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[rax-writes]

Trust

Astarion x gn!reader. My spin on the first biting interaction at camp with our fav vampire. I’ve been having some Thoughts.

Warnings: mentions of blood, light sexual tension. written on my phone. not proof read lol

Teeth bared directly above your face, white and gleaming. Sharp. The sight had you scrambling backward, feet slipping on the bundle of blankets you slept with before your sleep-addled mind cleared and recognized the silver hair and ruby eyes.

“Shit,” whispered that purring voice.

“Astarion?” Your voice was thick with sleep still. Your mysterious companion held his hands up in an attempt to calm you as you matched his movements to stand.

His ethereal eyes remained warily on yours even as he bowed his head. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear,”

You glance at your other sleeping companions; too tired or too far away in their tents to hear. Seems you were lucky that nightmares kept you just on the verge of consciousness. A vampire was in your camp after all. “What’s going on? Were you trying to hurt me-- hurt the others too?”

Campfire flame danced in Astarion’s wide eyes. He inched away from your suspicious look. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you! I just needed, well…blood.”

“I wondered how long you’d last,”

You had your doubts at first, but the little puzzle pieces kept clicking. The boar your party had found days earlier. The coolness of the brush of his hand despite the battles and time under the sun. That was before you caught yourself staring at him a little too long at the smooth angles of his face, and the silver curls that swept around his elven ears. You were sure he saw you glance at his lips more than a healthy amount. That healthy amount helped you catch a glimpse of two pointed canines.

“You…You know?” He inclined his head slightly, rooted in place. His accusing tone held an urgency for you to continue.

“That you’re a vampire? Yes,” you stated. His searching eyes had you wishing you would sink into the ground.

“How long have you known?” He tilted his head to the side; a curious trait you found endearing if you didn’t think he appeared to be sizing up his next meal. And you very well could have been just that.

“Over a fortnight. Astarion--”

“You didn’t tell the others?”

“No. Gale thinks you have an affinity for blood magic you won’t tell him about and Shadowheart just thinks you’re odd. That’s all I know,” Your shoulders relaxed just a hair when Astarion smirked. He met your eye again and it faded.

“You have been keeping a close eye on me. Is it distrust? Or perhaps something else,”

“Nothing of the sort,” you assured him, “The signs were there, and I put two and two together. You’re not subtle,”

Astarion let out a laugh, airy and flitty. “And what do you plan on doing with your excellent sleuthing skills?”

“Depends entirely on you. How long has it been since you killed someone?”

“I haven’t killed anyone! At least, not for food, since I’m assuming that’s what you mean,” You nodded. “I feed on animals. I know you know that much. Boars, deer, kobolds—whatever I can get,”

You felt his gaze linger on your racing pulse point. He was focused so intently on it your heart raced faster at the attention.

“It’s not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak,” his tongue absently wetted his front teeth. Your lips parted a bit in realization: your sleeping self would have been all too easy for him to get to.

“You wanted to feed on me,”

“I…Well, yes, if I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better,” Astarion straightened and moved closer. “Please,”

The timbre of his voice made your flesh crawl. Not unpleasantly so.

“Why didn’t you ask me instead of trying to sneak a bite in the dark?”

“At best, I thought you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He eyed you up again. “No, I needed you to trust me. You can trust me,”

“I already did trust you. I thought that was clear,” you told him. His eyes flashed with something like surprise.

“Almost too trusting,”

“The least I can do is give you the benefit of the doubt,” you tried a small smile, not enough to show teeth. “The least you can do is trust me too. What do you need?”

Red eyes held you in place. Moonlight illuminated Astarion’s silver curls as he moved closer, footsteps silent on the dirt. “Let’s try to trust each other a little further, hm? I only need a taste,” he hummed, “I swear,”

You pinched your lip between your teeth, refusing to shy away from his predatory lean toward you. This moment held possibly the longest conversation with him you’d had so far. Despite your first meeting— which included a dagger to your throat and your fist thrown at his face— his actions gave you no other reason to doubt him. You did not know the man at all besides the bits and pieces he’d let slip, only on purpose you were sure. He’d kept you all alive thus far. That was enough for you.

“I…How do you want me?”

Astarion smirked. “Presumptuous, darling,”

Your cheeks burned. “Not like that—You know what I mean, asshole,”

“I’m hurt!” He placed a hand over his undead heart and feigned offense. Still, he came face to face with you. You felt your breath pick up when delicate, cool fingers moved your hair from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. Already this was feeling a touch too intimate for your comfort.

“Should I sit?”

“You should,” his words brushed against your skin; gentle, cool as the breeze. You leaned away from his touch, avoiding his eye as you sat in front of him on your bedroll. A log in the fire snapped, making you jump. “You seem nervous, darling,”

“Can’t help it. You want to take a chunk out of me,”

Another airy laugh left the man as he kneeled to your level. “That all?” he tilted his head again to make sure you met his gaze. You broke the charged contact to roll your eyes, allowing him that small win. “I’m no animal. Lie back,”

You tensed as he urged you onto your elbows. Fuck, this was like nothing you’d done before. Astarion was nearly draped over your body as he followed your own movements. His arm planted itself on the ground beside your hip and he began to bow his head toward you. “Wait, wait,” you gasped.

“What’s wrong?” There was no impatience present in his tone. Thankfully. Still, deep-set hunger swam in his ruby irises. Your cheeks flushed deeper at his closeness.

“How badly does it hurt?”

His expression hardened. He studied a spot on your neck, seeming a mile away in his own thoughts. It was emotion deeper than he’d previously allowed you to see.

“I’ll be much gentler than to you than the vampire that did this to me,”

Your curiosity was brimming when you looked at the symmetrical scars on his neck but you did not want to make him uncomfortable, so you remained quiet, and sent him a nod. Your exhale disturbed a few strands of his hair as he closed the distance between you completely.

Astarion’s nose and lips briefly skimmed the artery in your neck and you shivered at the feeling. Little warning alluded to his teeth finding purchase in your skin.

You let out a yelp of surprise, one hand digging into the dirt at your sides and the other flying to grip the front of the vampire’s shirt. Your breath did not come easily; the icy pain was almost too much. You felt your knees curl up as if your body was trying to fold into itself. The reflex nudged him closer.

The pain numbed as you felt him swallow against your throat, drawing your warm blood into his mouth. Your head fell back. His hand was there to catch it.

A fleeting moment of focus made you think the action was rather intimate. Possibly even sweet.

Another gulp. You squeaked, both in pain and in response to the foreignness of his ministrations. You tugged his collar and your eyes fluttered closed. You moaned softly as you regained your breath. His low growl, nothing more than a vibration, rumbled through your veins. Your body warmed.

Embarrassingly, you didn’t realize the rest of your body was moving until Astarion’s hand flattened over your hip. A groan left you when his teeth retracted from you swiftly. A cold hand held your own. Your neck stung when you turned your head.

