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visionsofmagic · 6 months

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— favorite place to kiss on your body. ✷ mk1 edition.

KISS.

— a fluffy drabble. a bit spicy, use of y/n, no specification of the gender, kissing, teasing, all fluff! enjoy! [main mast.]

tomas, kuai liang, raiden, kung lao, syzoth, liu kang, bi han, kenshi, johnny cage

TOMAS. he can’t choose, he shouldn’t! he thinks every part of your body is a top tier, and deserves their own attention. he likes you from head to toe. but if he has to choose a specific one, he would choose your neck - because it always amuses him seeing you getting a bit shy at the proximity between you and him when he kneels lower, putting soft and wet kissing down on your neck, his scent leaves its marks on you as well as yours that appears on him - it feels so delicate when he grips you from the waist so that he can kiss your neck, and moving to your shoulders from there.

“oh baby, you’re making me weak by offering yourself to me like this. pretty. my pretty.”

KUAI LIANG. the man knows it will be disrespectful to choose a part of your body over others because he is down bad for you entirely. but when you insist, he will think about it for a while to decide even when you ask him it’s not that hard. he will say he can’t separate before finally telling it is inside your palm. it radiates a warmness into his core that he has never felt on his own or from anyone else. it is the warmness that makes him weak with the love he has for you, so he can never hold himself back from putting kisses onto your palms every moment he has the chance to. he will close his eyes while doing so, getting lost in the feeling.

“my love, you’re so beautiful that I want to be burn within it.”

RAIDEN. he’s not sure why you ask him the question because he is confused about whether he can’t show the love and affection you deserve by kissing every part of your body trying to use his gestures and words to make you understand how he has fallen for you. when you say you are just curious, he spends his days thinking about it. then, he decides that he loves kissing your fingers one by one, constantly, feeling so good while doing so because it feels like he can show the gentle love he has for you through the action.

“my beloved, I will never get tired of kissing your fingers, playing with them gently. I believe it’s your fingers where I am on my knees for whenever I kiss them.”

KUNG LAO. teases you about it, yet having a bit of redness on his face as he answers your question after a pause and scratching his neck; he chuckles and says how he finds your cheeks so cute. he says he likes to cup them, caresses them, play with them - everything. he is amazed how they curl up when you smile. he is happy when you’re happy, so, he chooses your cheeks as the most favorite one. he even kisses them while answering, palms on them, squeezing.

“you look so cute right now that I can die because of it! oh, baby, you’re so precious!”

SYZOTH. he spends his entire week thinking about it, kissing every part of your body while doing so because how he can decide which place is the most kissable one if he doesn’t experience it? he is gentle, so gentle that he thinks it will be unfair to choose a place over others, yet, there is one - the one which makes syzoth burry himself into your body and kiss there until his last breaths; your inner thighs. the man is on his knees whenever he has the chance to and since that’s the case, he never lets it go until he puts a few, sometimes more, kisses on your inner thighs. they’re so soft under his lips.

“my beloved, I can spend the rest of my life kneeling before you and kissing you from here to all of your body. I worship you, and the pretty body you have.”

LIU KANG. he lectures you about how the question is hard to answer, how he can’t understand the point of it because clearly, the god of fire loves every part of your delicate yet powerful body; definition of perfection to him. he doesn’t reply, not before he spends his alone time to think as he watches you from away, studying to choose - he finds himself looking too much and when he lets it go, he discovers a truth - truth about the fact that he always begins to kiss you by the lips - cold, warm, wounded, well, or bitter; it doesn’t matter, he can kiss your lips day and night, tasting the most pleasant sweetness out of it.

“oh, y/n, my y/n. you have the beauty that will make a god like me drop on his knees. but I will do it without a second thought if it’s meant for kissing your sweetness through these pretty lips.”

BI HAN. he literally scoffs, asking what a ridiculous question is that the moment he hears your words. arms folded, furrowing, he looks at you from above, lecturing you not to ask any further questions like this one, yet, he can’t hold himself back from answering it through his actions rather than simply saying it aloud because the man believes only showing it firsthand will make you realize how he likes kissing you on the forehead the most - it feels a kind of connection between you and him, a gentle gesture contrast to his manners. for you, only you, he’s soft, loving, and caring.

“don’t ask ridiculous questions anymore, y/n. focus on what I do, where I kiss the most if you wonder. huh, stupid pretty.”

KENSHI. he is the type of guy who carves for physical touch - especially after the incident with his eyes, he’s more open to touch or being touched by you. the man puts his hands on the places he will kiss afterward, then, closes the gap between your bodies and smelling your scent as he puts kisses on you. he smirks when he hears the question though, not quite sure where it will go but answers anyway. his fingers pat your neck as he hugs you from behind, hands finding your abdomen as he whispers into your ears before kissing the back of your neck.

“my love, I have no idea why you ask this but if you’re so curious, I would say here, the place I want to be buried into.”

JOHNNY CAGE. he will laugh until you get furious, slapping his arm, saying how you want him to answer the question no more. he teases you a bit more, then, he finds you so cute that he watches how you try to avoid him. when he is done with the way you act around so sweetly, he joins you on the bed, caging you within his body as he begins to kiss your exposed knees. he says how he likes you entirely, no separating, yet, he adds when he reaches your lips.

“cutie, don’t need to get all furious about it, I love every part of you! but if you insist, I will pick these pretty lips over others because I like the way they taste - delicious!”

💚

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livwritesstuff · 4 days

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Steve comes home from a few hours of running errands with his and Eddie’s one-year-old daughter Moe to find Eddie pitching an absolute fit to his beleaguered book agent Paul over the phone.

Given how Eddie’s third book is about three months away from its release date, Steve has a pretty decent idea what the fit might be over.

The dreaded book tour.

Look – Steve doesn’t like it either. He didn’t like it back in ‘95 when Eddie’s first book came out. He didn’t like it in ‘99 with the second one either. He definitely won’t like it this time around, especially now with Moe in the picture. He actually likes having his partner around, believe it or not (and, if he’s honest, there’s still some baggage surrounding work-related travel and his parents’ relationship that he’s still trying to shake).

Still, he knows it’s a necessary evil of Eddie’s success and they’ll all survive it.

That’s Steve’s perspective anyways, even if Eddie doesn’t share it with him.

Eddie looks over as Steve drops a few bags of groceries onto the kitchen counter.

“Hang on, Paul – Steve just got back from absconding with my daughter,” Eddie says, and then he pulls the phone away from his ear, “Don’t put her down for a nap yet.”

Steve only shakes his head.

“Sorry, Paul,” he says, not raising his voice quite enough for Paul to actually hear him (Eddie hears him though, and that’s what matters) as he continues on his way up the stairs to get Moe ready for her nap (he’ll drag out the process as long as he can for Eddie’s sake – he’s not a total monster).

In the end, Eddie’s phone call ends no more than five minutes later.

“So what’s the damage?” Steve asks when Eddie makes his way into Moe’s room.

“Five weeks,” Eddie grumbles as he pulls Moe out of Steve’s arms. He presses a kiss to her chubby cheek and then adds, “Stops goddamn nation-wide.”

“Maybe stop writing so good and you wouldn’t have this issue,” Steve points out.

“Shut up – I’m not gonna do it. Paul can drop me, see if I care.”

“You’d care.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump.

“Yeah, I’d care,” he mutters, and then he shakes his head, “It’s entirely unfair that he’d expect me to leave home for over a month when he knows I have a little baby at home. I’m not doing it. She’ll be a whole teenager when I come back, Stevie.”

Steve looks at him, “It’s five weeks, love. She’ll probably still be the same shoe size.”

“I’ll miss our anniversary.”

“No, you won’t. It’s not ‘til the month after.”

“Okay, who’s side are you on here?”

“Paul’s, obviously.”

Eddie’s jaw drops as he feigns an affronted expression.

“I cannot believe that my beloved, my betrothed–”

“Betrothed?”

“–would side with my traitorous agent over–”

“Ed, Paul was pretty forgiving when you slowed down writing for six months for the foster training stuff,” Steve points out (and it’s a point that actually manages to stop Eddie’s tirade – an impressive feat, he’s well aware), “And then he was really forgiving when you stopped completely for almost a year when Moe was born. Wasn’t this book supposed to come out, like, over a year ago? I feel like the least you can do is put up with a book tour given everything you’ve put him through.”

Eddie only blinks at him a moment – clearly trying to fathom any kind of counter-argument and coming up empty.

“Damn you,” he mutters.

“Can’t believe you used to be the guy who wanted to be a rockstar and go on year-long world tours,” Steve laughs, “Now you can’t even handle a month of the continental United States.”

“Watch your mouth, Harrington. Hey – maybe you and Moe can come and be the world’s cutest groupies.”

“We’ll see.”

#little do they know robbie’s gonna show up 10 months later and delay the next book by another four years lol #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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angelltheninth · 9 months

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Could I request getting into an argument with Hobie Brown or Peter b parker headcanons?

Oh angst! There's plenty of angst to be had in Spiderverse.

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Hobie Brown x Reader

Tags: slight fluff, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, cuddling, makin up and making out

A/N: Have to use the crying gif cause Peter is such a drama queen.

Peter hates getting into any kind of fight with you, over pretty much everything. It's not that he's not just as stubborn as you are but he knows how ugly these can get, so would very much like it if instead of screaming your heads off at each other, you give each other a little space to process things.

"No, this isn't a break up, god why did you think of that first? Do you want to break up? Okay, I thought not. Then there's no problem in giving me space is there? I'm not moving out, I'm gonna sleep on the couch! If I didn't know any better I'd say you really do want to get rid of me."

Sleeping on the couch is not as easy as it once was. You see him stretching, groaning as he pops his back but he doesn't complain about it, not a sound. He will give you your space as you will give him his. There needs to be time for you to cool off. The worst part are the awkward goodbyes you sill share, with the both of you stealing apologetic glances at each other but neither making the first move.

"I'm going out on patrol for the night. No, you go to bed, I'll get home when I get home. As I always do. Don't look so worried, I'll be thinking about this anyway, I don't need your puppy dog eyes too. Want me to pick up anything while I'm out? Got it. I'll be sure to do that. Well... see you in a few hours I guess."

