#late in the long apprenticeship

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

⟢ to swallow a star | c.bg

pairing: wizard!beomgyu x apprentice!f!reader. genres: fluff, romcom, fantasy. wc: 1,7k. warnings: this is so silly and unedited 💀. an: i was trying to make a point with the last paragraph but my brain isn’t working, but i am a howl girlie so just pretend u get it 🤣 found the last photo on pinterest with no credits, so credit to the original artist 🫶🏻

it is late afternoon down by lilac lane. the spring sunlight douses the cottage in gold, lighting up the grassy hills and fields, glittering off a nearby rushing creek. it allows warmth to seep in through the windows.

normally, on a cozy sunday such as this, you would be curled up on the soft upholstery armchair in the sitting room, with tabby purring in your lap and a volume of the Wizard Howl’s Why One should Not Swallow Stars series between your fingers. But today you were not, and it vexes you greatly to think of it. rather, you are standing on the tips of your toes, leaning over the sink, to squint through the kitchen window.

a great deal of time had passed since you saw the Wizard Beomgyu, under whom you were serving an apprenticeship. he had disappeared into the fields behind the cottage earlier that very afternoon, promising to teach you a new charm once he had returned. and this promise had pleased you.

for the first few weeks in his care, you and beomgyu had gotten along remarkably well. he would teach you spells and enchantments, you would prepare meals and you would share chores and tending to the cottage equally. in your free time you would tag along on his jobs in town, or you would read and he would paint.

but in the next few weeks that took you up to the current third month at the cottage, his behavior had changed drastically. the good-natured, occasional prankster of a man had reverted to a sulking, misbehaving teenager who had not taught you a thing in days.

so the thought of his unhappiness being cured and him now having the time to teach you, enlivened the witch in the exasperated nurse you had become. but that excitement had long since met its end. and as the clock struck five o’clock, your blood boiled.

a flash of green sweeps through the open window and you drop onto your heels. tabby lifts her head from where she had sat napping between the potted plants near you on the sink, one eye opening slowly to follow the squawking bird.

“toto,” you say, relieved to see the wizard’s familiar. you follow him into the sitting room, where he glides around once more before taking his perch. “where have you been? where is your master?”

he squawks. “miss (y/n), master requests your presence at poppy hill.”

“poppy hill?” you say in surprise, “i thought he was in the fields. is something the matter?” then your eyes shine, “is it time for my lesson at last?”

toto lets out a nervous squawk. “you should take your leave before last light, miss.”

“will you guide me to him, toto?” you ask politely. the parrot nods his head before hopping from his perch and sailing through the kitchen window once more.

you tighten your boots quickly, pausing only to check on tabby. “are you coming, girl?”

her countenance was such that, if she were a person, you’d imagine she would sigh unenthusiastically. but she nevertheless hopped off and ran after you at your heels.

you follow toto deep into the fields and up onto poppy hill where the Witch Karina grew and nurtured her genus of wild flowers. it pales you to imagine he had spent the entirety of his afternoon here, but you perk up when toto leads you down the windward side of the hill.

you come to a stop as you find the Wizard Beomgyu seated amongst red common poppies, the last light catching his features and making them glow. the gentle breeze brushes through his long, golden brown hair as he soaks it up. when the light disappears behind the mountains at last, toto settles atop his head and his eyes flutter open. he greets toto with a smile, then turns to you and his eyes light up. you gulp.

“(y/n)!” he says, climbing to his feet. as his hands clear the grass and dirt from his trousers, he starts toward you and continues, “i’m glad you could make it. i was just talking to karina and—”

you fix your hands on your hips and a severe expression on your face. he stops, fear in his eyes. you march toward him and he shrieks. “where have you been! you promised you would teach me today, beomgyu! what is the meaning of this!” you say, poking a finger into his chest.

“i was—”

“i have been patient! so patient with you these weeks and you go and leave me at noon until evening! what have you to say for yourself, sir!”

his frown morphs into a smile and you are simply flabbergasted. but before you can berate him further, he takes your hand into his gently. he presses his lips to your knuckles and then rubs his thumb over them gently.

“i have left you? why, i could never do such a thing my dear,” he says and your face burns red.

“wha– wai– i beg your pardon!” you exclaim. but he maintains his hold on your hand and leads you further down the hill until you reach the middle of the slope. “do you think you can treat me like those swooning ladies in town!”

the sky is now dark and the stars are twinkling above, the moonlight shimmering silver against the blades of grass beneath your feet. you try and use the fragrance of the flowers and the earth to distract you from how warm and soft his hand feels, but then he takes your other hand and pulls you toward him.

“there is going to be a meteor shower tonight.” he says excitedly, as if it explains anything. but you are much too distracted by his closeness and his touch and his prettiness to argue. “i have planned it all with Karina. she will—“

you finally manage to yank your hands from his. “i do not care to be in your presence now, sir. you refuse to explain your behavior! i am your apprentice, you are supposed to teach me. if our arrangement— if my company is not to your liking anymore simply say so and I will take my leave.”

you start your walk back up the hill, which, being now by your full senses, proved to be a lot more taxing than the journey down it. it only aggravates you more. but you gather your dress in your hands and push on. he rushes after you.

“i will swallow a star!”

you stop in your tracks. you turn to him. “what?”

“i will swallow a star,” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest with a resolved expression on his face. “so that i may compete with that pretty boy you like so much.”

you blink. “compete? with that pretty boy? who– The Wizard Howl? Pendragon?”

he does not answer, but turns his face up to the night sky with a pout. your jaw drops in absolute bafflement. then you burst out laughing. his cheeks turn pink.

“oh, beomgyu,” you sigh, taking his face into your hands and turning it to you. “howl’s books are about why we should not contract deals with demons for power; his own autobiography. and you are a powerful wizard of your own accord, why should you need to be like him?”

toto squawks. “that is what i told him, Miss.”

“you shut up,” he snaps, swatting his familiar away. when your hands drop from his face, he returns them to their place and he leans into your touch, still pouting. “but you like him so much. you’re always reading those things and talking to tabby and mrs rochester from the bakery about him.”

you grin, a blush glowing in your cheeks. “beomgyu, the wizard howl is a happily married man with a sweet two-year old son. the story of his life is remarkable to me, so I read about him.”

he stills. “really?”

you drop your head and giggle. when you look up again, he is watching you with a look in his eyes that makes your chest flutter.

“and what about you?” you say, fixing your hands on your hips again. “what were you doing all day with Miss Karina?”

he perks up. “oh! i spent the afternoon trying to convince her to let us borrow her field for the evening. she agreed on the condition that i promenade with her in town tomorrow.”

you glare at him and smack his shoulder. “And you said yes? i cannot believe you! courting couples promenade together! i—“

he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest. “i am a cunning wizard, darling. i may have pulled one on her,” he shrugs, “besides. how could i dream of courting anyone else when you are right here.”

then his eyes flit to your lips, asking, and when you nod, he takes them between his own in a sweet kiss.

when you break apart your breath is shaky and you think that if he should remove his arm from your waist you would fall straight to the ground. he smirks, as if he reads your mind.

“sh- she’s going to curse you once she figures it out. d-do you not know of howl and the witch of the waste?”

at that moment the meteor shower begins, like glittering diamonds shooting across the heavens. you stare up in awe. tabby meows and rubs her head against your legs, while toto perches on beomgyu’s shoulder.

he gently takes your chin between his fingers and draws your attention back to him.

“do you know of the wizard beomgyu and the apprentice who stole his heart?” he says softly, bringing your face closer and closer and closer. “they say she was was vivacious,” he kisses one corner of your mouth, “unyielding,” then the other, “a powerful witch in the making who was not wise of what she was doing before it was far too late.”

your breathing is heavy and your eyes hooded, “w-what happened to them? the wizard and the apprentice?”

his lips curl into a soft smile. “the apprentice and her wizard’s fates became inseparable, and they were destined to love one another in this and every lifetime.”

he pulls you in once more, this kiss much different from the first. he holds you impossibly close, a hand buried in your hair and the other lifting you up to his lips. it is enrapturing and toe-curling and your insides melt.

you decided then and there that the Wizard Howl Jenkins Pendragon was a charlatan. for if this is what it felt like to swallow a star, to give your heart to another and share a life, you would choose it with beomgyu, every single day.

scintillasofbeomgyu © all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost in any way.

#txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader

[dutifullylazybread]

What are your Rolan headcanons?

Apologies for the late response! My brain gave me an Error 404 notification, and I sat there for a moment like... What are my Rolan headcanons?! But then I thought on it, and I definitely have a few! Romantic and NSFW are under the cut!

SFW

Rolan can't actually sleep without some form of light. Prior to Elturel's Descent, there was this glowing orb that hung over their city that they called The Companion. Before they learned the real reason for its existence (which I will not spoil here), it was this entity that shed light over the city 24/7, and that light extended out in a 50 mile radius. So people born in Elturel were used to sleeping with the Companion overhead at all times, whereas visitors would use light-canceling curtains so that they could sleep (inns would offer these). This is my long way of saying that Rolan can't actually sleep if there isn't a light source going in the room. If it's the fireplace, it can die down throughout the night, but it must be going when he falls asleep.

I think that he drinks wine and has a deeper appreciation for it because of the Descent. All food in Avernus tastes terrible--even the rations that you brought with you. In the "Descent Into Avernus" module, the text makes a point to say that wine tastes like spoiled milk in Avernus. So I think that, for Rolan, he savors the taste of wine in particular. Sometimes to the point of excess.

Whatever he overindulged in at the Last Light Inn, he now hates. For no reason whatsoever, I think he went too hard at Plum Fizz, threw it up, and now he can't even stand to look at it. I don't want to say that the same is the case for Arabellan Dry, but there is at least one drink that he overindulged in that now turns his stomach.

He is a very light sleeper. Zariel had a skeleton crew of devils that would skulk the streets of Elturel and torment its inhabitants. If Rolan was a heavy sleeper before, after having the devils pass his family's home with such regularity put him on edge, because they could never guarantee that the devils wouldn't break into their home. Now, even the slightest noise can wake him.

I think that a devil offered him a deal in Avernus. Likely, it would have been the power to protect Cal and Lia. I think he was very close to taking it--even more so if their mother was dead at this point. I think he ultimately did not take it, and I think Lia and Cal yelled at him if they found out he was considering a deal in the first place.

This man 100% tried to brave Avernus' terrain to find a way to keep his siblings safe. The problem with Avernus is that the terrain is ever changing. Per the "Descent into Avernus" module, going to Fort Knucklebone might be ten miles. Going BACK from Fort Knucklebone might be sixty miles instead. I don't know if he gave up and went home of his own accord or if the party of heroes who helps Elturel help him get home. Either way, he views it as a failing on his part.

After their mother was killed, I think Rolan experienced a serious amount of survivor's guilt. This makes it so he is even more protective of Cal and Lia. Nothing else matters but keeping them alive. Hence why he is so deep in his cups when you find him at Last Light--he feels that he broke the promise that he made to their mother. He failed to protect his family. The ONE promise he wanted to keep, no matter what.

He wrote to Lorroakan, desperate for an apprenticeship, because the other Elturel Refugees were also heading to Baldur's Gate. However, refugees from Elturel were being actively blocked from entering the city. I definitely think he believed that Lorroakan was talented if he could lay claim to Ramazith's tower, but I also think that he wanted to make sure that he, Cal, and Lia all had a home when they got there. I think that he was willing to put up with a lot if it meant that his siblings were safe. So, in a sense, this was an apprenticeship of convenience, but I also think he did believe that a wizard who presided over Ramazith's tower would likely be a talented one.

I think that Lorroakan likely took credit for one or two of Rolan's arcane discoveries.

This man is vain. Everything about his appearance says "immaculate." Does he find a smudge on his sleeve? Prestidigitation. Is there a tear along a seam? Mending. Hair out of place? He'll be back in ten minutes--he just needs to get everything in order.

He is always thinking about how he can make a spell into an experience that Cal and Lia can enjoy. Not just prestidigiation, but also minor illusion. I wouldn't put it past him to learn Control Weather so that if they're too hot, he can cool them down. Are they disappointed that the snow disappeared too soon? Well, he has just the answer.

He is overprotective. To a fault.

While he genuinely believes it when he claims to be "the handsome master of Ramazith's Tower," or argues that he is talented, I think he started saying these things so that he could convince himself first. If he was abandoned by his birth parents, that no doubt took a toll on him. So he is very fond of positive self-talk.

Romantic

He might not always know how to verbalize his feelings, but he does demonstrate them in other ways.

Your favorite food? He learns how to make it. And he always has the ingredients on hand.

You mention offhandedly what your favorite drink is? He has at least three tins/bottles of it on hand.

If you want to make him short-circuit, wear socks that don't match.

He'll say he isn't a cuddler. He is a liar. He'll claim that the extra pillows and blankets lying around are there for your comfort, which is true, but he is also the one who is primed and ready to tuck them around you and him and read for hours on end.

Also, he loves spending time with you doing different things in the same room. He doesn't think he gets lonely since he is so used to studying on his own, but when you start sitting next to him or settling into place on a nearby couch while he works, he realizes what was missing.

He is the king of longing stares from across the room.

Will short circuit if you sit on his lap and kiss his neck (can't say more in the SFW section!)

Will cling to you when you sleep in the same bed. You honestly don't need much in the way of blankets because of the heat he puts off.

NSFW

Oh ho ho ho. I have so many and so few at the same time!!

Will bite you if you ask (and will fantasize if you don't), but he loves the idea of marking you as his, so he wants to do nothing but give you lovebites.

Personally, I think he is a switch. He can go from being the best service top in the world to being the one in need of a lot of physical affection and care. He struggles to actually verbalize what he needs, but if you can pick up on his cues, you can very much so tell whether he needs you to take the lead. From there, it's a matter of suggesting something and seeing if he is game.

That being said, he will not hesitate to bend you over a desk or take you against a bookshelf.

I don't think Rolan is a virgin (let's be real, if he has so many fans outside of a D&D setting, he definitely had a few who were attracted to him in Elturel). But he has always been very focused on taking care of his family or his studies, and I don't think he was ready for a serious relationship until after settling into the tower.

That being said, while he isn't a virgin, he also isn't well-versed in different sexy time fun things.

THAT BEING SAID, if you float an idea to him, he's going to consider it. And, so long as he is comfortable, he's down to try it too.

And once you and him start having sex on the regular, he starts to see the real potential that spells can have. Mage hand is an easy one... but what about enlarge person?

Get him worked up enough, and he will absolutely decide to fuck you in every single room of the tower (Cal's and Lia's excluded)

100% uses his tail. I shall say no more.

Your moans will make him short circuit. It takes EVERYTHING for him not to come when you moan.

Your moans, or your squeals, are also enough to get him hard. Expect him to start acting a little... needy after you make a noise like that.

King of morning sex. I shall say no more.

Loves when you go down on him. And if you moan around his cock? He's a goner.

If you blow him under his desk? He will never be able to sit at that desk again... not without going full mast.

If he's working and you whisper something lewd in his ear before walking off, he is either going to abandon his studies and want to take you up on your suggestion or he's going to sit there and stew. Either way, you have a blushing mess of a wizard on your hands.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #baldurs gate 3 #rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 headcanons #baldur's gate fanfic #baldur's gate 3 headcanons #head canon #head canons #rolan head canons #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #rolan x reader

[novemberevenings]

somewhere between the stars | chapter 1

Azriel is your best friend. The best, most brilliant, and dearest friend you have ever known. It gets harder and harder to separate your platonic and romantic feelings for him.

A/N: first chapter of this series!!! honestly wanted to write my own rendition of an angsty, mutual pining fic w my azzy <3 anyways this first part isn’t the longest but i’m posting it to motivate myself to write the next part!! (btw italics indicate a flash back!)

The night sky seems peaceful tonight, almost as if it were at ease. A chill night breeze brushes past, swirling in the soft grass in greeting. The branches of a nearby tree sway, the only sound being the soft caress of leaves. Lying with your head laid back against the grass, eyes closed in a mix of exhaustion and ecstasy. 

At the feel of a soft, scarred hand brushing against your own, you open your eyes and tilt your head to the side. You’re greeted with a familiar and comforting sight. Your best friend's questioning gaze and furrowed brows make you quietly ask, “What's going on in that head of yours?” 

It’s a phrase that you both have claimed as yours. When either of you needs to be dragged out of your thoughts, the other won’t hesitate to ask to ground you back to the present. 

He’s quiet for a moment, trying to find the words that are jumbled up in his head. He turns to look at the sky once again before asking, “Do you think they’re watching us?” 

“Who?” His question puzzles you, not quite understanding where it's coming from. 

“The stars, the moon. I dunno, maybe the entire sky.” You’re used to his weird questions. It’s become a thing that you’ve got going on between the two of you. “If they are, I hope they don’t snitch on us.” 

This earns you a light chuckle, his head slightly shaking from laughter. Realistically, the sight of two younglings watching the stars at night shouldn’t be a problem. But for a boy who has to wake up for training early in the morning and a girl who has to continue with her apprenticeship, they could get punished for being out this late at night. 

“I like to think that they are. Watching over us, I mean.” 

“Az, that’s kinda really creepy.” 

He laughs indignantly, lightly shoving at your shoulder. It’s silent again, but you can tell he wants to say more, so you wait. “There’s just… so much out there, you know? It’s so big, and there’s so much we don’t know. I like thinking that, somewhere out there, someone’s looking out for us.” 

You take a second to just marvel at the way he thinks. A sudden feeling of gratitude and pride washes over you at being one of the few people who gets to see this side of him. The side of him that’s bright and curious, hopeful. 

You turn your head back towards the sky, looking at the stars and the empty spaces between them. Your best friend’s words are still in your head, trying to form an answer. 

When you look back at him, you find his gaze already on you. He looks at you just like how he looks at the night sky, with reverence and utter devotion. It compels you to reply, “Well, regardless of who’s out there, I’ll always look out for you.” 

He gives you a soft smile, the one that you’ve come to treasure and look forward to. “I’ll always look out for you, too.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Tucked into a corner in the library at the House of Wind, your eyes roam over the page you’re reading. You were catching up on some old texts, brushing up on your knowledge of some spells. As the sorceress of the Inner Court, you always wanted to ensure you could protect your family. 

A clock nearby chimes, and you poke your head out to check the time. It was almost time for dinner, but you still wanted to finish the chapter you were reading. Going back to your book, it wasn’t long until the doors to the library slammed open, surprising a couple of priestesses nearby, an arrogant General waltzing in looking to find you. 

“You know, Cass, they expect silence in a library.” Closing the book with a resounding snap, you stand up from the cozy armchair you’d been sitting in, returning the book to its rightful place on a nearby shelf. “Lovely to see you too, my dearest Y/N.” 

You half-heartedly roll your eyes at him but take the arm he’s offering as he leads you out of the library. The two of you exchange stories of the day, Cassian recounting training with the Valkyries that morning. You listen to him intently, but you stop in your tracks when he says, “Az is coming home tonight.”  

“He is?” Your eyes widen as relief washes over you, not realizing how worried and tense you have been throughout the past week since Azriel was gone on a mission. 

“Yeah, sent Rhys a message ‘bout an hour ago.” 

At your look of shock and surprise, Cassian follows up with, “He didn’t tell you?” 

You softly shake your head, dismissing him. “I’m sure he was just really busy with work. It’s fine, Cass. Nothing to worry about.” 

Your soft, encouraging smile did nothing to ease Cassian’s worry, but he didn’t push on the subject. 

There had been this rift growing between you and Az. Both of you had been quite busy with your duties, Az especially. But you can’t help but feel there’s something else that’s causing this, and you hate it. Your friendship with him is one of the best things in your life, and the idea of losing him was… devastating. You don’t think you would be able to survive it. 

But you plan on fixing it as soon as he gets back. A simple conversation will fix this, you’re sure. 

“Alright, come on then.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was a calm night in the House of Wind. Everyone had gathered for weekly family dinner, and all was well. Everyone except for Azriel, that is. 

To say you were tense and anxious would be an understatement. Even a blind man could see just how worried you were. While everyone else was lounging in their seats and sipping their glasses of wine, you sat with your back straight, hands fiddling with each other nervously. 

“Loosen up a little, Y/N! Cauldron, you look like someone just killed your puppy.” You roll your eyes at Cassian’s teasing. Sometimes, you worry your eyes would be stuck at the back of your head whenever you’re with him. 

“Oh, give her a break, Cass. We all know why she’s acting this way.” Mor says, trying to lighten your mood. 

And it’s true. Everyone gathered around you knows exactly why you were so tense and worried. Despite Azriel sending you a message that he would be back tonight, your worry would not disappear until you saw him with your own two eyes, safe and unharmed. 

It was no secret to anyone how close the two of you were. Best friends ever since you met each other in Windhaven. Your friendship was one of the constants in your life, forever a source of comfort. He was your closest confidant, the shoulder you could always lean on, the first person you celebrate the good news with, and the first person to wipe your tears away when you cry. 