Astarion’s pupils were blown wide so only a sliver of red outlined them. He’d shoved himself away, dropping your hand and stumbling into a standing position. With his fingers he wiped away your blood staining his lips. You stared, unabashed, when he licked them clean. He panted though he had no use for breath.

Lightheaded and slow, you sat up.

“Are you alright?” Concern rang in your words.

Gods above, Astarion thought, you had blood trickling from the puncture wounds in your neck that’d he’d left—fuck, he wanted to dive back in and lick up the trail leading down your chest—and you’re the one asking him if he’s alright.

His mind cleared. His hunger was satiated for now. His cock was hard. He hated how your moans affected him. He wasn’t even trying to bring them out of you, though he caught himself imagining how he could. Whatever it took to make you trust him, with no doubts. You claimed you already did, but would you go so far as to help him with his personal ambition?

The scent of your blood--gods, he was awash with pleasure of a kind he couldn’t name. He felt strong and…happy. Astarion was certain he’d said that out loud, judging by the shy smile on your lips. He’d have the blissful image and the taste of you on his mind all night.

Astarion made some excuse to get away from you, the first person he’d tasted since turning into the monster he was. He was invigorated. Ready to take on anything and anyone. Something he admitted to himself: he would --possibly, maybe-- willingly do just that for you. He would not soon forget what you had gifted him.

[rax-writes]

Taftm Mot Touch Me (Infernal)

pairing: Rolan x gn!Reader (no pronouns or descriptors used, just "you")

This is dedicated to my pookie @viennacherries for her birthday!!! I highly recommend her work, if you somehow have not seen it already!! Please show her some love <3

〚 Masterlist | WIP List 〛

-MDNI-

Word Count: nearly 3.5k What to expect: going down on sub!Rolan !!! smut with no plot, soft dom reader, submissive Rolan, begging, CUM !!!!!! GRAPHIC language, very horny stuff. oral-fixation adjacent, body worship

seriously, there are a lot of descriptions of... body.. fluids... so if you don't like that, I do not recommend continuing on! CUM EATERS RISE !!!!!

We really need more oral-only content in this damn fandom.

suggested pre-read: general tiefling headcanons (NSFW sections)

The practically see-through fabric of Rolan’s white linen night shirt draped over your shoulders and down your body. The sight of you in his shirt and nothing else, the center of your chest on full display, and your hard nipples poking through the thin fabric would be enough for him to release all over his own stomach if given enough time - and his thighs were already quivering.

You stand before the man laid back on your shared bed, breaking down by the second. He was only in his pants and undergarments when you had sat him down on the edge of the mattress not even a half hour ago when he still had a firm hold on the majority of his composure. But now he was completely naked and leaned back on his forearms, thighs spread and loose hair framing his face, strands sticking to his forehead. After the minutes you’d spent asking him what he wanted, asking him where he wanted to be touched, what he wanted to do to you, yet refusing to give him any of it, he had resorted to begging. 

You look down at the trembling man, eyes locked on the clear fluid dripping from his cock and pooling on his abdomen. His soft whimpers force your eyes to his face, “Please… touch me. Please,” he whispered through long, almost labored breaths, “I’ll do anything.”

With a small smile, you start to make your way to the stand in the spot between his legs. His breath suddenly hitches and his legs spread wider as his body sinks back further on his forearms. Your knees bend until they meet the floor and you kneel before the man you love, the man who was begging to feel your flesh against his. His hips rise off the bed as he scooches himself closer to the edge, watching every muscle on your body to prepare himself for whatever you might do next. It was the closest you’ve gotten to him since the kiss that had ended with his shirt and your pants on the floor 30 minutes ago. 

His cock looked painfully hard, the two prominent veins up the length of it pulsing full with blood, his balls practically swollen with his desire. “Oh Gods,” Rolan shuddered upon feeling his cock twitch under your sharp gaze, his whole body becoming involuntarily wiggly. 

The palms of your hands meet the insides of his thighs, immediately eliciting an audible gasp from Rolan as his hips roll up into the air, proving his need for your touch. “Stay still for me, my love,” you say with your hands frozen against him, refusing to move until he heeds your request. He gives a quick nod; his eyes wavering, clearly unable to choose between closing his eyes or keeping them fixed on you. 

As your hands continue slowly up his thighs, his breathing deepens while he tries to hold back his moans, his eyes finally fluttering shut with focus. Thumbs trace the thick veins that protrude slightly from his skin, running from his knees and disappearing just shy of his groin. With a gentle push, you open his thighs even more, something he eagerly allowed you to do - evident by the way his hips raised and cock twitched. 

You hum with a small smile at his longing, dipping in to press wet kisses against the inside of his thigh. Trailing up, you get closer and closer to where you know he needs you most before repeating on his other leg. His skin is hot, and his strong muscles flex as he tries to keep himself still. You trace your other hand up, using your thumb to rub the spot where his leg meets his pelvis, pressing on as close as you can to the base of his cock without actually touching it. 

Quiet, desperate moans to start falling from his lips when you begin to suck dark spots into his skin, slowly, one after another, trailing up each of his legs. His thighs tremble more with every minute that passes by, with every sweet swipe of your tongue against his bruising skin. And what a beautiful sight it is when you pull back, your eyes trail from the 5 dark red marks to a perfect, leaking cock, the fists gripping the fabric that adorns the bed for he knows what would happen if he were to touch you without your permission, to the desperate yet loving eyes that now refuse to leave yours. 

More of his clear, sticky fluid has spilled onto his trembling abdomen, he looks like it’s about to burst. His head had clearly begun to spin, but his tired eyes awaken when he feels your movements stop. “Please,” he muttered once again, “I need more, I can’t-”

He’d just have to hold on a little longer.

“Look at that,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you lean toward his stomach to get a better look at the mess he’s made of himself. “All of this, just for me?”

“Only for you…my love... I’m yours..” he murmurs before his words are swept away by a forceful inhale when he watches your tongue land on his stomach; you finally taste him, the product of his desire for you. And one taste is never enough. Not when your mouth is flooded by the sweetly salty flavor of his lust. Not when he moans so beautifully at the sight of the thin string that connects his skin to your lips when you pull away. You want to lick him clean, but you’d be robbing yourself of such a beautiful image - your love covered in his own mess, a mess that resulted from the effect you had on him. 

You continue your ministrations between his legs, kissing, licking, and sucking another deep red spot or two onto his waist; mindful to leave his length untouched. He continues to plead to you, calling you every name he knows you love, begging you to let him taste you or to take him between your legs so he can finally feel you the way he most loves - eventually asking for you to just do something when all else fails. Only when his words simmer do you finally give in. “You’ve been so good for me, my love,” you say, placing a tender kiss right next to his cock. He shudders when your breath grazes over the sensitive skin. “Are you going to keep being good?” 