He does come home late, with flowers for you that he sets beside your bed before he crawls in. You're still pretending to be asleep but you feel his arms pull you close to him from behind, his lips ticking your neck as he mumbles he still loves you and gives you another squeeze before the bed creaks right before he leaves. You don't let him, you wrap your hands around his forearms before he has the chance to let go and tell him to stay.

"Sure? I think we're both too tired to talk about this now. Yeah, in the morning. Do the flowers bother you? I can move them. Haha, I got everything else too don't worry. But when I saw them I couldn't help but think of you so here they are. Cause they were beautiful and made me smile, just like you."

Hobie gets very heated when he gets into a fight with you. Not in the terms that he's loud or lashes out a lot but he can stay angry for a very long time, unable to let go. He wants what's best for you, how do you not realize that? If he takes any risks its because of you and for your safety.

"Oh so now its my fault right? Right, right blame it all on me why don't you? I'm being unfair? You just told me to stop putting myself at risk. I'm sorry sweetheart but that's not how being a hero works. Well its a stupid idea. No, I'm not calling you stupid I... forget it, no use talking this out."

Going out begins to get even more frequent for him. You get the feeling that he's doing everything he can to avoid talking to you about this problem. The good thing is that he's not getting hurt, yet. But he can't avoid you forever, he knows it too, he knows that sooner or latter he will have to talk to you. It drives you both crazy when you're in the same bed still, but back turned, in complete silence.

"How long do you think you can keep this up? Yes, you. I haven't been avoid- ah, I guess I have, a little. Look, I... I feel like if we don't talk about this, it's not go away on its own. Might take longer but... I'm being dumb? Well what about you? I thought you wanted your space? Too much of it huh? I can fix that. I'm not distracting you, I miss you."

The moment he gets his hands on your body, his lips on yours he can't get enough. It's like he's never kissed you before, like he's feeling these things for the first time, you arching against him, you sighing against his mouth and moaning his name as you try to get him as close as possible without seeming too needy for him. He missed you too, a whole lot and he's not holding back when it comes to showing you just how much.

"This isn't exactly an apology but I think it's a nice start don't you? Don't give me that look now, you like it too. I can make it better, if you want. Let's say, for every thing we manage to hash out we give each other a kiss. A little reward for us working out our issues."

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ivanzplaid · 10 months

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Can I get yandere head canons for the Sinclair brothers, Billy Lenz and Harry Warden, thank you as always 💛

-📼

HIII HELLO YES OF COURSE YOU CAN CASSETTE ANON SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU 🫶🫶 i have had sm work and no motivation but a little yandere hcs will do, ALSO THIS IS SUCH AN OLD REQUEST ORE HIATUS IM SO SORRY💔 these are sfw so if youd like nsfw ill do that :) these are mainly set for after meeting you, and how theyd make sure you'd stay with them, and some cute little ideas for when youre theirs

this is darker than i remember writing it so please proceed with caution⁉️

requests r open, masterlist is up!!

Yandere! Slashers x Gn! Reader | Headcanons | Meeting You

Warnings: Yandere Behavior/Actions, Obsession, Kidnapped reader in every section.. my bad, Dark themes kinda-ish, Drugging mentions in Billy's & Bo's section

------------------------------------------------------------

Lester Sinclair

lester, love of my life, he will most likely be the one to plot your meeting. he sees you while hes out of ambrose, hes infatuated, he thinks youre the most charming person hes seen in a while. he will stalk you when he finds youre in town, its a small, but quickly growing obsession, he thinks that youre just an after thought, but the more you come in, the more he wants to have you to himself

so, he does his lester thing, and waits & waits, trying to lure you into ambrose one way or another. he'll show up more in youre life, saying hello or making small talk, then, he may slash a tire or make it so that your car just has its miles draining faster n faster, so when youre pulled over on the side if the road, hes your savior

not only does he love this because hes saving you from this, and youre just thanking him over and over, and hes becoming more excited by the minute, he loves to hear praise come from your mouth, its exciting. he also loves this because now he finslly has his excuse to bring you to ambrose, away from those friends he always sees you with that just dont value you and love you as much as he would, or care about you as much as he does

he'll bring your car in, and say in such an exasperated voice that it just wont be done for the next few days, would you like to stay for coffee?

he explicitly tells his brothers that you are not to be made a sculpture, hes serious, but if they see you trying to leave, they have the job to bring you back to him

hes just too thoughtful of you to let you go, do you really wanna go back to your family? who let this happen to you? look him in the eyes snd tell yourself he doesnt care, because he wants to know all about you if you gave him the chance

touchy, touchy touchy touchy, arm around your waist, a smiling kiss on the cheek, you on his lap, he wishes for it to happen

he thinks of physical touch as wondrous, how can he hold the epitome of perfection in his hands? hes in awe

he will 100% sweet-talk-manipulate you into staying with him, hes too desperate to let you go, its unfair, why would you leave the man who loves you the most?

hes also very delusional, he truly believes what hes doing is justified and fine, and it pushes him to be much more emotional in this 'relationship'

will be absolutely distraught if you outwardly insult him / say rude things, but hes convinced you dont know what its like, and this is for the greater good of your existence

caretaker!! loves to treat and pamper you, he almost needs to take care of you because he thinks its cute, but dont let this trick you, he will take these privileges away because he loves to see you beg for basic things

be a good little pet and stay with him, hes the only one who knows how to treat you

not the violent type, wont hit or hurt you because it would pain him as well, you deserve so much more than that and he stands by it

but is not afraid to tie you down if that means youll stop trying to leave ( if you do try )

he loves sharing time with you, he will bring you everywhere to do everything, you deserve the same fun as him!

he loves to talk about you, allll you you you, please tell him about your hobbies, he'll do his best to indulge in them more! or about your day, or who you are as a person, or aomething that makes you laugh, anything, literally anything please

not as into killing as his brothers, but he will be the most protective man over you, he is not a fan of flirtation and will be passive aggressive if visitors flirt with you, but dont worry your pretty little head, they'll just go on over to bo or vincent and you two wont need to worry

loves loves loves to give you gifts, but has a stigma where only he can give you gifts. if he sees anyone else trying to give you them, it leads to his temper shorten

id be happy to exaggerate if youd like! but these are the main ones :)

Billy Lenz

he most likely meets you in the sorority/fraternity, and is immediately interested, youre a sophmore trying to get through your classes, youre like every other person, but he cant get his eyes off of you

unlike lester, he acts on his thoughts quickly, hes impulsive and foggyheaded, he has not a care in the world, and most dont know he even exists, so the moment he takes a liking to you is the moment he sets out to talk to you

he'll call you nonstop, sometimes just to listen to your voice, or to say obscene things, or even to pretend hes really with you, he wants to have the interactions you have with your friends and hes jealous, he should be getting that treatment, its just unfair

i have yet to mention hes possessive, even before he has you, he gets upset at the slightest of things because he focus's completely on you, its hard to get his eyes off you, so your every move will be noted

one night, its before winter vacation of course, the holiday lights are up and youre packing your things to go back home, youre the last one left besides a friend whose waiting on you outside, but in the house its quiet, your own breathing is too loud for you

billy is upset, hes been upset, why dont you answer the phone anymore? why havent you been responding to the notes hes been leaving you? why why why

he doesnt like to see you leave either, he prefers if youd stay because youre the only thing keeping him from having the realization that he will be alone once you leave, he will have no one to talk to or see or be with

hes spiraling, his impulsiveness and intrusive thoughts get the best of him and he decides you arent leaving, you cant and you wont

he doesnt mind having to do a bit of killing if it means you'll stay, he needed to get rid of the people taking away your attention from him. you should only be focusing on him, spending time with him, all about him

he is desperate for attention, he needs you to acknowledge him, will create disturbances just so youll look around and think of him

he eventually kidnaps you, treating you in the most delicate nature as to not harm you ( hes already slipped sleeping pills into your drink before bed, the easiest method so that you'll be compliant )

he wont understand if youre mad at him, and will genuinely be hurt by anything you say or do. why wouldnt you enjoy being with billy? billy loves you, thats all that matters

his warped perception of love & infatuation causes him to be awkward and have a harder time in a relationship (especially now)

loves to have express his love for you in all ways, he wants to stroke/hold your hair and give you gifts and play board games with you because he loves you so much that it physically hurts to not be with you

if youre thinking about it, theres little chance for escape, hes always with you, whether hes lurking or just hanging out, he likes to see you

will steal someones camera to take photos of you two together, its perfect since he can always remember you and your face

loves to take you around and show you all the secrets he knows of the fraternities/sororities, as well as the campus himself, hes your certified tour guide

will jump on you if hes scared, like full on hide behind you while clawing at your shoulders, hes quite literally a little feral

if you want to, he will allow you to style his hair, he thinks you work wonders with whatever you do to it, even if it looks bad, because as long as his love did it, hes happy

Bo Sinclair

i want him.

you'll stumble upon him out of town, accidentally shouldering him, which will make you get his attention. at first he'll want to give you a charming "watch it.", but when he sees you, he physically stops in his tracks, he just stares at you for a long amount of time before you awkwardly laugh and walk away

he gets hooked faster, hes interested in the absolute beaut that just walked out of his life as fast as they came in. hes not used to social interaction so being bo, he tries to plot out an official meeting (after stalking you from a distance and trying to put on a charming stranger face)

he'll bribe lester to mess with your car so that he can bring you into ambrose, sealing your fate as soon as you've entered

hes talked to his brothers, instructing thst youre not to leave, and to not be *too* hurt in the process, he understands if you have to be roughed up a bit, just so that you'll listen to him next time

when you come in to meet him, he'll act so shocked to see you, chuckling and saying what a coincidence it is, and how fate brought you two together

the entire time hes taking in your figure and your body language, trying to control himself from drugging you right then and there, to have you all to himself

he uses his social skills to talk you into staying a night, claiming that your car has been meanin for a checkup, and the damage is bad.. but he wont charge you the full price, since youve been so kind. He'll offer you a room snd a nice homemade breakfast, saying that hell work on it so you can be out of here in no time, all of these promises just for you, because he wants to take you home

hes extremely possessive, he believes that youre property, and youre owed to him. which is the exact reason he thinks its ok to toss you around if it means youll behave better (he'll comfort you after, stroking your head.... while saying 'thisll be easier if you just listen to me darlin')

he likes to take the shorter, yet harsher route, so that stockholm syndrome sets in quicker. he just wants to live his best life with a docile partner.

