screaming at him. Rolan desperately tried to focus on what it was saying; as he did, he caught the tang of wine on her lips. The discovery gave him just enough will to pull back from her.

And he did, with one jerking step back into his chambers. “You can’t be here.”

Tav stood panting through parted lips, eyes half-lidded as they traveled over him. Rolan felt flames lick his skin everywhere they moved.

“Why not?” She breathed. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her. He rather felt that way himself, still reeling from the electricity of kissing her.

Tav pouted at that, and Rolan wished to bite that lower lip firmly between his teeth. “I’m not drunk,” she corrected. “I’ve had a drink. There’s a difference.”

“You wouldn’t be here if—”

“If what?” Tav watched him as she took a step closer. Rolan stepped back in tandem, reflexive. She was well over the threshold now. “If I knew what was really happening to you?”

Those words sounded much more knowing than he liked. Rolan stared at her, trying to read into her face. He swallowed against the dry lump of his tongue and went out on a limb. “Which one of them told you?”

Tav shook her head. “Cal and Lia have been nothing but discreet.”

“Then how could you possibly understand?” He demanded. The very recent discovery of how soft Tav’s lips were was making it very difficult to maintain this conversation. He could still feel the way her body had pressed into him.

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Rolan, I’d like to think I’m not completely oblivious. There have been…signs. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about them. I’ve been at the Elfsong all afternoon, just—thinking.”

At that, Rolan felt his tail twitching nervously behind him. “I see,” he replied. Pivoting, like an idiot, trying to pretend this was a perfectly acceptable conversation to have with the woman who occupied most of his thoughts when he was pleasuring himself. “And you think that I—that my—”

Tav made a quick twisting motion to get around the door. She latched it and drew the bolt closed behind them, then turned back to him.

“A lot of humans have heard rumors about Tieflings,” she confessed. “Some stupid, but some credible. I’m saying this is maybe not the secret that you think it is.” As he watched, a much deeper blush spread over Tav’s cheeks. She glanced away to the side.

“Rolan…I grew up in the Dales, remember? Around rabbits, and cattle, and oxen. Half my friends lived on farms.”

Her analogy couldn’t be clearer. To hear her lay it out so plainly—Rolan felt the last dregs of his pride shrivel up and die. He gripped two palms over his eyes and let out a groan of abject humiliation, turning away to the middle of the room.

How early had she connected the dots? The moment she felt him brazenly place a hand around her? Had she known all along that he was locked up here, rutting into every one of his pillows?

“Look, Rolan, I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to say it—”

Completely overwhelmed by his embarrassment, he hadn’t heard her follow. When Rolan finally dropped his hands from his face, he turned to find Tav standing very close to his chest.

“And I’m sorry for kissing you before,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m not sorry for it…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, to be honest. But it wasn’t fair. I just…wanted to know how you’d react.”

Rolan watched as her chest rose and fell heavily where she stood. The look in her eyes made his blood pound through his veins. He felt an urge to reach out and smooth back her hair to bring her in for another kiss, one he resisted.

“I care about you,” Rolan told her, before he could lose his nerve. “Our friendship. I respect you, Tav, it’s not worth—muddying things with this.”

He felt fingers lacing through the ones that hung at his side, and despite his words Rolan tightened his grip automatically. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against the heat of his skin.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tav answered earnestly. “I care about you, too. If I can help, I want to. Please—”

She was so close to him; Rolan breathed shallowly, but the warm scent rolling off her skin and hair nevertheless swept past him with dizzying force.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he managed hoarsely.

She didn’t falter. “Then tell me what else you think I should know.”

His senses were growing clouded with her; the offer that had tumbled so easily from her rang in his ears. It made the thread of Rolan’s control stretch dangerously taut.

“I won’t be gentle,” he warned.

His inadvertent shift in tone changed something in the air between them. There was a crackling energy that hadn't been there a second before.

Tav licked her lips as she watched him. “Good.”

Rolan thought he might melt from the heat that spread across his skin. His tail snapped against the mattress behind him. If she moved a step closer, she’d feel how hard he was in his pants.

“Mating bites,” he went on hoarsely. “I’ll mark you. Quite a lot. I’ll try not to draw blood, but…I can’t promise it.”

Tav nodded. “What else?” She asked, encouraging him to go on.

Rolan swallowed against the embarrassment. But this was important for her to know. “This time for us, it’s all about…reproduction. We become quite virile.” He nearly choked, but there was simply no other way to put it. “For the urges to pass quicker, I need to come in you.”

Tav let out a throaty hum of approval. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound. “That’s fine, I take preventatives—it’s safe.”

They stood looking at each other for another moment. That shivery, electric feeling buzzed in the air around them. Rolan wondered if she could hear the way his heart drummed against his ribs.

Tav leaned in slightly. “Well…” She said, and her wet tongue passed nervously between her lips again.

That taut thread in his chest snapped in two. Rolan crushed her up against him with a whimper. Arms circling around her waist, he nudged a thigh between her legs and firmly ground their hips together.

Tav matched his eagerness. Their lips crashed together; at the back of his mind, he felt her grip cradling under each of his ears. Her fingertips licked like flame against his scalp.

Even through layers of clothing, he could feel the heat of her. Rolan jerked her hips forward harder against his thigh; the swelling length of his cock pressed against her soft, yielding center. Tav dipped her head back from the kiss, arching into him with a moan, and her fingertips laced at the nape of his neck.

It offered an irresistible angle at the column of her throat. Rolan’s claws raked back in her hair, pulling it to a tight ponytail. Then he tugged firmly, holding her open as his mouth descended on her neck.

He kissed and sucked along the band of muscle from her ear to the curve of her shoulder, then parted his lips to bite down firmly on her soft flesh.

“Yes,” Tav moaned in approval above him. Her hips rolled into his, grinding herself against the hard cock straining in his pants. Rolan felt her pulse skip against his mouth. Only when he tasted sweet copper did he pull away, laving his tongue over the crimson pin-pricks of his teeth into her skin.

He took only a moment to admire the trail of marks blooming along her neck. Tav was already pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with bruising force; her tongue explored, tasting, searching for proof of her blood against his tongue and moaning against him when she found it.

Her scent filled his mind. Without breaking from her mouth, he plucked open the laces of her pants. Rolan slipped his hand under the waistband, beneath her smalls, and slid two fingers to dip down between her legs. Her folds were shining-slick; as he nudged her in circles, a trickle of her arousal rolled down his fingers. She shivered prettily under his touch.

“You’re soaked,” Rolan groaned against her neck.

“All because of you,” she breathed without hesitation. “Been wanting this, gods, wanting you for months. Your hands on me—cock in me—”

At the words he withdrew his fingers from her impatiently, then sucked them clean. Her sweet taste on his tongue made his cock ache. She scarcely had time to curse at the sight before Rolan gripped both arms around her waist to lift her into him.

With one quick pivot, he landed her down on the bed with his frame pressed into her. Her legs hung off the edge from the hip down, and he used the position to grind the stiff length in his pants against her cleft.

Even fully clothed, it was maddening. He could feel the wet patch between her legs, and when she arched further into him, a primal growl rumbled in his chest.

Tav’s fingers were brushing at his sides, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she panted impatiently.

Rolan tilted back to rip the garment up over his horns, immediately reaching for her own once his was free. He stripped her frantically, ripping her smallclothes in two before he could work them down her thighs.

When she lay bare beneath him, moaning and arching into everywhere he touched, he was overcome with hunger for more of her taste.

Rolan gripped her hips, dragging her with a jerk to the edge of the bed. With her glistening folds displayed before him, all he could do was drop to his knees and bury his tongue between them.

The sounds she made were like sweet music as he explored her. He sucked and massaged her slit with his tongue, then plunged it as deep within her walls as he could. His eyes rolled back in his head. Her taste surrounded him; his nose brushed her clit as he ate her, further overwhelming his senses with the scent of her arousal.

“Gods, yes, Rolan—” Tav moaned above him as her hands flew to grip each of his horns. She alternately tugged them and arched into his mouth, grinding her clit against his face.

He wanted to hear her say his name like that another thousand times. Rolan curled his tongue against her walls, determined to taste her even deeper, but to no avail. Without his sharp nails, he would have sunk two fingers into her.

Instead, as his mouth left her, the ridged end of his tail looped around to brush over her slit.

“Ah—” Tav gasped from the bed. One of her hands left him to prop up on an elbow to look.

He watched her face in adoration as his tail slid between her soaked lips, coating itself in a mixture of her arousal and his saliva. Once it was thoroughly wet, he let the heart-shaped tip push experimentally into her.

Whatever hesitation he had evaporated at the way she arched and keened. He pushed in further, inch by inch, hissing in breath at how tight and wet her walls squeezed around him. Rolan felt his cock leaking between his legs at the sight of his tail disappearing into her plush cunt.

“Taking my tail so well,” Rolan praised without thinking, then groaned. “Fuck, Tav, you’re so tight—”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded, breathless.

When he felt the tip brush the limits of her insides, he held it steady as she panted down at him. Her mouth hung open in anticipation as she watched him lean in again for her center.

But instead of landing on her clit, his mouth met with the soft skin of her inner thigh and sucked it firmly between his teeth.