He wasn’t just your best friend. He was… your best everything. 

You tried your best to enjoy the night, joking with your family and catching up on each other’s day. Although your worry wasn’t completely gone, the presence of your family always put you at ease, love pouring through every interaction. 

“As I was saying, wing-warmers should totally be a thing. You don’t know just how much the cold affects our wings. I feel like an oversized icicle flying around the–”

Cassian stops mid-rant as a figure appears in the doorway. Everyone follows his line of sight at his silence, your head quickly snapping towards the doorway. 

And just like that, a week’s worth of worry and anxiety melts from your body. The sight of Azriel in his leathers, all seven siphons gleaming, is one you’ve longed for. 

“Az,” you sigh softly in relief. 

“Hi,” he replies. That soft smile you think is reserved just for you spreads across his face, eyes crinkling a little at the edges. 

That one word was all it took for you to fly out of your seat, running towards him at full speed. He catches you, bringing you into his warm embrace immediately. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms as tight as you can around his neck. In response, Azriel buries his nose into your hair, tightening his grip around your waist. 

You pull back slightly, your arms holding his shoulders so you can better scan his body for any injuries. 

At the worry in your face, Azriel asks, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

You notice his attempt to lighten your mood and snark right back at him. “Nothing, just thinking about how much you stink.”

He lets out a chuckle, and you can feel his chest vibrate from your proximity. “And here I thought you missed me.” 

You stay in his embrace for a little longer, feeling grateful that he’s returned unharmed, and take a moment to just look at him, reminding yourself that he’s back. A cough sounds from somewhere behind you. “Hello? Care to share him with the rest of us?” 

Rhys’ impatient yet teasing tone makes you and Azriel laugh, pulling apart to let the other members of your family greet him. 

You stand back, watching him embrace everyone else. Finally, you feel settled, like a part of you was missing, and now you’re whole again. You try your best not to think too much about what that might mean, wanting just to enjoy the fact that your best friend is back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#azriel/reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger x reader

[lou-struck]

Honesty

Solomon x reader

WC: 2.8k+

~ This is why you aren't supposed to bring food or drink into Solomon’s lab. (or maybe why you should)

Warnings: Potion consumption, reader having a few insecurities, suggestiveness , Solomon overworking himself, food and drink.

A/n: I feel like I'm getting out of this little writing slump. Things have been rough these past few months but I am excited to get back into writing and hopefully making things that you guys enjoy.

Sometimes, when you look at Solomon, you wonder how you and him can both be considered humans. 

He radiates this sort of otherworldly power that you just can’t seem to tear your gaze away from.

While the Devildom contains many mysteries, you have a feeling King Solomon the Wise has just a few more. He teases you with these little mysteries when you are working with him in his workshop. 

They come out as calculated little mutterings that leave you wanting to know more, but he never gives you the whole story…

“I didn’t mean to burn down the Library of Alexandria.”

“You would’ve loved Atlantis.”

“The Illuminati started out as a book club.”

Sometimes, you do wonder if the cunning Sorcerer is just teasing you, but you don’t mind it all that much. His vast history and little mutterings are what makes him so endearing. Truly a creature all his own. 

Solomon is always quick to brush off your questions and praises, directing your attention to one of his most recent experiments. And as you assist him in whatever trouble he is creating, you can’t help but feel as if you are not worthy enough to be at his side as an apprentice or as his love. It’s a small feeling, one that you are able to choke down easier than a bit of his abysmal cooking. 

But your heart locks away what it believes to be the truth…

Solomon is amazing, and you’re just you.

~

Your boots leave little imprints in the dew-covered grass as you cut across the lush lawn of Purgatory Hall; if you weren’t familiar with its inhabitants, you might’ve felt bad about disregarding the well-tended cobblestone pathway just meters away, but due to an unfortunate incident involving Satan and an enchanted flamethrower, you were late for your apprenticeship with Solomon.

It also didn’t help that Luke, the sweet little angel, sent you a text sharing his concerns about the Sorcerer who hasn’t left his laboratory since last night and skipped breakfast and lunch to perform his experiments or whatever it is he does in there. 

Your bag is filled to the brim with all sorts of little snacks and a few bottled juices, the glass bottles clinking suspiciously as you climb the steps of the enormous porch and let yourself in through the front door. 

You don’t even have to think, you’ve been here so many times before you find yourself outside the door of the lab. Save for the sound of shuffling feet and clinking glassware, all is quiet. 

You open the door as quietly as you can and see that Solomon is already hard at work. The Sorcerer is so entranced in his work, grinding some sort of luminous herb into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle. He hasn’t even noticed your presence yet.

But boy, do you notice his…

The sleeves of his white lab coat are rolled up to his forearms as he works diligently. Although he has been working non-stop for hours, he doesn’t look tired in the least. His snow-white hair is ruffled, and his skin seems to glow in the light of the bunsen burners. He is truly in his element, and it’s captivating to watch.

“Were you planning on just watching from the doorway, mc?” 

The playfulness in his tone pulls you from your ogling as you step further into the room, inhaling the citrus aroma that wafts through the air. 

“Sorry about that.” you grin half-heartedly. “It’s been a long day, and I guess I zoned out there for a minute.” 

It’s a lie, but one that you deemed necessary for the situation. It’s too embarrassing to be honest all the time. 

“Oh, I see.” His response is short, and your poor ears must still be off in wonderland because they seem to pick up a hint of disappointment in his tone. He tosses his ground herbs into a bubbling mixture that seems to glow a neon orange color. You’re sure there is a better term for it, but It honestly just looks like Sunny D.

“What have you been working on?” you ask, setting your bag down to the right of a crate of glass soda bottles, each full of something different. 

He smiles and gestures around the room. “A bit of everything, I’m afraid. I found this old potion guide at a secondhand bookstore and wanted to see if I could improve the outdated recipes.” 

“All of those?” you ask, realizing that he must’ve made at least fifty or so potions since last night. 

He gives you a proud smile and nods. “I may have gone overboard. At about four in the morning, I realized that I ran out of normal vials, so I had to improvise and use some empty bottles from the kitchen.”

“And did you eat anything while you were down there?” you ask, shooting him a knowing smile. 

“It may have escaped my mind.” he sighs. “Once I start working, there are very few things that can distract me from the task at hand. 

“Then you are lucky I came prepared,” you smile, looking down at your bag of snacks. “Wanna take a break and tell me about some of them?”

“You know me too well,” he sighs, teasingly approaching you and wrapping his arm around you. “So, what’s on the menu today?”

Your skin heats up under his touch, but you remain composed. You hide the shake in your hand as you reach into your bag and pull out two glass bottles of cheap Demonus. You like this particular variety because it looks like bright grape juice, and it may just be a placebo, but you think it tastes a bit like it, too. 

“Oh, drinking in the lab, are we?” he teases, twisting off the cap to his bottle as the liquid fizzles. “I suppose that’s alright for today since I didn’t make anything lethal.”

Your eyes land back on the crate of similar-looking bottles next to you. “What about these? Are you sure they are safe?”

“Boringly so,” he frowns, removing the first glass bottle from the crate and removing the cap for you to smell its contents. 

The Mint colored liquid smells oddly enough like Black licorice when you inhale it. “It smells good; what does it do?”

“This one here was originally designed to turn your fingertips silver; I tweaked the recipe to only target the drinker’s nail beds.” He explains, a smile tugging at his features when he sees the natural curiosity and wonder on your features. “It’s not permanent, but I thought it would be interesting to see it used cosmetically.”

You’ve only been in the Devildom for a short time, but you are sure there aren’t many individuals who are able to grasp magic as easily as Solomon can. His brown-blue eyes look ethereal as they shine from his passion. 

He’s Amazing

Brilliant

and far too handsome for his own good. 

As much as you wish to compliment him on each and every one of these things until your voice becomes hoarse, that little bit of insecurity masked as self-preservation holds your tongue. Opting instead to take a sip of your Demonus, the sweet taste distracts you from the wonder that is Solomon enough so you can think of a less embarrassing response. The sugar seems to help, and you set the bottle back on the table. 

“That’s so cool,” you say at last with true enthusiasm. You are unable to hide your curiosity as your eyes dart back to the crate of potions. 

“Still curious?” he asks as you nod eagerly; he sets the fist bottle back into its slot and grabs another; he removes the cap and swirls the purple liquid around just as he did to the other one.

“Here, smell this one,” he says, gently holding the bottle out to you. Just as you were about to smell the potion, your attention was stolen by a fizzling sound. Both of your heads jolt towards the source and see that the cauldron he had been working with earlier fizzles out of control as a fluffy of electrically charged multicolored bubbles pop in the air. 

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he states, setting the uncorked potion down and rushing over to lower the cauldron's heat and stop the potion overflow. “I hope the heat doesn’t alter the potion’s effects too drastically.”

“What kind of potion was that?” you call over as he carefully stirs the mixture.

“Nothing special,” he murmurs, “it just turns body hair into miniature porcupine quills; I’m planning on using this later, so it would be a shame if it were to be ruined.”

His response sends you into an ugly fit of laughter that has you choking on air. You reach for your juice on the table and take a deep swig to soothe your throat and save yourself from further embarrassment, but as the liquid reaches your lips, you notice that something tastes off. 

Instead of the sweet fruity taste of demonus your tastebuds are assulted with this dry sourness with just a hint of bubblegum. 

“This tastes like shit,” you find yourself saying. Your brows furrow from your little slip of the tongue, and you hope Solomon is too focused on stirring the cauldron to notice your little slip-up. 

But his eyes are on you, a twinkle of amusement on his features as he takes in every inch of you. The attention is nice, but it makes you feel a bit flustered. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your tone is much firmer than you anticipated. It’s almost as if you are scolding the Sorcerer.

He raises his eyebrows, that signature smirk never leaving his face. “Take a look at your hand. It appears you made a mistake.”

You look down and see that he is right. Instead of your Demonus, it seems you had mistakenly gulped down a large portion of whatever purple potion Solomon was about to show you.

Your heart drops into your already unsettled stomach. “Oh my god, am I gonna die?” you mutter aloud, breaking your mental dam and flooding the room with worried word vomit. “Solomon, why on earth would you make a potion in such a normal-looking bottle? Did you do this on purpose? I’m such an idiot around you, and I hate that you have to see me as such a screw-up.” “Am I going to die?”

“If I die, I’m going to ruin the exchange program, and Diavolo will be upset with me. And do you know how bad it is to piss off the prince of hell?”

“I don’t, but I’ll certainly find out soon.”

Solomon processes your frantic word vomit quickly and comes to your aid. He places both his hands on your shoulders to prevent you from pacing across the room. “Mc, listen to me. The potion is harmless, I promise.”

“What?” you pause and look at him carefully. He looks calm, but in his eyes, his pretty, pretty eyes are a look of concern for you. 

“Heh, your eyes are pretty, did you know that?” you ask him, only to panic about your lack of a filter. 

“What?”

“Wait?”

“Why am I saying such embarrassing things out loud?” your face feels hot in shame as Solomon’s cheeks turn pink at your words, and he averts his gaze briefly before collecting himself. 

“So, have you figured out what the potion does yet?” he chuckles, hands still holding your shoulders.

“Is it a potion that makes me embarrass myself to death?” you quip 

“Not quite.” he chuckles, “What you just drank is a special kind of truth potion.”

“How is it special?” you ask, allowing him to guide you to one of the chairs in his lab. 

He beams, and you feel your heart tighten in your chest. 

“This little potion just makes you say what’s on your mind; it removes one’s filter, making for quite a chaotic conversation.” he hums, somehow still keeping the innocence on his face. “It’s not really useful for interrogations or anything like that, but I had planned on slipping it in at our next dinner together at the House of Lamination for a bit of entertainment.”

“That would be funny,” you say unabashedly, already dreaming up the chaos that would ensue if each of the brothers just spouted off whatever came to their mind. “But how long am I stuck like this?” 

He checks his pocket watch, “Don’t worry,” the results should wear off in a few hours or so, so hang tight. It may be best for you to stay with me tonight so I can observe these effects up close.”

“That’s a cute way of saying you just want to use me as your guinea pig.” you huff, shifting in your chair. “But if it means I get to spend some more time with you, that is a good thing.”

Despite the blush on his cheeks, Solomon remains composed. “Is that so?” he teases. “Do you really enjoy my company that much?”

Your loose tongue only makes you feel more emboldened as you answer that flirty little question of his. “I do.” 

“Then may I tell you a secret, Mc?” He smiles as you nod without hesitation. The potion affecting more than just your speech. “I think I enjoy your company far more than you enjoy mine.”

Your eyes find that all too interesting ground at his sweet words. “That’s impossible, you’re incredible, Solomon. Compared to you, I feel like such a disappointment down here.”

The Sorcerer’s snowy brow furrows in disbelief as you spill another troubling confession. 

“If that’s what it takes to convince you just how much I love you, then I suppose you leave me with no other choice.” he sighs, grabbing the half-empty potion bottle and downing it in one greedy gulp. 

Your eyes widen, and you reach for his wrist, but you’re too slow to stop him. “Sol, what are you doing?”

“Just telling you what you need to hear.” he grimaces as the foul taste of the potion dances on his tongue. “Wow, this really does taste foul, doesn’t it? I’ll have to tweak this recipe for sure if I’m going to use it later.” 

He sets the now-empty bottle back onto the countertop and looks at you with sincerity. “It hurts to hear you talk about yourself like you mean nothing.” he pauses and places his hands on your shoulders, and you wonder when they started trembling. “You are the most incredible individual I have ever met. You’re kind, sweet, caring, and and strong. You make me feel human.”

His word vomit differs from yours. Yours was panic, shame, and insecurity. His is honest-to-goodness love. You aren’t going to acknowledge the tears that spill from your glassy eyes. But you do know that he is right. You’re too cruel to yourself. 

“I love you, Sol. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice on the matter.” he smiles, leaning over you and brushing away a tear track from your warm cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But whenever you want me to tell you how I feel, all you have to do is ask.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you lean forward in your seat. Your gaze never leaving his soft pink lips that hover temptingly above you. “Then will you show me?”

He smiles, his pearly whites shining like the moon, before crouching down to your eye level. His hands on either one of the arms rest as he leans in. “A million times over.”

He leans in and steals your breath away in the most honest exchange between the two of you all day. Your eyes flutter shut as your mind begins to swirl from the presence of the man who loves you. You can’t help but think about how honest this silence between the two of you is. 

You stay locked in this passionate embrace until the lack of air burning your lungs reminds the two of you of the limits of your humanity. 

It’s comfortable silence again, and Solomon looks at you as if he had just witnessed you paint all the constellations in the forever dark devildom sky.

It’s endearing, but thanks to this wonderful little accident, you have been presented with quite an interesting opportunity.

“Hey, Sol?”

“Yes, Mc?”

“Since you drank the potion too, I guess you have to tell me the whole Atlantis thing now.” you giggle playfully, ruffling his hair. 

His laughter is pleasant as he removes your hand from his head and kisses the back of it softly. 

“That’s not how this potion works, my dear,” he grins, watching your lip just out in a pout as you remember his words from earlier.

He’ll tell you everything one day, but for now, all Solomon wants to do while waiting for this little truth potion to wear off is to voice his plans for the future with you, not think about his past life without you. 

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

#obey me x reader #obey me #obey me shall we date fluff #obey me shall we date #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #obey me solomon #x reader #obey me nightbringer

[underdark-dreams]

Rolan putting Tav in their place? But like….in a frisky way 👀🔥

Rolan x fem!Tav

Master

"Sit still and behave." She's feeling impatient for some attention from the Master of Ramazith's Tower. She decides he needs to let off some steam; Rolan decides to teach her some proper respect.

Tags: Obedience, Praise Kink, Soft Dom, Explicit Sexual Content | Word Count: 3,875 [Read on AO3]

“Did they even do the readings? Half of these are wrong…I’ll have to regive all the illusory lectures…”

Rolan’s brow furrowed deeper as he read down the page. Frustration practically radiated from the way he hunched over his desk, and she wished for the umpteenth time that he would just take a break.

“I’m sure they’ll get it with time,” she told him, gently rubbing his shoulders.

Inwardly, she found it difficult to feel concerned about his students’ grades at the moment. She was far too busy admiring how good Rolan looked when he was a bit disheveled. 

It was a rare sight; he preferred to keep his appearance clean and tidy at all times, his robes neatly pressed and hair half-pulled back to keep it out of his eyes. 

Right now, this was about as unkempt as she’d ever seen Rolan outside their bedroom. His hair was loose from its tie. As he worked, one lock swung forward between his horns, and he impatiently swept it away with the feather of his quill. He had pushed the sleeves of his underrobe up to his elbows. She watched the sinews of his forearm flex under his crimson skin as he scrawled a severe note on his student's parchment.

She knew his state was a testament to the stress he’d been under lately. Beyond her love for the petulant wizard seated in front of her, she didn’t have much personal experience with wizardry. But Rolan had said enough to impress upon her how important these upcoming exams were for his young pupils. For the oldest of them, their results could mean the difference between continuing their studies or finding another vocation. Rolan took the task of preparing them quite seriously. 

Perhaps too seriously, she thought to herself, watching the muscle of his jaw flex with concentration. The candles standing beside his desk were burned down to dripping puddles of wax.

He needed a good distraction, and that she could help with. She crossed forearms along the back of his chair and perched her chin on his shoulder.

“Come to bed?” She asked him. “You’ve been grading for hours.”

Rolan hardly seemed to hear her. "In a moment," he murmured.

It wasn't his usual response to a proposition. Teasing or enthusiasm she was used to, but flat out disinterest was new. It stung a little more than it had a right to.

She knew she should respect his work at hand. If he didn't look so downright frazzled, she might have.

Instead, she gave into the temptation to take advantage of his concentration. She slid one arm down around Rolan's shoulders and leaned in to tuck the curtain of his hair back behind one long red ear.

Then she kissed along the line of it from lobe to pointed tip. She'd always been fond of Rolan's Infernal gifts, particularly his sharply tapered ears—even more so as one of the few people allowed to appreciate them. His usual style kept them tucked and hidden behind his hair.

Rolan sighed slowly as her lips made their soft journey, just enough to satisfy her that she was getting to him. She knew she was being a nuisance, but it had been days since she had him to herself. Rolan was passionate about his work—she couldn’t help selfishly wanting a little of it for herself tonight.

“You’ve been sleeping at your desk too much lately,” she murmured against the shell of his ear. 

“Can’t be helped,” Rolan replied, although the fingers of his free hand raised to the arm she had curled over his collar. “These exams are the most consequential step in an apprenticeship. I’d be a worthless archmage if I let my students arrive at Blackstaff unprepared.”

“Rolan, there’s no way that would happen.” She broke away slightly to look at the thick stack of assignments he was grading. “Don’t you think…maybe you’re overworking them? You’re definitely overworking yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” Rolan said a bit sharply, turning to the next student’s parchment. “I can certainly handle a little paperwork.” 

She pouted slightly at the back of his head, then leaned in to place a kiss under his ear. “That’s not what I meant.”

Rolan let out a short huff as he set down his quill. Feeling a bit smug with herself, she let his grip over her arm draw her around beside him, quite unsuspecting.

Before she could tense her relaxed muscles, Rolan’s grip jerked her down. One of her hands flew to grab the far edge of the wooden seat, but she still landed hard on his lap, her back thumping against his chest.

“After all our time together, I’d expect you to understand the duties of an archwizard,” Rolan scolded her. His voice reverberated against her back as he tucked her slightly to one of his legs so he could keep working. Then his fingers plucked up his quill, even as his other forearm wrapped tighter below her navel to keep her firmly planted. 

After a week starved from his attention, the humbling position made her face grow warm. "Rolan, I do understand. I just think y—"

“Good,” Rolan cut her off. “Then sit still and behave.” He was ordering her in the same tone she sometimes heard him use with his apprentices—as if she was nothing but another naughty pupil.

She bit her lip. That could work. Oh, could it ever. “All right.”

After that, they both sat in silence. The steady scratch of quill tip against parchment was the only sound drifting through the candlelight. She kept herself perched quietly on Rolan’s thighs, watching the neat movements of his writing hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart between her shoulder blades. Of all the positions she hoped to find herself in tonight, fully clothed and trapped on his lap wasn't one of them.

But she could certainly work with it. 

Carefully, as if just adjusting to a more comfortable position, she wiggled her hips up higher against his lap. She felt the muscle in Rolan’s forearm clench slightly over her, but he said nothing as he turned to another page.

Testing his patience, she scooted back toward him again. This time she pressed her palms against his thighs for balance, letting her hips bounce slightly down against him. The game was rapidly becoming unsubtle.

It wasn’t lost on her wizard. “That won't get you anything,” Rolan warned her.

But despite his words, she could already feel him stirring underneath her. Lovely heat coiled in her stomach in response. “Will from where I’m sitting,” she answered back saucily.

“Hmm.” His monotone hum reverberated against her back, but Rolan didn’t look up from the note he was scribbling. However disappointing his verbal responses, Rolan’s body gave him away the same way it always did. 