his delusions cannot take you arguing or insulting him, it will cause him to have outbursts of anger, because this is your new life with him. it is real, he is the one for you, so why cant you see it? hes been so nice, so caring, and yet youre unappreciative.

dont worry, a few more hours of isolation will have you thinking better than before. he uses this to emphasize his care and touch, because thats all you need to know now, how his fingers feel when they cup your cheek and delicately hold you

he would love to have a quiet morning with you, him working on something in the shop and you accompanying him, talking while sharing a cup of coffee

he wants to have a life like his fathers, living up to what he did, and to be better. in short, if he feels like hes not achieving that, he will also lose it. he has a short temper, and while youre one of the only people who can ease him out of it, he cant always control himself

he has such a strong emotional attachment that he feels like he needs you to live. not like billy, where he was not as emotionally intelligent and was just clingy, but bo feels that without you he is incomplete, and to live his life he needs you in it, or else he isnt really living

he loves to see you smile and be happy, it warms his heart to know that you enjoy his company

bo can be a genuinely compassionate man, who will take you for rides or out somewhere to eat, be a romantic and loving husband, and thats what he wants to be, but he truly thinks it all relies on your behavior and how loving/into the relationship you are, because either way youre not heading home

quick note before we end this he will gaslight you, bro is the gaslighting king, he will convince you that ambrose is the place for you, and that your old friends and family cant do what he can

he'll try his hardest to impress you (shows you his muscles) and make you love him, he just wants to show off all his great qualities since you're so amazing in his eyes

Harry Warden

you stumbled into him while your friends and you were drinking in the mines, partying on valentines day night. Harry could feel his anger rise because he never got a day off, always having to be disturbed or intruded on, never having anyone to give him any pity when he deserves it all

his pickaxe dragged behind him, and as he approached your group, he eyed everyone in it. seeing as you were the closest, he'd begin the chase with you. Raising his pickaxe snd bringing it down right next to you, your head swiveled to his direction, and the look of fear on your face stunned him

truth be told he hadn't had a human interaction longer than 5 seconds without him killing them, he felt that you were somehow different. The way you were paralyzed with fear as you begged for your life made him feel something close to love that he hadn't felt for a lifetime

it wasn't like his previous killings, the rush he got when he towered over you, tilting his head down to get a better look at his newest interest

maybe you could be his reparations for valentines day all those years ago, finally getting a proper gift for being left to die

he'll let you go.. for now, until he can make a proper place for the two of you and make sure you'll be comfortable and safe. hes concerned about you having a good living and a nice place for the both of you to share the rest of your lives

really wants you to come with him willingly, dowsnt want to scare you or anything like that, so he'll drop off gifts, or disguise himself and go into town to stalk you find out what you like, and charm you better

hes typically a semi-romantic man, wanting to convince you to be with him, then cut off all contact with the outside world so that you can be in the perfect relationship hes imagined, but if push comes to shove he will drag you to youre new haven with him, literally

will see who you hangout with, who your family is, maybe he'll even research your name in any ancestry books/records, because he would just be a bad boyfriend if he knew nothing about you right?

may or may not replicate your room in the mines... just so that the transition is easier <3

eventually, you'll find out hes the one thats been making you feel like youre being watched, and was the one giving you all those gifts

so when he gets down and proposes the idea of dating, and you (presumably..) say what the fuck? he knows what he has to do, quality time in the mines!!! (forever)

once he brings you to his humble abode, he'll explain everything, he has to let you know how much he loved and needs you for his own well being, and how in time youll feel the same because youll see how great of a partner he is!

he knows these mines like the back of his hands, and would be overjoyed if you even took interest in him or asked to be toured, because in his head hes shocked about the quality time you're initiating

will let you hold his pickaxe, maybe show off how strong he is & talk about his suit

he talks and talks, finally after being left alone for years without any sorry's or nothing from the town, you come in and show him what life is all about, so of course he wants to listen and talk to you, youre the most entertaining person in the world

not only can bro not cook, but he genuinely cannot cook, he doesnt have anything to make anything with, so he uses this as an excuse to steal your favorite food and drinks to cater towards your feelings

wants to hold you and see how delicate you are, he admires you like a god(dess)

he doesnt like to be violent, he tries to avoid it, he may accidentally leave bruises from holding you too tight, but he thoroughly apologizes and tries to make it up. he doesn't wanna screw up the one 'relationship' hes ever cared about/recently had

Vincent Sinclair

you were definitely a victim brought in by lester who caught vincents eye, something about you stood out from the rest of his victims. maybe it was because of your respectful nature and not intruding on ambrose, maybe you admired the detailed wax work and complimented it, or maybe it was with your looks or social skills. either way, vincent wants to know all about you

he immediately tells his brothers that youre off limits, and states that he wants to see you better. while bo and lester dont really care, they say that they'll assist him in making sure you cant leave (as they always would)

he likes to draw/sculpt what you look like and leave it around for you to find, he thinks your beauty is on another level snd that you are a piece of art

he may be seen lurking from a distance, scared to show his face since hes nervous of rejection from someone as perfect as you are. he'll make it known that hes there, and one of his brother may tell you about him, but other than that (unless you ask) you wont see much (.... until he takes you)

leaves you gifts alot. flowers, sculptures, even some jewelry from other victims that youd like, he wants to flatter you and put out the image that hes a genuine guy, and that he pays attention to you

he pays attention to your style and what you like, adding it to his room to make it feel more like youre with him

if you have friends with you, hes most likely been plotting their deaths since the start, theyre skeptical about ambrose and are beginning to panic

he thinks they're a bad influence and could possibly get the cops called, so he tag teams with bo to take care of the problems

by this time youve most likely figured out whats been happening, so he takes his chances in knocking you out (and tenderly caring for you afterwards), and then carrying you back to his room, making sure youre nice and comfortable

he does care about you, and even now is a semi-gentle giant to you. he doesnt want to spook you more than whats already happened, he just wants you to be adjusted and not afraid

to some extent he wants to live a free-er life with you, going outside and acting 'normal', but his fear of ridicule because of his scars snd his pre-built of walls from years of bullying cause him to even be reclusive with you, the person hes infatuated with

he likes quality time, sitting with you or having you watch him as he sculpts, he likes when youre interested in his work so he can show you the process and maybe do it together

he'll sometimes slip into a mode where his feelings are amplified, and if you decide to insult him or work him up, he'll go mute and angrily pace around. sometimes grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eyes so he can convince himself you dont mean it

shares his clothes with you quite a lot, he thinks the value and meaning with you in his clothes is special

he'll sit with you all day, trying to make it so that you like his company more and more

this took so damn long im sorry vincents section is so small but i needed to get this out😭 i swear i love him but dawg

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ki-yomii · 8 months

Text

phases of a daydream | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.8k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, oral (f receiving), squirting, soft dom!yoongi, pet names, mild degradation kink, mild praise kink, begging, teasing, implied established relationship, brief threesome fantasy feat JK

➥ summary | you get up early to surprise yoongi with breakfast in bed, only he ends up surprising you instead.

➥ notes | this man has made my oral fixation 10x worse. for all the sleepy girlies out there 🫡

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

The early Sunday morning sun hovers low on the horizon, its golden light peeking through gaps between downtown Seoul’s high risers.

The cacophony of city life sounds muted, far away, foggy with sleep. Slow to rise as vibrant brushstrokes of color chase away the velvet nighttime sky.

Some of the only ones awake are food stand owners with tteokbokki and eomuk in hand, Hongdae club go-ers, and you, apparently. It’s peaceful - certainly different from your usual routine.

But it’s also an experience you don’t see yourself repeating soon.

As nice as watching the sunrise is, you’d rather be dead than awake at this hour, especially on a weekend. You’ll never understand how some people like getting up while the world’s still cold and dark.

It’s criminal.

Couldn’t be me, you think while swirling oil around the pan, and ignoring the fact you did that just this morning.

It’s a minor miracle when you’re fully awake before 11 AM, and that’s after you guzzle down so much caffeine you vibrate in place.

Woe to whoever expects more than dispassionate glares and unintelligible grunts as you migrate from the bed to the couch.

What can you say, you’re not a morning girlie: you hate the half-drunk awareness, the sour taste clinging to the back of your tongue, the sticky sweat, and how overwhelmingly bright everything is.

Instead, you’d much rather nestle into bed, groggy and warm.

So Min Yoongi better count his blessings because he’s the only reason you’re in the kitchen at 7 AM, wearing nothing but a shirt that barely covers your ass while trying - and failing - to flip nurungji.

Quiet Spotify tunes and Min Holly’s rumbling snores are the only background noise amid your bitten off curses.

Before you met him, you used to make fun of girls so far gone for a guy they lost touch with reality. And now, you’re one of them, fighting for your life in the trenches.

He’s got you so whipped, it should be illegal.

Furthermore, it’s downright unfair how endearing you find it. It should infuriate you. Instead, you’re kitten soft.

And Yoongi knows how to use it to his advantage - knows it’s that stupid smirk paired with a face that makes smart girls dumb.

It never fails to win you over; the pretty eyes, the plush lips, the sharp jawline - you’re an absolute goner. If only smug didn’t look so good on him…

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

The only thing that somewhat mollifies your bruised pride is the fact that should everything go to plan, your less than innocent intentions will come to fruition.

After all, your stolen shirt leaves so little to the imagination, you needn’t have bothered. And when Yoongi sees you practically naked, with breakfast in bed?

Fire meets gasoline.

While he might never say it outright, there’s no denying the way Yoongi’s eyes go soft and hungry whenever he catches you prancing around in his shirt.

He swears he’s going to throw it out, threadbare and worn, yet there it sits. Waiting in the back of his closet for the next time you stay over.

But that’s how it’s always been; a game of cat and mouse. You tease, he reacts - a constant push and pull, flirting with the boundaries of his restraint.

Though admittedly, you’ve never been this brazen before; ass out and nipples hard.

Although it’s not like he lives with the rest of the members anymore, so why not up the ante?

Even if imagining someone walking in on you (no matter how improbable) gets your blood pumping, and your pussy aching.