“Yes,” he immediately responds, his rate of breathing already starting to increase, and you mirror the kiss on the other side of his length. “I promise,” he whimpers, picking his head up to better watch your movements. You peer up at him with daring eyes as your lips make gentle contact with his length, a tender kiss in acknowledgment of his promise. Rolan’s lips pressed together in an effort to stifle his noises, likely feeling pathetic at how badly his body wanted to react to the simplest of touches. “Ah-.. Thank you,” he barely mutters out. 

“You’re going to tell me when you’re close,” you state, watching as his face crinkles into an exacerbated expression. What you had in store for him was probably one of the last things he wanted right now, but you knew he’d relinquish just so you’d finally do something to him.

“My love, I-...” he starts. You pull away from him slightly to readjust your position, but his eyes widen, “No, please, I understand! Please, don’t stop.” 

Your expression shifts into a small smile as you finish repositioning, leaning back into him and grabbing the base of his cock. His face softens as he watches you place another light kiss on him, “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Now, what are you going to do?” You begin to rub his shaft gently, looking back at him with doe eyes as you continue to pepper him with soft kisses. 

“I’m going to tell you when I’m close,” he says, watching your every move. Satisfied by his response, you begin your work on him with one long, flat-tongued lick from his base to his tip, continuing to massage the opposite side of his length. He moans low and his fingers twitch, so desperate to be laced in your hair instead of the fabric of your sheets. 

His cock is beautiful - perfect, even. Such a thing of wonder with all of the pleasure it’s given to you, you can’t help but want to worship it sometimes - can’t help but want to take your time to love on every inch, every ridge, and savor every last drop that leaks from him. If making love to someone only using your mouth was a teachable skill, you’d be the one to give a masterclass in it. 

Your kisses become harder and wetter, and your spit sticks to him with each one as your mouth starts to water. Your body is instinctively preparing itself to take him in your mouth at any second, all the while Rolan’s breaths are becoming short and heavy, accompanied by light whimpers with every kiss. 

You make your way even further down, gently licking and sucking at the soft skin of his balls; your hand still delicately stroking his cock. “Ahhh… Gods!” Rolan’s pleasure rang through your ears.

Ever since the moment he was fully undressed and on his back for you, anyone with eyes could’ve been able to see how badly he had wanted you to touch him there, the skin around them often tightening in a subconscious plea for your touch. They were always beyond sensitive, sometimes you wondered if they actually got heavier, if they actually swelled as a testament to Rolan’s desire for you as the night drew on - or if it was just an illusion of your own lust. 

“Do you ache for me, my love?” you purr, lavishing the tight skin with your tongue and fixing your gaze on his face, watching as the first moments of pleasure seeped through him. Listening for his soft whines. 

He shudders, “Yes,” having fully given up on trying to hide his desperation. A small, sharp moan comes, something akin to a squeak, as you suck the delicate area a little harder. His hips involuntarily rock, so desperate to feel more friction from your soft tongue. You return your mouth to his cock as your eyes fall to his hands - knuckles lightening with tension. 

He had waited long enough. 

With one hand cradling his balls, the other around his base, you finally take his tip into your mouth. Your senses become overwhelmed with his delicious taste on your tongue and the ravishing sounds that fall from your love’s lips. Your eyes flutter shut and you can’t help but moan out in your own gratification. 

Your head bobs up and down - flat tongue and hollowed cheeks hugging every inch - as you attempt to take him deeper with every stroke. You break pace occasionally to roll your tongue over his slit, pleased with the way it stays leaking in encouragement. Broken words of praise fall from his lips. Airy, high-pitched whines escape his throat. You keep the pace steady and slow, savoring the feeling of your lips passing over every ridge adorning his cock. 

His sex fills your mouth and your throat stretches around him; the sounds of your efforts become extraordinarily lewd as the room is filled with sounds of wet and soft gagging every time you take him in. You swallow around him, adding to his ecstasy while also trying to get a better taste of him, but not to much avail as a combination of your shared fluids seeps from your lips. It gathers, running down his skin and onto the mattress. 

The head of his cock finally reaches the back of your throat and you fight your body’s instinct to pull away. Your nose presses into his abdomen and more fluid falls from your lips as you attempt to push your tongue out to accommodate more of his length; so desperate to feel him in your chest. Rolan sobs out in pleasure, his hips rocking up into your mouth instinctively, his balls tightening in your hand. His movement suddenly pushes his cock deeper into your throat, you can’t help but moan around him at the sharp sensation. Your name resonates in the air like a prayer, and you swear you hear fabric tearing, all color having drained from his knuckles as his nails rip into the bed sheets. 

“Ah! Ahh-,” he cries when he feels his cock leave your mouth. Your hand continues your work on him as you take a breather, leaving a few sloppy kisses near his tip. Your heart flutters with every one of his wanton moans, but you’re taken out of your near-trance when you feel his cock twitch once more. Looking up, you see his neck bared, his head fallen back in pleasure. His chest heaves and the muscles of his abdomen tremble harder than they did earlier. He’d tell you any second now that he was close, and Gods what an exciting thought it was to know he’d soon be filling your mouth in an entirely different way.

“You’ve been so patient, sweetheart,” you hum before guiding him back into your mouth, “you can touch me now, if you’d like.” 

Rolan moans a quick, “Thank you,” in relief as one of his hands immediately grabs the one you have at his balls; pulling it with him as he returns to his previous position leaning back on his forearms before doing the same with your other hand. He interlocks his fingers with yours and holds on for dear life. 

You return to your earlier movements on his cock, taking him as far as you can, careful not to let him fall from your mouth. Now that he finally has your hands in his, it would be very hard to get him to let go, and you’d have to find another way to return his length to your mouth. More glorious sounds of his pleasure ring through the air, you’d be forgiven for thinking an angel had came down from the heavens and started to sing. 

You feel his hips scooch down to the very edge of the bed, and watch out of the corner of your eyes as his thighs finally open as wide as they can - his tell-tale sign that he’s close. You knew his body better than he did, there was really no point in telling him to let you know when he was close - you’d be able to know even if you had only half your senses. His cock twitched for the last time, and his grip on your hands tightened slightly.

“Ah- I’m close, I’m close,” he finally sang. 

You circle your thumbs against the soft skin of his hand in encouragement, humming around him again in the same effort. You increase the pace of your movements and the intensity of your suction - focusing more on keeping his head bumping against the back of your throat. You come up for air only once, immediately returning him to his pleasure as his moans become loud and almost mewling. His tail wraps around your upper back, pulling you slightly closer and stiffening to keep you in place. 

You catch a brief glimpse of his disheveled state, watching as his back begins to arch before you hear the soft final words, like calm before the storm. “I’m- ahh–... I’m-”

The muscles in his torso relax for a split second before tightening back up, every layer of Hell breaking loose as his orgasm floods over. You eagerly allow his seed to begin filling into your mouth, taking him only halfway in to give yourself a better angle to watch him come undone. His back arches fully, his beautiful neck fully exposed as his head hangs back in euphoria. He’s fully stiff for a moment, not making a sound as his hands have a near death grip on yours. 