Tav gave a little yelp of pain, but her walls constricted around his tail so hard he moaned against her flesh. He left two more lovely red marks against her thigh before withdrawing his tail from her, leaving only the tip inside her silk.

Then he thrust back into her and took up a forceful rhythm of stretching her open on his tail.

“Fucking gods,” she gasped, gripping both his horns again. He felt her use them as leverage as she bounced her hips down to meet him.

“Like this, don’t you?” Rolan urged her on, drunk off her desire. “Fucking yourself on my tail—” He leaned down to take another taste of her clit, swirling and sucking as the ridges on his tail dragged more wetness out of her with each thrust.

“Yes,” Tav moaned, shaking under him as his tongue worked over her clit. “Feels so perfect in me, so—ngh—!”

When he flicked the tip of it up inside her, Tav’s words stuttered to incoherence. He felt her inner walls clench and flutter, and repeated the motion over and over with each thrust.

“I’m—oh, oh ohohoh—”

She dissolved into soft cries. The muscles at her core tensed and shuddered as she climaxed against his tongue. Rolan withdrew his tail from her with a slick release, instead clasping his mouth over her to lap down the sweet taste that poured from her. His pants were so wet he was nearly convinced he’d already come, but he felt his cock straining against the fabric just as firmly.

When her thighs collapsed limp to either side, Rolan pushed himself to his feet for a look at her. Tav’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with arousal, her hair coiled out in wild tendrils that framed her like a crown. Their eyes met; with both hands on his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss.

Rolan landed braced on his forearms. Their tongues slid and pushed together, trading the taste of her release. When he felt her reaching between them to undo his laces, he pulled away to loose them and strip off the rest of his clothes.

Tav reached for his erection, and before he’d steadied himself, she gripped his length to drag the generous droplets of precum around his tip with her thumb. His hips bucked into her.

“Eager, aren’t you?” She teased softly.

“Yes,” Rolan groaned. Tav’s soft hand was around his cock for the first time; it was all he could do to locate words. He knew his face was flushed and tense with arousal, but Tav only looked up at him with appreciation from where she lay back on his bed.

When she guided his length across the wet of her core, he rocked his hips to drag his ridges across her. She shivered slightly, still sensitive, but rolled into him.

“Need you,” Rolan panted, not sure whether he was asking her or begging. “Tav—please—”

Tav’s hand lined him up with her entrance. When his leaking tip nudged inside her, Rolan pushed forward with one slow, determined cant of his hips.

The cool slick of her walls clutched each inch of him so perfectly. A low groan rose in Rolan’s throat—this was the closest thing to real satisfaction that he’d gotten in days, and he hadn't even started moving yet.

“So good,” Tav said under him, voice sweet and husky. “Keep going—”

Rolan braced his hands against her hips. He pulled out slowly, legs shaking beneath him, then pushed back into the tight plush of her.

His hips took up a firm pace, and Rolan couldn't bite back his whines as he plunged his cock inside her. Whatever his fevered imagination had conjured, it was nothing compared to this—he fell over her again, fangs skating against her breast as her body rocked under him with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, fuck—” Tav was just as breathless as her fingers gripped the infernal ridges on his shoulder blades. She tugged, egging him on.

Rolan took the invitation with enthusiasm. He nipped and sucked around the swell of her breast, breathing in lungfuls of the sweetness rolling off her skin.

“Harder,” Tav begged, the words vibrating against his lips. The hunger inside him surged in agreement.

Rolan’s lips fastened over one nipple. He sucked, hard, letting his tongue roll her against his teeth. Tav let out a whimper, but he felt her legs crossing around his hips as he continued to bury himself in her.

Rolan pulled away to look at her face. A mist of sweat dusted her brow; Tav’s lips were parted and twitching with silent words.

“Look at me,” Rolan ordered, still filling her with his cock in a steady rhythm.

Tav obeyed, her eyes shining and pupils blown wide. He straightened away from her, never breaking, and laid a hand each on her calves. Then he pushed up, folding her legs to her chest and opening up her cunt even deeper for him.

“You look so beautiful like this, Tav,” he told her, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his pace slow and steady. “Folded in half in my bed. Stretched around my cock so perfectly.”

In response, Tav’s hands grabbed her knees, pulling herself open even further to each side. “Is this how you imagined it?” She asked wickedly. “All alone—wishing it was me and not your own hand—”

Heat prickled across his neck and shoulders, but Rolan was too far gone to feel shame. He couldn't resist breaking eye contact, however, watching the way his cock stretched open her dripping cunt.

“Just like this,” he panted in answer. She took in breath to respond, but he was already slamming back into her at a reckless pace.

The lewd, wet sounds of his thrusts filled the room, layered with their chorus of whines and moans. Rolan shuddered at how slick and tight she was around him, perfectly gripping each inch of his needy length. His cock throbbed in anticipation of a satisfying release, finally, after all these times of not quite enough—

“I’m close,” he panted, gripping her hips to pull her down deeper onto his cock. The tip of him nudged against the limits of her walls. “Where should—”

“Inside,” Tav insisted, still holding herself wide for him. “Only inside, Rolan, want you to fill me up—fuck—”

The imagery pushed him over the edge, and he did just that. With a throb of release, he felt his cock pulsing and filling her deepest walls with his seed. His hips stuttered into her as he pushed his spend as far into her as he could reach.

Tav clutched his shoulders as he came, humming and moaning out praises for him. Their hips rocked together, nudging his coated length back against her deep center.

Tav went tense under him. He forced his eyes open and saw her lips parted in surprise.

“I’m—oh—!”

She gasped in shock as her own climax gripped her. Rolan hissed in breath at the way she clenched and fluttered so suddenly around him. His length was still hard, and his ridges pulsed against her.

As she drifted back down, Tav’s eyes finally lit on him in a daze. “What…what was that?”

Rolan was abruptly reminded of how many ruts he’d spent without a partner. “I'm sorry, I should've warned you,” he confessed. It was hard to form his thoughts while still inside her. “During the cycle…infernal traits get stronger. Like incubi. Helps attract a partner.” Somehow this explanation was more embarrassing than any of the other filth he’d just spoken to her.

Tav stared up at him. “You're saying your come is going to make me come?”

“Essentially.” Rolan shifted inside her slightly, still not confident he was done. “I apologize—I didn't think to tell you. Is that a problem?”

“Rolan—” Tav let out a breathless laugh, and the sound went straight to his chest. “This is the exact opposite of a problem. Just a bit of a shock, that's all.”

The lovely sight of her happy and satisfied under him was too much to resist. Rolan leaned forward on his arms to kiss her, trapping her legs between their chests.

As her hand stroked softly under his jaw, Rolan felt a second ache settling in his loins. He released her lips for just long enough to push her legs out over his hips, then ducked back down for her mouth.

He rolled his hips into her slower this time, but it was somehow more intense. Their lips stayed connected as he drove into her deep. Her walls were slippery with arousal and his own seed, and they gripped like pure silk around his cock. Her opening slid over the sensitive ridges at his base with each thrust.

When he dipped a thumb between their bodies to rub circles over her clit, Tav broke away with a little gasp.

“I can’t again,” she said, panting.

“You can,” he told her simply. “Hold on to me—”

She did, wrapping both arms and legs firmly around him as if he was her anchor. Rolan dipped his head to her neck as he doubled his pace, their hips slotting together with each brisk slide into her. He breathed deep against the curve of her shoulder.

Still so hungry for release, it wasn't long before he came again hard. This time he just barely pumped his spend into her before he pulled out to look down.

Sticky white seed dribbled out of her slit, running down toward her hole. He dipped the thumb circling her clit down to swipe it back up across her cunt, painting his come across the bundle of nerves at her peak.

Tav’s thighs twitched under him, and she gripped his arm tight with one hand. She swore as he continued flicking across her clit with the wet pad of his thumb, then whined out his name.

While her next orgasm nearly doubled her in half, Rolan tilted his head to watch the sight between her legs. She was soaked, twitching, utterly intoxicating. Her contracting walls pushed more of his spend out of her; it flowed generously from her slit and soaked down into the bedding below.

Finding himself now utterly spent, Rolan collapsed on his back next to her. As he did, he realized his legs had grown fatigued to the point of buckling from the exertions. He let his body sink heavy into the mattress.

“I made a mess on your sheets,” Tav panted from beside him.

Rolan groaned at her descriptive language. The fact that his length continued softening was a sign his urges were finally giving him a reprieve, however. “It was mostly my fault.”

She only let out a weak breath of laughter.

Too tired to trust his shaking legs, he reached an arm blind over the side of the bed and snatched up the first fabric it touched. His discarded shirt.

Pushing himself seated, he gently reached to dry between Tav’s legs. One of her hands traced the ridges on his back as he quietly tended to her.

“How long before the next?” She asked him.

“An hour or two.” Rolan didn't look at her. “Tav, you've done more than enough for m—”

The mattress shifted as she sat up and turned his face into a waiting kiss. It was soft, just a chorus of little presses across his lips.

When Tav pulled away, she tucked the damp curtain of his hair behind one ear. “Rolan, unless you want me to go, I'm staying until it’s over.”

Rolan cast a glance over her. Despite the fact that she was naked in his bed and covered in blooming bruises from his mouth, she was very much the same Tav as ever. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.