No one has to know about the dirty little fantasy you indulge in more often than you care to admit.

No one has to know how wet you get at the thought of getting caught bent over, stuffed full of Yoongi’s cock and unable to do anything but moan as he makes you take it.

Certainly, he’d play along.

The smooth thrust of his hips wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t stop. He’d fuck sweet whines out of you, make you cum so hard you gush.

Would keep you pinned in place with his hands, and tease you about how much you liked getting wrecked in front of his friend like a perfect little bitch.

Especially if it was Jungkook.

Yoongi thinks it’s cute how frazzled you get around the maknae; a silly, schoolgirl crush. In fact, he’d probably use it to his advantage. After all, he loves to taunt, tease.

Oh, he definitely would, you think, biting your lip as your stomach clenches and your thighs twitch.

His fingers would dig into your jaw, force you to look if you tried to hide; make you stare deep into those wide Bambi eyes with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his voice rough in your ear.

Grinding his cock head over your g-spot with every flex of his hips as your pussy tries to milk him dry, “You just gonna stand there, huh? C’mere, let’s have some fun. She doesn’t mind.”

...

"Ow, shit," you hiss, jerking back from the stove as angry heat blooms through your fingertips, "fuck, that hurts!"

Dropping the spatula, you scramble to the sink and run cold water over your hand while glaring at the sizzling pan. It might have been your fault for getting distracted, but rude.

Even if the pain helps calm down some of your raging hormones.

Okay, down girl, you think, chill out.

So despite your fingers feeling tight and swollen like a bad sunburn, and as hot a fantasy as that is, you take your sign from the universe and recollect yourself.

For now, you need to focus on the task at hand which comes at the expense of no more daydreaming.

Resolutely ignoring the sticky cling of your inner thighs, you slip the spatula under the rice patty and quickly flip it over.

It sizzles as it drops back into the pan, little splashes of oil kicking up.

Thankfully, the bottom isn’t too badly scorched. A little darker than you’d like but beggars can’t be choosers when they burn themselves because they’re too distracted by the thought of dick.

Giving the other side a few minutes to crisp up, you frown down at the forming blister. You poke it with a wince.

It’s not too big, and the sting isn’t terrible. You were able to sap the heat from the wound quick enough.

Honestly, what hurts worse is your pride - a total rookie move.

When its ready, you dump it onto a plate without ceremony before turning to grab the sugar. Only to gasp as you run into a solid chest instead of open air.

Forearms snake around your waist as Yoongi tugs you into the curve of his body. Pressed together from chest to hip, he feels the hitch of your breath when his thigh wedges itself between yours.

“Oh, y-you’re up!”

Fingertips flirt with the hem of your (his) shirt, inching higher to caress the slope of your rib cage. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your nipples pulling taut as a shiver judders down your spine.

Low-slung sweats cling to Yoongi’s trim hips, his erection tenting the cotton.

“Mm, morning,” he says, the greeting slurred out in a voice raspy with sleep. “Smells good.”

You swallow. “Good morning, baby.” You lean forward, and kiss the tip of his nose. “How’d you sleep?” Your hand scrapes over the nape of his neck, playing with the soft baby hairs.

It wasn’t until sometime after 3 AM that he’d wiggled into bed, most of the night spent in front of his MIDI, fiddling with chords and arrangements.

He rests his chin on the top of your head with a sigh, his breath ruffling the hair of your crown, “Hnng, slept alright.”

Arms tighten around you in a light squeeze while cheeky fingers inch up your torso to trace along the underside of your breast.

“Had the best dream though.”

Your breath catches in your chest, your heart stuttering against your ribs when he grinds forward, languid and loose. Your gut clenches hotly in interest as his cock rests heavy against your hip.

A temptation, a promise of what’s to come. Your palms sneak around his sides, resting on sleep-warm skin.

When you speak, its more of a breathless whisper than actual words, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“C’mon, baby, don’t you want to help me out?” Yoongi hums, peppering kisses along the length of your neck. A rough thumb drags over the peak of your nipple. “Promise it’ll be good for you.”

“Yoongi!”

“Fuck,” a kneecap grinds up against your tender pussy, spreading your slick, swollen folds open, “can feel you through my pants. Let me, I know you want to.”

Your hips stutter, and you swallow your whine. “I do…”

Pleasure sings in your blood as you soak the fabric covering his thigh, a needy desperation rearing its head from deep within.

Flames lick along your skin, liquid fire pooling low behind your navel like a shot of whiskey.

“But,” you long for the bite of his teeth, the snap of his hips, the roughness of his grip, “I just finished making breakfast.”

Pouting, you stare up at him.

A tender expression softens the lines of his face. But the desire simmering beneath the gentle veneer remains, rough and rude.

There’s a raging tempest in his gaze, twin rings of rich coffee consumed by the black holes of his pupils.

Utterly ravenous, greedy as he traces your features.

It’s a look that’ll leave you weak-kneed and pumped full of cum.

“I know, and I appreciate the effort.”

He’s earnest, aflame with craven desire even as he presses a tender kiss to the side of your face.

“But I’d rather eat you out. You’ll let me, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, and say, “Well, how am I supposed to say no to a face like that?”

You’ve barely got the words out before you find yourself flat on your back, the unyielding marble of Yoongi’s counter top cold against your heated skin.

Calloused palms pry your thighs apart, grip so firm it dimples the fat as Yoongi holds you open and exposed.

He runs his nose along your sensitive inner thigh, his lips warm and ready as his breath pants over your soaked core.

When your clit throbs, he groans low and wrecked, “Just look at this pretty pussy.”

Almost reverently, he strokes his thumbs over the length of your folds, dips his fingers into your entrance to spread the gathering slick.

Whimpering, your head smacks back against the granite and your hips jerk up towards his face

“Can’t wait til I get my mouth on you.”

“Shit, Yoongi, you can’t - you can’t just say stuff like that.”

He flicks your clit, relishing in how your whole body jumps as he demands, “Why not?”

“B-Because you just can’t, okay?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. There’s no doubt, he’s going to be the death of you one day. “It’s not-”

Fair.

“I think you don’t want me talking like that because you like it. Don’t you, baby?”

“I-”

The words turn to ash on your tongue. A loud, sloppy lick up the length of your slit shuts you up while a harsh suck to your swollen clit makes you whine. Your back bows hard, your hands flying down to sink into the dark mane of his hair.

“Ohh g- ah!”

“That’s it,” Yoongi smacks his lips, humming low in his throat, “Let me hear you.”

Forearms anchor themselves over your thighs. Using his body weight to keep you pinned, he tugs you close and strokes his fingers over your sticky folds, humming in approval at the obscene squelch.

Slick oozes out of you with every talented caress, dripping down your ass to puddle on the countertop.

“Always get so wet for me, don’t you?” Yoongi buries his smirk in the crease of your thigh, his tongue darting out to tease the very edge of your cunt. “You’re such a messy little slut, just how I like it.”

Before you can properly respond, he’s spreading you open and bowing his head. You squirm as his plush lips glide over the top of your mound, butterfly kisses tracing the beginning of your needy slit.

His bangs brush the soft underside of your belly. “Ready?”

He doesn’t wait before diving in, sucking the hard nub of your clit into his mouth. Stars burst behind your clenched eyelids. Soft, warm suction sends pleasure ricocheting through your limbs, your stomach caving in with every tender pulse of his mouth.

Your mouth drops open on a silent gasp

“That’s so - fuck,” you pant, hand scrambling for something to hold onto, hips jerking beneath his firm grip. “Yoongi!”

The wild movements nearly dislodge him, and he grunts in displeasure before readjusting to keep you better pinned.

His tongue retreats from your clit, and he sets his teeth against your pussy in warning, a gentle bite that doesn’t break skin but carries the slightest sting.

“‘m sorry, please - haahhh - please don’t stop,” you slur, fingers digging into his scalp. “I’ll be good, just please don’t stop, I can’t-”

He grunts at the rake of your nails, tongue lashes out in retaliation. He dips the tip into the tight clench of your entrance, teasing your sensitive walls.

Meanwhile, his nose grinds against your clit. The sensation’s almost too much, your body alight like a live-wire. You feel like you’re about to rocket off of the countertop, one of your hands de-tangling from his hair to yank at your own.

“S’too much - s’too good. Please, baby, I can’t!”

Yoongi ignores your cries, knows you’d sooner stab him with a knife if he stopped.

Anyway, you can take it.

You’re his good girl, after all.

You both like it wet and messy; love when the honey of your cunt soaks his face, sticks to his lips and drips from his chin.

All you can do is cry out, your chest pointed towards the ceiling as his tongue fucks deep, never stops chasing every drop of pleasure. Your toes curl from the alteration between flat, firm licks and gentle sucks.

Sweat gathers in your hairline, behind your knees as a heady rush sends you spinning, mind a haze of sensation.

You can’t stop rolling your hips, chasing after his talented mouth. In no time at all, Yoongi’s going to have you violently, explosively cumming on his tongue - just like he always does.

“Give it to me,” he growls, “Wanna feel this pretty pussy gush.”

You moan,” Yoongi, I’m - please, don’t stop. R-Right there!”

Your thighs clench around his head, biting down on your lip to hold in the scream threatening to break free.

“Fuck, please, ‘m almost there.”

Your pathetic cries spur him on.

With renewed enthusiasm, Yoongi twirls his tongue across the top of your slit, the tip playing with the hood of your clit. You clench down hard. It’s almost too much, like he’s reached deep inside and plucked at your nerves.

Then, the leaden ball of heat behind your navel contracts. Expands into a blazing inferno that threatens to swallow you whole, spreading out along your limbs like bolts of lightening until you shake.

“That’s it, come on,” Yoongi says, coaxing every ounce of pleasure he can. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Now, cum for me.”

All it takes is one last talented pulse of his tongue. Your orgasm rips through you with a loud, keening cry. Your back arches so high your spine feels like it’s about to snap, and slick gushes from you in a warm flood.

The ball of heat snaps, races down through your body from the crown of your head to your toes. Your thighs tremble from where they’re clenched around Yoongi’s head, soaked. Your heart slams against your ribs.

“F-Fuck…”

Collapsing against the cool stone, and panting hard, you push away stray hairs sticking to your face.