The first few ripples of bliss are always the most intense for him, but the least eventful for your viewing pleasure. When he comes crashing back down from those first moments, though, that’s the most beautiful part. His body becomes fluid again, his chest breaking into deep heaves, desperate moans finally picking back up, more frequent and high pitch than ever. It’s when he finally cries out your name, when he starts praying to you like you’re his only God. He becomes grabby as he continues to ride out his orasm; his fingers leaving yours as his palms begin to urgently roam the rest of your arms, nearly pulling them off of your body with the strength he doesn’t even realize he has. 

Loud, desperate, repeating “Ah!”s rain down on you as you continue to slowly bob your head on him as your mouth fills with his ongoing release. You thank his heritage for giving him such long orgasms; for giving him the ability to release into you longer than you ever thought possible. They often feel endless, sometimes filling you for nearly half a minute, filling you more than you can physically handle. You push him to the back of your mouth, moaning around his length when you finally feel him paint your throat. His cum is hot, but pleasurably so. You take your first swallow of him, elated to finally feel his heat travel down your throat. 

And, Gods, does he taste incredible. His seed tastes so purely of him, something you cannot get from any other part of him. Sure, you taste him on his lips or tongue when you kiss him, but you also pick up on the trace flavors left behind from his morning tea. You can suck on the delicate skin of his neck, tasting the slight salt of his skin, but there’s also hints of the smokey bergamot scented body soaps and scrubs that he uses when he bathes. His cum tastes purely of him and nothing else - his essence. You take another swallow.

You remove him from your mouth and stick your tongue out, offering the remaining seed that pumps out of him a place to land before allowing it to fall past your lips. It drips down his length, pooling where his base meets his torso before dripping further down over his balls and onto the floor below. Once you’re able to get your hand back, you gently stroke him, coaxing him through the final moments of his orgasm. When his load goes from shooting out to seeping out, you move away, leaving kisses along his skin once more - peppering every inch from his stomach to his shaking thighs. 

Rolan’s moans recede and the only thing you can hear is his heavy, trembling breaths. “My love…” he calls out to you with barely any sound. You crawl on top of him, one hand still gripping his length between your bodies, gently massaging in an effort to bring him down slowly instead of all at once. His hand grasps your waist as he looks at you through tired, hooded lids, and slightly damp eyelashes. You pull back to get a better look at him. 

As he’s laid down fully on his back, his hair sprawled out beneath him, some of his sweat glistens on his forehead. His eyelashes are wet, and single tear stains grace each of his temples - his beautiful golden eyes look back into yours with a level of love and adoration that you would never be able to describe with words. His hands rub at your sides as the heaving of his chest slows down, his nipples still slightly hard. 

You bring a thumb to his wet lips, dragging it across his bottom lip before he opens his mouth in invitation. His hand grabs onto the back of yours, holding it against his face as he gently twirls his tongue around your thumb. He’s so beautiful like this.

“You did incredible, my love,” you say, pulling your hand away from him, replacing it with your lips. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like that… and watching you come undone… and letting you cum in my mouth…” you whisper between kisses, earning a faint moan from him at the last sentence. “I love the way you taste…” 

Another small whine falls from the lips that nearly chase yours as you pull away to look at him. His tired eyes bear into yours, clear that he has no energy left in him to speak. They flicker between yours and your lips, wanting so desperately to feel them pressed on his again. He had been so patient, so obedient to you all night that all you wanted to do now was give him exactly what he wanted. You brush your nose against his momentarily before bringing him back into a tender kiss, more than happy to spend the rest of your days like this if that’s what he wants. 

[rax-writes]

reblog to give the person you reblogged this from a fucking break

[rax-writes]

its always daddy's kitten never daddy's fat capybara

[rax-writes]

↬ desperation

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ !! Smut, afab!reader, p in v sex, oral (f!receiving), not proofread, whole lotta breeding kink because my girlie @drizztdohurtin needed a fix

Upon deciding to turn in for the night, you only managed to remove one singular piece of jewelry before your husband's hands were on your hips, and his lips were on your neck, trailing desperate kisses along the curve of it.

"Hello to you, too," you jested, only earning a hum in response. It seemed Daemon's focus lay outside of pleasantries. 

Unsurprising.

Daemon made quick work of your dress, and the moment he got to your thin linen shift, he was ripping it in two, wrenching it apart at the front and earning a small gasp from you.

"Gods, what's gotten into you today?" you inquired, although your voice held no agitation or malice.

"A burning desire for my beautiful wife. What else?" Daemon replied simply, groaning softly as he cupped your breasts in both of his hands, massaging them and leaving more kisses upon your neck and shoulder. Moments later, he pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear before earnestly whispering, "I need you, ābrazȳrys. You'll let me have you, won't you, ñuha jorrāeliarzy? I'll make it good for you, you know I will, my love...."

As he whispered these promises to you, one hand trailed down to your still-clothed sex, his middle finger rubbing you through the ever-dampening fabric. 

Somehow, you managed to breathe out "Yes," and that was all it took for Daemon to hoist you into his arms and carry you to the bed. He all but threw you upon the mattress, and he hastily removed your underwear, throwing it so harshly that you'd think the garment itself had wronged him in some way. 

Daemon dove between your thighs then, throwing them on his shoulders in a hurried manner, as though he couldn't get his mouth to your cunt fast enough. It was immediately clear that he did not intend to take his time tasting you as he normally would, but that did not mean it was unenjoyable. No, Daemon knew precisely how to get you off as quickly as possible, and he accomplished that goal in record time, moaning against you as his hot, desperate tongue hastily lapped up the juices that spilled from you. 

You had half a mind to wonder if there was some sort of time crunch you were unaware of, as you watched him rip off his own clothing through half-lidded, hazy eyes. Once he was bare, Daemon met your gaze, and he had this... almost *feral* look in his eyes, as though he would either die or kill someone if he didn't bury himself inside you this very instant. 

You had seen that look before. You knew what he was desperate for – what he was desperate to do. 

Before you could address it, he was caging you with his arms and his body, moving your legs to his shoulders as he situated his knees on either side of your waist, already ensuring that he would reach as deep inside of you as possible, before the act had even begun. His eyes closed for a moment, and he exhaled very slowly, as he rubbed his cock against your wet warmth, before notching the head of it against your still-quivering cunt. He glanced at you, waiting for either confirmation or denial, and as soon as he saw your small nod, he filled you to the hilt in one swift thrust.

Daemon was not a meekly-endowed man, and the sudden sizable intrusion stole the air from your lungs. He usually rocked himself into you slowly, letting you adjust to his size before continuing. Even after countless experiences with bedding him, it was still a lot. It burned – just enough to feel positively fucking glorious. The gasp you'd let out faded to a moan, and Daemon knew that was a sufficient cue for him to continue, and he began a brutal pace. 