She pushed him onto his back with a sudden laugh, landing with her chest pressed to his. “What an utterly Rolan thing to say,” she mused. “Need I remind you I just came three times?”

Tav was teasing him, and was of a mind to put her in her place—only he found that none of his limbs wanted to move at the moment. Instead, his only response was a deep hum as his eyelids drooped shut.

He felt the mattress shift as she rose and wished he could reach out to stop her. But a moment later she curled up next to him again, dragging a soft quilt over their bodies.

Rolan turned inward to rest his head on Tav’s chest—and fell into his first real slumber in days.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #rolan smut #heat/rut cycles #female tav #bg3 rolan #tiefling biology #bg3 fanfiction #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams

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doki-doki-imagines · 2 months

Note

Okay so I'm NOT the anon who requested the lin keui trio +earthrealm defenders reaction to y/n asking them to eat pineapple to make their cum taste better.

But I'm about to be the non-anon that requests a follow-up of the lin keui trio +earthrealm defenders reaction to seeing y/n EATING pineapple right in front of them afterwards to make their(y/n's) cum taste better.

Or even just for your name to say "I had pineapple" and guage reaction.

Fun ask, last time. Fun answer, too! Thank you for writing it. No pressure on this ask, love your work!

author note: sequel of this. I don't think I should laugh so much doing these kind of hcs LMAO. Also thanks for your kind words!!

tw: vulgar language, some suggestive but nothing nsfw is described.

If you like what I write consider tipping on my ko-fi

Johnny Cage: -He would do the nose flick and smile from one ear to the other. -Johnny is so showing off, he just misses the peacock's tail being wide open and he would be perfect. -"You'd really do anything to be eaten out by me, mh?" He says trying to block the new smile by biting his lower lip "Amazing technique, right?" -Best advice: fuck the arrogance out of him. It won't work but at least it will be a fun time.

Kenshi Takahashi: -He…he can't see you. -Kenshi understands you are drinking something, but he really can't tell what's inside. -"I have been drinking pineapple juice lately." You say trying to sound as smooth as possible. "That's good, it has excellent anti-inflammatory properties." He replies kissing your forehead. -Kenshi knows from the moment the fruit name rolled out from your lips where things were going. -Did you try to tease him? Send him a message? Too bad, ask nicely or even better, beg. He won't give up for anything less.

Kung Lao: -He looks at you with such as big smirk… -"So, are you getting ready for later?" Lao whispers in your ear, hands sliding toward your backside. "Yeah, I have to meet with Raiden." -1HKO. -Seems only right to tease him back.

Raiden: -He stutters a bit when he sees you gulping down a cup of the juice. -"You don't have to exaggerate. I appreciate the feeling, but don't hurt yourself." He says before softly knocking your foreheads together. -This guy can be so overwhelmingly sweet.

Liu Kang: -He looks at you, sitting on the kitchen chair while you gulp a big glass of pineapple juice down, your back towards the stove. -"I know what you are doing. You are so silly" He chuckles "Bend." "What?" You reply unimpressed putting the now empty glass on the counter. -"Bend." Liu Kang says again, but his voice is full of mirth. "Or what?" You challenge him. -It all happens in a second. You bat your eyes and you feel his strong hands on your forearms pushing you around and bending you down. "Or I'll do it. Let's see if the juice benefits already worked on your body." -They did not. But if you knew challenging authorities was so fun you would have done that way earlier!

Geras: -"I appreciate the effort, it warms my heart knowing my partner would go to such an extent, but-" He pushes away the glass from your lips "There are different diets that have the same effect. I know you hate pineapple juice." "Geras, I love you." You choke a bit on your spit, hating the taste in your mouth. -He chuckles at your words "It's my pleasure." -Geras doesn't have to look at the future to know you'll never drink that ever again.

Bi-Han: -The scowl is permanent on his face, but this time he isn't angry. -There is a tiny voice in the back of his mind screaming "they would do anything for you, for your pleasure!" -Bi-Han basks on the idea that his partner is wrapped around his thick fingers. -If you don't make any mistakes during the day you'll receive your prize in the evening…

Kuai Liang: -Well he drank it with no problem so he doesn't mind if you do either. -May want to try that dumb thing of crossing glasses but he ends up being too forceful making juice go down more on your face than your mouth. -You laugh so Liang isn't worried. -"Your shirt is stained, it will be a mess if we don't clean it up. Let me help you remove it…" -The shirt was soon forgotten.

Tomas Vrbada: -"At my three we both drink. 1, 2, 3-" "W-Wait I have a better idea…" Look neither of you likes pineapple juice that much and this looks more like torture than anything else. -So…Tomas put a finger at the bottom of your glass, pushing it towards your lips to make you drink a sip. -And then he kisses you! Sucking your lips and therefore the juice out of your mouth. Tomas also spills his juice on your neck, licking it up while hands travel south. -Look he is doing it for the both of you! A new way to enjoy such a mid beverage! -The fact that he wanted to fuck you senseless since tomorrow morning is totally not correlated.

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la-petite-lapin · 1 month

Text

Double the Love | Part Seven*

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, unprotected PinV, multiple orgasms, praise, size difference, basically pure p*rn, silly goofy vibes, branding ((?) not OC), marking

They finish what they started

"Have you guys ever shared a woman?" I find myself saying the question before I can process what I'm really asking.

Simon cocks his head to one side, looking mildly offended. "Why, sweetheart? Do we seem that green?"

I snort out a laugh. This whole situation is hilarious to me, and if I wasn't so turned on, I'd probably have broken into a fit of full-blown laughter by now.

I'm naked, Simon's naked, and Johnny is the only one who's still at least semi-decent.

It blows my mind to think - just a week ago - I thought Simon couldn't stand the sight of me. But now here we are, cuddled up together in bed.

"No," I say in what I hope is a reassuring tone. I reach out a hand, gently cupping the side of his face. "I just wanted to know how you normally do this."

We've moved around since Johnny gave Simon some of the most impressive head I've ever witnessed - a close second to Simon's own performance on me earlier tonight. Now, we're all spooning - my much smaller frame sandwiched between their muscular, scar-flecked ones. I never noticed just how big they are compared to me until now. Not that I'm complaining; far from it. I like being smaller than them. It makes me feel oddly protected.

Johnny's hand brushes a path from my bare waist to midway down my thigh, causing me to grind back against him instinctively. He bites down on a groan to say, "Well, it depends, lassie. Think ye can handle both of us at the same time?"

I gulp.

There are challenges and then there are challenges.

I've seen Simon already and - on his own - he's packing. Based on the impressive tent that I can feel pushed against my backside every time I move, I can tell that Johnny isn't going to be far off. Maybe even thicker.

Johnny chuckles, his hand sliding past me to caress Simon's jaw. "ah' think she's worried, Si."

"With good reason," he replies smugly, visibly preening at the confidence boost.

"Well I'm sorry that I like having use of my legs," I grumble from my spot, caged in between them. It feels almost surreal being here. For once, I'm actually enjoying sex and all the foreplay and aftercare that comes with it. For however long it lasts.

Simon offers me a languid smile, cock twitching against my thigh. "So, what do you want to do, princess?"

I lean in, pressing a kiss to his slightly parted lips. His mouth is deceptively soft, the delicate skin moisturised and plush. He welcomes me in, slipping his tongue past my lips to flick playfully against my own. It feels good; like it's the most natural thing in the world for me to be doing on a random afternoon.

As I pull away, I offer him a bashful look, grinding myself back against Johnny once more. "Maybe... I start with just one of you."

"And see how you feel then, bonnie?" Johnny supplies, hitting dead on the mark.

I nod, trying my best to look coy when I know for a fact exactly what I'm doing. "And, because Si's already got off tonight, I think it should be you, Johnny."

Simon's eyes are heavy lidded as he takes me in, licking his lips slowly. "I agree, darlin'. Lie down against me."

Before I can ask what he means, Simon props himself up against the pillows, erection jutting out proud and heavy. He gathers me into his arms with Johnny's help, manoeuvring me until all of my weight is resting against him, my body positioned between his spread legs. Thick thighs the size of tree trunks hold me in place, bracketing my hips .

Johnny leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips before doing the same to Si. With one hand on his injured side, he gets up from the bed.

I watch as he strips himself down with unbridled confidence, eyes only leaving mine to fall just behind me - undoubtedly looking to Simon. The way that they so casually share in this moment - in me - only gets me even more hot and bothered. By the time he gets back onto the bed, I can barely contain my anticipation; raking my nails along Si's muscular thighs hard enough to leave red, angry marks. I'm sure they're going to sting in the morning, but he doesn't tell me to stop.

"Calm down now, lassie," Johnny says teasingly, settling on his knees between my legs, "or ye won't get to play."

I swallow, letting my head tip back against Simon's chest as a deep chuckle rattles through it. I allow myself to take a moment; committing the harsh, chiselled lines of Johnny's body to memory, storing it away for later when I'm alone. His body is a work of art - a little more padded around the stomach than Simon's but perfect, nonetheless.

And then my eyes catch on it.

A giggle slips past my lips before I can even think about how it might look to them. Running along the ridge of his prominent V-line, just slightly off-centre is a single word written in someone's handwriting. Not Johnny's, so I'll hazard a guess that it's Simon's. A single word; four letters. Mine.