Glancing down the length of your twitching body, you see Yoongi still kneeling between your splayed thighs.

The lower half of his face is soaked with cum and drool. His sweatpants were kicked off at some point, you’re not sure when but it doesn’t really matter when his cock throbs against his belly, hard and wanting as the tip weeps pre-cum.

But it’s his eyes that really do you in; hot, hungry, and awe-filled.

“Can’t believe I’ve never made you squirt before.”

Those sinful lips part, red and swollen as his tongue swipes out to gather any leftover slick clinging to his mouth. A rough moan rumbles from his throat.

“Think you can do it again for me, baby?”

A weak laugh escapes you, and you think - not for the first time - that Min Yoongi is going to be the reason you die.

#yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic

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j0eyj0rdis0n · 7 months

Note

Could you do sm like , EJ just feeling really guilty after he made you cry during an argument so he tries to apologize and at first its all cute and stuff , but then he starts begging you to let him make love to you and when you say no he doesn't care , just absolutely praising you and ravishing you as you fall into subspace

Hi love!! I hope this is good! I’m not all that great at writing out subspace but I tried my very hardest! Thank you for your requests <3

MAKE IT BETTER - EYELESS JACK NSFW

Fandom: Creepypasta

Plot: You and Jack get into a rather uncomfortable argument, when you begin to cry he knows he has to make it up to you

Warnings: He scratches/hurts you a little, also a little bit of crying, dubcon, cum swallowing, subspace

Out of everyone, Jack had the most control over his emotions. It had taken time to get to the point to where he wouldn't lash out in anger, a long time honestly. But there's a certain point where his self control begins to falter and eventually break. He hated arguments, he did everything is his power to avoid them. But at this point, you gave him no choice.

You’d been getting comfortable in the mansion since your kidnapping, almost too comfortable. Jack loved you but he hated the idea of you getting used to everything, wanting to be apart of the action. So when you told him you wanted to be a proxy his heart sank.

“Y/N… You know that’s not an option…” he stated, watching your eyebrows furrow in frustration and confusion.

“Why not! I want to be important! To contribute since I’m stuck here forever now!” You argued.

“It’s not your job. It’s dangerous, and you’re only for me.” Jack would respond, trying to end the conversation there. But of course, you never could shut your mouth.

“Jeff said it would be a good thing for me!” You blurted out, knowing that Jeff wasn’t exactly the most reliable source for information. You saw his fingers twitch as he stood in silence. You knew Jack hated Jeff, he hated how the man would linger around you with that greedy smirk. How he’d feed you all the things he wanted you to hear. To steal you away from your only true lover.

You hated when he was silent like this… You hadn’t the slightest idea of what he was thinking. His face was hidden behind that atrocious mask that certainly didn’t make deciphering him any easier.

It took long moments for him to respond in a low growl. “You won’t be going. You won’t leave this room.”

“What?! That’s unfair!”

“What I say is what goes. Now sit down. You need to know who you belong to. You’ve gotten to comfortable with the other men around here. The only opinion you need to listen to is mine.” The demon took a step towards you as he spoke, his fingers running across your lips.

You harshly pulled away from his cold hand, turning to leave. “I won’t stay here.”

“Sit down Y/N.” He muttered in a warning tone. He felt the anger bubbling up into his chest, he knew if you didn’t listen now this wouldn’t turn out good. No not good at all…

His words of warning didn’t stop your quick steps to the door, turning the silver handle to leave. And almost as in a flash he was in front of you.

“I said sit down!” He screamed as he threw off his mask, shoving you back onto the large bed. The monster loomed over you, his expression between rage and insatiable hunger.

You felt salty tears prick your eyes as he yanked you back up by your arm, putting you practically nose to nose with him. You looked down at your arm which was clasped in his iron grip, his large claws threatening to break your delicate skin. It was only when you saw the deep scratch on your chest from how he pushed you, you began to cry.

When Jack realized what situation he was in he immediately let go of your arm, watching you sob in front of him. He felt his heart shatter like a plate that had been hurled to the floor.

“Darling… Darling please… I’m sorry!” He tried his hardest to reconcile, trying to pull you in for a hug which you quickly moved away from. “Darling let me make it up to you… I’m so sorry…” He held out his clawed hand, praying you’d take it.

“You- You hurt me!” You spit at him, having half the mind to leave and go to Jeff. You realized he’d probably be worse than Jack could ever be. So you stood still, tears still dripping down your cheeks, debating on taking his hand.

“I know! I know… I got out of hand and I’m so sorry.” He insisted quietly, reaching his hand out a little further. “Please let me make it up to you! I know exactly what you like my love…” He was practically begging at this point but you didn’t take his dangerous hand. “Come on love…” He gently took your hand, leading you back to the bed and laying you down.

“Jack I don’t want it-“

“Shhhh… I need you to forgive me.” He lightly wiped your tears before kissing down your perfectly sculpted body. He lifted up your clothes where he felt he needed to lick and suck gently, eventually flipping your skirt up to give your pretty clothed pussy a kiss. “I’ll make it up to you darling~” He mumbled into your thighs, sucking and biting to leave dark marks.

Your soft whines encouraged him on, pushing your panties to the side and giving your slit a nice long lick. His wet muscle worked slow and precisely to make you squirm. “So good for me darling, let me hear your pretty moans” He practically moaned into your pussy, licking up your delicious slick that he loved to taste.

His tongue hit all that spots that made your back arch, the only thing coming out of your mouth were pathetic whines and desperate cries.

“Daddy please-“

You felt him chuckle as he removed his tongue from your throbbing core, replacing the emptiness with the pads of his fingers against your puffy clit. “So needy for me already darling?” He took time to look you up and down, ripping open your shirt with his claws. “Daddy will take good care of you, lay back and let him do all the work~”

You looked so delicious below him. Tits on full display, face flushed, and pussy dripping. If he didn’t have such a level of self control he’d probably eat you alive right this second. He pulled down his pants, letting his hard cock spring free, giving your pussy soft slaps with it to collect your heavenly juices. All you could do was whine with each little slap, you wanted him now, god you wanted him so bad. You wanted him to fill you up, to take care of you, remind you you’re his, and tell you how amazing you were doing for him.

He gently held your hand as he pushed in slowly, bottoming out with a growl. “Fuck darling- So damn tight-“

Jack tapped the bottom of your stomach with his free hand, watching as a bulge appeared with each thrust. “Taking me so well aren’t you?” He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, giving soft kisses as he inhaled your delicious scent.

Your high pitched moans filled the room, jolting as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. He loved how you babbled his name over and over again, letting him know how good he’s making you feel. Not that he couldn’t already tell by the way your hole clenched around him.

He knew you like the back of his hand, from the way you talked to the way you built up to a climax, and you were currently doing the latter.

“Come on baby, come for me, show daddy how good he made you feel.”

He watched as your legs tightened around him, moans getting louder as you approached your climax. The pure ecstasy on your face almost pushed him over the edge himself, but he persisted as you road out your blissful orgasm. The demon only pulled out when you finished, watching your hole clench repeatedly around nothing as your delicious juices dripped out. His hand worked quickly on his cock, trying to chase his release as well.

“Open darling” he groaned, putting his dick in your mouth when you obeyed, letting his seed spurt down your throat.

He grabbed a small wet rag from the bathroom, making sure to clean the both of you up well before laying next to you, enveloping you in his strong arms.

“Did so well for me my love. Do you forgive me?”

There was no room in your head for words, only able to nod silently as he kissed your forehead, ushering you off to sleep.

#creepypasta #creepypasta requests #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack creepypasta #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack #jack nyras #anon request #asks open

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possumteeths · 4 months

Text

Like a Rotten Dog

Baldurs Gate 3, Rolan x Reader, Rolan x Human!Tav (Second person nondescript femme insert) 5,800 words, Porn with feelings, Rated E. Rolan POV. My works will never use the Y/N device.

Summary:

Rolan miserably fucks a pillow while thinking big thoughts. He thinks about how obnoxious you are and how it's completely unfair that you've forced him into such a state. Unfortunately for him, his train of thought betrays his determination to hate you. "What are you to do now? Storm Ramazith’s tower atop a glittering pegasus? Perhaps you’ll declare him a poor maiden in need of a hero and expect him to swoon and fall at your feet? Should he kiss you for luck as well? Give you a handkerchief? For all the painful obedience he’s given to Lorroakan, it would be a simple thing to give it to you instead, wouldn’t it? So far you’ve asked for nothing, (not that he would’ve given you anything besides a pinched declaration of thanks) but surely his bill is due soon." "Surely you’ll come to collect since you’re so adept at finding him no matter his location."

Fic & tags under the cut or on ao3!

Tags:

He should’ve known that you would arrive at Sorcerous Sundries sooner rather than later.

Regarding Rolan’s well-being, you were like a bloodhound to his discomfort. You were always exactly where you needed to be, which was often exactly where he wished you’d keep far, far away from. With the sense of incoming doom in Baldur's Gate, he should’ve assumed you’d be hot on its trail and he was soon to run into you eventually.

Still, he wished you could’ve reunited under more pleasant circumstances. Your face lit up in recognition once you saw him behind the counter, only for your expression to morph through the motions of shock and anger before settling on disgusting concern. It was the concern that burned him, the bruise under his eye flared up like a fleshly bleeding wound and Rolan did everything in his power to keep his head held high. He didn’t need your help and he certainly did not need your pity. The very concept of pity coated his throat with the acidic taste of bile.

You had no right to swoop into his life and save him from his failures time and time again. For once, he wanted to fix his own problems. Lorroakan was a… difficult man, but a learned one. Rolan thought that if he could just toughen up and learn all that he could, perhaps he’d finally be free of your meddling. Perhaps he’d finally be able to sleep at night, unafraid of being an utter failure. Didn’t he owe that to his family? To himself? If he could just be better— a better man, a better wizard, then he could defend himself for once. He wouldn’t need you and your concern. He wouldn’t feel inadequate or unsure of himself ever again. If he could be a better version of himself, then he would be able to look you in the eye without all the shame that came with it.