Finally, he revealed the truth you'd already surmised, cradling your face a little while asking, "Issa dōna ābrazȳrys... will you give me another? Another child. I've spent all day picturing you with a rounded belly and swollen tits, and it's driven me to madness, my love. I need it. I need to see you so beautiful and so fucking full of me again. Please, ābrazȳrys, let me.... Let me fuck another babe into you...."

As though to sweeten the offer, he stopped cradling your face to reach down and begin rubbing your clit. Your ability to respond was cut off with another moan, and Daemon added another "Please." The way he wasn't quite begging, but still making it obvious that he would only do it if you were agreeable to it.... That had you throbbing around him. The mere notion that this man, this Rogue Prince that so many fear, is seeking your approval for finishing inside of you and giving you another child, for no other reason than he's desperate to see the way you look while carrying them. It was dizzying.

"Yes," you breathed, and Daemon's eyes met yours, an unmistakable glimmer of excitement in them. "Yes, my love. Give me another baby. Let everyone who looks at my rounded belly know that I belong to you, and you to me." 

Daemon practically growled upon hearing your words, and removed his hand from your clit to move both hands behind the base of your head and grab two fistfuls of your hair in a tight grip, pounding into you with a newfound vigor. It didn't take him long to finish inside of you, the sensation and the positively feral look upon his face – the slight snarl of his upper lip, the way his teeth were clenched, the sheen of sweat on his brow – it all sent you hurtling over the edge as well, milking him until he had nothing left to give, his seed so abundant that it was spilling out of you as he continued to fuck the rest deeper, harder, desperate to ensure his seed takes hold within your womb. 

[rax-writes]

[rax-writes]

↬ desperation

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ !! Smut, afab!reader, p in v sex, oral (f!receiving), not proofread, whole lotta breeding kink because my girlie @drizztdohurtin needed a fix

Upon deciding to turn in for the night, you only managed to remove one singular piece of jewelry before your husband's hands were on your hips, and his lips were on your neck, trailing desperate kisses along the curve of it.

"Hello to you, too," you jested, only earning a hum in response. It seemed Daemon's focus lay outside of pleasantries. 

Unsurprising.

Daemon made quick work of your dress, and the moment he got to your thin linen shift, he was ripping it in two, wrenching it apart at the front and earning a small gasp from you.

"Gods, what's gotten into you today?" you inquired, although your voice held no agitation or malice.

"A burning desire for my beautiful wife. What else?" Daemon replied simply, groaning softly as he cupped your breasts in both of his hands, massaging them and leaving more kisses upon your neck and shoulder. Moments later, he pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear before earnestly whispering, "I need you, ābrazȳrys. You'll let me have you, won't you, ñuha jorrāeliarzy? I'll make it good for you, you know I will, my love...."

As he whispered these promises to you, one hand trailed down to your still-clothed sex, his middle finger rubbing you through the ever-dampening fabric. 

Somehow, you managed to breathe out "Yes," and that was all it took for Daemon to hoist you into his arms and carry you to the bed. He all but threw you upon the mattress, and he hastily removed your underwear, throwing it so harshly that you'd think the garment itself had wronged him in some way. 

Daemon dove between your thighs then, throwing them on his shoulders in a hurried manner, as though he couldn't get his mouth to your cunt fast enough. It was immediately clear that he did not intend to take his time tasting you as he normally would, but that did not mean it was unenjoyable. No, Daemon knew precisely how to get you off as quickly as possible, and he accomplished that goal in record time, moaning against you as his hot, desperate tongue hastily lapped up the juices that spilled from you. 

You had half a mind to wonder if there was some sort of time crunch you were unaware of, as you watched him rip off his own clothing through half-lidded, hazy eyes. Once he was bare, Daemon met your gaze, and he had this... almost *feral* look in his eyes, as though he would either die or kill someone if he didn't bury himself inside you this very instant. 

You had seen that look before. You knew what he was desperate for – what he was desperate to do. 

Before you could address it, he was caging you with his arms and his body, moving your legs to his shoulders as he situated his knees on either side of your waist, already ensuring that he would reach as deep inside of you as possible, before the act had even begun. His eyes closed for a moment, and he exhaled very slowly, as he rubbed his cock against your wet warmth, before notching the head of it against your still-quivering cunt. He glanced at you, waiting for either confirmation or denial, and as soon as he saw your small nod, he filled you to the hilt in one swift thrust.

Daemon was not a meekly-endowed man, and the sudden sizable intrusion stole the air from your lungs. He usually rocked himself into you slowly, letting you adjust to his size before continuing. Even after countless experiences with bedding him, it was still a lot. It burned – just enough to feel positively fucking glorious. The gasp you'd let out faded to a moan, and Daemon knew that was a sufficient cue for him to continue, and he began a brutal pace. 

Finally, he revealed the truth you'd already surmised, cradling your face a little while asking, "Issa dōna ābrazȳrys... will you give me another? Another child. I've spent all day picturing you with a rounded belly and swollen tits, and it's driven me to madness, my love. I need it. I need to see you so beautiful and so fucking full of me again. Please, ābrazȳrys, let me.... Let me fuck another babe into you...."

As though to sweeten the offer, he stopped cradling your face to reach down and begin rubbing your clit. Your ability to respond was cut off with another moan, and Daemon added another "Please." The way he wasn't quite begging, but still making it obvious that he would only do it if you were agreeable to it.... That had you throbbing around him. The mere notion that this man, this Rogue Prince that so many fear, is seeking your approval for finishing inside of you and giving you another child, for no other reason than he's desperate to see the way you look while carrying them. It was dizzying.

"Yes," you breathed, and Daemon's eyes met yours, an unmistakable glimmer of excitement in them. "Yes, my love. Give me another baby. Let everyone who looks at my rounded belly know that I belong to you, and you to me." 

Daemon practically growled upon hearing your words, and removed his hand from your clit to move both hands behind the base of your head and grab two fistfuls of your hair in a tight grip, pounding into you with a newfound vigor. It didn't take him long to finish inside of you, the sensation and the positively feral look upon his face – the slight snarl of his upper lip, the way his teeth were clenched, the sheen of sweat on his brow – it all sent you hurtling over the edge as well, milking him until he had nothing left to give, his seed so abundant that it was spilling out of you as he continued to fuck the rest deeper, harder, desperate to ensure his seed takes hold within your womb. 

[rax-writes]

basically this tbh

the homie @rax-writes said she couldn't remember how she and I became friends, saying it probably had something to do with Rolan

wish I could've seen the look on her face when I reminded her that we first bonded over tiefling-esque dildo recommendations in the comments of a public post on tumblr dot com

[rax-writes]

pussy drunk rolan & overstimulation

warnings: MDNI, NSFW, afab fem reader, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight use of tail, implied submissive rolan (he just wants to be a good boy for you!!), hair pulling, praise.

shout out to @drizztdohurtin because she's the reason I write Rolan the way I do! go check out her blog if you haven't yet! <3

Rolan has been between your thighs for what feels like hours, with no regard for his own pleasure. You are his top priority, which he has made very clear by the way he begs you to sit still, to let him taste you until he's had his fill. You could swear he gets more pleasure from going down on you than you do. That is, if the way he moans into your pussy and ruts against the mattress is anything to go by.