It only made her braver. She leaned forward on an elbow as if to read his work. In the same motion, she nudged her hips back to press herself more firmly against the growing hardness under his robes, dragging her center across his clothed thigh at the same time. She’d prefer to make use of the lovely ridges near his knee, but that would have to wait for another night.

“Take off your clothes.”

She blinked at him over her shoulder. “What?” Surely she had misheard—Rolan’s expression was impassive, eyes still on the pages scattered over his desk.

“Take off your clothes,” he calmly repeated, still not looking at her. “Now.”

If he was calling her bluff, he wouldn’t get the satisfaction. Slowly, she leaned back against his chest. She would go along with whatever game he wanted to play. 

She began with her bodice. Her fingers ran down the lacings, plucking them open like harp strings, feeling the heat already starting to pool between her thighs in anticipation. With her head leaned back over Rolan’s shoulder, she could feel the steady tickle of his breath down her collar and chest, though he was still steadfastly marking the parchment before him. 

Rolan was studiously ignoring her, even as she undressed. It was new, and it made something shy and uncertain coil in her chest. When they were together normally he liked to be the one removing her clothes. He practically insisted on it. 

But tonight he made no move, apparently content to let her take as much or as little time as she liked.

She favored the latter. With that thought in mind, she pressed herself forward to shuck the unlaced bodice back over her shoulders. Rolan’s arm over her loosened to allow her undershirt to follow. When both garments were discarded on the floor beside his chair, she leaned back against him, bare above the waist. She couldn’t help arching her chest up a little as Rolan’s loose hair tickled against her neck.

"Everything," Rolan directed her. His arm remained draped unmoving over her belly. He either didn't notice her body language or was choosing to ignore the invitation to grope her. 

It made her feel even needier for him. Perhaps that's why she wiggled out of her pants and smallclothes so eagerly, nearly tipping sideways off Rolan’s clothed lap in the process. His palm splayed up against her sternum to catch her, and the sharp nail of his thumb pressed into one of her breasts. A small gasp escaped her.

Rolan made a noise low in his throat, and when his hand raised from her chest toward her chin, she understood his intention with eagerness. 

She parted her lips to take two of his long, slender fingers into her mouth, licking and swirling her tongue to wet them completely. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked his digits in deeper over her tongue. Rolan needed reminding of what her mouth could do, and she was pleased to feel his length twitch under her in response. She hummed in satisfaction over his fingers.

Rolan pulled them from her mouth then, and she felt a string of saliva stretch and land across her chin. Before she could wipe it away, two slickened fingertips nudged at the hot apex of her thighs.

She let out a needy groan as her head tipped back over Rolan’s shoulder; her warm cheek pressed against his. She let her thighs fall open for him. But Rolan only continued to make soft and idle circles over her folds, dragging the wetness that was already pooling there up around her entrance, not quite hitting the aching spot above. Her hips rolled forward greedily toward his palm.

“I told you, sit still.” How could he possibly have the nerve to keep writing at a moment like this? She did her best to obey his command, but the way Rolan’s breath had quickened behind her made it difficult.

“Rolan…” His name left her in another groan, this time almost begging. She arched her back to curl an arm around behind him. Her fingers found the curve of one of his horns, and her grip tugged up and down the hard ridged length of it—wishing it was the hard ridged length nudging up against her backside.

In one movement, Rolan’s writing hand swept up the stack of papers from the desk in front of them and deposited them on the floor. 

His grip on her arms was rougher than she was used to as he jerked their connected bodies upright, but it was somehow exactly what she craved. She heard his chair clatter to the floor behind them—her hands flew to the now-empty desk for balance as she landed on her feet.

“I’m a very busy man, you know,” Rolan hissed into her ear; he kept her facing away with nails dimpling against the flesh of her hips. “I don't have time for these games.”

“Sorry,” she lied, breathless. “Let me make it up to you?” She reached eagerly back for him, wanting to pull him closer by his robes, before something drew her palms together behind her back.

Rolan’s tail coiled around her wrists in a makeshift binding. Its soft ridges rubbed over her skin, the sudden friction causing her to freeze in place.

"You can tell me to stop.” 

Rolan’s voice was suddenly low, and she glanced back over her shoulder to his face. His eyes burned molten gold, but she caught hesitation beneath and realized what he was looking for. She nodded her head yes.

Then the palm of Rolan’s hand settled between her shoulder blades, and steadily, he pushed down.

Her body bent at the waist over the hard surface, goosebumps tickling her skin where her bare chest met the cool wood. She shivered from the cold, and more so from the delicious uncertainty of whatever he was planning to do with her. The firm coil of Rolan’s tail trailed from her wrists across the bare skin of her back.

"Do you know how infuriating you can be?" Rolan's voice chided behind her, even as his hands on her ass massaged and spread her apart for him. "I have a great deal of work to do, yet you insist on interrupting."

"Why don't you give me something to shut me up, then?" She did her best to tease back, but she could only imagine the view Rolan had of her slick folds as his hands pulled to expose her. She ached for his fingers and mouth and cock—for any part of him to touch her again and provide release.

"Always so greedy for my attention," Rolan said, as if he could read her thoughts. "High time you learned a little discipline."

The warmth of one hand left her. Then, without warning, his palm reconnected with a stinging slap against her ass. The shock lurched her body forward, grinding the ache between her legs against the hard edge of his desk. A shameless mewl escaped her throat.

“Hush,” Rolan tutted softly from behind. “I run a reputable business here, you know. Unless you want everyone below to learn what a state you’re in?”

“Oh yes—” From her prone position, she still tried to crane her neck back at him. “I’m sure your patrons would love to know that the new mage of Ramazith’s Tower is a perverted little—”

His palm smacked against her a second and third time, once on either side, the lewd sounds echoing all around the cavernous room and causing her words to stutter into an incoherent moan. She just barely bit it back this time. 

“Good girl,” Rolan hummed in approval, and she couldn’t ignore the way her insides quivered from the praise. He smoothed both hands over the heated skin on her flanks as if rewarding her obedience. “Now spread for me.”

Incredible how four little words could make her throb and drip for him. It was vulgar and irresistible, and she obeyed wordlessly, shifting her bare feet further apart to expose herself more fully to him. The rush of cool air between her legs was almost too much to bear. 

There was the soft rustle of movement behind her—she could practically feel Rolan’s body heat moving closer. In the next moment the length underneath his robes pressed firmly in between her legs. 

She dug teeth into her lower lip to restrain another wanton groan. He was so hard already—was it all from this little game? Sweet hells, if only she'd tried his patience like this before. She couldn’t spare a thought to wonder, could only fixate on the anticipation of Rolan filling her. Her cunt throbbed against the fabric between them at the thought.

She heard Rolan inhale through his teeth. "So desperate even now. Gods, you're shameless." But his hands traveled up the arch of her back, his softly filed nails whispering against the skin under her bound arms from her ass to her shoulder blades, as if relishing the position he had her in.

Then his grip cupped down over each of her hip bones, and he ground her back against his hardness.

The gesture dragged the bare front of her against the cool wood surface, and a shuddering exhale fell from her lips. “Fuck, Rolan—”

“Is this not what you wanted?” Rolan asked her, calling down patience from gods knew where. “Tell me, then.”

"I want you to fuck me,” she gasped out, ready to be done with the teasing. The words formed a heated fog across the wood surface underneath her.

"Ask nicely, then." One of Rolan’s thumbs pulled at her flesh, no doubt giving himself another view of her wet slit, teasing her open again without touching her where she needed it most.

“Please—” Maybe she'd never been more desperate for him; or maybe she'd always known he would love it. "Master Rolan, please fuck me—"

Rolan's hands were gone from her in a flash, and she heard and felt them working on the laces of his pants.

She’d never been more ready for him. Shamefully eager, she craned her head as best she could from her bent and bound position to watch him reach through the slits in his robe to unfasten his pants. Then his beautiful red cock sprang free from the fabric, deliciously hard and lined with those angled, concentric ridges that she knew could make her see stars. Her mouth watered at the sight of him. 

She must look positively desperate for it, because Rolan was watching her face with a dark glint of approval in his eyes. As he did, one of his elegant hands closed around his cock and pumped lazily. She squirmed with impatience.

"Say it again." Rolan's dark-set eyes watched her with something like anticipation, his baritone husky with desire.

Her mind was so addled from the delicious sight of him stroking himself that it took a moment to grasp what he was requesting.

"You like that?" She asked suddenly, licking her lips. "When I call you Master?”

Rolan's hips bucked forward into his own grip, almost involuntary. Despite her position naked and prone on his desk, she felt a kind of power tip back into her hands.

“Because that's what you are, Rolan…” She looked back at him from under her lashes, wanting to see what the words might do to him. “Master of this tower, Master of the Weave—Master of me—”

Rolan's face was flushing burgundy, his eyes smoldering into her as if hanging on every word. His tail unwound from her wrists to shudder and flick behind him in a motion she’d grown to recognize as pure desire.

“Just look at what you do to me,” she breathed. Wetness leaked down her inner thighs as she spoke. “No one else fucks me like you. You're so good—so powerful—fuck, just please Rolan, I need you—”

With a guttural sound, Rolan pressed and sheathed himself in her completely.

The abrupt stretch between her legs made her cry out and clutch at the far edge of his desk. Rolan hadn't readied her with his fingers the way he usually did—very little about tonight was usual. His ridges were hot and tight against her walls, but the ache was exactly what she craved.

Before she had fully adjusted, Rolan pulled out from her almost completely, and then his hips snapped back into her a second and third time. The pressure almost made her sob in relief.

Rolan’s hands landed on either side of hers, sharp nails digging into the wood underneath them as his body pressed down over her. He was truly, finally fucking her; she felt the silk of his robes drag against her overheated skin with each thrust, and then the shift of his body hit a new angle inside her. 

His tip abruptly met with that deep and sensitive spot, pounding into the aching nerves there again and again. Her eyes rolled back with an unrestrained moan.

"Again," he panted, his face close behind her ear. The control in his voice was fading with each jerk of his hips.

Her skin was on fire; all she could concentrate on was the ridged length of him rapidly filling and stretching her, each quick thrust grinding and rocking her clit against the smooth wood under their bodies.

"Master Rolan, plea-se—" The last word was jerked in two by the force of him fucking her into his desk—"just like this, fuck, I’ve wanted this for weeks—you’re so—so fucking good—”

The words were babbling incoherently from her, but they seemed to be what he needed. Rolan let out a broken groan into the skin of her back as he twitched and spilled inside her. But he didn’t slow his rhythm. Instead his hands gripped either side of her hips, sharp nails digging into her skin, fucking his spend deep into her with driving force. 

It was possessive and raw and hot and the feeling made her own orgasm crash down around her, her walls spasming and clutching around him as if to keep him there. She felt the gush of heat from her center leaking out all around him and spilling down her legs.

Her arms and legs trembled weakly; she was grateful for the support of Rolan’s desk holding her up, hard and cold though it was. She gathered enough strength to glance back at him as he straightened and pulled out of her, just in time to catch Rolan admiring the way his come dripped from her opening.

“I love you,” she panted up at him. “That was…gods, Rolan.”

He looked just as dazed as she felt as he stood with hands still resting on her hips for balance. But Rolan said nothing in response, only drew one of her limp hands from the desk up to his lips. Then he shook his shoulders slightly as if to rouse his senses, tucking himself back into his pants.

Dipping a hand to the floor, Rolan thrust a bundle of her clothes unceremoniously toward her. “Clean yourself up. I have more work to do.” 

She would have laughed if she wasn’t so spent. He was being intentionally brusque; perhaps embarrassed by how far he’d let himself go. The lingering flush on his cheeks and the way his outstretched arm shook both undercut the attempt slightly. 

She straightened up on wobbling legs to pluck the clothes from him. Despite his rudeness, she felt satisfied with the knowledge that the heavy smell of sex and the image of her spread open for him on that very desk would make concentrating on his menial paperwork a near-impossible task.

Before he’d let go of her wrinkled garments, she pulled him by them into a quick kiss. “Come to bed soon,” she told him firmly. “Or else I’ll come back and carry you there.” 

Rolan exhaled through his nose, the bare hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Give me an hour.”

An unthinkable wait after the lay he’d just given her. But she made no complaints as she turned—it wouldn’t do to let him have too much power.

“Fine,” she called over her shoulder. She put a little sway in her hips as she sauntered toward the bedroom staircase, strongly suspecting that his eyes were following her. “But this time, Master Rolan, I’m getting you naked.”

#nsft #spicy #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #this one took me forever #rewrote it about 4 times #but omg i love this look for him

[lovelettersbyj]

Hunger For Power

Warnings: None.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem Reader (?).

Summary: Pearl Whitegrove is a fashion intern, who, after a few meetings with Coriolanus Snow, realizes that if she wants to be Panem's next top Fashion Designer, she has to make sure she's at Coriolanus' side when he inevitably gets into power. It helps that he's devastatingly attractive.

Word Count: 1,814.

A/N: After having watched the new Hunger Games movie, this idea popped into my head and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I wanted to create a character that was sort of the opposite of Tigris? A negative influence for Coriolanus that ultimately turns into a toxic love interest for him. I quickly wrote up this sort of intro to her character, so I hope you all enjoy! Also I should say, I've never read the books and I'm only going off of the movies/making up information. So I apologize if anything is slightly wrong/doesn't match.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s that cousin of yours, Tigris?” Continuing to sew, I glanced up at the blonde haired woman who sat across from me. She was busy stitching some dark turquoise buttons to a white long-sleeved shirt, trying her best to hide from our mentor and boss Fabricia Whatnot.

She looked up at me with a stoic expression, then back down to her secret project. “He’s fine.”

I chuckled, returning my attention to my dress. In a few days, the 10th annual reaping ceremony would take place. I knew Coriolanus because of Tigris, and in the few conversations I’d had with him, I knew how powerful he could be. He was intelligent; speaking always with such an elegant charm that could convince anyone to listen and obey him. He’d choose his words carefully and completely analyze the situation in front of him before speaking. If he played his cards right, I could very well see Coriolanus Snow becoming the new President of Panem. That is, if Dean Casca Highbottom didn’t despise him as much as he did.

The door to Fabricia’s office swung open, her long magenta hair peeking out as she yelled out to us, “I want those designs done before the sun goes down today. Otherwise, neither of you are getting paid. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Madam Whatnot,” Tigris and I both nodded, never once making eye contact with her, and rather, continuing to sew at a faster pace.

Of course someone as incredibly stylish and knowledgeable in the fashion industry as Fabricia Whatnot was also something of a wicked demon. She was incredibly rude to her employees, particularly Tigris & I. Hired under the impression of an apprenticeship, we quickly met a much more grim fate in the form of slave labor. She took advantage of young capitol people with a hunger for fashion, tempting us with the idea of being able to one day create our own designs for the capitol students, citizens, and even Hunger Games tributes to dawn our clothing. So in the meantime, we worked long hours, had little rest, and even more little pay.

Hours had passed, and Tigris and I miraculously finished the designs Whatnot had asked for. With a wave of her bony hand, she dismissed us, and sliding on our coats we exited her office and made our way out of the office. Upon opening the large glass door to the front of the building, a somewhat scrawny, curly haired blonde man stood waiting with his back turned to us.

“Coryo,” Tigris spoke, and he turned, his eyes lighting up and a smile decorating his face, “What are you doing here?”

He walked over, taking her hand to help her down the last step, “Grandma’am told me you hadn’t come home yet, so I figured I’d come down to wait for you to finish work. I don’t want you walking home alone so late.”

I slipped my hands into my olive green coat, tilting my head slightly towards him. He had a slightly boyish look, with an air of innocence about him. But all the whispers about him were true, he was much more handsome up close.

“Coriolanus,” I smiled, “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

His attention now switched over to me, a gleam in his eyes highlighting the striking pale blue color, “Pearl Whitegrove. It’s certainly been too long.” With a hand extended, I reached my palm out, placing my fingers carefully over his. Lifting his hand, his lips brushed over my knuckles ever so softly in a formal greeting. How warm his lips were, I thought.

“I hear you’re first in line for the Plinth Prize. You must be ecstatic. Finally, the Snow name is making a comeback.”

His lip curled up in a curt smirk, “Well, yes, I’ve studied hard and hope to be congratulated for my efforts. But all I want is to provide for my family.”

“Right,” I chuckled, glancing over to Tigris whose face slowly became more worried as she tucked herself behind Coriolanus’ back, “The fame and fast track into University would just be a bonus, huh?” 

Silence. Just as I thought.

“Well, Coriolanus, I wish you the best of luck. If there’s one thing I know, is that you’ll find a way to succeed one way or another. You’ve got this… hunger in you. It drives you. I think ultimately it’ll guide you to what you want—” Tigris’ hand wrapped around Coriolanus’ arm in attempts to pull him away, “—If you allow it to take over.”

He looked down at her, placing a hand over hers before looking back to me, “Thank you, Pearl. Let’s hope you’re right.”

They turned away, walking towards the main road. Shortly after crossing, a familiar black car pulled up, with a man dressed in a charcoal colored tailcoat stepped out, extending a hand towards the open door for me.

“Yes, Coryo. Let’s.”

————————

10th Annual Reaping Ceremony

It seems as if a few days went by in a matter of seconds, and before I knew it, the Reaping Ceremony had arrived. In a strange change of heart, Fabricia Whatnot had excused everyone from coming into work that day and instead encouraged us to attend the ceremony.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about my last conversation with Coriolanus Snow. The way his blue eyes shimmered under the dim lights of the street lamps. How thin his frame was, hiding underneath his slightly oversized Academy uniform. His hair was so blonde and curly, a single strand hanging delicately just across his forehead. Every bit of my brain was obsessed with him, and I made it my mission to get him to feel the same.

Taking in a deep breath, I dusted off my golden yellow dress, grabbed my black coat and made my way out the door.

Entering the Academy building I was greeted with a sea of red and blue, students shuffling about the main floor as they met up with friends; greeted teachers. I glanced around in search of a familiar face, when I suddenly felt a hand land cautiously on my shoulder. Turning around, I was greeted with the same pair of eyes that hadn’t left my mind for days.

“Pearl,” His deep voice spoke, “What a surprise.”

Any sort of control I had to stop the smile from forming on my face completely failed me, “Coriolanus, hi.” Be cool. “I see Tigris’ secret project turned out well.”

Coryo furrowed his eyebrows, and I pointed to his shirt. He let out a small laugh, running a hand  across his chest, “Oh yes. It came out quite well. I had her make a few modifications—”

“I know, she would always work on it when Whatnot wasn’t around. I figured it was for today.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, embarrassed at the fact that his cousin was scrambling to help him look his best. “So why are you here and not at work?”

We both turned, slowly walking up the staircase towards the ballroom, “Fabricia told us all not to come in and to attend today’s ceremony. She wouldn’t tell us why— I figured Tigris would be here?”

Coriolanus just shook his head, his face blank with confusion. Before he could respond, a short girl with long black hair seemingly appeared out of nowhere, slipping her arm to loop with Snow’s. “Coriolanus! It’s about time the prodigy student showed up.”

Her eyes met with mine, slightly narrowing as she analyzed everything about me. I cocked my eyebrow at her, unwaveringly unbothered by her. Except for the fact that she was about to steal Coriolanus away from me.

“I’m sorry— I’ll find you afterwards?” Snow looked directly at me, an apologetic tone in his voice. Glancing over to the strange girl, I nodded, looking back up at him with a soft smile.

I found my way to an open seat just across from the 24 chairs that had been placed for the graduating honors Academy students. I watched as Snow sat down in the first row, looking around the room before eventually finding me. He smiled as I gave him a small wave, which he returned gladly. A faint sensation of butterflies began to arouse deep in my stomach at the acknowledgement. Damn it. The ceremony began shortly after, with Dr. Volumina Gaul seemingly having crawled her way out of her laboratory and in front of the podium to give an opening speech, before introducing Dean Highbottom. He stood amongst the sea of red dressed Academy students, speaking cryptically about the Plinth Prize and the Reaping Ceremony. Upon reaching the front of the podium he revealed the sudden change; the 24 honor students were to compete as mentors for the tributes as a last attempt to prove their worthiness of the Plinth Prize money. 

Gasps echoed throughout the room; mutters of protest and shock as everyone began to look around in desperation. My eyes were glued to Coriolanus’ face, whose jaw gaped ever so slightly in disbelief before looking up at me. I remained still; I didn’t know how to react.

Suddenly two large screens on the wall in front of the students clicked on, playing live footage of the Reaping ceremony. Boys and girls from each District appeared on screen as Highbottom read aloud the names of the tributes, and the student assigned to them. One by one, the tributes were handed out like livestock. I held my breath, terrified to hear Snow’s name, but it almost never came. Not until Highbottom arrived at District 12, assigning him to a girl by the name of Lucy Gray Baird.