How was it possible that you managed to look so good while he knew that you spent your days out there fighting and surviving by the skin of your teeth? All he’d done since reaching the city was bow his head and allow his master to use him as an outlet for his temper. He felt like a whipped dog who’d done nothing wrong besides give his utmost obedience and you looked like hope incarnate. Your pity felt like freedom although it burned like shame. By the time you left the shop, Rolan firsthand witnessed the steady growth of determination swell beneath your skin and he knew that you were soon to do something that left him no choice but to thank you for his life again.

At this point, there weren’t enough words in any language to voice the gratitude you were owed. The crumbs of respect that Rolan begrudgingly handed to you were too much and not enough. So far, the only recent decision he’d made for himself left his ego and body badly bruised. Sure, he’d taken charge of Zevlor’s incompetence and got as many people as he could to safety— but if saving the refugees were up to you, no one would’ve been left behind. Perhaps his siblings might not have been taken in the first place.

The creaky door to Rolan’s meager living quarters feels heavier than normal as he defeatedly pushes it open. All his confidence and what he used to think was talent awarded him the finery of a single room and splintery floorboards. He heads for a mostly empty red bottle atop a shelf and downs the last few dregs of it, hoping the potion might soothe some general aches and pains if it wasn’t enough to heal any of them. Earlier, you’d purchased as many health potions as the shop had in store, traded three magical amulets for an extremely powerful scroll, and tipped him for the trouble of bringing you everything you purchased. Throwing gold at him, you had the audacity to ask if he was alright with a tinge of fury in your tone. Gods he hated you at that moment. He was doing what he had to for survival. Because of him, his family had a roof over their heads. What was the cost of a few arbitrary wounds for the price of safety? What would you know about something like that?

Immediately, the thought is shut down by guilt and fresh anger has him slamming the empty potion bottle down. The rickety shelf rattles, but there’s no one around to witness his frustration. Right now, he can’t bear the idea of his siblings seeing the state of himself. Heavy feet drag him to a mirror and Rolan concludes that he doesn’t look awful, the wounds he wore were trophies that displayed his dedication to magic. Ugly to only the ignorant. No one but him could understand that. His siblings didn’t care to listen to reason, and Rolan didn’t need to ask his sister to know she was conspiring to do something about his problem— only she didn’t hold a candle to your ridiculous tenacity.

What are you to do now? Storm Ramazith’s tower atop a glittering pegasus? Perhaps you’ll declare him a poor maiden in need of a hero and expect him to swoon and fall at your feet? Should he kiss you for luck as well? Give you a handkerchief? For all the painful obedience he’s given to Lorroakan, it would be a simple thing to give it to you instead, wouldn’t it? What would you ask of him in exchange for your help? So far you’ve asked for nothing, (not that he would’ve given you anything besides a pinched declaration of thanks) but surely his bill is due soon. Surely you’ll come to collect since you’re so adept at finding him no matter his location.

A fresh wave of outrage guides him away from self-depreciation, but it comes with a delicate aftertaste of something new. You asked him why he was so rude to you back in the grove, —the conversation feels as if it happened a lifetime ago— and Rolan haughtily remembers your displeasure in his lack of reverence. At least that’s how he chose to interpret your question. Unbeknownst to you, he had the makings of greatness in him too. You were just a stranger to him, a mere moment in his soon-to-be great story. One day he’d be a powerful and renowned spellcaster and you’d likely be a statue or a painting, felled in battle and remembered by few. Your meddling was only delaying the inevitable. You were keeping him from his destiny and you were upset with him for refusing to inflate your ego? Did you expect him to look at you like a wide-eyed pup, stars in his eyes in the shadow of your glory?

If he was less of a man, Rolan would’ve picked up a pillow and screamed into it. You’ve tainted the distaste he has for you and because of this, guilt-laced shame makes his stomach twist. A healing blister on his side reminds him that he’s a coward, he’s too stubborn for his own good and a tiny part of his pride rolled over on its back, belly up, tail wagging when he set eyes on you this morning. Even now, his tail flicks behind him in the way it does when he thinks of you. Rolan couldn’t find it in him to ask how you were faring, but now he regrets his clipped words and the demand for you to leave him and his problems alone. You weren’t going to listen to his plea anyhow, so why waste the words? He should’ve swallowed his attitude and spoken to you as a friend.

But— there lies the problem.

Rolan doesn’t have friends. He never felt the need for anyone's company besides his siblings. He’s bookish, too busy with his studies and his magic to go out of his way to socialize with anyone. Why would he? No one ever wants to talk with him, and when he finds himself forced into a conversation he’s overly aware of the humor that people find in him. No one respects him. Cal and Lia keep him company because they have to, and they’re all the support he needs. He doesn’t know the first thing about friendliness or pleasantry and he doesn’t care to learn.

After you wiped out the goblin camp and set his people toward hopeful safety, his sister told him to seek you out at your party— but you ended up coming to him instead. Caught off guard, all he could do was lamely conjure a few dancing lights for your entertainment and he wasn’t able to hold the spell for very long. His tongue felt as if it had become furred, he couldn’t remember what exactly he’d said to you but he did remember his sister’s horrified expression in response. She thinks he’s harboring feelings toward you, and he supposes her assumption is half correct. He has a lot of feelings pertaining to you but none of them were sweet and soft.

It didn’t matter anyhow. By all accounts, he should despise you (and perhaps he does), but the way he feels is overly complicated and tightly wound. Why do you dress the way you do? Why do you smell so pleasant? Caked in mud and splattered with gore, you manage to wear it all stylishly. Why do you care about everything as much as you do? Where do you find the motivation to put one foot in front of the other and carry on? Aren’t you tired? Every time you’ve sought him out, you ask if he’s alright before immediately offering your aid. You try to speak with him, you��ll ask him about his siblings out of politeness, but he always shuts you down like an idiot addicted to the taste of his boot wedged between his teeth. Everything you are rubs abrasively against everything he tries to be. His confidence is always received poorly while yours shines obtrusively enough that people are forced to love the way it blinds them.

You’ve done your best to put Rolan into a daze as well, but his determination to dislike you has become a core tenant of his personality. You deserve his thanks, you deserve his respect. You have every right to force him to kneel and then command for him to kiss your boots. The only thing you’d have to do for such worship would be to demand it. You could take it from him just as Master Lorroakan does. But you won't. The confusing, awful way he feels toward you would be so much easier to compartmentalize if you were cruel. He wishes disgust would replace your pity, that way it would be easier to justifiably hate you. If he could imagine you laughing at him, calling him pathetic, and exposing him for the coward he is, then he wouldn’t be rushing for his bed, hands already working at his robes to find the ties that hold his breeches at his hips.

This world is cruel and the animal law of predator against prey is just as prominent as it is amongst beasts. He’s survived thus far because of you and now he bows for false promises, willfully misleading himself into thinking that he’s anything besides a whipping boy. The punishment bruised and burned into him is deserved. For all that he’s given in exchange, he thinks that he’s gotten off easily if anything. Certain laws of nature shouldn’t be broken and he should not have gotten to this point by cheating his way along instead of taking the hits that came with his repeated failures. What pact has he declared in exchange for your patronage? What are the stipulations he’s agreed to? You’re not winged but you’re radiant just the same. Perhaps the obnoxiously attractive body you wear is an illusion, perhaps you’re a devil who followed him from Elturel with the sheer intent of ruining his life.

Caged and afraid, desperate to be anything besides what he is, you’ve rendered him into a broken thing. A broken thing whose throat is dry, whose hand shakes as he miserably gropes the swollen length of his cock. A stubborn part of his psyche still thinks he’s a man, you’re a pretty face and the closest thing to a friend that he’s aware of. Of course, you make him hard. There’s no shame to be found in a natural reaction to someone whose attention wanders back to him like a pet with a penchant for running away. In the quiet moments of whatever respite he’s able to steal for himself, Rolan’s wandering mind often breaches a handful of thoughts that he’s determined to keep under lock and key. If he lets his mind dash away from reason, sometimes he thinks about touching you, he wonders what you’d feel like if you were wet and wanting.

Weeks ago, while flipping through a book on anatomy from the tower’s library, he paused on a few figure drawings of a naked human woman. He dared to look at her breasts and the shape of her hips in a rather unstudious manner and his composure unraveled from there. He’s never wanted to dwell on things he finds unnecessary; women and all the struggle that came before sex felt like too much of a headache to pursue. Rolan’s seen what fools it makes of people, he’s seen more people than he cares to think about who are horns deep in grief after losing someone they loved. Keeping himself safe from such matters felt like the smartest thing he could do, he didn’t wish to expend time or effort to pursue anything with anyone. So… he didn’t feel like a pervert for utilizing the anatomical drawing of a woman’s body for masturbatory purposes. If he wouldn’t pursue anything real, this seemed more efficient than wasting his time daydreaming about physical touch and a certain someone’s attention. With one hand on the book and the other wrapped around his cock, he quickly worked himself to completion and that was that.

Unfortunately, the release didn’t bring him any pleasure. His orgasm only felt like a momentary distraction from the angry thing he’d awoken. Now he blindly seeks a sense of relief that he can’t seem to get his hands on because he doesn’t know what he’s searching for. For days, he thought about the damned book and the terms for various parts of a woman’s anatomy. He thought about their function and how it was more than likely that a woman could find herself in the exact predicament he was trapped in. Task after nonsensical task was performed for Lorroakan and all he could think about was the book hidden beneath its proper shelf and the way he wished he could somehow enchant it so the diagrams would be in color.

After a particularly brutal “lesson” that involved his naked back and a shock of lightning, he stole away to find his recent obsession. While lost in his thoughts, eyes tightly shut and a desperate fist working himself over, he proceeded to ruin the book with an errant splatter of his release. Once the first rope stained the pages, he didn’t care to lessen the blow. He was bitter with his master, bitter with his newfound curiosity that only grew in size. The hunger crept into him only because of weakness— He was a failure in too many ways and so Rolan felt justified in coating the diagrams with everything he had. Shame was far from him when he closed the soaked book to shelve it back into place.