You've had three orgasms prior to this point, each one feeling stronger than the last. Each one shifting you further into bliss, but such pleasure will always become unbearable after too long.

You tug at Rolan's hair and horns, trying to coax him out from between your thighs. He's too lost in the taste of you, the obscene sound of your wetness, and the way you squirm under him. And gods, he loves the way you pull at his hair- and so, the pleasure he offers you is unbounded and dizzying.

"You're doing so good baby, but fuck," you practically pant, the pleasure teetering between just right, yet too much when he sucks at your swollen clit, "don't think I can take much more..."

"One more." Rolan pleads, whining into your soaked cunt, as he laps at it enthusiastically. For all intents and purposes, he's hell bent on giving you as much pleasure as possible until you physically can't take it anymore.

"Just one more..." He assures you again, using his tail to wrap around your right leg to pull your trembling thighs farther apart.

He says just one more, but you've heard that lie before. That's what he said two orgasms ago, and yet here you are. Though, he begs so sweetly, with that whiney voice of his and those pleading eyes. So how could you deny him? He just wants to please you.

It's so good, he's so good- but you're bordering on being overstimulated, the pleasure becoming too much the longer he spends between your thighs. Your hips buck off the mattress, trying to get away from his incessant tonguing of your poor swollen clit. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and a choked moan of his name climbs up from your throat, sounding hoarse from how long you've been at this.

"Rolan, baby please-" you mewl, but you can't pull away. He has you locked in place with his tail spreading your thighs open, and his hands holding your hips down.

He pays no mind to your lewd cries, you've done this before and he knows you can handle it again. If you really wanted him to stop, you'd safe word. But you haven't, and so he continues, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips in an attempt to keep you still. He just wants to be good for you, to give you as much pleasure as you give him.

You're close, it's clear in the way you scream and writhe. The pleasure floods your veins, leaving you unable to think of anything else but the adamant teifling that resides between your thighs. It's too much, you think, as you come undone yet again and your vision goes spotty.

A slew of curses fly out of your mouth as your orgasm wracks your body, followed by you begging Rolan, "No more baby, please- you were perfect but I can't take anymore..."

He lets out a low hum of delight when you praise him- Finally he concedes and lets you to pull him away from your oversensitive core. When you get a good look at his face, you see his eyes are half-lidded and blown with lust. You know he'd keep going if you let him, but he knows your limits and so he stops.

Instead, you grasp one of his horns and pull him into a kiss, pressing your lips against his- you taste yourself, the slick that still clings to his lips. You're met with such passion on his end, and despite feeling like you're in a haze after four orgasms- you cannot help but smirk as you gently turn him onto his back. He's been so good for you, and you're more than ready to repay the favor.

[rax-writes]

When the netherese orb in your chest ruins your love life for a SECOND time 🤣

[rax-writes]

Gods Above, Devils Below

Raphael x reader

Warnings: smut, fingering, bit of dub/con

Near-blistering air carried with it smoldering embers and the faintest hint of cherries. The House was his domain, the very pores in the rock filled with his scent, meant to overwhelm and lay claim to all those who enter and all those who would never leave. Despite this control Raphael had over his hellish home, it was steadily dwindling in the presence of the creature before him. Her scent was all that surrounded him. Her face that clouded his dreams. Her, the darling who bartered her soul so that her friends could be heroes and save her home of Baldur’s Gate. An honorable act had earned her a fool’s fate.

How the gods above should see her now, playing servant at his side on one of his castle’s many balconies with stoicism etched into her expressions, stray hairs whipped about her face by hell-wind. A golden tray with an ancient bottle of wine and a single goblet rested atop her upturned palms. Her eyes were frozen at a point ahead on the jagged and ashen landscape of his palace safely tucked away in his slice of Avernus. The darling dared not look at him—dared not spare him a glance that would hold him over through the night.

His lips curled in annoyance and he swore the woman braced herself. The slightest puff of her chest, the stiffening of her back already pin-straight. Raphael could not deny the swell of devious pride that just his change in attention caused such a reaction in her. She had been seeing him even without looking.

“Do pretend to be happy, little mouse. I could have you scoured away in my dungeons in Hope’s place, should you keep up your display of disrespect,”

He reveled in the way the delicate muscle under her eye twitched.

“Hope is a much better prize than I, devil, but do what you wish.”

Raphael let out a spirited sound from his chest. “Ha! What I wish for is a little appreciation for your current arrangement,” his eyes trailed down the woman’s body, the gossamer gown the color of the surrounding barren landscape leaving little to the imagination if he were to squint, “I allow you almost entirely free reign of the palace, meals, baths, music—“

“And endless poetry from yours truly?” She quipped. Her stoney stature finally broke. Raphael’s way to rejoice was to grace her with a slowly creeping smile.

“You’re such wonderful inspiration. Prayers ignored by the gods, forgotten by friends you risked your soul for,” the devil clenched a fist, “A little darling in the clutches of a fiend forevermore,”

Her gaze soured. The tray in her hands wobbled dangerously. “I know what I’ve done. That does not mean I have to enjoy it,”

“Ah, but it’s such a delight to try. Who knew lending fine treatment only leads to your torture instead?”

“‘Fine treatment’? I’m a servant,”

“My servant, yes,” Raphael stood, noting the way her eyes followed his form. He wondered if it would always be fear behind her fierce gaze or if he could see it change to awe. Or desire. Then he wondered again if he preferred the fear a little too much. “That’s what your contract says, dear one,”

“I know what it says!” She snapped. With a breath strained with anger she set the tray with his wine down on the small round side table nearby before it toppled completely. She stormed away from him, towards devils know where. Raphael remained quiet as he followed close behind—Oh how he loved to rile his little pet. He admired the glimpse of supple thigh as the material of her dress whipped around her legs in her movements of fury.

“Something burdens you,” Raphael gave no warning as his hand shot out to grip her wrist. The woman came to an abrupt halt at the threshold of his balcony. The golden bracer adorning her wrist clinked softly. “I gave your friends the solution they’d been fighting for, the happy ending you felt they so deserved. Yet you feel they don’t deserve it, right?”

Her jaw worked around her stuttered reply. “O-Of course they do.”

“Then what still burns so harshly in that brave heart of yours?” Raphael’s insides sang at the roll of her eyes.

“Do I really have to answer that?” She asked the air in front of her. Raphael gave but a small tug that had her spinning to face him.

His voice took a darker pitch. “Oh, I command it,”

This glorious creature of his stood shorter than he but perfected the act of looking down her nose at him nonetheless.

“Release me, devil,”

“That was not negotiable,” his grip tightened and the woman winced. She looked into his eyes, looking upon how they blazed in her presence. “And do call me Raphael,”

“Just yesterday you told me ‘it’s master to you’,”

“Answer,” he warned, and the woman squirmed. Her nostrils flared, that fire in her heart spread; Raphael basked in the heat.