My eyes narrowed at the screen as I watched her, analyzing the messily sewn, colorful dress that dawned her tiny figure. She had a natural beauty, but was covered in dirt and poorly applied makeup. She got into an altercation with the man who had just read out her name, which landed her a blow to the face, making her collapse to the floor of the stage she was on.

I whipped my head as the sound of a chair scraping against the floor alerted my senses, seeing now how captivated Coriolanus Snow was to the scene unfolding on the screen before him. Why was he so worried about her?

Anger was now the only emotion raging through me, or perhaps jealousy? Whatever it was, it was interrupted when a soft voice began to sing, echoing throughout the entire room. Everyone’s attention was back onto the screen, watching in a stark silence how Lucy Gray slowly stood back up as she sang some song. Additional voices from various District 12 members rang through before she screamed at the camera, extending her arms and taking a bow.

She is nothing but trouble. I looked back over at Coriolanus, but he didn’t return the glance. She can ruin everything.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #tbosas #snow lands on top #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow imagines #coriolanus snow fanfiction #writer #new post #imagine #imagines #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus imagines #coriolanus fanfiction #drabble #young!coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #lucy gray #coriolanus snow fluff #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #tbosbas fanfiction #tbosbas fic

[outpastthemoat]

the thing about mr. hatter is that he is a black hole of a character.  we know NOTHING about him except that he was proud of his daughters and sent them to a prestigious school, and went heavily into debt for it.  we don’t know how he treated his daughters, or if he paid them any attention for anything other than scholastic achievement, or if he had an obvious favorite child; all we know about mr. hatter is how his death affected his family.  and I think the lack of personal information on mr. hatter is a choice that diana made on purpose.  

because without telling us that mr. hatter was a bad father or a unrelentingly strict man, without including a single scene where he shouts at his daughters or acts coldly to his young - very young - new wife, she leaves space for us to slowly realize what is not so obvious, what sophie herself does not recognize or understand about her family: that none of the hatters truly know each other, only the roles they have played for so long.

the death of a beloved and loving father would have been deeply grieved.  fanny would have been inconsolable.  sophie would be shedding green silme, so to speak, left and right.  lettie would have taken to her bed.  martha would be sobbing in her friends’ arms.

instead, what we see in the aftermath of mr. hatter’s death is this: fanny goes about her business, briskly gets each of her daughters settled in a trade, and then wipes her hands clean of the hat shop and marries agains, within three months of her husband’s death.  lettie is full of anger and rebellion and runs away from her apprenticeship; martha blames fanny for all her problems - and lettie and sophie’s too - and runs away from her apprenticeship.  

and sophie.

never says a word about her father once he dies.  does not miss him.  does not think about him, not ever.  only regrets leaving her prestigious school.  and goes into a sharp depression that has nothing to do with losing a beloved family member and everything to do with seeing a promising future that she’d worked so hard for taken away.

this was not a happy family when mr. hatter was alive.  diana never tells us so, but you can tell from clues she sprinkles in throughout the story that mr. hatter was not a kind or even particularly moral man. 

the most glaringly obvious sign of dysfunction in the hatter family, of course, is that immediately after his wife died, mr. hatter married fanny, his youngest shop assistant, who very soon afterward gave birth to the youngest hatter daughter: the implication being that he had been having an affair before mrs hatter died, and that he carried on with fanny, who was probably no older than sophie herself when she entered that hat trade, who was no position to tell him no and had few choices she could make for herself.  

there is sophie’s intense perfectionism and dedication to the hat trade despite hating it, a sign that mr. hatter probably demanded perfection and obediance from his daughters.; she probably worked equally hard to achieve good grades and accolates at school.  notably, neither martha nor lettie regret leaving their school - but neither of them seem to have internalized perfectionism to sophie’s degree.  

there are mentions of sophie frequently acting as a caregiver to martha and lettie; she has become a partent-figure towards her sisters and even fanny, who is not much older than she is.  and it’s clear that sophie has deeply internalized that sense of parentification and duty - she stays late at the hat shop, well after the other employees leave - and can’t force herself to abandon the hat shop until she becomes an old woman, because she believes fanny needs her to keep working.  sophie so deeply believes herself as worthless unless she is serving others that she becomes a housecleaner in the very first place she finds, and then spends the entire book scrubbing howl’s floors and sweeping his rafters, keeping herself so busy that she never has a chance to wonder why she thinks she is only valuable when she gives every part of herself to others.

this is a family that keeps secrets from each other - lettie and martha plot to subvert fanny’s and mrs fairfax’s plans, sophie runs away from home in disguise because she is afraid of her family seeing her as she truly is - they ALL hide from each other.  fanny does not really know martha or lettie or sophie’s true natures, she makes assumptions about what trade each daughter would like to be settled in; sophie herself is shocked to learn a new side to her sisters when they subvert their destiny. and her perception of fanny is shaken through the book: sophie looks at her and is surprised to realize that fanny is still young and pretty and wanted more in life than a hat shop, just like sophie herself, but had done her best for her girls with the resources that she had at the time.

howl’s moving castle doesn’t tell the story of a grieving family who rises above the loss of a beloved patriach - it would be quite a different book if it was.  instead, it’s the coming-of-age story of four women who finally have a chance to learn who they truly are, instead of who they thought they were supposed to be.

#howl's moving castle #diana wynne jones #sophie hatter #my meta

[clangenrising]

Month 14 - Newleaf

Goldenstar felt like everything was moving both extremely fast and excruciatingly slow. Time was slipping through her paws, racing towards an inevitable confrontation with Razor and his Rogues but somehow, most days, she looked around only to realize she had nothing to do that day but sit around. It was maddening, like a dream where she was being chased but couldn’t go anywhere. 

She’d gone to see StarClan, seeking guidance for what to do to help Songdust. The results had been inconclusive. Apparently no one knew where she was. Smokyrose, looking lovely with her starry coat and more energized than Goldenstar had seen her in a long time, had explained that she and several others had been looking nonstop to no success. Poppyblaze insisted she wasn’t dead but didn’t have any clue where she was either. Some cats were starting to give up on her. Goldenstar promised Smokyrose she wouldn’t be one of them but that still didn’t leave her with a good idea of what to do.

Thankfully, Mystique hadn’t been causing any trouble. At her request, Goldenstar had allowed her to start training cats in combat - under Russetfrond’s supervision of course. She wasn’t a great teacher but she was a good fighter and Goldenstar had watched Floodpaw drift from total distrust and contempt to secret admiration for the kittypet. He didn’t even get mad when he lost a duel, he just got back up and demanded to go again until he was better. Goldenstar was proud of him. It wouldn’t be long until he and his littermates were ready to be warriors. 

Before that, though, she was going to have to apprentice Slatekit and Fogkit. Poppybird was still coming by to check on them every so often, which Goldenstar was very grateful for. Thanks to her, Fogkit had come back out of her shell and was once again dragging her sister on adventures around the camp. Goldenstar had asked Poppybird what she thought about them, if they seemed to be leaning towards an apprenticeship as a healer or a mediator but Poppybird said they both seemed pretty eager to be warrior apprentices and so Goldenstar had started trying to pick out good mentors for them. 

She had been considering Ospreymask for Fogkit but according to Poppybird, Fogkit had disliked her ever since she delivered the news of Smokyrose’s death, which was a shame. Slatekit seemed to need someone who was going to be extremely supportive, and Goldenstar had a few cats in mind, but Fogkit was going to need someone who could handle her rambunctious spirit, especially given how much time she had been trying to spend with Floodpaw lately. Goldenstar was at least grateful that Floodpaw seemed to have warmed up to the idea of hanging out with her. She had seen him teaching her some of the tricks he’d learned from Mystique and while she thought he tended to play a bit too rough, Fogkit seemed to enjoy it and that was what mattered. 

Still, she wasn’t sure about a good mentor. She sat atop the Stoneperch, tail twitching, and puzzled over the different possible combinations. She was so deep in thought she didn’t notice Scorchplume had padded up beside her until she spoke.

“Busy?” asked Scorch with a slight tilt of her head. 

Goldenstar flinched and hurried to recover. “Huh? Oh, uh, no not really. What’s up?”

“I wanted to go out past the eastern border, take a look around,” Scorch said flatly. “I thought you might accompany me.” Goldenstar swallowed. She still hadn’t been able to persuade Scorch to stay and the dread of losing her again twisted in her gut like a pit of snakes. 

“Sure,” she smiled, hoping it was convincing. “Why not?” 

Scorch smiled in return. “Great. Let’s go.” 

Goldenstar stood and followed Scorch’s lead, feeling distant. She wished she could lean her head on Scorch’s shoulder and twine their tails as they walked, she ached for that closeness, but she still didn’t know where they stood. Scorch had been so reclusive since her return. She did her duties and then spent her time alone, like she didn’t want anything to do with anyone. Goldenstar wondered if she still resented her for the fight they had been having when she was taken. But then, out of the blue, she asked to go walking? Goldenstar was lost and confused. 

“I hope you’ve been doing alright,” she tried. Scorch glanced over at her. 

“I suppose so. As alright as you can be knowing an army could march on your home any day.” It may have been foolish, but Goldenstar brightened upon hearing Scorch call the Clan her home. That was a good sign. 

“Yeah,” she hummed. “It isn’t great. Have you been training with Mystique at all?”

Scorch scoffed. “No. I’d be satisfied if I never saw her again.” 

“Really?” Goldenstar asked. “I thought you two got along.” 

“As well as I get along with anyone,” Scorch huffed and Goldenstar frowned. “She’s nice enough but I want nothing to do with her. You wouldn’t understand.” She swished her beautiful tail as if to put an end to the conversation.

“Try me,” said Goldenstar. Scorch frowned at her and then sighed. 

“Fine. Razor basically made her my prison guard. I couldn’t go anywhere without her watching me. She’s not stupid. I know she saw through my happy-little-mate act but she never did anything to help me. I can’t forgive her for that.” Goldenstar listened, nodded to herself, and hummed thoughtfully. 

“I see…” she said. “That sucks. I’m really sorry, Scorch.” 

“What for?” Scorch snapped.

“That you had to go though that?” Goldenstar shrugged. “I’m not, like, guilty-sorry, just… sympathetic.” Scorch opened her mouth then hesitated. Her gaze flickered to the ground for a beat before she lifted her head confidently.

“Hm. I half expected a lecture about how I ought to forgive her.” 

“No, you totally don’t have to,” Goldenstar said. “It would be super unfair to say that.” 

“Hm,” Scorch said again. She focused on the path ahead of them again and Goldenstar squirmed in worry. Was she mad? 

“Uh, hey,” she said, hopping a step forward to catch up with Scorch’s strides, “I wanted to say, uh… I’m sorry. I never got to apologize for the fight we had.” She swallowed, the snakes in her gut twisting more violently. “It’s my fault you got caught. I’m really sorry that I was pushing you so much and that I didn’t get back in time.”

Scorch looked over at her, face nearly mournful, and said, “It’s fine. I knew you wouldn’t get back in time.” 

“Wait, what?” Goldenstar’s steps faltered for a second.

“The twolegs are always nearby when they use those traps,” said Scorch. “They got to me just after you left. I just didn’t want you to get caught too.” 

Goldenstar didn’t know how to feel. “Oh. Okay. Well, I’m sorry for the other stuff at least.” 

“It’s fine,” Scorch sighed again. “I was being stupid anyway. Can we just forget it? I hate it when you get all sorry and nervous.” That didn’t help to alleviate Goldenstar’s nerves. 

“Okay,” she said, catching up. “Whatever you want, Scorch.” 

“Ugh,” Scorch groaned. 

“Sorry,” Goldenstar laughed nervously, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just, like, ‘okay, sounds good.’” Scorch’s tail lashed a little. 

“You’re doing it again. You were doing this that day too! You keep doing that breathy little laugh and treading on eggshells like you’ve got no spine! What happened?” 

Goldenstar swallowed. She’d realized she was in love is what happened but she couldn’t just say that could she? What if Scorch balked and left? Well, she was already planning on leaving… Goldenstar chewed her lip for a second, gathered her courage, and took a leap of faith. 

“Well… Okay, this might sound weird, and don’t feel like you owe me any kind of response but, uh, that night you disappeared and came back late?”

“Yeah,” Scorch prompted. 

“Well, when you came back I realized that I uh…” This was the hard part. No turning back! she thought. “I realized I have, uh, feelings for you.” 

Scorch stopped walking. “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Goldenstar laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m trying not to be weird, I just- I like you so much, I don’t want to ruin anything.” She shuffled her paws, not sure how to stand.

“Oh, please,” Scorch huffed. “If anything you’re ruining things by being so worried! Just be yourself, Goldie, that’s what I like.” That turned the snakes in her stomach to butterflies. 

“You- you do?” 

Scorch groaned loudly as she tilted her face skyward. “Yes, Goldie, I like you. Do I like you like that? I…” her exasperation softened and she looked away over her far shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t really have room for that kind of thing in my life. Besides, I’m not interested in… in doing anything or-” 

“Oh, you don’t have to!” Goldenstar blurted. “I mean, if you did feel the same, I still wouldn’t expect anything like that or- or anything at all!” 

“Everyone has expectations,” Scorch glared. 

“O-okay,” Goldenstar laughed. “Fair, but I mean like… If you didn’t want to do something I wouldn’t pressure you to. I mostly just want to like… twine tails and share a nest and stuff like that…” It wasn’t like she would say no to something more… exciting, but she had always cared more about the person than any one part of a relationship. That was part of the reason she’d gone her whole life without any kind of serious partner, it just hadn’t been important enough for her to compromise on the ‘who’ in order to get the ‘what’. 

Scorch was still, her expression nigh unreadable but definitely skeptical. Goldenstar wanted to squirm but she forced herself to breathe slowly and calmly. She waited for Scorch to speak and tried to look as open as possible. 

“Let me get this straight,” said Scorch slowly. “The only thing you want… is to do cutesy garbage together?” 

Goldenstar blushed. “I guess you could say that, yeah,” she laughed. “I’d be open to other stuff but I’d be totally satisfied if that was all. But like, you can also say no, I totally understand.” Scorch sized her up for another moment.

“Alright,” Scorch said, turning to face Goldenstar directly and unfurling her tail up above her back, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try so here are my conditions.” Goldenstar gulped and nodded, standing equally straight. “One: I refuse to use any kind of labels and definitely no sappy pet names like sweetie or anything, got it?” 

Goldenstar nodded again, “Got it.” She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Two:” Scorch continued, tail starting to swish. “There will be absolutely no sexual advances of any kind.” 

“Of course,” Goldenstar said immediately.

“Three: This is a temporary arrangement. When I leave, that’s that, assuming you’re still determined to stay here despite my warnings.” 

Goldenstar pursed her lips. “Alright,” she said, hesitantly. “I still think you should stay, but, like, obviously you can end this… arrangement, I guess, whenever you want.” She thought but didn’t say, Even if I’ll probably die. 

“Good,” Scorch said firmly. She shifted slightly, like a bird ruffling its feathers, and let out a small breath. “‘Cause I’m not staying. I’m not letting Razor get another chance to take me back there.” She turned and started walking towards the border again. Goldenstar followed, feeling bright and bubbly and lonesome at the same time. 

“I understand,” she said sadly. “Is there anything I could do to change your mind?” 

Scorch hummed in thought. “If Razor were dead then we could talk.”

“Okay,” Goldenstar’s mind was turning. “How would we do that?”

“I don’t know,” Scorch said, “That’s why I’m leaving.” 

Goldenstar sighed, ears drooping. Scorch looked over and, after a beat of hesitation, wound her tail around Goldenstar’s. The action sent affection flooding through Goldenstar’s body and she leaned in to rest her head on Scorch’s shoulder, a small purr rumbling in her chest. Scorch stiffened slightly but eased into the gesture. Goldenstar’s heart soared. 

“We’ll think of something,” she said. “I’m gonna do everything I can to keep people safe. I’m not giving up yet.” 

“It’s not giving up to run away,” said Scorch. “It’s just a different strategy.” 

“I guess,” Goldenstar hummed. “It’s just that these territories, this land, it has a lot of significance and meaning to us. It’s just as much a part of the Clan as any member. I don’t want to lose that.” 

“Better than losing your lives,” said Scorch.

“I know,” said Goldenstar, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes and let Scorch lead her along. “If it comes to it, I will leave if we have to. But I wanna try a few other things first.” 

“Well, it will be good to take a look at what’s beyond the border in any case,” said Scorch. 

“Yeah, I agree,” said Goldenstar. She opened her eyes and looked up at Scorch’s perfect blue ones and smiled. At least for now, she could imagine that this was a romantic little adventure to some place new. 

Scorch raised an eyebrow at her. “Goldie, are you going to stare at me like that all the time now?” 

“Maybe,” Goldenstar laughed. “Is it bad?”

“No, you just look ridiculous,” said Scorch, a touch of a humorous smile on her face. 

“What can I say,” Goldenstar sighed dramatically, “I’m ridiculously in love with you.” 

“No,” Scorch said, suddenly detaching herself from their little embrace, fast enough to make Goldenstar stumble. “No you aren’t.”

“Aww, is that not allowed?” she pouted playfully even though her heart sank.

“Yep,” said Scorch, “Rule Four: We are not using that word.” 

Goldenstar thought it sounded like Scorch might be joking but she couldn’t tell and she didn’t want to push so she just sighed and said, “Alright… Can I at least say I think you’re beautiful?”

“Hmm,” Scorch glanced over her shoulder. “Yes. Do that.” She smirked and swished her tail - definitely playing. 

“Scorchplume,” Goldenstar purred sweetly, “you are intensely beautiful. Seriously, your eyes, your fur, your voice, all of it. You take my breath away.” 

Scorchplume rolled her eyes. “You’re too soft, Goldie.” 

“If adoring every bit of you is soft then that’s fine with me,” said Goldenstar moving back in to twine tails with her. Scorch made a noncommittal noise and fell silent. Goldenstar was happy to just enjoy her presence. 

They made their way to the border then out past the territories into the wider prairie. Here, wildflowers grew in thick patches and the grass was sparser and dryer. They found a short, wide little tree and scaled it to get a look at the surrounding area. 

“Looks like a desert out there,” Scorch hummed. Goldenstar chewed her lip in thought. She’d heard old stories about deserts before but the concept still seemed alien to her, like a mystical land of suffering designed to try the cats who dared to wander across it. 

“There’s bound to be coyotes out there,” she said, mostly to herself. “Not somewhere I would want to raise kits.” 

“It’s not ideal for me either,” said Scorch. “But surely there’s something past it.”

“Maybe,” Goldenstar shrugged. “You could ask Oddstripe. He came from out this way, remember?”

“That’s right,” Scorchplume muttered under her breath. There was a storm of thoughts behind her eyes. Goldenstar pictured it rolling out across the desert and pouring much needed rain on the scraggly wildflowers and parched earth. She imagined letting that rain soak her to the skin and thought that she wouldn’t mind at all. 

Scorch leapt down to the ground and started back towards the territories. “Maybe I’ll have to see about the lake over the mountains then,” she said. 

“Or,” suggested Goldenstar, leaping down beside her, “you could stay and help us figure out how to beat Razor.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” said Scorchplume curtly. 

“Hear me out,” Goldenstar said, her own thoughts coalescing into rain clouds. She thought back to what Scorch had taught her about speechcraft and came up with a plan. “You hate him more than anyone and with good reason. On your own, there’s nothing you can do to stop him but I have a whole Clan, several Clans even, full of warriors who would gladly sink their claws into him.” Scorch hummed, unconvinced, and Goldenstar quickly continued. “You’re incredibly smart and you have first hand experience with his operation. You could teach us the best way to beat him and then we would do it. You wouldn’t even have to get close to him. Just tell us what to do and we’ll take all the risk ourselves. You’d be saving countless cats and securing your own safety all in one go.” 

“You make a compelling argument,” Scorchplume said slowly. Her eyes were narrowed, calculating. Goldenstar held her breath and tried to maintain her casual facade. This was probably the highest stakes conversation she’d had in weeks and she wasn’t about to ruin it by looking too desperate.

Scorch stewed for a few moments then said, “Alright fine. We can give it a try.” 

“Yes!” Goldenstar cried, butting her head joyously into Scorch’s side. So much for not looking desperate. “Thank you, Scorch!” 

“Don’t thank me too much,” Scorch said. “I might have an idea but it involves using you as bait.” 

Goldenstar smiled, ears perking. “Ooh, tell me.”

“Don’t look so excited,” Scorch huffed poutily. 

“Sorry, I’m just- I am excited. I can’t wait for all of this to be over with so you and I can just be happy together.” 

Scorch’s throat labored as she watched Goldenstar’s face. “Yeah… Me too, I guess.” Goldenstar rammed her with another loving headbutt. That was plenty for her. Visions of a bright and happy future were starting to form in her mind's eye, one where she and Scorch lived in RisingClan together for the rest of their lives, where Scorchplume felt happy and safe and knew just how much Goldenstar loved her. To her, there was no greater thought in the world.