That should’ve been the end of things, he wished more than anything to smother the awful birth of late blooming desire but the damned thing refused to simmer down and die. You kept that from happening. You left him with no choice but to use the promise of self-release as a coping mechanism. He’s always been an impetuous ass and he’s never felt the need to find any distaste in accepting the fact. He’s impulsive but Rolan felt he was too smart to asphyxiate on any lasting consequences. Rubbing himself raw was a byproduct of everything else wrong in his life. Why should he worry about consequences when you’ll be there to save him from whatever circumstance? He wanted to drink himself to death in Last Light Inn, but you wouldn’t let him. So he ran headfirst into the shadows, figuring that he’d either save his siblings or die trying and you apparated from the darkness to rob him of the martyrdom he aimed for. You took everything from him, smothered his pride, and strangled his ego as if his wants and needs meant nothing to you. You’re in his head, you’ve stolen all of his impulsivity and alchemically perverted it so that it all revolves around you.

And he can't hate you for it because you’ve destroyed his previous definition of hate.

He can’t drink in self-pity because he thinks of you and the disappointment on your features when you found him completely pissed and slurring his words. You told those little devils to stop serving him and shooed them away as if you were his mother. If he goes past his limits, all he can think of is your annoying face all screwed up in pity. Eyes soft, voice gentle. You’d probably let him rest his head on your lap only for him to vomit on your thighs. He can’t imagine you shouting at him even if he was to soak your clothes in wine and stomach acid and he hates you for it. You’d pet him with the gentleness you might administer to someone on their deathbed and ask in that awful pitying tone of yours if he felt any better.

He can't drink without thinking of you. He can't touch himself without obsessing over you. You’re the horrible reason he started this habit in the first place. He can’t even bare his flesh for his master to abuse without thinking of your gods' awful pity either.

“Are you alright?” Must be the majority of all the words you’ve ever said to him and he imagines you finding him like this, shoulders sagging as if too heavy for his spine with his hand shoved into his breeches. Sharp teeth sink into his lip and he tries to envision himself through your perspective. To you, he must look like a miserable excuse for a tiefling, and an even worse example of a man. He feels soggy, bogged down by the weight of his failures. The only aspect of his species that he displays is his pride and right now, such a concept is far away from where he usually keeps it. The mask of confidence is replaced with a whimpery fat-lipped need to feel anything besides the desire for self-flagellation, and he shudders in disgust while imagining you looking at him, pretty mouth held open for a moment while searching for the words to say.

“Does it hurt?” You’d ask carefully because you’re aware of how easily he finds the audacity to snip at you.

He doesn’t know if you’re asking about the bruises or the awkward way he strokes his cock. You wouldn’t ask him if he needed help, nor would you be shy about closing the distance between your body and his to take charge of the situation. You’d use your thumb and forefinger to pick up his chin and he’d look up at you, unburdened by the undead desperation that plagues his body. In his fantasy, he doesn't think about the complicated feelings he harbors for you, instead, he submits to the determination in your gaze.

In real life, he’d fumble his way through such an occurrence and ultimately be left racking his brain for an apology which he doesn’t know how to say. He doesn’t know how or when to shut up, he’d never let you take charge of him even while painfully aware that you’d figure out a miraculous way to make him feel better. He’d disappoint you and embarrass himself into the binds of a torture chamber of his own design. Even now, just squeezing himself over his clothes, he struggles to quell the gut punch of an orgasm that wants to swallow him whole. He wouldn’t last through your touch, he can’t imagine kissing you because on principle, he can’t entertain such a ridiculous thought. Not only is the concept too embarrassing to hope for, but he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d accidentally cut your soft human lips with his teeth. He’d say something idiotic and you’d slap him right in the face. Perhaps you’d find his body heat too estranged from yours, maybe you’d find his features too odd. Perhaps his shaking breath would betray the way he wants you to see him. Perhaps he’d pass out from all the blood rushing to engorge his cock and then he’d crack his head open on the ground.

Too aware of himself, he thinks that he’d try to kiss you like the muscled heroes in trashy books and he’d somehow manage to poke your eye out with a horn. Analyzing every possible outcome has led Rolan to believe that anything he could try would end up in complete failure. He’s… resilient, but his recent track record displays failure after hard-headed failure. To allow himself a proper delusion where he's able to touch and fuck you without envisioning tail curling embarrassment, he feels as if he needs to give you a reason to see him as anything other than a pathetic dog. He limps as he walks, his tail’s tucked between his legs and he’d bite you if your hand got too close. Why would you ever look down at that with anything besides disgust or pity? If you were to force his door open right now, he’d drench the inside of his pants with cum and before he was able to catch his breath, he’d find a way to make an ass of himself because when it comes to you, he’s mastered the art of behaving like a pompous prick.

You’d never want this… and he’d never be able to charm his way into being passably desirable. It would only add another foot of dirt atop his grave if he finally found the nerve to do something about the complicated basket of feelings he keeps on hand, only for you to reject him outright. He’d never find the right things to say so that this could have a squalid chance of poking its head into reality.

Still, he thinks about your hands sliding down his chest, slowly mapping out the shape of his body as if you intended to remember it. Humans are so soft, his skin is thicker than yours, his chest is ridged and he wonders if such a difference would be pleasurable or painful. Imagining your naked breasts, nipples pressed against his textured skin as he explores your soft curves with his hands makes a gritty moan fall from his lips. He would never be yours, nor would he ever know the pleasure of knowing your body— but he could pretend. He could convince himself that if the stars aligned once he sacrificed his soul, maybe he could have one night with you. A few hours would be sufficient enough for a lifetime of longing. A single kiss, a moment of your time would be enough fuel to help him mentally leap over everything that kept him up at night.

He wishes you really were a devil. The temptation, the need for you would finally respect the concept of reason. If he were to give you his soul, then at least you’d be bound contractually to give him anything he asked for. In all the stories, the seduction of such a being is inevitable. Even the strongest people succumb eventually. The prelude to his demise would drain his soul out of his balls and he’d finish without the disgust that usually rose after he figured out how to think again. In the sticky aftermath, he could say whatever drivel that would fall out of his mouth and you’d take it with an entertained eye-roll. Nothing he could do or say would matter if you had his name neatly signed at the bottom of a horrendously unfair contract. It would be a good deal on your end, you already have him weak and dependent on you so you could do wonders with the usage of his soul. Wanting you would be so much easier if you owned him. He couldn’t hate you or himself if he had no choice but to obsess over you. He wouldn’t chase away your constant presence in his thoughts if he’d given his mind away, completely at peace to let it rot in your greedy hands.

The bed creaks under Rolan’s weight as he finally lays down with a bratty huff. He buries his face into the mattress with his eyes tightly shut as if that would keep him from hating the desperate way he claws for his pillow. He already knows that his hand won’t suffice, he’s already bunny fucking the mattress, hopelessly grinding himself against the solid mass, wishing he could bore a hole into it without anyone discovering his shame. His breeches barely escape his ire when struggling with the ties takes a moment too long. They’re shoved down with a growl and his pillow is folded in half to then be shoved beneath his hips. With his thoughts soaked self-admonition, he finds enough of an in to slot his cock into the plush crease of his folded pillow. Nothing about it feels right, it’s loose and dry but he whimpers with the idea of what it represents.

Thankfully his rushing thoughts are a potent enough concoction to mask the way his mind struggles to imagine thrusting into you. He can’t think anymore, he’s so hard that it hurts and all he wants to do is thrust into the cushy relief of his pillow, panting into his mattress while obsessing over vague ideas of what your body would feel like.

You’re always so attuned to his well-being. Always so eager to offer your help. If he told you that the only thing he wants from you is to fuck you until he can’t think anymore, would you graciously bend over the nearest surface and offer your pretty cunt? The diagram painted such a vivid idea of what you’d look like. Apparently, your cunt swells similarly to his cock when aroused and he imagines the offering of a swollen flower, petals engorged with need and the dripping center of it drooling steadily in anticipation. You’d be so inexplicably soft. Humans are a ridiculous species, and he wasn’t immune to the inherent curiosity he holds for your kind. With zero real-life experience to go on, he believes that humans have heavier breasts. He thinks that fat settles differently on your species’ bodies and there just seems to be more to grab and hold onto. You’re tailless and he wonders if that might make it easier to drive deeper into your body if you were positioned on all fours. Lust soaked daydreams of hips and thighs torment him daily. He’s much larger than the four inches of your body’s comfortable limits (a fact provided to him by the anatomy book), and Rolan wonders if you’d be able to handle the intrusion of his cock.

According to the tiny font of raunchy, cheaply printed novelettes, it would be a tight fit but you’d eventually be shouting his name in place of any god you pray to. He imagines you reaching for his ass, your legs locked around his hips and you do your best to hold him deeply inside of you, wet heat begging him to remain buried in your depths. Women can orgasm contrary to popular belief, and aided by the combination of educational journals, books on body function, and a few trashy epics, he’s decided that at least once in his life, he’ll make a woman come for the sheer sake of curiosity. With you, he’d make you come as often as physically possible, but if he can’t have you he thinks that just once with someone else will be enough to quench the intrigue.

Gritting his teeth, he jerkily thrusts and grinds into his pillow. The bulbous base of his cock is painfully swollen and he closes his fist tightly around it, squeezing hard and wishing for the tight clasp of your body. He’d seal you up and pump you so full of come that you’d forget every sorry state you’ve ever found him in. The looming understanding that satisfaction will remain at an atrocious distance forces his hips into a frenzy, too stubborn to admit defeat. Rolan hisses in frustration due to the sorry pillow that doesn’t offer nearly as much friction as he needs. The needy mouth of your cunt would be so much tighter, so much wetter than this awful thing. You’d take him with a gasp of shock, surprised by the heat of his turgid cock as he encases himself inch by inch into all of that softness he imagines. The underside of his cock is ridged similarly to the rest of him, and according to the anatomy book, he differs in other ways as well. Would the shape of him shock you? Would your tight little cunt spasm around him as if in awe of the pleasure he brings? In the few dirty stories he’s discovered over the years, human women adore his kind. Blunt-headed human cocks pale in comparison to a tiefling’s. Filled to the brim, your eyes would roll back and you’d ask him to please fuck you. Would you tell him that he’s ruined you for all other men and you’ll need him from now on to satiate yourself? Rolan's delirious thoughts decide yes, those are definitely things you’d say.