Finally, my eyes dip down to his cock; heavy and hanging under its own weight. That - not so funny.

"Wow, lassie," Johnny says, baby blues glittering with amusement, "way to wreck a man's confidence."

Si snorts out a laugh behind me. "She didn't giggle at me."

"I- I," my mind blanks, eyes drawn again to the tattoo. My cheeks flush with heat. Of course he thought I was laughing at his cock. Of course. "I wasn't laughing at it."

"It?" Johnny looks like he's on the verge of losing it, laughter creeping in at the edges of his words.

My face feels like it's on fire. If anything, they seem to be enjoying this. Like teasing me is their new priority; the seriousness of sex in the rear-view mirror of this conversation.

"I was laughing at the tattoo," I huff, squirming for some friction - any friction that I can find to relieve some of the tension that's built up in me. "Not your dick. Can we fuck now? Please?"

Johnny takes one look at my face - pouting and scowling - and stops. His lips purse together for a long moment and then... he erupts into a roar of laughter. Laughter so strong that he has to steady himself, one hand on Si's leg and the other clutching at his chest. Simon follows suit, ganging up on me and joining in.

I might have found it amusing if I wasn't sitting in my bed, stark naked.

It only pisses me off even more when Johnny's erection - the one that I wasn't laughing at - starts to soften with his raucous laughter. The looming promise of another orgasm starts to slip away, sending a spike of anger through me and...

"If you two won't fuck me," I hiss bitterly, narrow my eyes at Johnny's shaking frame, "I'll find someone else who will."

And that switches the tone.

He straights up, laughter subsiding, and leans in towards me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Really, lassie? Think you can find a man or woman on this Earth who'll do a better job than us?" He presses a kiss to the base of my throat, then another in the valley of my breasts, his words a whisper against my skin. "Who'll worship ye better than us?"

I swallow, my body melting into his touch.

But, now that it's game time, I'm starting to worry about the logistics. It's been so long since the last time I slept with someone, and now there's two of them; huge and raring to go. "Just come up here and kiss me properly."

To his credit, Johnny does as he's told, crawling back up my body to press his mouth to mine. His hands slip up to grip Simon's broad thighs, his lips working against mine in a flurry of heat and passion. I can feel Si twitching against my lower back, making the whole moment even hotter. Knowing that I have the two of them so interested make me feel powerful. In control over two fearsome soldiers, having them hanging off my every word.

Johnny's head dips down, lips about to make contact with my neck again, when I place a hand on his throat - my touch firm and commanding. His eyes meet mine, sparking with fire and something verging on defiance.

My voice is breathy as I whimper, "Are you hard yet?"

Johnny smiles. "For ye, lassie? Always."

I watch on as he notches himself between my thighs, his tip bumping against my clit and sending a sharp jolt of electricity through me. He does it again; the light dancing in his eyes telling me that it's on purpose. I groan, grasping at his backside in an attempt to pull him closer, but he just laughs, easing himself in at his own pace.

I moan at the sensation - the slow, easy burn - and change tac, hands rising to his face to pull him in for a kiss. He slips his tongue past my lips, using it as a distraction from the mild discomfort of his size, until he's seated all the way.

He pulls back from me, forehead falling against mine as he looks down at where we're joined. "Look a'that, Tali. Look at how well ye take me."

I squeeze down on him involuntary, Johnny's hips twitching in response. He hits a spot even deeper inside me and Simon's hand reaches out, falling to my clit. He runs his thumb over it lazily, making a few tight circles that make my jaw drop with pleasure, before falling to the base of Johnny's cock. "He's right, princess," he grumbles into my ear, voice low and gravelly. "You're doing a perfect job."

With Simon's lips pressed against my temple, Johnny pulls out slowly - making sure I feel ever ridge and vein as he drags against my sensitive inner walls. They flutter, missing the warm weight of him.

"Still want this?" he mumbles, accent thickening.

I nod, feeling boneless as he grabs me by the hips, angling my thighs over his to give him a deeper angle.

But, before he dives in, he raises his eyes to mine again and groans, "How do you want it?"

"Hard," I whimper, barely able to make my mouth form words.

With a single nod, he plunges in - sinking even deeper this time. And then he fucks me. Hard and fast and vicious like a rabid animal in a rut. Gone is the tenderness he showed as Simon ate me out. The goofy, silliness when he was messing around. In his place is a madman on a mission.

He fucks me like he has something to prove.

I come embarrassingly fast, screaming at the top of my lungs in a way that makes my throat hoarse. I can vaguely feel my legs shaking, but I can't tell if it's the orgasm or from the sheer power of Johnny's animalistic thrusts.

The whole time, Simon strokes my hair, muttering sweet praises against my hairline. Good girl. Taking him so well. Looking so pretty like this. All for us.

I preen with pride.

And then Johnny slows down. Carefully, he pulls out, slipping out pathetically easily from the slick mess between my thighs. His cock shines in the lamplight of the bedroom. "What do ye think, Tali? Should we let Ghostie play?"

My legs tremble as I reach a hand up to brush a stray lock of hair away from my face. I know without even looking that my mascara is probably smeared all around my eyes. I probably look like a fucking panda.

But I can't bring myself to care. I want them. Both of them. Now.

"Do you think he deserves it?" I answer teasingly, surprised that I still have the energy to talk. My brain is wrapped in a cloudy hazy, capable of very little thought as it desperately awaits my next orgasm.

Simon growls against my back.

Before I can turn around, I'm being thrown around like a ragdoll - manhandled onto his lap so that I'm facing him. The blunt head of his cock prods at my entrance, slipping in with no resistance. I bite my lip to suppress a moan.

Gently, he runs his thumb along my lower lip, freeing it from between my teeth. "Don't do that. You'll hurt yourself, love," he scolds tenderly, like he's not inside of me.

I hover over him, wanting nothing more than to sink down and ride until I find my pleasure. But I find myself looking back over my shoulder at Johnny. "What about you?"

The Scotsman snorts out an amused laugh. "Don't worry about me, lassie. May ah'?"

I nod eagerly and wait. Taking me by surprise, he slots his cock between my arse cheeks. "There," he says with confidence. "ah' can come like that, right on yer pretty little arse."

I swallow thickly, feeling my pussy clench again. By the strained look on Simon's face, he felt it too.

Fed up of waiting, I drop down, letting myself bounce on Simon's lap; his hands forming a vice-like grip on my thighs to help with my movements. True to his word, Johnny thrusts against me, keeping pace.

Before long, I can feel myself coming again. The sudden spurts of wet warmth against my bum and lower back are enough to tell me that Johnny is as well. His strong, masculine groans fill my ear as my head lolls back, resting against Johnny's shoulder as Simon grunts. A sudden voice crack has me snorting out a single laugh; all that I can manage before the breath is punched out of my lungs.

Steely and silent, Simon speeds up with his thrusts - his habit of being a man of few words evidently carrying over to the bedroom.

"Fuck," he grumbles, his voice sounding more like a whine, "I'm gonna pull out."

"Stay in," I whine, clawing at his shoulders. By the end of this, he's going to look like a tiger. "IUD."

His arms lift up to wrap around my waist, pulling me in for a bearhug and anchoring me against the vicious snapping of his hips. I can't help but hope that he finishes soon, because I can't come again and overstimulation is starting to set in.

Just as the pleasure bites at a point of pain, he roars out. The arms banded around me turn to solid steel, holding me still as he comes. And comes. And comes.

How does Johnny cope with this?

Finally, it ends. Si releases me from his grip, setting me down on the bed as I flop down onto my back, completely boneless. He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead as Johnny flops down beside me, equally as spent.

I'm waiting for Si to join us when the bed shifts, his weight leaving the mattress. I lift my head to see what he's doing, finding him buck-naked as he strolls towards the bedroom door. A pathetic whine leaves my mouth when I try to ask him where he's going.

Still, he turns back the bed, an amused smile lighting up his usually stoic and reserved face. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm just getting something to clean us all up."

Satisfied, my head drops back against the pillows.

a/n: hey guys! long time, no see :) I hope you've enjoyed part 7 - you've waited for it long enough. what do you guys want to see from our three lovebirds next? - much love and hope to see you all again very soon, lapetitelapin

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x reader #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #smut #pwp

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 11 months

Text

The Eye of the Buttholder

A/N: Before I figured I was bisexual I thought everyone checked out everyone's butts. My main headcanon is that Steve always knew, but I like it when he figures it out or when someone else figures it out.

Steve's eyes were always drawn to butts, no matter the gender. There was nothing to it, really. There is nothing wrong with appreciating a good butt especially when he was trying to appreciate Eddie's. The guy wore baggy jeans, so it was hard to tell what kind butt he had, and Steve found it hard to appreciate. Can't the guy wear tight jeans for once? Well, Steve's prayers were answered when Eddie came into Family Video wearing a crop top, his vest, and very tight jeans. Eddie grinned and pointed toward the videos as he moved to start browsing.

Steve's eyes wandered over Eddie's backside, enjoying the way the jeans hugged him perfectly. His bottom was small but cute. It was perfect. His mouth fell open when Eddie bent over to look at the other shelf. Steve felt himself lean forward. Eddie's hair fell over him like a curtain, and Steve was too distracted to notice that Eddie's eyes were now on him until Eddie called his name a couple of times.