UPDATES: - Goldenstar confessed her feelings to Scorchplume and they have become mates an unofficial no labels kind of thing

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Scorchplume #Goldenstar #Goldenscorch #Newleaf #clangenrising

[octuscle]

Im now at my late 30's wondering if i took the best choices... Seeing these beach hunks while im balding with a dad bod, i wish i could go back in time and be like them when i was in my early 20's

Do you remember when you were 19 and decided not to start an apprenticeship at the bank straight after graduating? Instead, you decided to travel the world for a while… That was almost 20 years ago. Today, you would probably be a great Instagram or TikTok influencer. Back then, you wrote a blog. A pretty unsuccessful one. But at least your parents always knew where you were. And every now and then you were invited to give a talk about your travels.

Your dad bod is getting flatter. Harder. You suddenly feel… Somehow much fitter…

You visited this amazing beach when you were 21. Where the waves were supposed to be the best. But you weren't even a surfer back then. And you were actually on your way home because you were running out of money and you had promised your parents that you would start university the next semester. Damn it. The first time a wave knocked you off your board and you swallowed a liter of seawater, it was all over for you.

Your hair gets fuller. And longer… With blonde streaks… Your skin takes on a healthy glow.

You had the beach stall with the surfboard rental for almost ten years. Sometimes it went well, sometimes it went badly. You never amassed any wealth. But you wrote two very successful books… And you never needed a lot of money. And when you had enough of the beach and of surfer dudes who spent more time with their cell phones than with their boards, you sold your place and went back home from one day to the next. You hadn't seen your parents for almost eight years.

Your apartment becomes a cheap hotel room. Your belongings fit into a large backpack. There might be one or two gray hairs in your beard. But otherwise you look ten years younger. Tattoos appear on your skin.

You've tried to start an online travel agency. For surfer trips. It was reasonably successful, your parents were proud of you. But you didn't have any fun. Discussions with banks and investors were a horror for you. When the first opportunity arose to start your own business, you jumped at it. The process took almost half a year. But now you're free again. Not a rich man, but a wealthy one. And free as a bird.

The sun feels good on your skin. You want to go back to the sea. You miss the noise of the roaring waves and the smell of salt on your skin. Everything you own is in your rucksack. Do you have your own car? What for? Someone will give you a lift. It usually doesn't take long. And if you're lucky, the driver will be just as hot as you are.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #tank top #ai image #surfer tf

[carminecherry]

inked | kazutora hanemiya

this is PART TWO of the series PUT A COLLAR ON YOUR PET

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!kazutora hanemiya x bff fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: kazutora has wanted a neck tattoo since middle school. after you get a tattoo apprenticeship in the city, he wants you to be the one to do his neckpiece. however, the neck is an awfully sensitive spot. especially for a first tattoo. some people handle pain better than others. some people even enjoy it...

⇝ PART TWO LENGTH: 6k words

⇝ PART TWO WARNINGS: fem reader, heavy nsfw (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; AU! where kazutora never got a neck tattoo; angst, teasing, power play, tattooing sub!kazutora, confession, Y/N and kazu are both switches, dom!kazutora, possessive!kazutora, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, licking bug bites, nipple play, oral sex, fingering, safe sex, penetrative sex, orgasm denial, biting

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's smutty, hot, and heavy, enjoy 😘

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

When you got to the shop today you talked to your boss. His enthusiastic approval for Kazu’s neck tattoo didn’t make you as excited as it might have otherwise. Something about last night wasn’t sitting right with you.

The way he had lingered at your door, an unfamiliar look in his eye. Knowing you’d see him again so soon had that flurry of emotion stirring in your chest. Maybe that’s why the message sat unsent as you picked at your lunch.

“I got the go ahead, when do you wanna do this?”

You reread the short message for the nth time, your lip long since tender from anxious nibbling. You lock your phone and put your head in your hands. Before you could spiral, your boss, Rei, pops his head around the corner, “Hey newbie.” You sit bolt upright.

“At ease, soldier. I’ve gotta head out early today, how do you feel about locking up the shop by yourself tonight? You can stay and practice, just clean up before you head out.” “Oh… Yeah, sure, that’d be great!” “And if your friend wants to come in for the neck piece, you can stay as late as you need.” He says with a wink. Damn. 

“Dope… Thanks, Rei.” He tosses you the keys with a jingle. You swipe them out of the air. “Have a good day, boss.” With a salute he turns and exits the shop. You sat there, alone in the not yet familiar space. It’s now or never. You finally hit send on the message.

His response is immediate,

“ASAP! When is the earliest you can do it?”

“Today if you have time”

“Fuck yeah it’s on! Is it cool if I come after work?” 

You hesitate before confirming,

“If you have nothing better to do, playboy. I’m in the studio all night”

He reacts to the message and you lock your phone, taking a deep, steadying breath. Your phone buzzes with a string of messages from Kazu. You open them and see a chain of tattoo inspiration pics. They’re done in a kind of tribal style.

From your buzzed conversation last night, you remember he wants a tiger in that style. You crack your knuckles and get to work, sketching up a design on your ipad. You’re immersed in your drawing when you feel a puff of air against your ear, “Boo.” 

You jump, to Kazu’s delight. “You should lock the door if you’re in here alone, anyone could come in.” “I- When-” You look and see it’s grown dark outside. He laughs, pacing around, sizing up the space.

“Just now, you seriously didn’t hear me come in?” Your silence is answer enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss you little liability.” He says with a wink. “That looks perfect, by the way.” He gestures to the device in your hand. 

“Oh, thanks, um I’m almost done if you wanna- '' He plops down on one of the worn leather couches. “... make yourself comfortable…” He flips through the TV channels before settling on one for background noise, a horror flick. You return to your work, adding the final touches. 

When the credits are rolling on the TV, you finally stretch in your chair, drawing his attention. “How’s this look?” You turn the screen to him. His eyes sparkle. “It’s… It’s perfect! God, I knew it had to be you.” The compliment and sincerity in his voice had your heart acting up.

“Of course, I’m basically a genius.” You say dismissively. “So you said neck piece but what size are we talking?” You roll your chair over to him, wheels squeaking. “Like around here.” He palms the space on the side of his neck, bringing it down slightly to his chest. 

“Oh… So, like, huge?” “Gotta keep it on brand.” You scoff at his innuendo.  Let me add some more for the chest. You turn your attention back to the screen, adding some swirls to the edges that would extend the tattoo. He watches over your shoulder, occasionally humming with approval. The theme music of another horror film plays on the TV. “Okay, how’s this?” He gives two thumbs up and a toothy smile. “Ok, I’m gonna print it.”

You look up and meet his golden eyes. “Say, have you ever gotten a tattoo before?” “Nope, you’ll be my first.” He says with joking seduction. He’s on your turf here. A streak of confidence flashes through you with the realization; the power balance is shifting in your favor.

“Oh~ I don’t know if you’ll  be able to take it. The neck is very sensitive” You tease back. “If it’s just about endurance, I’ve never had any complaints.” His body leaning towards you. “No shame in tapping out, tickle boy.” You match his lean “That’s not a thing, you just play dirty.” He shoots back in a low voice. “That’s not all I do.”

The air in the shop turns heavy with your comment and the two of you simmer there. His eyes have a dark look. Your face feels warm. You clear your throat and rise. “Ok… Printing.” You tap across your screen as you walk to lock the shop door, flipping the sign to closed.

“Ohhh~ after hours, what an honor.” He says in a saccharine voice. “You don’t know how many other guys would kill to get an after hours session with me, don’t you feel lucky?” His taunt from last night turned back on him. 

There is a fire behind his eyes and you avert your gaze quickly as the printer buzzes out the stencil, the distant screams and tense music from the TV washing away into the background. You swipe it up, the transfer paper still warm between your fingertips.

You take your time cutting out your design, hoping the extra moment may diffuse the tension in the air as your senses come back; you have tiptoed the edge of that boundary again. With a final snip you make your way over to him, he’s reclined in the plush sofa, legs spread in a confident, imposing way. His eyes trace your every move but you can’t meet them. 

“So… For the placement… Since it goes down so low… It’s probably easiest if you take off your-” You don’t even finish the sentence before he peels off his shirt, placing it on the arm of the sofa as he looms over you. “Shirt… If you’re comfortable…” You look away, an effort to spare yourself from his relentless teasing.

He has a lean, muscular frame. Ghosts of scars littered on the defined planes of his chest and abs. “Like what you see?” His voice drips with honey. “Shut up and sit down.” You say, fully not facing him. He laughs knowing he’s gotten under your skin. 

That swirling anxiety clenches in your chest. He plops back down on the sofa with a chuckle, spreading his arms across the back, giving you a full view. “Sit up, I’m gonna sanitize your skin.” You huff. “Oh! And sign this.”

You shuffle around some papers on your workspace and produce a consent form. Slotting it into a clipboard and thrusting it in his direction. He flips through the pages halfheartidly as you pull on some latex gloves. There’s the scratching of the pen on paper as he signs the form. 

You grab the disinfectant and some wipes and finally face him. He catches your eyes as you do, a devilish grin on his face. “Let’s do this.” You pour some of the disinfectant on the wipe and get to work cleaning his skin. With a sharp inhale he says, “Fuck, that’s cold!”

“This is gonna be a long night.” You mumble. You laser focus on the space on the side of his neck, how the muscles and tendons flex under your touch, visualizing the tattoo there. You wipe down to his collarbone, trailing across the hollow space there before moving lower to his chest. 

His silence is uncharacteristic but you welcome it, getting lost in your work. When you’re satisfied you withdraw the wipe and use your hand to fan the space you’ve cleaned. “Let’s let it dry for a second.” You turn around to grab the stencil and when you return you catch the final ghost of a blush leaving his cheeks. You choose to categorically ignore it.

“I’m gonna place the stencil, so try to hold still.” You hover over him, lining up the paper. Silence hangs in the air as you bring the top of the stencil paper to his neck, working in slow, firm strokes to lay the paper nicely.

You can feel the heat of his neck bleeding through the paper as you stroke lower to his collar, his chest. Your hand lingers, you can feel the flutter of his pulse. When it’s laid with no crinkles, you give a few more firm sweeps across the whole thing, bringing out a sharpie to mark the final stencil placement.  

“Alright, let's see.” You peel the paper back and admire your work. The weeks of practice you’ve put in at the shop have paid off. “Take a look, do you want to adjust any parts?” He makes his way to the mirror across the shop. He twists and admires the stencil. You can’t help it when your eyes scan the muscular back, flexed, the one you felt last night. “Perfect…” He says softly. 

“Let’s get into it then.” You say with a clap. Turning away from him before he notices you staring. You gesture behind a nearby privacy screen to your station’s tattoo bed and he reclines on the papered surface with a crinkle. You set up your ink, vaseline, and tattoo gun among other paraphernalia. He watches you attentively as you do. You grab the bottle of black ink and portion some out. “Ready?” “Ready.” 

“Ok, so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” “What? Like a safe word?” “Sure, if you want one, tickle boy.” You can’t control the teasing tone in your voice. His nose scrunches in distaste at the nickname. “Hmm how about strawberry.” He relishes the word.

You cringe at the memory, an inside joke. A night spent over imbibing on strawberry vodka with the gang. A night that ended with you kicking off a two month sobriety stint after the violent vomiting and epic hangover that ensued. 

“Strawberry it is.” You confirm, gagging on the word. “So, it’s gonna suck for like five minutes but after that… Well I might be weird, but for me it starts to kinda feel good.” “Yeah, that’s what makes you weird.” “Ha ha, he’s got jokes.” Your tattoo gun buzzes to life in your hand. “Here we go.” You swipe some of the vaseline over the spot you’re sizing up as the starting point. 

Your gloved finger glides across the skin, the vaseline slick and warming quickly. He locks eyes with you and a crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The little shit looked excited for this, total masochist. You bring the needle down, feeling a small pushback as it breaks the skin. He inhales sharply and groans. “Jesus fuck!”

“I know.” You say in a low, comforting voice. You continue, the gun hammering the ink into the sensitive skin of his neck. His eyes close and he bites his lip. “You ok?” He nods in response. You do a wipe to clear some of the blood and excess ink. His hand finds your leg over the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the fleshy part of your thigh. “Fuck” he exhales.

“Dude we’ve barely started, you sure you can handle this?” You tried to sound comforting but you can't help the smug taunt from seeping into your voice. It’s wrong, you know that, but something about this felt so good. A kind of revenge for the torment he’s put you through over the years, finally being the one in control. 

“I’m going to start again.” You say in a low voice. He nods. You continue the line over the milky column of his neck, the skin around where you’d just tattooed turning a pretty red. His hand kneads the skin of your leg.

If it were anyone else you would’ve pried their hand off in seconds. But his touch… Felt warm. Familiar. You continue like this until the outline is done. Small noises occasionally bitten back by the man beside you. The hours pass by in a flash. 

***

The buzzing stops and you place the gun down on your station cart, stretching. “Let’s take a quick break.” “Oh~ and you were worried about my endurance.” His words come out, slurring together pleasantly. That tattoo adrenaline high that you are good friends with. He must be feeling it after sitting so patiently through those first few hours.

You rip off some paper towels and do a dry wipe. He gasps, a little whine escaping at the end. His hand shoots up to grab your wrist, halting your movement. You freeze, face hot. His breathing comes in heavy puffs. With effort he opens his eyes, meeting yours.

His pupils are blown so wide they devour the pretty gold of his irises. He looks you up and down in a hungry way, bare chest rising with each breath. You try to ignore the way the rosy buds on his chest rise have grown hard and perky. “Ha- you weren’t kidding. It does start to feel good, really good after the first few minutes.”

His smile is feral, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. “G-good. That’s, uh, that's good.” He pushes his torso up from the tattoo bed, the paper crinkling underneath him. You can’t help but notice the prominent bulge in his pants as it enters your peripheral vision. He tugs your arm, your stool rocketing towards him. 

“Kazu-!” “Hmm~ You like this, don’t you, you sick little freak. You get off on this, huh.” “What the fuck are you talking about?! Kazu, let me go!” “You act like I can’t see you, see the way you look at me, do you think I’m stupid?!” “Time out, Time out.”

You feel a flash of anger, panic, taking your usual defensive stance. “God, come ON, when are you gonna get it?!” His grip tightens on your wrist. “Jesus! Strawberry!” You yelp. With a grunt, he releases your wrist. You shoot back in your chair, clattering into the cabinet behind you. 

“Oh my~ Y/N, are you… scared?” He says with a glint in his eye. You feel yourself flush, “You’re seriously acting fucking weird, Kazu… More than usual. If you don’t feel well we can stop here for today.” You spit out venomously. “Why do you do that? Run away from me…”

His eyes widened in a strange way as he hops off the bed. “Is it cause you like to make me chase you?” You rise as well, squaring your shoulders, head spinning with the shift in energy, your eyes feel glossy with the prickle of angry tears. “Seriously, shut the fuck up. You’re pissing me off, for real.” 

“But you’re so cute when you’re pissed off. You’re even cuter when you cry.” He says towering over you. You give a firm push to his chest to make space between the two of you. “God! Back UP! You’re such a dick Kazu! Why are you acting like this?” You hate that your vision blurs with unspilled tears. “There they are~” He swipes a hand up, thumb wiping one of the tears that threatens to overflow your lashes. You slap his hand away but he brings your tear to his lips, licking the digit slowly. The knot in your stomach tightens further. 

“Come on, Y/N, this little dance is getting old. Why won’t you just admit it? You want me, just say it.” You feel that nauseating twist of emotion in your chest, arrogant ass. You want to swing, to cuss him out, but you feel yourselves balancing on the ledge between safe and new again.

Instead you ask, “What… Are you saying, Kazu?” You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You’ve been dreading this. He sighs, leaning his head back with a curt laugh. “You were always slow to notice things, huh.” He says to the ceiling. “Such a sadist under that cute facade…”

He takes a step back, giving you some breathing room.  “Now don’t get me wrong, I do love the chase, but after so long… I can’t understand why you’re still running…” “... Kazu… You… Uh, we…” You let out a frustrated sound. “It’s just… I’m not gonna be another notch in your belt… Another name on your list of fair maidens… What we have is special… I don’t want to lose you… as a friend.” The words pour out reluctantly. Choppy after being bitten back so many times. 

“Hmm, that’s too bad. Maybe I really need to spell it out for you. I’m serious about this, us.” You feel your face heat anew with his sudden confession. “Frankly, I don’t know how I could make it any more obvious to you. That I want you, I need you. I’ve wanted you all to myself for years.” “You sure have a funny way of showing it, fucking anything that bats their eyelashes at you.” You feel tears threaten to spill.

“Baby, I have needs… It’s awful, but I meant it. Those other girls didn’t mean anything to me. But you… This-” He gestures to the completed outline of his tattoo, “It’s a piece of you, I’ll get to have it with me forever. Sorry for tricking you into putting a collar on me. I wasn’t sure how else to get such a selfish owner to claim their pet.” His mouth ticks into a smile, like he’s told some inside joke with himself. 

“I’m sick of waiting… God, don’t just stand there.” He averts his gaze from you, blush dusting his cheeks. “Kazu… I… If this is some sick joke I’ll never forgive you.” “Joke?!” He leans in dramatically. “What other motherfucker is out there making me blush?! I feel SICK.” He snaps back. 

“I… Kazu, if you know, if you can read me so clearly, don’t make me be the first to say it… Just-” He’s over you in seconds. His lips parting yours in a feverish kiss. You don't hold back, meeting him there, lips, hands, teeth. You are careful not to touch your masterpiece on the side of his neck, running a hand through his hair and another up the exposed skin of the toned muscles of his core. One of his hands is tangled in the hair at the back of your head, adding pressure to the kiss. 

He moans into your mouth, “fuck my neck, it hurts… It… feels really good.” This sparks something in you, leaning into the kiss with more passion. You nip his lip and then smooth the irritated flesh with a firm swipe of your tongue before returning to the kiss. He groans at the action, pressing you up onto the counter of the cabinet, grinding against you. You feel the bulge in his pants against your stomach. So hot that the warmth seeps through the layers of fabric between you.

He’s brought a hand down to play with the hem of your shirt, the light touches tickle. The two of you break your kiss, gasping for air. He chuckles, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” “Yeah… That was… amazing.” You look up at his hazy eyes, thick heavy lashes, that perfect beauty mark. You crane your neck and place a soft kiss there, the intrusive thought that's haunted you for years finally fulfilled. 

The air is heavy, like the space around you was holding its breath. You move first, locking your mouth on the other side of his neck where the skin is unmarred. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive skin, giving a nip and sucking gently on the skin. “Fuck, you’re gonna mark me there too? I never pegged you as the possessive type. Letting me run around all these years.” His voice is low and lazy. You hum into his neck feeling the bulge against your stomach twitch.

“And the jealous type.” You add, before moving lower and repeating the process,  crimson blooming on the skin of his neck as you nip and suck and bite your way down his collar bone. “That feels so fucking good baby.” He grabs you by the waist and lifts you, maneuvering you back to your tattoo bed, pulling you to straddle his lap as he sits. He takes advantage of the new position to tug you firmly by the hair, exposing your neck to him. “My turn” he says, licking a hot line up your jugular. 

He kisses down the side of your neck. “Mmm yeah, Kazu.” He sucks gently before his teeth graze your skin, the pressure building with a wet, slurping noise. You groan, it hurts in a delicious way that makes your stomach flip. “Mmmore, more Kazu.” You whine. “So needy.” He says into the throbbing spot before moving lower, making a twin bruise there, pulling your head back further, the skin taut. “Nnng” “Yeah babe, fuck.”

He goes lower, eyes locking on the small circle of raised skin, slightly pink from irritation and itching. He licks the bug bite, making you yelp. “Fuck, thats.” He licks again, the spot warming, the sensation is strange. Tingly, itchy. He starts to suck, “O-oh my go- that’s-” It feels strange but not bad, like scratching an itch too hard where it hurts in the most satisfying way.

You feel that knot again in your stomach, wetness spreading between your legs. You lower yourself in his lap, grinding into him. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through you. “You like that? Little freak.” “You’re one- to talk- you’re the one sucking-” his hand releases your hair, bringing both to your hips, grinding into you hard. “Ah- ha- fuck babe you’re so hard.” You say breathily.

“Mmm yeah, that’s your fault.” He says into your chest. He drags you down again, you feel the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably wet. “Kazu… Please I…” “Say it, say what you want baby, it’s done.” “Kazu… I want you.” “Mmm finally.”  He flips you easily, laying you on the tattoo bed with a harsh crinkle of the paper. He pins you there, eyes devouring your flushed face and he pretty marks he’s left on your neck. Your hand comes up to absently play with his earring. It jingles between your fingers. 

“You're so… Pretty, Kazu.” “Yeah?” He tugs your shirt up, over your head, letting it gather by your wrists, using it to pin you there with one hand. “You’re so, god. You’re so beautiful Y/N. I mean it. You don’t know how long you made me wait.” He trails a finger up your side, a featherlight touch that makes you squirm. “Hmm, ticklish, Y/N?” He asks, mimicking your voice from last night. “Dick” You laugh. He traces the edge of your bra, making your breath hitch. 