“I regret every second,” she spat. “I called them friends. I held them. I even shared in their kisses. But they allow me to sell myself to help their cause. They left me down here to rot in a devil’s prison,”

Raphael inhaled deeply, audibly. “Your bitterness becomes you, darling. The taste of it is marvelous,”

The woman flinched, and he did not know if it came from his words or disbelief of her own. Raphael answered for her. “There it is. The truth you've been denying yourself of for all the time you’ve been in my domain,”

His little mouse’s fire doused. Raphael opened his fingers and she tucked her hand away. She hugged her arms across her chest, silky fabric catching gently on the gold bracer. “I did what I thought was right. I can only blame myself.”

“That is what I find most fascinating about you, dear one,” Raphael held her gaze and stepped closer, causing his delightful dear to maintain the distance with a hasty step backward.

“What’s fascinating?” Her question dripped with wariness though she refused to shrink away from him as he neared once again.

“Your loyalty to those most cruel to you. So-called friends wouldn’t leave you here this long without at least an attempt of rescue,” Raphael began, watching the woman’s nose crinkle, “The gods didn’t listen to you,”

“As you love to point out, devil,”

“Raphael,” he stated; a repeat reminder. “Let me finish now, pet.” He stalked forward until the woman had nowhere to run, nowhere to flee. Her back pressed against the stone railing behind her and her mouth pinched in helpless frustration. “The gods didn’t listen to you…” Raphael brought his knuckle under her chin and tipped it up so he could gaze upon the face that brought him such delicious turmoil, “but I will,”

Pretty lips parted and breath hitched. The struggle with realization danced behind her eyes. Her chin jerked back and away from his touch. What terrible games she played.

“There is nothing you can offer me,” she swallowed; Raphael watched her throat move and wanted to wrap his hand around it.

“On the contrary, my darling,” he pressed closer, sliding a leg between her own and finding now resistance. Her shock was evident, but she quickly gathered her wits and bared her teeth.

“You have Haarlep for your filthy needs,” The bite of her words left no marks.

“What of your filthy needs?” Raphael felt a smirk pull at his lips. “We are bound, dear one. I feel your loneliness—the ache it bears on you. You miss the affection of your companions. Look to me to remedy that,”

“I hate even looking upon your face, devil,” her palms pushed on his chest only to find him immovable. He took her hands in his and maneuvered her to face away. She yelped as her stomach pressed against the railing.

“Then don’t,” Raphael hissed in her ear from behind; he heard her swear in response. His hands released hers and they trailed up her arms. She dared not move. Gently as he wished, they slid over her trembling shoulders. Down her sides, to her hips.

Rage pooled around her, mixed with something else.

“You said you’d listen to me,” her statement sounded more like a question, asked with a sigh. Resignation. That’s what he detected.

“Yes, pet,”

Her hands gripped the stone she pressed against, “I want to see what my sacrifice helped,” she breathed unevenly, “That’s all I ask. I want to know exactly what I was worth,”

Raphael summoned a shimmering visage of the world above, of a healing Faerûn. Not free of conflict, but not at war; not under threat of the Elderbrain. Raphael felt the woman in his arms shake against his front but she held her head high.

“Thank you.” The statement was whispered but it echoed through him with all the strength it took her to say it.

“I am a man of my word, dear one,” he bowed his head and kissed the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder. Another shudder ran through her. This time she did not resist.

“Make it quick,” she said. Her words were edged with malice.

“You ask impossible things of me,” Raphael nipped at her earlobe. It earned him a growl. He drank it in as his hands crawled over the front of her thin gown. The piece draped in front lifted with weightless ease. His darling shifted, making the curve of her ass press against his hips.

She remained wordless as he grazed the bare plane of her belly with his fingertips. He brought himself closer against her, molding around her body and gliding his mouth over her neck. “I want to touch you, dear one. I will touch you, in all the ways we both need,” She inhaled sharply as his hand sank further down her torso and his middle finger found the slit of her. Heat pulsed from her swollen bud under the pad of his finger. Raphael let out a deep purr.

His darling bit back a moan. “Damn it, devil…”

He chuckled darkly as collected her wetness and began to rub rhythmic circles. Her jaw opened soundlessly beneath his lips. Raphael parted from her enough to watch her eyes flutter closed. Fingers joined together and applied more pressure. She whined. Music to his ears. The devil played her sensitive body like organ keys. Her back bowed. In arching her back she became a crescent moon. Glowing and pure in his world of darkness. Just a little sliver of her could make him howl. And he heard it.

“Raphael…” she pleaded. He could have crashed into his own climax with the brush of a hand. His name cried from her lips brought the old devil halfway to salvation.

His fingers curled and pumped inside her tight heat, slick dripping between them. She came undone with her head thrown back against his shoulder, knees weakening enough to make him hold her up with his own body. His darling collapsed into him, knuckles white from her grip around the stone railing. His chin nuzzled her hair and lips planted a kiss to her temple. Embers and cherries scented the air. Teeth grazed her neck, begging to sink in and claim her.

There was no need. Her soul already his. Now her body too. Maybe now she would come to welcome him enthusiastically, to let him make her forget the shared moments of intimacy with her companions. Maybe now she would look upon him without fuss, and with reverence as he tasted more and more of her. The possibilities made his fiendish heart race.

As he panted into her skin, he thought of the numerous deals he refused made by her friends for her release. Some more tempting than others: ascension, a throne, a crown. Raphael found it all too easy to resist. He’d gotten what he’d desired and he’d tell her one day about her friends’ attempts at being heroes again. Only when he was sure they could both laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it. Only when he was sure she would choose nothing else than to be at his side. Raphael could taste the delight of that future on his tongue. He would have it one day. They had eternity together, after all.

[rax-writes]

Nine People I'd Liked To Know Better

Tagged by snookums @drizztdohurtin ♥

Last song I listened to – lmao "Blame It" by Jamie Foxx and T-Pain

Currently watching – I've hyperfixated on BG3 for this entire year, so I really haven't watched anything

Sweet/Savory/Spicy – Sweet or savory

Relationship status – Married 💍

Current obsession – Baldur's Gate 3 obv

No pressure tags: my girlies @mxgyver & @silvermanon ♥

[rax-writes]

New Perspective

Rating: E Pairing: Gale x female!Tav Additional tags: pwp, face-sitting, breathplay (not intentional, Gale just gets a bit carried away) Word Count: 1.3k

Read it on AO3

"I hoped you might indulge me in something.” “Of course, my love. What is it?” she asked, excitement clear in her eyes. “I was hoping to taste you.” Tav's brows furrowed and she opened her mouth, doubtless to say that this request was nothing new. “I was hoping,” he interjected before she got the chance, “to do so from a... different angle than usual.”