"Hey, big boy! You see something that you like?" Eddie asked as he stood up.

Eddie was expecting him to get nervous, but Steve wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Yeah, you have a nice ass! Why do you hide it?" Steve asked.

Eddie grinned and bounced over to the counter.

"You like my ass, Stevie? Do you normally check out another man's ass?" Eddie asked.

"I can appreciate someone's ass without it being a thing. Isn't that a thing people do?" Steve asked.

"It's a thing some bisexuals do, and I should know because I am one," Eddie said softly. "I wouldn't know about all. I'm not sure every bisexual is an ass person."

"Oh, does that mean you like both?" Steve asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, I guess that makes sense. It's not exactly straight to check out another guy's ass, is it?" Steve asked.

"Nope."

"Huh, I mean, it's not like I was internalizing it on purpose. I guess I just didn't think that I felt that way, or I didn't think I could be that way," Steve said. "You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I get it. So, you're not freaked out about it?" Eddie asked.

"Why would I be?" Steve asked and paused, thoughtfully. "After facing interdimensional monsters, I realized that life is too short and that when you discover something good about yourself, it's easier to just accept it. Why waste time freaking about something you can't and don't want to change about yourself?"

"Damn, you're just the complete package, aren't you?" Eddie asked. "The first time that I realized that I also liked guys, I flipped the fuck out."

"Well, I just now realized that it's just more people to have sex with," Steve grinned.

"Hah! I knew it. I knew as soon as I saw those hips, that ass, and those pouty lips that you, Steve Harrington, are a slut. Very slutty hips, those are," Eddie said, saying the last part in Yoda's voice.

"Slutty hips, you have too," Steve said back and they both giggled. "I'm proud to be a slut. Sex is great."

"I wouldn't know. There isn't anyone lining up to have sex with me," Eddie said, blushing me.

"That's crazy. The first time I saw you, I thought: This guy is hot. If I was into guys, I would totally hit that," Steve said, and Eddie laughed.

"So what you're saying is there at least one person in line wanting to fuck me?" Eddie asked.

Steve leaned forward as Eddie did the same. They were so close that they could feel their breath on each other's face. Their noses were now touching. Steve closed the gap and pressed his lips to Eddie's. He froze at first before relaxing into the kiss and deepening it. He really got into it. Eddie wrapped his arms around his neck while boosting himself over the counter and right into Steve’s arms. Steve barely had time to catch him. He broke the kiss.

"Jesus, Eddie," Steve said.

"When do you take your break?" Eddie asked.

"A few minutes, actually," Steve said.

"How about I pull around back, and you can take your break in my van?" Eddie wiggled his eyebrows.

"Okay," Steve said.

Eddie gave him a big kiss on the cheek, slapped his ass, and hopped over the counter. Steve laughed as Eddie swayed his hips dramatically as he walked out the door, giving his own ass a little smack. Steve thanked God that it was a slow day. Steve went into the break room and woke Robin up from her nap. After spring break, they weren't allowed to take their breaks together anymore.

"Hey, I'm taking my break now. Eddie's out back waiting for me. By the way, I'm bisexual and I am probably going to be making out with Eddie in the back of his van," Steve said and hurried out the back.

"What?!" Robin exclaimed, jumping up, and went to try to open the door. "Goddamnit, this damn door is stuck again! Steve, you can't just drop something like that and leave. Steve! STEVE YOU STILL HAVEN'T TOLD ME YOUR MIDDLE NAME EVEN THOUGH WE'RE MEGA BEST FRIENDS HARRINGTON! This is not proper bathroom etiquette."

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #bisexual steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson

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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 1 year

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#𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄, 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄.

🎀 asked ↺ HPLY SHIT FLAMEBRINGER HAS ME DOWN BAD. HIS VOICE. THE EDGE MIXED WITH A LOVE FOR FLOWERS... NEW SARKAZ BOY ACQUIRED /VPOS. i feel like he's either the sweetest lover or wants to take you from behind and fuck you into oblivion. there is no in-between.

cw. sub!reader, mean!flamebringer, rough sex, cumming inside (use condoms irl!!), big cock, overstimulation, dacryphilia, possessive behaviors, size kink, strength kink, hickies, blood kink, mating press, full nelson, doggy style & sex marathons. MINORS DNI!!

art credit. (please go check 'em out, art is super good!! they do have nsfw art so minors beware!!)

he's the type of boyfriend who would use you as his personal armrest, but if someone else tries it, he swings at them then acts like he didn't just try to start a fight. honestly the man is so unpredictable but i'm pretty sure he'd be less of a menace to you at the very least, letting you fall asleep on his admittedly comfy chest without voicing a complaint once. and good luck trying to pry him off of you when he's fallen asleep on you, bc that man has an absolute death grip and he's not gonna let go anytime soon.

flamebringer can and will fuck you into oblivion, his calloused hands tightly gripping your waist as he slams himself against your backside over and over. his cock spreads you open far wider than what could be considered normal, reaching so deep that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. each brutish thrust pricks at nerves that have you sobbing and babbling stupidly, erasing any figments of thoughts or cares. there's nothing to ground you, nothing to think of but the way flamebringer fucks you into the mattress until he finally cums, painting your insides white with thick creamy globs. but just once isn't enough to satisfy him — the sarkaz needs the entirety of rhodes island to know who's fucking you this good. he won't stop until his stamina has run out and he's emptied his heavy balls into you, even if you're beyond exhausted by that point.

the hickies and deep bites he leaves behind are the type that stand out like a sore thumb and take weeks to heal up entirely. all the makeup in the world can't hide the indents of his teeth against your collarbone, or the love bites decorating the sides of your neck. and that doesn't even begin to account for the mess he made on the rest of your body. his bites tear deep enough to draw blood, the pain triggering fat tears to stain your cheeks, and he watches with a primal sort of hunger when he watches you sob like that. it's gotten to the point where you've begun to become terribly aroused by the searing pain, your mind so fogged that you can only focus on the painful pleasure that flamebringer delivers. and all of it is done with a purpose, since he's got such a nasty possessive streak on him, smug arrogance filling his chest when he watches you make a feeble, and admittedly pathetically adorable, attempt at walking after he'd just finished blowing out your backside.

flamebringer's strength is the source of his fiery pride, especially since he can use it to his advantage when he wants to fuck you senseless. he can, without a doubt, fuck you in full nelson, arms hooked under your plush thighs, his self-control cracking with each warbled moan escaping your lips. mating press has to be his absolute favorite, however, since he can watch each cute expression you make and be able to crush you beneath him, snuffing out any hopes you have of attempting to crawl away from him. the position allows him to reach even deeper, his fat cock brushing against sensitive nerves that leave you jolting and desperately clinging onto him. he just finds it so cute that you're chanting his name — stupidly babbling it like it's the only thing you can even remember. and of course, each time he cums, each load will stay safely nestled deep inside your oversensitive hole. at least, until he pulls out, your gaping walls unable to keep his seed from dripping out.

keep being this cute and pliant for him and he really may never want to ever let you go. it's only a matter of time before he can truly claim you as his♡

#lati thirsts #🎀 anon #arknights x reader #arknights smut #flamebringer #flamebringer x reader #flamebringer smut

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avaantares · 6 months

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What's Sparda's reaction to Vergil messing up Big Time? 👀

Oof. You know, Sparda doesn't get enough canon screen time to rate as a sympathetic character out right of the gate, but putting him through this is how you make him one.

Just imagine him coming back (after decades of imprisonment, if we're going with the story summary I posted) and finding out that his firstborn son -- the studious one, the one who always behaved more responsibly than his brother, the one he entrusted with the Yamato -- not only undid all the work Sparda spent thousands of years and made great sacrifices to accomplish (sealing Temen-ni-gru, et al.), but also turned against humanity, which Sparda gave up his powerful position in the underworld and waged war against his own master to protect. That with no warmth or apparent regard for his own childhood home, his son completely destroyed the city in which Sparda had built a life and made a family -- a place he probably dreamed of returning, in between whatever tortures were inflicted upon him in his captivity. That the son of his beloved wife had such disdain for the humanity she imparted to him that he tore it out of himself by force. That his own son murdered thousands (perhaps tens of thousands) of humans, of whom Sparda was the self-appointed protector.

I think Sparda's reactions would, in some way, parallel the stages of grief. Shock and disbelief, at first. Then fury. Blinding rage. Possibly even a threat of punishment or extermination, because the things Vergil has done are exactly the kind of threats to humanity that Sparda set himself against.

(This is where it gets fun for a writer, because while Dante has his own extensive set of daddy issues to deal with, I think he would actually stand up to Sparda if he thought Dad was really about to kill his brother. Sparda may be his long-lost father, but Vergil is his twin, and he did not drag his brother's sorry backside back from the brink and follow him into literal hell just to let him get offed by an outsized disciplinary spanking.

Dante would be the one to tell Sparda what Vergil suffered in his absence -- because Vergil certainly wouldn't, and probably deep down believes he deserves punishment anyway -- and, while not justifying Vergil's choices, would at least attempt to convey what a terrible place he was in when he made them.)

After the anger would come mourning for the loving family and the home Sparda had hoped to return to, and which he'll never be able to recover, now that the trust between them has been broken. Eva isn't around to bridge the gap, and the only thing they really have in common now is a unilateral hatred of Mundus.