He continues, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You adjust yourself, wriggling under his grip, offering a better view of your chest. “So eager Y/N.” “So slow, Kazu.” your mouth ticks up in a challenging smile. When he sees it his own smile turns animalistic.

He rips the undergarment up roughly, your chest bouncing free as he forces it up to join your shirt around your wrists. He eyes your chest hungrily before using his free hand to palm one of your breasts, massaging it. The flesh spilling out in the space between his fingers. He drops his head to lick around the sensitive flesh of the other.

 He presses a knee between your legs, knocking them apart harshly to give himself space. You welcome it, finally having something to apply pressure where you really want it. You grind up and down his leg building the feeling there. He gives a hard flat lick over the sensitive bud on your chest before sucking, grazing his teeth along the puckered skin. “Oh fuck, Kazu, that feels so good!” 

You toss your head back, closing your eyes, savoring the feeling growing. Your body feels heavy and fuzzy, a pleasant buzz in your head. He releases your abused nipple with a pop, the skin pink and glistening with his saliva. He gives a soft blow, savoring the view of the bud pebbling in the cold air.

He grinds his knee into you, earning him a breathy whine. “Kazu, please. I want you.” “Hmm? You made me wait so long I plan to make it last.” “Ha- nng- and I’m the sadist?” He releases your breast and trails a hand down your stomach, toying with the button of your pants. You grind up his leg, encouraging him to continue. “Patience, you vicious little thing.” He chides.

He pops the button of your pants open with one hand and drags the zipper down painfully slowly. He pulls the waist of your pants down, the task proving to be difficult one handed. You raise your hips to help him shimmy them down your thighs. “Fuck” He releases your wrists to pull your pants all the way off, tossing them to the floor. You start to sit up before he shoves you back down by your wrists, situating himself between your legs again. 

“Now, where were we?” “Well, I was falling asleep while you took your sweet time undressing me.” “Oh, well that won’t do. Let’s wake you up, shall we?” He trails his free hand up your thigh, squeezing the fleshy part at the top, humming with approval. He traces his thumb against the edge of your panties, dragging down a glistening trail of your wetness. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, babe.” He swipes his thumb up again, gathering some of your juices as he brings it to his lips, sucking on the digit. “You taste so good.” 

“Yeah? You like it, sicko?” “Mmm, love it. Let me taste you, pretty girl.” He slides down the tattoo bed, dragging you with him. He spreads your legs apart, hooking them over his shoulders. You take this chance to free yourself from the clothing around your wrist, snapping off the latex gloves in the process.

He runs a finger up and down your slit through the fabric of your drenched panties. “Fuck” He pulls the garment to the side watching you twitch and flutter being exposed to the cool air of the studio. He brings his head down, lapping up the wetness between your legs.

You can’t hold back the moan that comes out with the sensation, tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “Mmm babe you taste even better than I expected.” He says from between your legs. You can’t string together a coherent sentence. Between the teasing and his skilled tongue circling your clit, you feel yourself tumbling towards release.

“Ah- Kazu- ha- I’m-” The words come out high and breathy as you feel like you’ve been dipped in honey, your limbs heavy and warm. Right as you’re at the brink of your orgasm his movements slow. You let out a frustrated whine. You swear you can feel him smiling there, between your legs.

“Wha- Why?” “Hmm? Is something the matter?” He teases. “You’re… insufferable.” You pant. “Am I?” He challenges, bringing a finger up to your hole, testing the water there. Your breath hitches as he pushes it deeper, his long fingers curling in a tantalizing way. 

He licks the sensitive bundle of nerves again, swirling his tongue. You feel the sensation building again. “Kazu, please, I want you.” You whine. “I know you do, pretty girl. I’m getting you ready, just relax.” “How can I relax when you’re-” He adds another finger and you feel the stretch before a third is inserted. You moan, grinding into him, fucking yourself on his face and fingers.

You feel the tension rising again, your breathing getting heavier, the knot in your stomach about to snap. As you feel the sensation swelling, fuzziness crawling over your skin, he removes his fingers, leaving you so empty. You choke on a frustrated cry as you feel tears prickle in your eyes, having been denied twice. 

“Kazu, please, I’m so close. Let me come.” “Eager as ever, darling.” You hear the tearing of something not-quite paper. You peel your eyes open, looking down at him. A small, square wrapper reflects the light in a metallic way, dangling from his mouth. The sound of a zipper directs your eyes down to his pants. He lets the clothing drop to his thighs. There is a prominent wet spot spreading through the fabric of his underwear beneath. You can see his size through the thin material. It is formidable. 

You eat up the view, his flexed abdomen, the defined lines low on his stomach that disappear beneath his waistband, his blown out pupils, his flushed face, the hickeys you left him on one side of his neck, and the tattoo outline on the other. You feel a deep throb inside of you.

“Kazu, baby, you look so good.” He leans over you, brushing his lips to yours, “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot.” You taste yourself on his lips as you draw him in to deepen the kiss. He pulls back, an hungry look in his eye. He makes a show of pulling his waistband down, freeing himself from the restraints of the undergarment. Your eyes widen. 

Maybe he wasn’t exaggerating all of those times he’s bragged about his ‘big dick energy.’ “Think you can take it, princess?” He goads with a lazy smile. He gives himself a few firm strokes before rolling the condom over his sizable member. “Think you can actually make me come this time?” You quip back. He steals a quick peck from that bratty mouth that he loves.

“Mmm, this time, and the next time, and the next time.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to your jaw then your throat and your chest. He positions himself over you, “so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” He imitates your voice, repeating your earlier statement back to you. “Shut up and fuck me.” You say breathily, taking a firm grip of his silky hair and pulling him into a feverish kiss. 

He moans into the kiss as you nip at his lower lip. You feel his tip, prodding at your entrance. You grind down on it, urging him to continue. You feel that delicious stretch as you adjust to his size. It’s been far too long since your last time and he is huge. His ministrations earlier had done little to prepare you for his actual size.

He moves slowly, working with you as you grind up to meet him. You can’t fight back the little noises bubbling up in your throat any more. Small whines and whimpers. “Fuck, good girl, let me hear you.” You moan louder as you feel your walls stretching to take him. 

You can feel it, the tip pushing against your cervix, making your breath hitch. He pauses there. A string of praise and profanities spilling from his lips. “I’m gonna move.” He pants. He props himself up over your face, looking deeply into your eyes. He’s slow, so excruciatingly slow. You feel like he could split you open. Your face twists in pain and pleasure.

He peppers your cheeks and forehead with light kisses, a jumble of, “good girl, you’re taking me so well, you’re so tight, fuck, babe you feel so good, you’re gorgeous.” Are whispered with every kiss. “Look at you, pretty girl.” He says, staring at the space where the two of you are joined. Your hazy eyes drift there too. To the swollen, sensitive spot that is sucking him in. You’ve almost taken all of him. 

“Y/N, I…” He bucks unconsciously. You gasp sharply. “I can’t… It feels so good.” He groans, bucking again, so close to being buried inside of you. You whine, completely stuffed. He moves, shallow ruts, picking up speed. “Fuck, Kazu, you’re so deep, you’re- it’s so big.” You whimper. You flutter around him, making his movement stutter. He continues with fervor. He’s so deep, with each thrust you feel him brushing past that spot that makes your toes curl before pressing into your cervix. 

He adjusts his position, bringing your legs up to hook over his shoulders, folding you in half. He grabs the edge of the tattoo bed, gripping it so hard his knuckles turn white. You cry out as he buries himself even deeper. Your cry melts into a moan as the rush of pleasure spreads from the pain.

You can hardly see him through the blur in your eyes. You feel yourself unraveling as he fucks freely into you in this new position. Each stroke is more intense than the last. Lewd, wet noises spill from your puffy entrance with each thrust. You feel it coming, huge and intense. Your arms and legs are blanketed in tingles, your head is light and dizzy, release hurtling towards you.

“Uhhng, Kazu, don’t stop, I’m gonna.” He grunts, snapping his hips into you, fucking you down into the crinkled paper of the tattoo bed. He brings a hand down, grabbing one of your breasts, bullying your nipple with a harsh pinch. The sensation is too much. You cry out, clenching around him, vision going white as your release washes over you. A slurry of curses and affection pour from you as the waves of pleasure wrack your body. He continues his deep, cruel thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out of you. 

You flutter and clench around him, a whimper then laugh leaves the man over you. “Y/N, You’re sucking me in, you want me so bad, huh, baby? Fuck, I’m gonna come, pretty girl. You’re gonna make me come.” He mutters, his thrusts becoming frantic, your bruised cervix opening, swallowing him deep inside of you.

“Oh, FUCK!” With one final, brutal thrust he’s pouring himself into you. He latches onto your collar bone, biting hard. You yelp, feeling the sting of his teeth breaking the skin and his tongue swirling.

He moans, grinding into you, riding out his own release. Stuffing the condom full of his seed inside of you. Fucking into your womb. His grip on the tattoo bed loosens, as he lays himself over you. Lazily thrusting. He snakes his arms around you, embracing you as he grinds the last of his cum into you.

You bring a hand up to play with his fluffy hair as he slackens his jaw, planting sloppy, wet kisses over the bite mark. Your chests rise with heavy breaths, reveling in your shared releases. Your limbs feel like lead and your head is still fuzzy. Every nerve in your body is shot, tingling pleasantly.

“That was so much better than I could’ve imagined.” He hums. “Yeah… That was… Worth the wait.” You say, burying your face into the crook of his neck opposite his tattoo. “I think that’s enough of a break.” You laugh as he kisses your temple. “Mmm, yeah, let’s finish this up.” He gestures vaguely to the outline of his tattoo.

“I’ve got some big plans for the night.” He says in a low voice, pulling out from you as you quiver around the emptiness, missing him. “I should probably finish what I’ve started this time, and the next time, and the next time.” You tease him with his earlier flirtations, earning you a playful jostle. You reach absently over the edge of the tattoo bed, feeling around for your discarded garments. 

“This is gonna be a long night.” He laughs, passing you your clothing as he grabs some paper towels from your station. cleaning himself up. “Promise?” You joke, masking a deeper desire. The animalistic way he smiles at you is answer enough.

#Kazutora Hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora smut #kazutora x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tr x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tr smut #tr x you #carminecherry fics

[nightingale2004]

Severus's life if Tobias was an actual decent father and husband headcanons

When he finds out that Eileen and Severus are wizards, he takes a minute to take in the information (i feel like he is more the religious type) and even goes to church.

At first, he was angry that his own wife would hide that from him, but after much time and talking with a reasonable, open-minded, understanding priest, he went home and he and Eileen had a long talk.

He is a hard worker at the factory. He goes to work early but comes home late, and Eileen always makes him breakfast, lunch, and dinner and barely drinks but still drinks every now and then.

After Eileen told Tobias everything, he told her to educate him on the Wizarding world so he could have a better grasp of it.

After Tobias was educated on the Wizarding world, he did not like how relationships like his and Eileen's were looked down upon, which made him worried for Severus, especially when he got accepted into Hogwarts.

Severus still wears hand me downs but he does get some new clothes since they don't have a lot of money.

Tobias would be that husband and father that would glare or yell at someone who gave them looks or said/whispered something about them.

Tobias would not be afraid to fight somebody, magic or not. (YOU DO NOT MESS WITH THIS MAN'S FAMILY)

Whenever Severus comes back and he is acting different, he notices. He knows what being bullied looks like, and he talks with Severus about it

Tobias teaches Severus how to defend himself and shows him a couple of moves he learned in the military (the man obviously served)

Eileen would be more involved in Severus's life instead of being afraid.

When the "prank" happened, they immediately found out and gave Dumbledore h3ll for this. And they immediately pull Severus from hogwarts (but not before Tobias is about to give the marauders an old school a$$-whooping)

Eileen and Tobias transferred him to Durmstrang, where they kept a close eye on him (they are helicopter parents now, and u can't tell me otherwise)

Severus obviously noticed the struggle that his parents were facing, not just prejudice but the money struggle. So, growing up, he would always help his mom around the house, help cook and clean, and even sell some potions here and there. (He sells his potions to Tobias's work buddies)

Severus gives his dad potions to help his health and even casts a few spells on him to help him at work (Tobias even after all these years is still not used to it but is impressed by his son's brain)

When Severus graduated, a lot of potion masters wanted him, but he knew he couldn't afford it. So his parents both worked to scrounge him enough money to pay for his apprenticeship (severus helped, he's not letting his parents do all the work)

Severus's summer job as a teenager was helping out at either his father's factory or working at a bar

When Severus came out that he liked both girls and boys, both his parents weren't surprised. They found out a looooong time ago and had their time to process it. And they learned to accept him and his Sexuality in their own way.

Severus is a potion master, has his own apothecary, and his parents couldn't be prouder. He also has a medical and chemist degree. (So if anyone needs a doctor, he's your guy)

When Eileen passed away, Tobias was distant from Severus, but eventually, he learned to be close with his own son again for his wife's sake.

Tobias and severus visit Eileen's grave every year on her birthday.

After Tobias passed, Severus visits their grave in his free time just to talk to them and tell them about his life.

Severus is happier, calmer, and less depressed but still our favorite Sarcastic sharptounged Slytherin

He wouldn't join the deatheaters unless they threatened his parents. He would protect them with his life

Hope you guys love this little headcanons. Enjoy

#harry potter #severussnape #severus #severus snape #severitus #professor snape #snape snape severus snape #severus deserves good things #severus snape headcanon #pro severus snape #pro severus #tobias snape #eileen prince headcanons #eileen prince #eileen snape #hp #hp fandom #snapedom #pro snape #snape #snape defense #harry potter fandom #slytherin pride #slytherin #slytherpride #if only tobias wasn't a a$$hole of a father #severus snape defender #severus snape defender 4 life #severus snape defense squad

[lostinforestbound]

It's finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, with work and art projects I got completely swamped. But now it's here! I'm aware I'm posting this incredibly late so no one will see this until morning probably hahaha! Requested tag: @snoozeeebee

Rolan/M!Tiefling Tav

Third Time's the Charm - Ch.1

Rolan intends on doing great things when he finally gets to Baldur's Gate, but an utter idiot named Tav is distracting him. Unfortunately, against his better judgement, he's starting to fall for him.

Word Count: 5.9k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rolan's POV, Makeout, No smut (yet) but it gets frisky, Slowburn

(If there's any tags I missed, please let me know!) NSFW, MDNI

They've been at this grove, stewing and waiting for too long. That Archdruid (Halsin was his name, he believes) might have been welcoming, but the other druids have not. Now he up and disappeared after he decided to follow a group of weak, loud, wannabe adventurers who were only out for themselves. When they cowered back inside the grove with less than half their group, he knew that this place was doomed. What's worse than all of that mess is that Lia is stubborn about leaving, and now they're in an argument again. They've been having them a lot in recent months, ever since the fall and rise of Elturel.

"-and all you care about is your stupid apprenticeship!" Lia shouts at him, his mind finally tuning back into the conversation- no, not a conversation, a damn shouting match.

Her words make him bristle and grind his teeth. How dare she? How dare she ever think this was all only for the apprenticeship? It's an insult to injury, knowing no matter what he does, trying to take care of them results in him being called selfish. What is selfish about wanting a better life for the three of them? They only have each other, their mother long gone. She's gone, and now he carries the sole responsibility of taking care of them.

She's gone.

"Take that back. Right now." He hisses, getting in her face as they glare each other down.

Cal immediately inserts himself in between the two of them, palms out in front of them both. "Can we all just take a moment? Please?"

Rolan idly notices the sweat gathering on Cal's temple as he pushes Lia back slightly by her shoulder, creating more space between all of them. He does the same to Rolan, but stays put in the middle to form a weak barrier- wait, who is that tiefling that approached? No, it doesn't matter.

"Hells, we can't just leave. They're kin!" Lia begs, almost pleading with him.

"I will not gamble our lives- our futures, on people who are as good as dead," He says somewhat calmly, though his tail still flicks behind him in irritation. "We must leave for Baldur's Gate at once."

Lia looks ready to bare her teeth at him, angry with him. She's always angry with him. "What's the point of blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay! These people aren't fighters, we can help!"

"Or yell louder, that's fine too," Cal says with a familiar bitterness in his tone; gods, he hates that tone on Cal. He's been hearing it more often, these days.

"Have you forgotten Elturel?" A voice breaks through, and he finally acknowledges the presence beside them.

It's another tiefling, a much larger one at that. He's not part of the refugees, as he hasn't even seen him around until now. Did he just arrive here?

This one isn't that much taller than he is, only by a few inches; but hells, his mass absolutely dwarfs his own. A fighter most likely, or even worse, a barbarian. It doesn't matter which one he may be, he looks like an idiot that isn't worth his precious time.

"We should stand by our people. You know no one else will." He says lowly, giving a knowing look of both annoyance and sadness.

He loathes that look. He’s never wanted to blast someone more than in this moment. How dare he look at him as if he was some child throwing a tantrum?

"This isn't Elturel, and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!" He exclaims, almost furious.

Lia pokes him harshly in the chest with her pointer finger, and he has to suppress a wince. "Just be responsible for yourself, then! We have to stay; it's the right thing to do."

He hates that fucking tiefling even more now. Not only has he butted into his family affairs, but now he turned his sister- Lia, even more against him. For once, why can't things go his way? Why do they not listen to him?

When did they stop listening to him?

"Zurgan. Fine! We'll stay. If we survive, it'll make for a good story, I suppose." He airs, rubbing a finger to his temple as he feels a headache form there.

For the first time in a long time, Lia gives him a genuine smile, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. "Thank you, Rolan.” She says sincerely.

Cal now takes the calm moment to usher the two further into the grove, seeming to want to get away from the entranceway as soon as possible; for once, Rolan lets him. He doesn't pay any mind to the strange looks they get by going further into the grove with the other refugees, and he certainly doesn't pay any mind to the oaf of a tiefling that they left standing there by himself.

He decides he hates that man, and he pisses him off to no end.

"How long until Rolan shows off his Thunderwave?" Cal asks as they settle down near an old human woman's tent, who seems to be organizing some herbs in her storage crate. Something is off about her, but Rolan can’t put his finger on it. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Lia snickers at that moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "Depends, how many people are dumb enough to ask?"

"Hah! True."

Rolan rolls his eyes, trying to dust off the dirt on his robes. He hates the smell of this damned grove, it stinks. Is he truly supposed to arrive to Lorroakan with his clothes smelling like this? He'll have to burn them, no question.

"Don't be grumpy, Rolan. We'll get to the city soon." Cal chirps, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"I am not grumpy."

"The scowl on your face would frighten a troll."

Despite the foul move he's in, he smiles at his little brother. "Heh. You're an idiot."

-----

It's been days, and that tiefling is still here.

He's heard about his many exploits; saving one of the children the druids held hostage, saving another orphan child from a group of relentless harpies, getting their money back from that tiefling brat with the eyepatch, and slaughtering Kagha. Emphasis on slaughtering.

When he came out of that grove where the ritual had stopped, he saw the amount of blood that was covering the large man. None of it was his own, he realized. The man barely had a scratch on him and seemed proud when exiting.

He caught himself staring at him many times, watching how the muscles stretched across his skin, seeing all the little imperfections. Scars, beauty spots, all the like. He internally curses himself and looks away when he feels his face growing hot.

Paying back attention to his siblings, he notices how Cal stares at the blacksmith across the way, rubbing his hands absentmindedly as he thinks of something.

"You shouldn't waste precious time on distractions. We need to head to Baldur's gate after this goblin fiasco is over." He remarks, getting up and brushing off dirt.

"Rolan." Lia warns, but he ignores her and walks away with a roll of his eyes. They need supplies, so he will go get them if they are too lazy to do so.

And, of course, the oaf is already buying them off of one of the druids. Damn it all!

"Need something?" He asks, inspecting him as if Rolan was much shorter than him.

He scoffs, even more irritated than he was originally, "I was in need of potions, but it seems you got them all already."

"What did you need?"

"It doesn't matter, you beat me to it!” He instinctively snaps, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Bloody health potions are so short of stock these days-"

Wordlessly, the man puts three large health potions into his arms, which, for once, renders Rolan speechless. He doesn’t even remember the original tangent he was about to go one. Something about price inflation, probably.

Staring down at the red potions in his arms, he snaps back into reality when he speaks again. "You three need it more than I do. I, at least, have a healer."

He sneers at him, gripping the potions tight. "So what, you look down on us?”

"Not at all."

"We are not charity cases,”He almost growls, baring his teeth. “What is your game here?"

"…Can I tell you a secret?"

Why is this his life? How did everything turn out this way? Why is he even entertaining this fool??

After a bit of contemplating his life choices, he finally responds. "What?"