More likely, you’d give yourself over with that teasing, snooty look of yours, all too aware that he needs you because you’ve learned how to read him like a book. He’d take you although the acquisition would feel more like blind surrender. You once asked if he intended to thank you for your efforts and he imagines you asking him to thank you for the privilege of just the sight of you. You’d spread your cheeks, exposing the vexing pink blush of your folds and he’d have no choice but to fall to his knees before you. He’d fucking crawl if you’d let him just breathe in the scent of your cunt. Even now, he feels light-headed and caught between too many contradictory points. His heart is wedged in his throat, his lungs feel strained and he swallows dryly while imagining what it would be like to drag his tongue between your folds.

Rolan curls in on himself and uses the heel of his palm to press against the pillow, desperate for more friction. Caught on a new train of thought, he pants open-mouthed, tongue painfully dry while imagining your legs spread over his face. He’s thirsty, he’s half alive and the short distance between your body and his mouth feels like torture. You bossily direct him to speak his adoration into your cunt and before he can promise that he will, you proceed to cover his ears with your soft thighs. You’ll call him a golden boy like you did when telling him that he shouldn’t leave the grove alone. Instead of telling him that his apprenticeship doesn’t make him some sort of golden boy, the term is given to him as a pet name. You like his eyes, you like his tongue and the way he’ll die before disappointing you again. You’ll reach for his horns, forcing his head up so you can grind against his mouth, and his tongue moves in untrained flat strokes because he doesn’t know what you like. He envisions fucking you on his tongue, thrusting it into your heat with the intent of worshipping the hidden sanctuary of your cunt. Your reward for his resignation, for finally giving you the thanks you deserve tastes like the safety he longs for and he feels at home with you above him.

In the present, his tail thumps against the mattress, and the pointed tip flicks in agitation as something final settles in his bones. This realization has been building in ferocity long before he began violating his pillow and he rubs his cheek against the mattress, breathing hard with the back of his throat feeling inflamed. The moan forced out of him crackles, his ragged breath sets it alight and the fiery resignation is executed through a blubbering whimper. Rolan’s hips punch forward as if trying to punish the pillow for its current form, he thinks that it should be you. He should be in your arms, he should be driving his pitifully sensitive cock against your skin, and he’d beg for the privilege of fucking your thighs because he can't bear the idea of disappointing your cunt with his ultimately early release. This should be an act of supplication. You’ve won. He’s at your mercy. He needs you, he needs you. You’ll save him from his pride once again and he’ll finally find the words necessary to declare to you what an ass he’s been.

As if his body was politely waiting for the mental submission, his spine straightens, and cum shoots from the head of his prick before he’s fully realized the impending threat of his orgasm. Reduced to sensation alone, Rolan rumbles out a long groan as he fucks a deluge of cum into his pillow. All he can do is thrash against the violence of his every sense expelling from his body in the form of viscous white sludge. His mouth hangs open stupidly as his frenzied thrusts soon dispel into non-movement. When it’s all over, he takes a long, slow breath and he’s surprised to discover that doesn't feel the pressing need to clean up his shame before hatred can find its way back into place. Right now, his wounds don’t exist, neither does his anxiety. His pride’s already fucked off to another plane and Rolan hopes it’ll take an extended holiday. He wants to confront you without it for the first time since you forced your way into his life.

Determined, his ego picks the pieces of itself from the ground as Rolan grinds his softening cock into the now cool mess of his release. He thinks that such a tribute has to be well received. With no experience with women, people, or conversations and social normality— Rolan has high hopes that the next inevitable run-in with you will end on a pleasant note. Of course, nothing of his fantasies will be realized, —he’ll hold those thoughts in the dreary prison he keeps them in—, but he’s resolute to to let you in on the secret respect he’s reserved for you.

You mean a great deal to him, and he hopes to let you know as such.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm sorry I made you read the word turgid, I thought it was funny and refused to edit it out lol.

#baldurs gate fanfic #Bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan x you #poki writing #Poki fics #bg3 rolan

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smoft-demons · 3 months

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If you aren't busy could you try writing about an mc that looks identical to Lilith and maybe even has a similar name example: lily, Lillian etc. (If you can, maybe mc that has a similar personality with lilith) And Ofc its platonic. (sorry if you don't understand, I barely ask on tumblr(⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Also! It can be fluff or angst (if you can't write all of the brothers lucifer, belphegor and Beelzebub would be fine(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Mc can be gender neutral! (You can choose whatever format you're comfortable with)

Ofc if u don't want to its fine, i just saw your requests open

Sorry if this is too long(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Sure! No worries about it being too long, it gives me lots to work with :)

First request yay! Hope you like it

MC’s name is Lily

Lucifer:

Lucifer double-takes when he first sees you. He knew your name in advance, but looking at you, seeing the resemblance… it shocks him.

He keeps a straight face, however.

It becomes increasingly obvious that he has a soft spot for you. It grows softer and softer as he gets to know you.

When you harmlessly disobey him, he can’t help but let you off. Lilith was a bit of a rebel too, and you look just like her when you’re trying to be sneaky

He loses it when you put yourself in danger! You remind him so much of his baby sister, who he gave everything he could for… and he’s supposed to keep this blasted human alive, so help him he will succeed! It’s a matter of pride—and also trauma.

All that is there, but still Lucifer makes an effort to pay attention to the differences between Lilith and you. Few as there may be, he will not cloud his own judgement by thinking of you as the new her.

And he will not do you the disservice of acting like you’re someone you’re not.

When the ancestry reveal happens, he’s not exactly surprised. It’s still great news, but… not shocking!

He’s already had his crisis about not being unfair to you by acting like you’re a replacement, so he’s actually pretty good about not saying anything hurtful along those lines.

Beelzebub:

He can’t bear to look at you at first

I mean really, how he’s grieving his sister plus how he’s missing his twin… what’s he supposed to do? You’re in Belphie’s spot, and you’re called Lily, and you’re even acting like her… his heart aches

Good news tho, he definitely won’t eat you

He feels AWFUL for scaring you that one time, about the custard

And that conversation when he opens up to you about that impossible choice he had to make about who to save? He won’t admit it to you or to himself, but a big part of why he asked you who you would have chosen is that he hopes you can give him some insight into what Lilith would have chosen. If she would have made the choice he did.

Once you’ve become good friends with him, he does make an effort to not confuse you with his sister… but it’s hard for him, especially if you look and act like her. He’s really trying!

He would want to hug you for hours after having nightmares of falling. It helps him feel like maybe he’s not a total failure of a protector

He’s giving Mammon a run for his money in terms of being protective of you.

Beel finds himself conflicted after the big reveal. He’s overjoyed to have Belphie back, but he’s so angry with him for hurting you, and also he’s so upset with himself for not realizing Belphie was trapped in the attic the whole time, and ALSO he’s struggling with keeping you separate from Lilith in his mind, similar and genuinely connected as you are, and that makes him feel even more guilty because he genuinely does love you just for yourself. He feels like it’s very mean to you if he lets himself be distracted from that.

This is further complicated by you naturally falling into the role of his baby sister. He loves having you in that role, but it’s hard. A bit triggering. He’s working through it!

All in all, he’s a good big brother. He’d be overjoyed to hear it if you tell him that.

Belphegor:

Learning your name sends him spiralling. He was thinking of this exchange program as a betrayal to Lilith’s memory, he thought Lucifer had forgotten about her, he thought Lucifer didn’t care, but he chose a human named LILY?? Is this him being manipulative, is this coincidence, does it mean he HASN’T stopped caring, does it mean he’s trying to replace their lost baby sister with some human?

Belphie can’t figure it out.

He hangs onto his hatred. He carries out the first steps of his plan

When you meet him, he just… stares. You look like her…

He refuses to cry about it! He sticks to the script, lying to your face as planned, summoning all the hatred and resentment in his fallen heart.

But… you keep coming back. Not just to update him about your pact collecting, but also… just to chat? Checking on him, bringing him small snacks and things that fit through the gaps in the door, telling him about what his brothers are up to, reminding him that Beel misses him terribly and no one has forgotten about him

He’s finding it hard to keep hating you. In all honesty, he’s grown fond of you! But he has a plan and he’s sticking to it! You’re NOT his sister, and nothing short of a miracle can convince him to let go of his resentment!

In timeline A, after the first jailbreak, he never gets around to harming you. He can’t figure out if it’s due to laziness, lack of opportunity, fondness for you on his part, or not wanting to make Beel sad. This becomes irrelevant of course, after Diavolo imprisons him

In timeline B, you’re sent back in time to see how he got released. You open the door, he offers you the hug, you accept.

It’s… nice, for a long moment. Gentle and warm and comfy.

And then he regains his determination, going ahead with his plan to kill you. He gets as far as “Finding it hard to breathe?” before he looks at you. Expecting to feel sadistic satisfaction at seeing a human face screwed up in pain like that. But… you look like his baby sister.

You look just like his baby sister, and you’re scared and hurt. His baby sister… panicking and tearful, because of HIM

He can’t do it

His grip relaxes. He doesn’t let you go, but he’s no longer hurting you.

He’s shaking.

You feel… moisture in your hair. Your throat is bruised and bleeding from his claws digging into your skin. You’re wheezing through your crushed airway. Your brain is flooded with adrenaline. Your prey terror hasn’t let up, as the demon who was threatening your life is still holding you, and he’s CLEARLY still unstable. But, maybe crying from guilt is safer than cold determination to murder you…?

At this point, the others rush in. Mammon tears you away from Belphie. Beel is frozen in horrified confusion. Belphie is having a breakdown on the floor.

Diavolo and Barbatos fill everyone in. Belphie can’t even look at you, he feels so awful.

As you both heal, you get closer. You become real friends. You learn what aspects of the Belphie you knew from the attic were lies, and the surprising amount of things that were true. With everyone’s help, Belphie really digs deep and commits to finally unpacking his trauma and his survivor’s guilt and his grief.

Once you trust him enough—and he trusts himself enough—he takes every opportunity to spoil you. He’ll cuddle you whenever you want, he’ll make sure you don’t get any nightmares, he’ll share his food, he’ll even let you wake him up for dumb things without getting mad at you.

______

I didn’t have many ideas for the rest. I had some for Mammon, but nowhere near as many as for these three. I might add the Mammon ideas as a short bonus later, if I have the energy or any more inspiration.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me & reader #obey me fic #obey me writing #obey me platonic headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #request #my writing

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