Ultimately -- meaning, story endgame material -- I think Sparda would be able to come to terms with what Vergil had done, especially if Vergil were clearly no longer the same person who had committed those atrocities (the advantage of a story that's several hundred thousand words in length is that you have room for complex character arcs!). But it would take a lot of time and distance, and a lot of specific writing toward that goal.

#devil may cry #dmc #fanfiction #sparda #ask

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flowery-laser-blasts · 8 months

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Headcanon: Shego and Drakken have no separate bedrooms (long post).

Not sure if anyone has thought about or noticed this before but hear me out!!

In the season 2 episode Sick Day, we can get glimpses of Shego and Drakken's 'bedrooms'.

Following the storyline of the episode, Shego is the first one to get sick because of her fight with Kim, she then stays inside her room to ensure Drakken doesn't get sick after which Drakken teams up with Killigan and then gets sick as well.

Looking at this room, we clearly can see that it's Shego's. It's green-themed, has a make-up table, drawers for her clothes, etc. But when I watched this episode (multiple times), I was so freaking confused about Shego's bed. It looks so uncomfortable, too small even for a 1 person bed and nothing indicates that this is one of those beds that you can pull the backside up for back support since it's one big 'piece'. Of course, the backgrounds are stylistic but if you look at the drawers for example, you can see the lines that indicate where the drawer can open.

A-ha! This is not a bed, this is a sofa.

Shego likes to read and lounge about, so she would definitely have a nice cozy spot to sit on to read her magazines. But that leaves the Question: Where in this bedroom is her bed? Answer: There's none because there's not even space for an actual bed.

Just like Drakken's bedroom, Shego's room has a moat surrounding the middle platform. Placing a bed here would end up in having a too cramped space in here. Now take a quick look at Drakken's room.

Something that caught my eye (and surprised me on the first watch after all these years) was how big and RED Drakken's bed is. Both Shego and Drakken have colors that lean towards cool tones rather than warm reds and they (most of the time) stick to their themes. So it's very odd for especially Drakken, who's blue, to have an entire bed that's red. It's not even his opposite color since that would be orange. What else: his entire bedroom is JUST a bed with surround-sound speakers and a TV.

My theory: This is Shego and Drakken's shared bedroom. 1. Shego's bedroom(?) Shego's room in this episode isn't her bedroom but a relaxation room, full of her personal belongings. This is the place where she goes to take a break and be alone. Having her own relaxation room isn't uncommon since in the Christmas episode, it's confirmed that Drakken has a 'mudroom' in the lair but he doesn't even know what it's for. So he either let it be made for Shego not really caring what was in it or doing research or Shego took it upon herself to get one installed. Her mini spa as you will.

So if that's not the room in which she sleeps, what is?

2. Neutral grounds The bedroom we see Drakken in is also Shego's bedroom. Let me explain:

Both characters, like I said before, have 'nothing' to do with red; at least at first glance! If you look at the color wheel, you can see that their specific colors together make for the balanced opposite of red. (I went through multiple colorwheels and posting all of them would make this post even longer so yeah have 1).

So we can say that this area is neutral terrain for both of them. They can go in and out of here as they please, without any hassle or the other saying "This is MY bedroom." because none of their personal belongings are in this room.

3. But then WHERE is Drakken's stuff? His lab. It's probably all in his lab.

SO HERE'S WHAT HAPPENED: 1. Shego got sick after the fight with Kim, but none of them knew that Shego was infected. Getting sick usually takes a day or two (at least for me) and so Shego found out that she was sick a day or two after the infection.

2. She stayed out of their shared bedroom and remained in her relaxation room to quarantine herself in the hopes that Drakken didn't catch her cold and he could focus on his plans. However, since it's been at least 2 days, Drakken also would be infected because of their shared space.

3. After a while, Drakken got sick as well and went into the bedroom because he had no lounge sofa or anything to lay in. He has just the bed.

My conclusion: Shego and Drakken share 1 bedroom to sleep in. The bed is big enough for 2 people. Shego probably sleeps more than Drakken does and maybe they take routines with one person sleeping at a time or so, maybe they sleep together with each of them at the furthest end of the bed.

Or my whole color theory and background analysis is off and it's just red because it makes the blue in Drakken's character pop, but there's one more piece of desperate-looked-into 'evidence' that shows that they have a 'relationship' in this bedroom:

there's a FREAKING HEART on the wall that STILL DOES NOT MAKE SENSE TO ME OTHER THAN THAT THIS BEDROOM IS THEIR LOVE NEST.

May it represents them having 1 strong bond or them screwing each other's brains out on a Friday night after karaoke time, idk. It can't really be a random hole because of the lack of depth and there are no small holes anywhere else in the room. It cannot be a shadow since it doesn't line up with anything else in the room, the underlaying line isn't shown and the color is slightly off/darker when color is picked and compared to the shadows of the tunnel in the back of the room.

So yeah it's just a big heart being there. Probably just to fill up the space but idk, I'd like to think that there's ALWAYS thought and meaning behind every detail in whatever art or media there is. So there you have it! My overly in-depth analysis. I probably went way too deep into this theory, but I like to think of it this way (especially since I've been drawing cozy cuddle scenes that I'll be posting here later).

Anyway do what you want with this info and I hope you have a good day<3

#kim possible #drakgo #drakkenxshego #drakken x shego #headcanon #kim possible sick day #dr drakken #drdrakken #drakken #shego #shego kim possible

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carlyraejepsans · 2 years

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got any advice for your fans out there mr sans sir?

take it easy. why work hard when you can just not do that, right?

but... you know. sometimes... it's good to put in the effort. sounds weird coming from me, but you never know what life's gonna throw at ya. not until you're flat on your backside in the frozen food aisle. baby formula splattered on the ground, store employees yelling around you.

besides. there's other people, too—friends, family... hell, both—and they're stuck here just as much as you. and they make it worth it. maybe you can't change things. maybe nobody can. but... isn't that the point? to be a good person... at least you have to try?

anyway, uhhh... unionize. that's a big one too

#answered asks #as sans #undertale #sans #utdrp

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hinatastinygiant · 3 months

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3 |𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓘 𝓒𝓪𝓷❜𝓽 𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓹

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

The Author

All time seems to stop as you're trapped, repeating the same scene over and over. Watching Loki's heart break before your eyes at least a thousand times has taken a toll on you. You've tried everything by now, saying no to Thor, rushing to Loki's side, and pulling him into a deep kiss, but no matter what you try, the ending is always the same.

"Please, stop," you plead as your back is shoved against the cold wall once again.

"Y/N," Thor calls, his voice distant. You've given up, your head falling limp as you allow the tears to fall. You sink down against the pillar and tuck your knees to your chest. You don't want to hear his voice any longer. You wish he would just stop.

As he sits down beside you, the small, half-concealed box slips out of his pocket, landing beside your foot. You lift your head and slowly reach for it, knowing exactly what's inside.

"Here, this belongs to you, doesn't it?" you sigh as you half-heartedly hand it to him.

"Y/N, you know how much I care for you," he tries, reaching for your hand.

"Yeah," you mutter. "I do."

"Don't you know what this is?" he then chuckles. Gently, he opens the box and reveals the beautiful diamond inside. "Lovely, isn't it?"

You nod slowly. You've only seen the damn things a thousand times in the past, well, however long you have been here for. "It is."

"If only it made you happy," he sighs to himself as he picks up the ring and spins it around between his fingers.

"Why are you doing this, Thor?" you finally ask, feeling more exhausted than ever.

"What do you mean, love?" he hums, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I mean, why are you saying this?" you clarify as you tighten your grip around your legs.

"Because it's not hard to see the way he looks at you," he smiles, his voice softer.

"Who? Loki?"

"Yes," he nods. "It's obvious. He's loved you forever. And you, you're not blind. You know that. You love him, too."

You feel the tears swell up in your eyes. Is this true? Does he really love you? And if so, why are you stuck here, watching him watch you marry his brother?

"You don't have to say anything," Thor sighs. "I saw everything the other night when the two of you-"

"Please don't," you sigh. "I feel bad enough as it is. You didn't have to say that. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault," Thor insists. "But that's not why I wanted to talk to you. It's because-"

Before he can finish his thoughts, a red door appears before the two of you and Mobius steps through to greet you.

"Ugh, it's you," you grumble as you begrudgingly stand to your feet.

"Y/N?" Thor hums. "Who is this?"

Mobius simply rolls his eyes and resets Thor to somewhere else. "Came to say our goodbyes," he tells you as he looks back up from his watch. It's then that you see Loki reappear beside him.

"What do you mean, goodbye?" you ask Loki.

"Your dear Loki is going to help me track down another variant version of himself," he explains briefly.

"We've found out that this variation of me is hiding right before an apocalypse-" Loki begins to explain before getting nudged in the side by Mobius who shakes his head.

"We've already got a big of an issue with you knowing that hole in the fabric of time," Mobius tells him. "We don't need it getting out any further."

"Right, well," Loki sighs, turning his attention back to you. "If you wouldn't mind giving us a moment... alone. To say goodbye."

"Not a chance," Mobius shakes his head. "Give her a quick hug and step back before I use the collar."