The tiefling suddenly leans in to put his mouth near his ear, and gods he's so close. Tav was his name, wasn't it? He heard it in passing by one of his group mates. Balsam, rogue's morsel, and acorn truffle are what he smells on him, a strong scent that is surprisingly pleasant- gods, what is he thinking?! Feeling his face starting to heat up, he tries to take a step back, but Tav stills him with a hand on the back of his neck. It makes his breath catch in his throat.

Finally, Tav whispers to him, "I'm just being nice."

Tav pulls away, leaving Rolan completely dumbfounded as he continues. "I'm not trying to look down on you or be a pest, I just think you need the potions more than I do. Cause gods forbid these fucking druids try and help out people who need it." He spits with a roll of his eyes, staring directly at the Druid that was still besides them through this entire ordeal. He looks uncomfortable.

"Well, that is shockingly intelligent of you." He huffs, hoping the jab aggravated him. "Although, aren't you fighting a swarm of Goblins out there?"

"I am, but bold of you to assume they hit hard enough to hurt me." Before he could come up with another insult for his remark, Tav interjected. "Anyways, I have to return to my camp as it is getting late. Good luck to you and your siblings. Cal and Lia, right?"

He didn't have the chance to respond before the idiot sauntered off, back outside the grove. Great, now he's indebted to the bastard. Slowly, he stalks back into the grove, tying the potions to his belt as he does so.

-----

Some panic swept across the grove when people realized the goblin army planned to raid it for all it was worth. He's heard so many horror stories of slaughtered tieflings, their enemies sawing off their horns to keep as trophies or as foghorns.

If they think they could do the same to his family, they are sorely mistaken.

As others run and hide in Zevlor's war room, others stay to help fight, including himself. But, once again, the three of them can't stop arguing about their positions; he can tell Cal is getting pissed off, but so is he.

"I'm telling you to stay back. My Thunderwave will make short of any goblin that dares to come close. If you two are in the way, I'll knock you both over!"

"And I'm telling you to just get behind us! Spellcasters can't take a punch or a blade!" Lia shouts.

"Can we not argue over this? Please? How about we all line up together?"

"No." They both state and Cal immediately shuts up.

"Wow, you three must love each other very much." A familiar voice says sarcastically.

He grits his teeth and turns towards Tav. "Oh, piss off you oafish-"

"Wait! Wait, maybe Tav can help us out. Figure out positioning and whatnot?" Cal suggests quickly.

"Great idea Cal! Let's ask the professional harpy slayer."

Tav looks at them all, seeming to take in the equipment and weapons that they have on hand. In all honesty, Rolan didn't even think Tav could think.

Suddenly, Tav grabs Cal and moves him to the front, and in the next moment, he gently moves Lia to the back, leaving Rolan in the middle. "There. That's a good positioning."

"See? Easy!" Cal says cheerfully. "Now can we just-"

"Why can’t I be in the front with Cal?”

“Lia come on-“

“I want to be able to help out!”

Tav yawns briefly before explaining, "You will be helping, a lot. Both of you and Rolan are range users. You will hit goblins better by staying in the back where you'll be more effective. Cal here is in melee, with both a pike and a shield. He can protect you both and be your frontliner, while at the same time, you two cover his blind spot. Although, alternatively, you two could be next to each other, but stay behind him."

Rolan blinks slowly, processing the logic behind it. Damn it all, it's incredibly smart. Maybe Tav isn’t an idiot.

"There, good enough explanation?" He asks.

"It's great! Thank you, sincerely." Lia says, patting Tav's shoulder.

"…You're welcome." He pauses before putting a hand into his bag. "We'll kill those bastards out there, no doubt. But I would feel better if you all have this just in case."

Taking out a bright scroll, he holds it out to the three of them to take. Rolan instantly recognized it, especially with the unique binding on it.

A Resurrection Scroll.

Lia is the first to react and take it. "We won't need this, but thank you! Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan if things go wrong."

"I'll make sure it goes smoothly." He reassures, cracking his knuckles.

"What do you have planned, anyway?" Cal wonders aloud.

"I stole a bunch of smoke powder barrels in their camp and set them up along the perimeter. Anyways, they could be here any moment. Stay vigilant. If all goes super well, you won't even have to fight."

-----

They feel the explosions before they hear it. A deep rumbling in the ground that shakes them, awake and alert. There are so many of them that go off after the first one, like a domino effect. How many barrels could Tav have possibly gotten his hands on??

Unfortunately, those explosions didn’t stop a giant spider and some goblins from coming in.

Goblins were easy. He made quick work of them with his thunderwave, blasting them back into the stone wall. Though with his distraction of mentally stroking his own ego, he didn’t see the giant spider coming up until Cal quickly got to his side, blocking its oncoming fangs with his shield, the force of the bite splintering the wood.

His eyes widen, and he blasts a magic missile at the spider right as Lia shoots an arrow into one of its eyes. It screeches in pain, but it’s stubborn in its conviction. It lunges, and Cal cries out when it tears into his arm, trying to rip off his flesh.

Rolan shoots off another thunderwave in his anger and panic, killing the spider in an instant. He watches some of the legs get cut clean off, the body flying and crashing into some crates, destroying them, and its sickly green innards spilling onto the dirt floor. A disgusting sight, indeed.

“Cal!” Lia yells quickly, snapping Rolan back into reality and he quickly rushes over.

Cal is teary-eyed but tries to wave it off, even as Lia tries to get a better look. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come here.” Rolan says maybe a little too harshly, making his brother sit down on a wayward crate and grabbing his elbow to hold it still.

“Rolan please-“

“You look close to crying! Just-“ He stops himself and takes a deep breath, eyes meeting his. “Let me help. Please.”

Cal sighs shakily but nods, letting his arm be lifted for him and Lia to see.

It’s a deep injury, but nothing deathly serious. It looks painful. The spider managed to inject some kind of poison, but Cal resisted whatever effect it could have taken.

Rolan takes out one of the health potions he’s received from Tav and carefully pours it over the injury, and it slowly seals the wound. No scar is left behind, surprisingly enough.

“Does it hurt?” Lia gently presses.

“Not anymore. Thanks, Rolan.”

He wants to yell at him so badly, the argument already bubbling up his throat. Why wasn’t he more careful? Why did he jump towards his side so quickly? He had it handled! He’s supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

Instead, he settles on, “You’re welcome.”

Knowing it’s safer, Cal leans against him quietly, and Rolan carefully holds him with Lia. It wasn’t even a close call, but it’s clear Cal needed some comfort.

No more enemies come through. There were no casualties, either.

Zevlor ends up making a speech at the gate when they check out the damage, and he’s sure others are inspired, but he’s barely paying attention to it. He doesn’t care, in all honestly. He wants to leave this fucking grove and never look back; it is by far the worst place they’ve ever stayed in, second to Avernus. Though, he might be being dramatic.

He found himself looking around for Tav, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Why was he looking for him, anyway?

When he finally spots him, he shouldn’t be shocked by the amount of gore he’s covered in, but he is. He’s completely drenched in blood, whether from the goblins or the Drow leading them. Some of it was his own since he spots injuries littering his frame. 

He shakes his head and straightens up, shifting his attention to his siblings and ignoring the warmth growing in his cheeks. “Now that this fiasco is over, we will head to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Are you serious Rolan?! Come on, there’s going to be a party!” Lia complains, bumping her hip with his. “We have to go.”

“We don’t have time for parties! Lorroakan is waiting for me, I cannot be late.”

“What’s one party, Rolan? It’s just for a night. We need to rest anyways.” Cal says, looking around the other excited tieflings. When was the last time they saw a crowd of them so happy? He certainly doesn't remember, and it makes his original conviction crack a little.

“I will not-“

Cal takes hold of one of his arms, tugging him. “Please, Rolan? Just for tonight.”

“There’ll be free wine, provided by the heroes.” Lia sing-songs, leaning against him and almost making him stumble.

“…Free wine?” He questions, genuinely thinking about it.

“And free food,” Cal confirms.

Gods, he hates the pathetic puppy-dog eyes that they use. He can’t stand to look at their faces, and he hates it even more that he's falling for it, just as he always has.

He sighs heavily in defeat, head hanging a little low. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Cal cheers, giving him a tight hug.

To his surprise, Lia joins in, the both of them crushing him. “Thank you, Rolan!”

He rolls his eyes but lets a smile break through, even when he can hardly breathe. “All this over a party?”

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see!”

He smirks knowingly, finally separating from the two. “All right all right, I trust that this will be an exceptional occasion. I look forward to seeing you say you love me while drunk, Lia.”

"As if, brother."

It doesn’t take long for Tav to offer up his area with his party members, so they gather with the Tieflings and head to the camp. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s secluded at least.

That bard, Alfira, starts decorating the place in an instant; lantern lights go up, colorful ribbons decorate the trees, and boxes get moved to the side. Others help out, including Lia, but Rolan and Cal sit back and relax for the time being.

When the party finally starts, they pass wine between the three of them.

“Can you give us a magic show, Master Rolan?” She teases.

Rolan rolls his eyes playfully. “Already?”

“Oh! Can you make an owl bear?? Or a dragon!” Cal suggests, scooting forward more on the log.

He stretches out his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles while doing so. "Patience! Have you no respect for showmanship?"

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal whisper-shouts playfully, and Rolan idly notices Tav approaching.

He turns his nose up high momentarily before holding his hands out. "Hush, you. And behold!"

It's a brief performance, but amazing nonetheless if he says so himself. He makes it look like stars that spark, fly, and explode into various lights. He has always been irritated he could never make it last long, but that is what his training will be for.

He looks over at Tav as soon as he claps, seeing the way his eyes glide over the lights. His face doesn’t change in the slightest, so he can’t tell if his clapping is meant to be some sort of taunt or if he’s genuine.

Either way, he does a dramatic bow. "Adoring applause? You're too kind."

"Remember when he couldn't cast that?" Lia teases.

"They grow up so fast," Cal states.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan demands, but a content smile is plastered on his face.

It seems Lia was about to offer Tav some of it, but when she and Rolan turn towards him, he’s already gone.

“Looks like he already got bored of you.” Lia sings to him.

“Oh hush up.” He huffs, snatching the wine bottle and taking a long drink.

He will never admit how much that comment stung. He doesn’t know why he was so bothered by it in the first place. There are many possibilities he goes over as he feels the alcohol give him a pleasant buzz; was it her wording, or was it the fact that Tav disappeared without a word? Did he get bored? 

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care what that man thinks of him. He swears he doesn’t.

Later in the night, he drank- no, chugged wine while Cal and Lia chatted with the other tieflings partying. As much as he loved to perform for them both, even someone as great as he gets tired after using a bunch of magic in rapid succession. 

The wine wasn’t good; nothing compares to Arabellan Dry, but what else was there to drink? He refuses to partake in ale or beer, he never found the appeal of it. Honestly, it’s disgusting, and he doesn’t understand why Lia likes it so much. Cal seems to be looking for someone in particular but isn't finding them. He looks disappointed.

As he wonders about Cal and debates checking in on him, he doesn’t notice the brute approaching him until his giant form sits next to him with his own alcohol, the bark of the fallen tree groaning from the extra weight. He covers up how it startled him quickly, tilting his head up towards the brute with a bored expression.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m here to drink.” He says nonchalantly, sipping on the wine bottle. “Impressive display of magic earlier.”

His nose scrunches up, yellow eyes settling on his flaming ones with a glare. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No. Are you self-taught?”

Of all the things he expected tonight, it wasn’t this. Tav, a person who hits things and asks questions later, is curious about him? He wonders if he has an ulterior motive.

He pushes the thought to the back burner of his brain for now but approaches the conversation cautiously. “I am! And a man with many talents, may I add. I’m going straight to Baldur’s Gate to learn from the best: The Great Lorroakan.”

He sees the imposing Tiefling roll his eyes, putting his bottle down to stare out at the water surrounding the camp. Tav looks a little different, in the moonlight. Seeing him up close is a different experience entirely, and now he can see every little detail about him, including how he was shirtless-

Wait, did he just roll his eyes?

“What?” He demands, posture straightening as he grows defensive.

“Nothing. Just heard he’s a cad is all.” He mutters, deciding to pick the bottle back up and taking a long swig.

“Common gossip and rumors! He’s the greatest wizard in all of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve never imagined he would answer my letters.” He states with a happy sigh, idly swirling the liquid in his bottle. “I will become his apprentice as soon as I arrive. I cannot be late, yet Cal and Lia insist that this party is a wonderful idea. An adoring crowd, fine wine - I daresay this place is almost civilized.”

“Do you regret staying?”

“Of course I do. But Cal and Lia…” He trails off for only a moment but snaps back to it. “They deserve to have some fun for a little while. We’ll leave at dawn, either way.”

The Tiefling stares at him for a moment, seeming to be searching his face. For what, Rolan had no idea. Some kind of lie, perhaps?

“All right then. Good luck to you.” Tav eventually settles on.

“…That’s it??” He exasperates.

“If you’re looking for someone to argue with, find someone else.”

“You-“

“You talk too much.”

He settles a death glare on Tav's form. “Prick.”

Tav slowly looks at him with his own glare, determined to play his game. “Entitled fuck.”

“Dumb oaf.”

“Prickly bastard.”

They both stare each other down, faces too close but neither of them breaks their stare. He feels Tav's hot breath ghosting over his lips, and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“You’re insufferable.” Tav huffs, suddenly gripping Rolan’s jaw and kissing him firmly.

He moans in surprise at the force but isn’t against it. In fact, his face gets incredibly red before he remembers he can kiss back.

It’s not like this is his first kiss. He’s given and received kisses before, he’s not some kind of reserved prude. But this is the first one that’s so heavy. Hot. He’s completely out of practice and can do nothing but grip Tav's thicker forearm.

Something about being desirable to Tav makes him throb in his pants, though it also may be the way Tav's tongue is tracing his bottom lip, seeking entry.

Tav's free hand trails to his rear and squeezes, making him inhale sharply; a perfect opportunity for Tav to slide his tongue in to taste him. He knows he's losing his composure and by extension, himself, but what's the harm in indulging in this? It's pathetic, but he's never felt so desired up until this moment, even if this ends up being a fling.

Why did the thought of this being a fling make him feel hollow?

He pulls away to give himself space and to breathe, but Tav doesn't pause, kissing along his jaw and ear. "My tent is west of here if you're interested. No one will hear us."

He shudders at the feeling of sharp teeth grazing the edge of his ear, teasing and provoking. Swallowing, he nods, and Tav pulls him away from the party towards a more secluded part of the area. He hopes that Lia and Cal didn't see him, but they most likely did. He’ll never hear the end of it when he returns.

Almost clumsily, Rolan finds himself in Tav’s tent quickly after, their kissing getting more heated between them. It was a strange feeling, exchanging breaths with someone else, but it felt good. Better than he thought.

They settle down on the floor of the tent, him sitting in Tav’s lap as they continue their make-out. Their tongues dance almost…lovingly. No, he can’t be reading into it right. They barely know each other; he's overthinking again.

He feels his large hands attempting to find the hem of his robes, and he seems to find it quickly as if from experience. Fingers start to dance across the bare skin of his back, running up the ridges of his spine. He sighs out shakily, goosebumps prickling out as his tail anxiously flicks about. Nerves hit him like a loose carriage, fast and suddenly, settling into the pit of his stomach. He felt cold, heart racing a mile a minute.

Why? This was good. Everything was good. This was supposed to feel good.

Why isn’t it?

He’ll give it time. It’s normal to be nervous about this kind of thing, right? Most definitely his lack of experience is a contributor, and doesn’t he deserve this after all his hardship? What’s the harm in pleasure for at least a night.

He feels his back hit the bedroll, warm calloused hands trailing over to the front of his body instead. Their kisses were feverish, desperate, and pent-up. All Rolan could do was grip the bedding below him as nails teased the textured skin of his sternum, a hand rolling a nipple between two fingers.

Tav’s lips go to his neck, finger tips trailing teasingly down his stomach before he begins to palm at his crotch through his smalls-

He can’t do it.

A cold sweat beads on the back of Rolan’s neck, panic and bile rising in his throat as it closes. He can’t do it, and he quickly grabs Tav’s arm with a death grip with wide eyes. “W-Wait, stop!”

Tav immediately gets his hands off of him, giving him space to move. His head reels from the sudden adrenaline, but also because Tav’s stoic demeanor is no longer present, and the man genuinely looks concerned. Fearful, even. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No.” He reassures quickly, but his vulnerable mind is scattered and unfocused as he sits up.

There’s so many reasons why he couldn’t do this, but he can’t pin one down. Surely, Tav deserves an explanation, so he rushes to think of one.

It’s too soon, he hasn’t done this before, and this isn’t the place for it, he’s not a degenerate, his siblings are nearby, Tav is too imposing, it might hurt, it’s too vulnerable, he’s never been with a man, he’s never been with anyone, this is the wrong place to do it, he’s a coward, he’s scared-

“I can’t.” He grimaces, with no actual reason good enough to say out loud. Part of him is worried about what Tav would say; would he be upset with him? On one hand, if he does, Rolan knows that Tav was never worth his time. But on the other, he found Tav not as insufferable as he thought, and he may have just ruined the strange bond they made by stopping everything. Gods, he is pathetic, isn’t he?

Tav sighs slowly in relief, sitting back. “That’s okay.”

It’s not good enough, not for Rolan. As a wizard, he demands answers for a multitude of reasons when things happen. It’s only fair that he gives an explanation, is it not? Finally, he pins down a reason he could give: he doesn’t want to do it after having so much wine. There, that should do it.

Before he could start his tangent, he felt a hand cover his mouth.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s okay.”

He’s about to argue, completely insulted, but it gets muffled by the hand on his mouth.

“You don’t ever have to explain to me why you want to stop.” He says, finally moving his hand away. “I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t say no to me earlier.”

“I did want it.” He assured quickly, because he did. He truly did. Why did he panic?

“But you changed your mind.” He began, not unkindly.

“I did.”

“That’s fine.” He says with a small shrug. “If you want, we can keep kissing. Nothing further than that.”

He laughs in disbelief, running a hand down his sweaty face. “And why would we do that?”

“Doesn’t hurt to have company for a night. Besides-“ He gently takes hold of his chin, tilting his face up. “You seemed to enjoy what we were doing. Why not indulge? Just for one night.”

He smirks up at him, leaning forward with false confidence. “Am I that irresistible?”

“You have a pretty face.” He noted, swiping his thumb across his kiss-bruised lip before kissing him again.

The kiss is lazy and less heated, but it makes his heart pound all the same. Being held so tenderly is new, and he’s growing attached.

He cannot have attachments. What is he thinking? 

After kissing for a little longer, he lets himself be held in the bedroll as they lay down, indulging in the quiet night with Tav. They didn’t need to discuss what happened or question it. It’s exchanging favors. For Rolan, it’s just wanting the comfort of another body near him, letting him pretend that he’ll have something like this in the future. One day, he’ll be good enough for someone. He’s not sure what this does for Tav exactly, but he seems content to hold him.

“You can ask for more if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not embarrass myself more than I already have.” He barks before glancing at him in apology, eyes softer.

“Would it help if I said I will keep my mouth shut about this?” Tav suggested, pushing some hair away from his face.

He shifts to glance at his face, seeing if he is genuine. He can never read his face that well, but when he makes his judgment, he sighs and takes one of Tav’s hands, lacing his fingers through his.

“This is pathetic, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand. “This is nice for me, too.”

Rolan feels himself relax more, body almost relieved that this hasn’t been rejected.

“What will you do, when you finally get your apprenticeship figured out?” Tav asks in the quiet.

“I’ll learn everything I can about all schools of magic. Then I can put on a real show for Cal and Lia.”

“They seem to love your shows already, why change them?”

“It’ll be different.” He pledged, “Bigger, better, and more sustainable. I’ll make them last so much longer, I’ll bring it more colors, and the illusion will look realistic. You will see.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.” He yawns, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“I will show you when you reach to Baldur’s Gate, my friend.”

There’s no response, only a quiet snore greets him. At first, he’s annoyed, but it’s hard to be angry when he is just as exhausted from today. For now, he falls asleep in his arms, hoping that for once no nightmares haunt him.

The Tiefling beside him is still fast asleep when he wakes at dawn, though he’s impressed by how the man can sleep through the screeching birds outside.

Quickly, he fixes his robes and hair, trying to not look like a mess. Cal and Lia are surely going to tease him, knowing he never returned to their tent. He debates on whether to wake the idiot up to say goodbye, but that seems foolish. He needs to sleep, and they need to head to Baldur’s gate immediately.

So he opens the tent, sparing one more look back before leaving.

He cannot create attachments. Not now, not ever. Not until he’s done with his apprenticeship.

#forest-writes #holy rolan empire #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 #rolan x tav #cal #lia #rolan fanfic #rolan brainrot

[armins-main-hoe]

Coukd u do an aizawa arrange marriage fic?

Sure! But i don't think i can create a whole fic with chapters so this will just be like a really post with my head cannons about it.

I know you sent this request like literally ages ago and I'm so sorry for only now getting to post it. I was not trying to deliberately ignore you're request I just had not opened tumblr to write in a very long time.

But I'm back now and I'm going to keep up with all the requests I get.

Aizawaxfem!reader

Selenophile

(A person who loves the moon)

You both got married in your early twenties, by now quirk marriages were not as common and were often frowned upon, yet your life had been sealed with Shota Aizawa since you got your quirk.

His quirk, the ability to remove another's quirk with his eyes and your quirk, the ability to control another's health, to either make it better or worse, by your touch.

What your families hoped to achieve was a quirk where one could control another's health with their sight. Since you can always see further than you can touch, the two family heads believed that a quirk like this could lead to a lot of success and, of course, money.

Neither families were at the top of the upper class of society but that did not stop them.

When you first met Shota, you could tell he was a man of few words, he did not like small talk. His eyes sullen and drooping with lack of sleep. You struggled a lot to keep the conversation going with him.

During your engagement, you hardly met him, he was busy with starting his career as a pro hero and you were still doing your apprenticeship under the top nurse of Japan's most famous school, UA.

When you got married and had arrived at your honeymoon, you were sweating buckets. While you weren't all that close to your newly wedded husband, you could never deny that he defiantly had the body of a pro hero, in other words, he was hot as fuck sometimes.

All the exhaustion from the wedding had suddenly disappeared as you began to wonder if he too was expecting anything from tonight.

He didn't. He went straight to sleep. Ugh, men.

The rest of your honeymoon was just as awkward, well at least from your side it was, Shouta did not seem to care all that much, he just appreciated the actual time for sleep he was getting.

Months passed and your relationship with your husband did not get any tighter, you both took turns with chores and cooking, working around each other's schedules.

By now Aizawa's pro hero career was kicking off and you had finished your apprenticeship and had begun working with Recovery girl.

You soon began to think your life was not all that bad, you enjoyed your job and it paid extremely well, you had developed some sort of mutual understanding with your husband, though there was no romance nor friendship, there were no arguments or squabbles either.

Not wanting to admit it so soon, you had actually begun to feel fond of Shota. Sure no strong romantic feelings yet but you could tell he was a genuine guy. A workaholic but to be fair, so were you.

After a year went by, however, you both soon began to get pressure from your families to start trying for a child. They wanted their perfect quirk and they wanted it now, claiming that they had given you both plenty of time to settle in.

Shota would then tell you that he was perfectly fine with waiting, since all anyone can do was talk and shout. No one could physically force you to conceive a child. He also believed now was not the time for a child for you both, since the two of you were so busy with your own work lives.

While you agreed with him you began to wonder if he actually ever wanted to have children. Just like you he was forced into this marriage, neither of you had a choice. But now that you are married, no one can force you to have children like they forced you to get married. So in a way, you both have a choice now.

You didn't ask him about it.

One day you got a call from Shouta, it was late in the evening and you had came home after work. He had told you before hand that he was going to go out and have dinner with a friend of his.

You pick up the call and immediately realised the person on the other end was NOT your husband.

"Yo Mrs Aizawa, your *hic* HUBBY bubby is on the floor, passed out *hic*"

ah, Hizashi Yamada, also known as President Mic. You had never met him but you knew he was a really close friend of your husband's. You then made your way over in your car and picked the two drunk men up. After some difficulty, you managed to get the loud blonde to his place and then got yourself and your husband back to your place.

You helped him walk up the stairs and back to your shared bedroom.

"Okay, stay sitting on the bed, i'm gonna get you something esle to wear okay?" You tell him softly.

"Y/nnnnn?" Shota called out even though you were in the same room.

"I'm here." you say while opening his wardrobe.

"You're my wife, you know that?" He drunkly babbles.

You smile at his antics. "I know shota." You walk towards him with a pair of more loose clothes.

"My pretty wife."

You know he's drunk but it still made you blush.

"My pretty cute wife." He then grabs your face, squishing your cheeks.

"S-shota-"

"Why are you like that?" He asked, letting you go and throwing himself back on the bed.

"Like what?"

"Like, like... like awkward around me. I'm your husband!" He threw his arms up for effect.

"Come on, change your clothes." You pull him up so he is sitting again.

Thats when he pulls you onto his lap.

"Shota!"

"Y/n!" he whined.

He then hugged your waist, nuzzling into your neck. You're entire body flushed, you did not know what to do. You couldn't move even if you wanted.

"You're like the sun y/n.." He then mumbles, yet you couldn't quite understand what he was saying as all you could focus on was his lips brushing against your neck.

"So pretty and happy and... well.. hot. But no matter what I can't get close to you."

"i'd say you're pretty close to me right n-now..."

"But i'm drunk." He then looks up at you.

"Oh so you're aware?"

he nods. "I don't think I have the balls to hug you sober."

You let out a soft laugh, your mind and heart still racing, you had never been so close to him ever since you shared a kiss on your wedding day.

"Why's that?" you asked him, somehow feeling your heart calm down.

"I'm scared." Your eyes widened at his words. You never thought he could be scared of initiating a deeper relationship with you, you always thought that he just did not want one. The conversation ended there that night since he ended up falling asleep straight after.

Shota woke up to one of the worst hang overs he has had his entire lige the next day. Suppose it was not all that bad since his wife took the day off to help him get better.

He did not quite understand why she would take the whole day off, he already had the day off which is why he even agreed to drinking. He thought that she didn't have to skip work just fro him, though he was grateful that she did.

He also noticed that something about her has changed, she became more... close? He isn't quite sure. But he likes it.

With a new step forward in your relationship, the two of you found each other becoming much closer to each other, you would sit and talk for much longer during dinners, tell each other more about your personal interests and on those off days where your both manage to get a day off on the same day, you both would spend the day together, almost as you would on a date.

Then there was a day where Shota had another long shift at his agency, he came back home with a few new cuts and bruises.

You were just getting ready for bed when you saw him go in the bathroom, you noticed the blood dripping down his arm.

"Shota?" You knocked on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" You heard him say followed by a soft groan.

"What happened?" You ask. "Can I come in?"

"It's fine don't worry, go back to bed."

"Shota.... I can help. You know how my quirk works."

After some convincing, he let you in. His cheek had a dark pink bruise forming, his hero suit ripped. Though he mostly wore black, up close you could see darker patches of black where it clearly was soaked in his blood. The worst of it was his arm, his sleave completely missing and he had burn marks around a massive cut that started at his bicep to his elbow.

"Fuck." You breathed out at the sight of it.

"That bad huh?" He chuckled.

"Why didn't you get patched up at ur agency?" You looked up at him

"The medical staff are out on strike."

You nodded, you heard of some medical staff in some agencies leaving because of how little they got paid.

"Take your top off" You softly say. You can't imagine the type of pain he must be in and yet he's standing and smiling at you like it's nothing.

His top was off and you saw many other little cuts adn bruises filling his skin. You frown at the sight.

"I'm okay Y/N." He whispers.

"No you're not. Stop acting so tough. No one would be okay in a condition like this." You softly scold him while you take his injured arm in your hands and start using your quirk to heal him.

"I'm okay because I have you remember. Look, it's as if it wasn't even there." He looks down at his arm, any sign of injury completely gone. You shake your head at him and then start to work on his torso.

There you both stood, under the single light of the bathroom, your hands on his bare chest while he looked down at you. You then looked up at him. your hand coming up to gently trace the bruise on his cheek while you watch it slowly disappear as you used your quirk. You're eyes met his.

There was something in the way he looked at you. Something that made you feel warm. Something that made you feel safe. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or maybe the way he looked at you but you found yourself leaning towards his lips.

One of his hands held you by your waist, another now on the back of your head as he leaned in too.

At first it was just a simple peck. But that small kiss ignited something more. As if burning down the doors that help all your pent up emotions towards him. He pulled you back in, kissing you much more passionately this time, his lips moving against yours as if he needed to devour you. He walked you backwards while kissing you till your back hit the door.

Breaking off for air you looked up at him. "Finally grew those balls huh?" You teased him, referring back to when he was drunk.

He rolled his eyes before picking you up so your legs crossed around his waist, carrying you to the bedroom and laying you down on the bed while he hovered on top of you.

"You.. ready?" He asked, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"For what?" You ask. He wiggled his eyebrows at you while smirking. You let out a laugh while playfully smacking his chest.

"So?" He laughs with you, littering your face with his kisses.

"Yeah, I'm ready." You smile while you felt his lips kiss you all over.

He stopped and took time to admire you, his wife. His pretty wife.

#mha #my hero acedamia #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #bnha aizawa #aizawa sensei #arranged marriage #aizawa arranged marriage

[homunculus-argument]

When I was 19, I dated a guy who was 29. It was one of those "nobody in this situation is making good life choices" situations, really. He was an american, and for a long time I figured most of our issues were cultural differences. Like his insane paranoia about cheating. In Finland, not cheating on your partner isn't something you brag about, it's something you take for granted. Boasting about how loyal you are would be considered just as insane and suspicious as bragging about the fact that you don't beat your wife.

I had never dated anyone in my life, and naturally had never cheated then nor now, but the fact that I didn't brag about it apparently rang alarm bells in his little head. He took everything I said as a sign or clue of something, getting upset at me for accepting a place for an apprenticeship with a male artist without considering his feelings about it, and if I mentioned I didn't like a movie I had watched on the plane on my way to see him, he'd start wondering whether I'd actually watched it on the plane, or whom had I watched it with.

His justification was that everyone he had ever dated before had cheated on him. So naturally he's suspicious. And while he hadn't explicitly put two and two together for me, he had told me that his mother had been cheating on his father and they were just about to get a divorce when they had Frank instead. I had met Frank's father once, and seen a picture of his late mother. Frank's father was a remarkably tall, skinny, dark-haired man built like a scarecrow. Frank was shorter than I am, bulky-built, and had red hair. His mother was blonde, and Frank did not exactly look like either of them.

So this one time he was upset at me about something he had imagined again, and argued that it's entirely reasonable for him to be suspicious of everything I do, when everyone's always cheated on him. And at this point I was too fucking angry to be upset, and asked him why the fuck is it my fault that he's a fucking natural-born second-generation cuckold, like his father before him.

He threw a coffee cup at my general direction, it hit the wall behind me and shattered. For reason this wasn't even the argument we broke up over.

[kakushino]

Haganezuka's apprentice - Fem!Reader

You'd heard about his temper, or rather, you heard his temper, long before you first saw him. The need for new swordsmiths went beyond personal wants and so, you found yourself as one of the would-be apprentices under masters of their trade. Your master though? Haganezuka Hotaru

Since you would be entering the Swordsmiths' village proper, as a citizen and not a visitor, you had received your own hyottoko mask, as ugly as the rest of them, yet crucial for its anonymity. You were grateful to it though, because it hid your scowl during your first few weeks under Master Haganezuka's dubious tutelage.

"Not like that, you stupid shithead!"

"This is shoddy as hell. Again."

"Useless brat."

"If Kamado got a sword like this, he'd be coming back for another in a day."

It was all you could do to not blow up on him. As it was, you just shut your mouth and tried to keep up. You weren't even sure if he knew you weren't a man; after all, the masks did distort even voices.

You understood though, really. He was forbidden from touching the forge until he healed up and just tried to focus his energy on you, but he went about it completely wrong. 

Every insult and snide comment fueled your wrath. It was time to show him what you were made of, what you learned and what you could do. 

With bandage-covered hands from the blisters and rawness of overworking, you did what you did best as of late - forge.

The day you presented your first 'passable' wakizashi (passable for him, very good for others) was the day his comment felt less offensive and more… like a compliment?

"Hmpf, guess you aren't that incompetent, brat."

With time, the heat of his words went out of the window, his vulgarity dwindling as you improved in leaps and bounds. Despite his harshness and unpolished way of teaching, you'd become a swordsmith who could stand on her own two feet. Your apprenticeship would last for years more though, giving you plenty of time to really get to know your master.

"You didn't buy yourself any dango? Idiot. Here, take one. Don't tell a soul or you're dead."

"Here… What do you think it is? I didn't know you were so stupid you couldn't recognize tea. You like this type, don't you? So shut up and take it."

"Tsk. Brat. As if you could distract me from my- is that Gyomaru's dango? Hand it over."

Haganezuka Hotaru was just abrasive on the outside, but a big softie on the inside. 

A big softie who couldn't take care of himself properly at times. 

"Master Haganezuka, you need to eat. You've been in here for over a day." You cautiously touched his shoulder, hoping beyond hope he would snap out of the Zone. You'd brought dango and tea, hoping to entice him with the smell at first. It wasn't working, obviously.

He said nothing, just continued to hammer away at his latest work. 

“Master Haganezuka?” you shook his shoulder a little, making him pause for a moment before he continued. Your patience wore thin. You scowled. You’d be surprised if the ugly expression wasn’t permanently fixed into your face with how often you wore it when dealing with him. 

Maybe taking off his mask would make him pay attention to me?

Spoiler alert: It did not.

But it did make your face feel hot when you saw how handsome he was under it. A few shiny scars from the not-so-recent village attack still stood out against his pale skin, making him even more attractive.

Sweat made his dark hair stick to his skin, and suddenly, you were curious about the whole picture; you untied his scarf - it wasn’t like he was going to un-Zone anytime soon, you reasoned. You were not ready for the dark wavy tresses spilling over his shoulders. It was not fair how much of a looker he was. Was this man really single?

You continued to study him, memorizing his features for long lonely nights in your accommodation. Soon enough, you realized you were being a creep and should stop at once; you needed to finish what you started after all.

“Master Haganezuka!” you reached for his other shoulder to shake it. What you didn’t account for was the fact it was his blind side. Instead of an insult or even a scathing remark, you were nearly slashed with a red-hot blade in the face. You took a quick step back and it thankfully only knocked off your hyottoko mask to the ground, the wood smoking a little where the iron made contact with it. You stared at it with wide eyes, your heart in your throat and terror pulsing in your veins. “...”

“...you’re a woman?” 

Your eyes met his, both of you staring at each other in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” 

A flush rose to his cheeks, before his expression turned to white ash. “The old man is gonna kill me.”

"How did you not know I was a woman? The Chief told you when he was introducing me."

"I wasn't listening," he huffed, looking away. 

"More importantly, you just tried to kill me!" 

"Not my fault you were being stupid, brat!"

"You were being stupid. You didn't get out of here for over a day! You have to eat! And sleep!"

"Sleep is for the weak! I need to finish this project-" Haganezuka turned back to his bench, reaching for his hammer.

You snatched the tool before he could touch it. "No, you don't-" You high-tailed it out of his forge, clutching his favorite hammer as if your life depended on it.

"Wait-! You useless wench!"

Your master swore up a storm, hurling insults, screaming at you and chasing you with his half-finished blade. 

Kanamori even ran out into the street in his pajamas, mask askew, a katana of his own in hand, thinking there was an attack again. Seeing Haganezuka, he huffed and went back to sleep, too tired to deal with this right now.

A few days later, the Chief came to officially scold your master. You had a kick out of it, thankful your mask hid your smirk.

#does this count as a drabble? #probably not since it has 1k words #desi writing #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #fluff #i think it counts as fluff #haganezuka hotaru #haganezuka hotaru x reader #haganezuka x reader #hotaru haganezuka #haganezuka #i tried

[donna-rinascimentale]

i just KNOW den den tumblr would go hard

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🪝🔁 jolie-rouger reblogged westendgirl

🪝 jolie-rouger

ok i know we went through this months ago but i just found out overflowing sasaki has my birth month on the sexy pirate calendar this year and i just—

listen if having a pirate kink is wrong i don’t wanna be right LOL

🎠 westendgirl Follow

Please delete this. In my country, everyone knows someone who was killed by pirates. It breaks my heart that I can’t browse safely without people like you making light of my trauma.

🪝 jolie-rouger

aren’t you the marine who got called out for spending work money on a PX5

#no but i was like. where have i heard that name before #and i snoogle it and see that’s THE westendgirl #never leaving this website. #rouge speaks

24 notes

🤖🔁 codepunk reblogged uminosora

❄️ uminosora Follow

hey im laine/stealth. 22 they/he. grand line (south side).

yes, this is a sora fanblog. i want to make it clear that i do NOT condone irl marines. AMAB. yes even your marine dad or sister or grandpa

minors dni im not a babysitter

i have an electrical engineering apprenticeship so PLEASE PLEASE talk to me about it ill love you forever

i’m an artist! i post my work under #my art !!

if we are mutuals please tw injections, wasps, and tra/fal/gar la/w (individually or with my catchall #laine don’t look or #stealth don’t look)

extended byf/dni under the cut

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

#laine.txt #intro #sora warrior of the sea #umi no senshi sora #artists on tumblr

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👒 fuckyeahmugiwaras Follow

© FOR MUGI

XX0531 ♥

#MONKEY D LUFFY #STRAW HATS #STRAW HAT PIRATES #LUFFY #HAVE YOU EVER SEEN SUCH A LITTLE GUY #A FACE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD. TOO PURE. #ADMIN BARTO #ALSO BY THE WAY MOD HEBI IS TAKING A SMALL HIATUS. WILL EXPLAIN IN A LONGER POST

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The new CRIMINAL S/S 20XX collection is here.

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🍤 lia-writes Follow

SOOOO sorry for the slow updates guys! I live near the Newgate protests and my house got molotoved so I lost internet access for a few weeks BUT I’ve been writing the next chapter down on paper & just transferred it so here it is!!

Lift Me Away - Roku x Reader - Chapter 3

You find yourself trembling, not knowing what struck you. The man’s arms envelop you gently, knowing his strength, his presence otherworldly. He feels too perfect to be human—and yet he’s warm and he exhausts, the way he’s exhausted protecting you. He tilts you upright, careful of your weak knees, and looks you in the eye.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

#monkey ball #monkey ball roku #roku x reader #reader insert #female reader #fem reader #roku x fem reader

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🃏 meadowoftheroad Follow

“i don’t find sea kings cute” ok??? sometimes a little baby has 18 rows of teeth

#sea king mention #meadow rambles #i just want to take them home is that weird?? #little noodles #1k #5k #10k #50k

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🌁🔁 vanillacrypt reblogged 4kari

♾️ rokusbreastimplants Follow

daily reminder that it’s okay not to engage with what’s on the news lately. breathe. you’re not a bad person for feeling overwhelmed; you’ll be alright. if you’ve been scrolling for too long, go get up and take a walk/have a glass of water. the internet isn’t going anywhere; your mental health comes first.

🌁 vanillacrypt

wise words from rokusbreastimplants

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🎀 nanayagi Follow

#soul king #brook #soul king brook #soul brother #soul sister #soul king fandom

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🪃🔁  criminaldildo reblogged bone2beasoulsister

👤  dressrosan-dreamgirl-deactivated20xx0714

I usually don’t like to delve into drama, but I can’t stay silent any longer. Mod Hebi of @fuckyeahmugiwaras is an EXTREMELY predatory individual. I will not be disclosing any of my sources, for my safety and theirs, as she has an irl documented history of hostility towards her critics.

To start, Mod Hebi is inappropriately fond of Straw Hat Luffy (who she met irl when she was in her 30s and he was 17). I’ve been told she’s tried to flirt with him on several occasions, given him large gifts, and tried to guilt him into choosing time with her over his female crewmates.

Literally kicks kittens??? I shit you not they say they’ve seen her straight up BARRELING kittens across the floor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

🦴  bone2beasoulsister  Follow

i believe it. the way she never updated about anyone else, only luffy, and left admin barto to do all the hard work… it was always off to me.

🪃  criminaldildo  Follow

where is this coming from??

yeahhh not going along with this until there’s ACTUAL proof. mod hebi is very much a solo stan but. kicking kittens… how are we supposed to take these cartoon villain allegations seriously 💀💀

🪃  criminaldildo  Follow

of course. deactivating when people question them.

#i know we stan criminals here but can we as a fandom please express some critical thinking for ONCE

8,385 notes

🏺🔁  00tsugi reblogged mad-gadfly

🎑  take-me-to-sea  Follow

scheduling my lobotomy at doskoi panda

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🌁🔁  vanillacrypt reblogged sailingacademic

🛳️  marines  Follow

Pursue truth. Fight for justice.

Do you have what it takes to join the Marines? Learn more at gonavy.🐌.

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🥡  addtocatalogue  Follow

ppl in the “pirate fandom” who only orbit “safe” pirates like cavendish or boa hancock are WEAK. buddy if you saw the pirates i want to fuck you’d hurl.

#pirate fandom #pirates #if he’s eaten a fruit in the last week i do not want him

1,377 notes

💫🔁  sunsetsoveralabasta reblogged

💫  sunsetsoveralabasta  Follow

some homeless guy on horseback gave me a nice looking apple… im hungry and curious.

💫  sunsetsoveralabasta  Follow

hoptal

#in my defense the horse was very cute

874 notes

#one piece #op #dashboard simulator #unreality #monkey d. luffy #zoro #luffy #sanji #roronoa zoro #tw unreality #usopp #nami #nico robin #robin #franky #cyborg franky #tony tony chopper #brook #soul king #soul king brook #jinbei #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #boa hancock #bartolomeo #fake dashboard