"Fine," Loki huffs. You can't help but wonder what sort of relationship he has with this strange man. As he turns to you, you can see the pain in his eyes. He pulls you close, his hands on your back as you bury your face into his neck.

"Please," he whispers softly. "Don't be afraid. Find me."

Though his words confuse you, what makes you even more unsure is the way his hands trail up your back and slip something down the backside of your overdress. You want to ask him what's going on, but you know better than to do anything that stupid.

"Alright, hands off, lover boy. Let's go," Mobius interrupts the moment, holding out his hand and shooing you away. "I'm gonna need your help."

"Just a moment long-" Loki begins, before getting instantly pulled back to Mobius' side.

"No can do. It's time."

You watch as Loki disappears with Mobius. Your heart breaks, knowing that he's being forced into something dangerous. And yet, he didn't even seem scared. Why did he ask you not to be afraid?

Slowly, your hands travel behind you, sliding underneath your dress to grab whatever he left there. However, of course, Loki has placed it in the one spot you can't reach. So, you're forced to remove your overdress and toss it aside, revealing your white underdress.

"Dammit," you whisper as you bend down to touch the thing. But the second your fingers reach it, you're instantly teleported away.

"Y/N!" A voice suddenly gasps. You whip your head around fast only to see Queen Frigga racing towards you. "What are you doing out here? In only your slip, no less. Come with me immediately."

"My queen, what is going on?" you whisper as she guides you towards her quarters. However, before she can guide you there, the sound of a loud foot slamming onto the ground rings out before you. There, Balder stands before you.

"What is the meaning of this?" the queen snaps.

"Mother, I've just received word that Princess Y/N..." he begins, before trailing off to allow his eyes to wander down your form. "Has, um, returned."

"No kidding," she sighs. "Now if you would please move aside. The princess is in dire need of some clothes. "You don't object to that, do you?"

"Of course not," he shakes his head.

"Then step aside," the queen snaps, her voice suddenly harsh.

As she nearly shoves you into the room, you notice Balder's eyes still wandering over you.

"Heavens, what is going on today?" the queen mutters, rushing to her closet and searching for a gown.

"Your majesty," you begin, trying your best to keep up with her. "With all due respect, I need to leave."

"Leave?" she hums as she rifles through at least a hundred dresses. "Why would you want to do that? You found my son, haven't you?"

"Well, actually," you swallow, not sure how much you can say.

"Never mind that. Here, this should do," she says, handing you a white and gold gown.

"My queen," you frown, looking up at her. "I need to go back. Loki is in trouble. I hadn't found Thor at all," you begin to word vomit. "H-He tried to save me but then we ended up in that closet and... And then the magic mirror led me here."

"Have you gone mad, my dear?" she questions, taking a step back.

"Perhaps," you sigh as you slide the dress over your head.

"Alright," she shakes her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. But if you are to marry my son, I expect that you will stay here and await his return. I do not wish for you to leave this planet again. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," you answer begrudgingly as you accept the dress, not wanting to cause any more waves than you already have.

"Good. Now, let's get you to the party," she nods as she leads you back toward the door.

"Wait, the party?"

"Of course," she chuckles. "Did you think that we'd be having a small get-together to celebrate your return? A feast will be held at once!"

***

"Oh, darling, I've found her," the queen announces once the two of you arrive back in the ballroom, releasing you from her grasp so the King can wrap his arms around you.

"We thought we had lost you," he sighs. "We're so glad you're safe."

"It's been a rough couple of days," you nod.

"Come, come, there's a celebration in order," he insists. As he begins to call a few servants over, Balder catches your eye with an icy stare that sends a chill down your spine.

"Is everything alright?" the queen asks.

"Uh, yes, I just..." you trail off, unsure of what to say. "I need to use the restroom."

"Of course, my dear," she smiles.

"Thank you," you nod as you excuse yourself and quickly make your way out. You're nearly out of sight when a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you into a dark room. "Hey!" you exclaim, only to see Balder's gigantic body cornering you.

"Hello, Princess," he smirks, his voice deep and dark.

"Balder," you swallow. "Is everything okay?"

"Doesn't seem like it," he tells you, narrowing his eyes. "What's going on with you?"

You don't know exactly how much he knows. You doubt Loki or Thor ever told him about the party two weeks before your eighteenth and yet, he's acting strange. "I'm not sure what you mean," you admit.

"Why were you missing for so long yet you never managed to find my brother?" he asks.

"I don't want to talk about it," you shake your head as you try to come up with a good enough lie in your head.

"Something happened. You saw Loki, didn't you?" he adds, eyes widening.

"Balder, please," you sigh. "You're being ridiculous."

"So I'm right!" he exclaims.

"Would you keep your voice down? Someone will hear us," you hiss.

"And they should," he nods. "If my brother did anything-"

"Your brother was not the one who did anything," you insist, crossing your arms.

"Did you have sex with him?" Balder asks, making your eyes go wide.

"Excuse me?!"

"Did you?" he asks again.

"I, uh," you mutter, unable to find the right words. "No, of course not!"

"Then what is it?" he continues to press. "You were gone for a long time."

"We didn't..." you begin.

"Well, that's good," he nods, sighing. "I suppose the engagement can go on then. Since nothing happened."

"Well, it's not nothing," you mutter, refusing to look up into his eyes.

"Then tell me, Y/N. What happened?"

"Two weeks before Thor... Loki and I, um, we, uh..."

"You kissed, didn't you?" Balder asks, his expression turning from rage to sympathy.

"Yes," you admit. "I'm sorry."

"Shit, I always thought the two of you had a thing for each other," he admits. "Well, this will change things."

"Balder, you can't tell your father," you beg, reaching out and taking his hands. "Please."

"You're telling me this now and expecting me to keep it a secret? From my own father?"

"I don't know what else to do. I-"

"I don't blame you, Y/N," Balder tells you, squeezing your hands. "My brother just can't control himself apparently."

"No, but it wasn't like that. It was all my fault. I'm so sorry," you plead.

"It's okay," he sighs.

"Promise me, Balder, promise me that you won't tell. Please. If not for my sake, then for Thor's. It'll ruin his reputation if anyone were to find out," you insist, tears forming in your eyes.

"Okay," he agrees. "I won't tell, but you have to go along with the wedding, no matter what. Push those feelings for my mischievous brother and do your duty."

"Thank you," you sigh, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him. "Thank you so much."

"Come," he says, leading you out of the room. "Before anyone spots the two of us and starts asking questions."

"I hate this," you mumble as you walk, allowing him to tug you along.

"As do I," he nods. "You look lovely in that dress, by the way."

"Really?" you ask, glancing down at it. "Thank you."

"But you will be changing, yes?"

"Why?"

"It's white, Y/N," he chuckles. "Don't want to lie to the people anymore about your innocence, do you?"

You narrow your eyes and quickly yank your arm out of your grasp. "All three of you are the same," you scoff, heading off towards your room. "Assholes."

"Wait, what did I do?" he asks, following after you.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"I was just giving a compliment," he tells you.

"By suggesting that I'm a liar? I told you it wasn't like that, Balder. It just... happened," you sigh, stopping to turn around and face him. "I don't expect you to understand. I'm sure you're the one who taught Loki just the right places to go after dark, so you wouldn't know what it's like to have someone actually have feelings for you, right? So, no, I will not be changing."

"Y/N, I didn't mean-"

"Just leave me alone," you insist, opening the door to the ballroom and rejoining the king and queen. You feel terrible for leaving them in the dark, but you're not quite ready to tell them what's going on. Not yet, anyway.

The Author

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thefabulous-mostgroovy · 27 days

Text

Visitors

Usually, the only visitors she gets are runaway sheep dogs, or the sheep themselves, or—on just one occasion—a great big coo from the farmer down the glen. So, needless to say, the last visitor she is expecting is a pair of corpses in the garden. or Jon and Martin get aggressively adopted by a wee Scottish granny

Jon/Martin, 2.2k words, rated T, read on AO3. this is for the prompt Outsider POV for @jonmartinweek !!!

It's around three in the morning when it happens.

Why Eilidh was up that early, she can scarcely even remember. She never does sleep well in this cottage, she's never been fond of it. Not only is it cold and drafty and creaky, the actual owner is never here! Miss Daisy Tonner seems a fine enough woman, if a little blunt in Eilidh's opinion, but house sitting should be for someone who lives in a house, not for someone who just pays for a cleaner. In truth, she has only met Daisy one time, and that was years ago when the lass was only twenty-one. How she could afford a cottage in the middle of the Highlands, Eilidh would never know, but she could. Either way, it's a pain in her backside to make the trek from the village, especially at her age, just to dust a place that no one lives in.

The emptiness of being un-lived in is probably what makes it hard to sleep in. It's always noticeable when a house has been abandoned, even with the amount of trinkets and books and quilts Eilidh decides to sneak in. She only comes every three or four weeks, just to make sure the heating is functioning and the pipes are still running, and with it being such a nuisance to get to, of course she welcomes herself to stay a little while. Usually, the only visitors she gets are runaway sheep dogs, or the sheep themselves, or—on just one occasion—a big great big coo from the farmer down the glen.

So, needless to say, the last visitor she is expecting is a pair of corpses in the garden.

Eilidh is sitting up in bed, reading a paperback by the dim lamplight, when a flash outside catches her attention. Green light dances across the pages and the duvet, sparking into view of the window. She watches in fascination as what looked like a spark of lightning about a meter above the grass. Arcs of electricity fork into the ground, scorching the earth, and Eilidh adjusts her reading glasses. Surely, she must be seeing things.

With an enormous crack! she's blinded by the emitted light, the whole house shaking with the impact. The pipes rattle and her lovely trinkets threaten to topple over, a porcelain lamb landing on the floor with a shatter. When she looks outside again, there are two lumps on the ground. Against her better judgement, and with a huff, she pulls on a bedrobe and some slippers and she shuffles out to the garden.

Stepping outside, she can hear the distant calls of distressed sheep and cows, dogs howling and barking. It seems that the tremble that made the cottage shake was felt by more than just herself. She ties her robe tighter as she steps out into the cold of the night.

The light above the patio isn't the best, but it does let Eilidh see her visitors, two limp bodies dressed in hiking gear, a bit better as she looks at them now.

The first of the two is a tall, lanky man. His skin, under all the debris and dust, is dark and littered with scars. His hair halos his head, all stringy and wavy and almost as grey as Eilidh's own. Lifeless, dull brown eyes stare up at the sky, laying on his back in a sprawl. Blood, or at least what looks like blood, saturates his clothes, and has trickled and dried in tear tracks from his eyes, down his cheeks and into his beard. Most concerning, the handle of a knife sticks out of his chest.

The second man is shorter, yet still larger. His skin is deathly pale, but splattered with light freckles, visible where the layer of dirt is thinner. His hair is curlier than the first's, and a vibrant ginger, with stark streaks of an unnatural white through the front. His hands are completely covered in blood, staining up his sleeves and his lap. He's laying on his side with a hand outstretched to hold the first man's hand. His chest slowly rises and lowers as he breathes.

He's breathing. He's breathing!

So, one corpse and one unconscious man who maybe murdered the corpse. Brilliant. Eilidh shuffles back inside and grabs the poker from the fireplace. With a cautious eye, she leans in, and pokes the shorter man in the shoulder. She earns a grumble. She pokes again. Grumble grumble.

"Oh, wake up, ya big lump," she grumbles right back. She gives a particularly hard poke and the man wakes up with a full body flinch. He yelps, his voice higher than Eilidh expected, and frantically sits up. His eyes are a startlingly light blue.

"Who are you?" he asks in a painfully English accent. "Where am I?"

"Your in my bloody garden, ya eejit," she snaps. It's not technically her garden, but he doesn't need to know that. "Who are you?"

"Where's Jon?" the man says instead, looking around until his eyes settle on, apparently, Jon. "Jon!"

The man takes Jon's face in his hands, smearing half-dried blood onto his face and in his hair. Eilidh isn't sure what to do. She's not a nurse, or doctor, or even trained in first aid, and it's not like the kit in the lavatory has the equipment to deal with a stab wound to the chest. The man has started crying, shaking Jon by the shoulders as if that will help the gaping chest wound. Eilidh is about to jab him with the poker again, tell him that his man is probably dead and gone, when Jon inhales.

Two bony hands fly up to grasp Martin by the arms, gasping around the wound, gritting his teeth and crying out in pain. His face screws up, contorting awfully as he squeezes his eyes shut. Eilidh shakes her head, because she must be hallucinating, but she could have sworn that she saw something glowing beneath Jon's eyelids.

"Jon?" the man above him shouts again. "Jon! Jon, what's happening? Where are we?"

A terrible static fills the air, rattling between Eilidh's ears. Jon's voice seems to echo through the air as he struggles out as many words as he can.

"Martin," he grits. "Help me...!"

"How can I- how can I help? What do I do?"

"The knife."

Eilidh looks to the knife; it's trembling, shaking back and forth as the wound spurts up a new round of something that is not, in fact, blood. The substance is thin and black, more like ink than anything that could come from a human. Martin wraps his hand around the handle, and before Eilidh can even call him a bloody mongo, he rips it out of Jon's chest.

Jon's eyes snap open, now glowing and vibrant green. He slumps, almost in relief, and he reaches a shaky hand up to hold Martin's face. He smiles, teeth stained with the inky fluid. The static fades away. "Okay... I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Martin asks, sniffling as Jon wipes away tears.

"I'm sure, love. We're okay."

The two men look at each other with what Eilidh can only describe as the most lovesick gaze she's ever seen in her whole seventy five years. She hates to ruin the moment but...

"Eh, no, you're not!" Eilidh says, and the two men jolt and stare at her like she's the trespasser. "Who are youse two, and what are two Englishmen doing in my garden?"

Martin helps Jon sit up, and Eilidh can see—and hear, god forbid—his chest wound closing on its own, skin stitching back together.

"It's... a very long story," Jon says. "And we can't really tell you most of it?

"Well, I'd bloody hope you have some explanation for showing up here at three in the blinkin' morning!"

"We- I don't really know, if I'm being honest. I'm not entirely sure where we are, other than the fact that we're somewhere in Scotland." Listening to the English has always been one of Eilidh's least favourite things, so she does hope that Jon will decide not to give her the long story. Perhaps she can live with this mystery if she never has to hear the accent again.

In the meantime, she can't help but feel a little bad for these boys. They're clearly having a rather awful day, and have nowhere to go. They're filthy and injured, and on the verge of tears, and clinging to each other... Eilidh heaves a sigh.

"Come inside before I change my mind," she huffs, shuffling back into the cottage. "I've got some porridge you can have."

She hears them work up to standing, then some more fumbling to get themselves walking, but they make it inside eventually. Jon is about a head taller than Martin, yet he leans heavily into his side, gangly legs wobbling underneath him. They whisper back and forth to each other as Eilidh makes them porridge, extremely gentle with each other despite how it looks like one murdered the other. Eilidh isn't going to interrogate someone who can recover from a stabbing in about a minute and a half.

They wolf down the porridge like they haven't eaten in years, though they are polite about it. When she shows the spare room and tells them where some spare clothes are, she can't help but feel like they've been told all this before. Eilidh doesn't sleep while they're in the spare room. She can hear faint murmuring all through the night, and she can't help but eavesdrop.

"So... is it over?" Martin quietly asks, the sheets rustling as he moves. "Are we safe?"

"I... I'm not entirely sure, I'm still a bit foggy up here," Jon answers, just as quiet. "I don't think we're in any immediate danger, unless the little old lady upstairs is secretly a murderer."

Eilidh could be, if she gets called a little old lady ever again.

"After everything we've seen, I wouldn't say it's not an option. I mean, remember Angela?"

"Angela, Ang– oh, yeah! God, I kind of wish we met her, she seemed fascinating!"

"I don't! She would have ripped us to pieces!"

"No, she would have very slowly chopped bits off of you until you die."

"Don't remind me."

Eilidh also doesn't want to hear about what that means, but she just can't stop listening. Something about these two, this pair that seemed to have dropped from the sky or teleported, or whatever she just saw was, is utterly, eerily fascinating.

"I'm just glad all the big stuff seems to be over," Jon sighs. There's another rustle of blankets. "We can do whatever we like."

"Once we stop bothering Eilidh and get out of Daisy's cottage," Martin replies with a quiet laugh. How on earth these two know Daisy is completely beyond her. She really must ask what it is exactly that Daisy does for work. "I've had quite enough creepy cabins for one lifetime."

"Fair."

The conversation dies down into regular old chit chat. Boring couple talk and sickeningly sweet flirting, and Eilidh takes it as her sign to leave. Even her and her wife, Mhairi, weren't that bad during their honeymoon phase.

She manages a couple hours of sleep eventually, waking back up at around ten. The two boys are still sound asleep, and she lets them lie in. In the meantime, she makes a quick journey of popping down to the village to get some more eggs and bread and orange juice. She normally wouldn't do this much for two complete strangers, but they seem a bit worn out.

They sheepishly shuffle out of the bedroom at two in the afternoon, and Eilidh doesn't bother asking if they'd like some late lunch, just starts making scrambled eggs. Jon hurriedly tells her she doesn't have to, she's already done so much by letting them, but he shuts up after a steely glare she uses on her kids. Not even Daisy goes against the Granny Glare, and she's built like a brick shit house.

After the eggs and toast and orange juice, which the boys dutifully eat while Eilidh insists on doing the dishes herself, throwing the occasional glance to make sure they're actually eating, Jon speaks up again.

"Is- is there anything we can do to repay you? We don't exactly have any money on us, so it's not like we can pay you back for the—"

"Nonsense!" Eilidh snaps, throwing her tea towel down on the counter. "I don't even live here, it's not my problem what you do in here. Not like Daisy ever visits.

"Are you sure?" Martin asks, wringing his hands. Eilidh sighs.

"Unless you boys want to clean this whole cottage from top to bottom for me, I'd suggest you leave before I change my mind."

They do, thankfully, take their leave, but only after Martin makes her a surprisingly good cup of tea. Eilidh watches them wander down the glen, hand in hand.

"What an odd pair," she mutters to herself, over the rim of her mug. She'll have to tell Mhairi about this when she gets back to the village this evening.

She does hope they make it okay, whatever it is.

#jonmartin #jmart #jonmartinweek 2024 #tma fanfic #jonmartin fanfic

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