Literally just 1300 words of face-sitting

It was lovely, these slow, heated moments together. Laying side by side, kissing, hands trailing where they pleased, clothing long discarded. Gale grasped Tav's waist firmly and rolled, pulling her on top of him. She happily followed the movement, settling in above him and grinding appreciatively onto the hardness now pressed against her core. The movement didn't last long though, as Gale gripped her hips to hold her in place.

“Wait,” he breathed against her lips. “I...” He hesitated, eyes glancing quickly to and away from her.

“Yes?” she prompted after a moment.

“I was- that is to say, I hoped you might indulge me in something.”

Tav's eyes lit up. She'd been trying to get him to ask for more in bed for ages, claiming he was too generous (as if such a thing were possible). He wasn't entirely sure what he was afraid of, if he was being honest. He knew by now that she wouldn't be upset over a simple request. Especially not when she'd been directly asking him to make more of them. But old habits died hard, and old anxieties and insecurities lingered. Still, a thought had been forming in the back of his mind, spurred on by faded yet compelling memories of youthful dalliances. Compelling enough for him to brave asking for it.

“Of course, my love. What is it?” she asked, excitement clear in her eyes.

“I was hoping to taste you.” Tav's brows furrowed and she opened her mouth, doubtless to say that this request was nothing new. “I was hoping,” he interjected before she got the chance, “to do so from a... different angle than usual.” He pulled on her hips, trying to move her up his body. He saw her eyes widen as she took his meaning.

“Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you.”

“Absolutely positive,” he replied, this time without any hesitation. “I...” he paused again, glancing away. “I haven't had the opportunity in quite some time, but I have done it before and I remember finding it quite enjoyable. Though of course if you would rather not-” He was cut off by a kiss, warm and affectionate.

“If you're sure,” Tav murmured against his lips, “and you truly would enjoy it, then I would be happy to oblige.”

Gale's breath caught and his fingers dug more firmly into her hips. He looked up at her and could almost feel the hunger in his own expression. He licked his lips and pulled at her again, and this time she followed. In moments she held herself above his face, bracing against the headboard as his hands trailed from her hips down to grip and knead at her thighs. He leaned up and kissed the inside of one, then nipped at it, startling a pleased little sound from her.

“Perfect,” he murmured. He pulled down on her thighs and she slowly lowered herself until she was barely an inch from him, his breath fanning over her already wet folds and making her shiver. He would never get used to how eager she was for him. How easily he could coax her into arousal. It was a gift and a wonder every time.

He wasted no time, briefly nuzzling against her folds before licking a broad stripe from her entrance up to her clit. Tav gripped the headboard tighter, her legs shaking slightly.

Gale was in paradise. Tav's thighs, so strong yet soft, surrounded his head. Looking up he could only see her cunt, already glistening for him, and the long lines of her torso leading up to her breasts. Her warmth and scent surrounded him, his whole world reduced down to only her. He moaned as he licked her again, savoring the sweet, salty, musky taste of her. He moved his hands, one drifting down so he could spread her open with his thumb, the other sliding back to grip her delightful backside and urge her further onto him. He licked down from her clit, sliding his tongue into her once he reached her entrance, and she moaned, her hips twitching towards his mouth. Gale hummed his approval and thrust into her with his tongue, hoping she would do it again. He licked deep, letting his nose nudge against her clit, and was rewarded with a whine and another twitch. After a minute or two he changed tactics, the hand holding her open moving down so he could slide one, then two fingers into her while he eagerly lapped and sucked at her clit. This got the reaction he was looking for: her hips grinding down as she rode his tongue. Her moans were almost drowned out by his own, muffled though his were.

He pulled away just enough to pant “That's it, love. Just like that,” before diving back in, burying his face in her warm, slick center. He relished every sound she made. Every grind against his enthusiastic tongue. Every clench of her core when he did something she particularly liked. She was everywhere, overwhelming, and he never wanted to be anywhere else. He felt almost dazed as he licked at her, chasing her pleasure. Nothing else mattered. He didn't need petty things like air, he only needed more of her taste, her scent, the soft slickness of her against his face, and her beautiful moans showering down from above him. Moans that might have been breathtaking if he hadn't already been a bit short of breath as it was. He didn't mind a bit. His own gasping breaths and the slight lightheadedness only served to enhance his pleased near-delirium. Stars burst behind his eyelids, and he genuinely didn't know if they were from pleasure, lack of air, or both. He thought he may be able to get off on this alone, and was more than eager to test that theory.

As it stood, though, he could tell that Tav was reaching her limit. Her moans had morphed into whimpers, and the rolling grinds of her hips had turned into desperate, arhythmic thrusts. He slid his fingers into her as far as he was able and drew her clit between his lips, flicking the very tip of his tongue against it as he sucked. She arched above him, her thighs clamping around his head and shaking as she crested her peak, moaning his name in a way that nearly had him tumbling over that edge with her, still untouched. He coaxed her through it with gentler movements of his lips and tongue, savoring her pleasure. He couldn't help his whine as she rolled off of him, though given the slight burn in his lungs as he gulped in a breath, he had to admit it was probably for the best. Besides, he couldn't complain about the way she moved to lie next to him, grabbed his face, and kissed him fiercely, licking and kissing her own wetness from where it had essentially coated his face from nose to chin.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You got a bit quiet there towards the end.”

“Much more than alright, my dove,” he panted, grinning. “That was...” he trailed off, trying to think of how to adequately describe what he was feeling.

“Everything you hoped for?” she proposed after a moment.

“And more,” he confirmed. “You are magnificent. Wondrous. Perfection itself.”

Tav shook her head slightly, but she knew better than to argue with him when he got this effusive.

“So, I take it you want to do this again sometime?”

“Gods yes. I-I mean, if you are amenable, of course,” he added, catching up to his own overeager tone. Tav simply smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

“I would be very amenable,” she replied. “Though for now...” she reached down and slid a couple fingers lightly up his shaft, making him shudder. “How would you like to finish? My mouth? My hand? My breasts? My cunt?”

Gale groaned, rolling his hips into her touch. “However you want me. You've indulged me once already this evening, it's your turn to choose.”

Normally Tav might have argued, but instead she simply hummed thoughtfully. “That's true. I suppose I can give you this one. And in that case,” she said, kissing her way down his body, “I'd like to take my turn tasting you.”

[rax-writes]

"Are you okay" NO. THERE ARE LITTLE FICTIONAL BITCHES IN MY HEAD. AND THEY'RE KISSING.

[rax-writes]

"I've grown quite fond of you, you know - in my way."

[rax-writes]

[rax-writes]

Writing advice from my uni teachers:

If your dialog feels flat, rewrite the scene pretending the characters cannot at any cost say exactly what they mean. No one says “I’m mad” but they can say it in 100 other ways.

Wrote a chapter but you dislike it? Rewrite it again from memory. That way you’re only remembering the main parts and can fill in extra details. My teacher who was a playwright literally writes every single script twice because of this.

Don’t overuse metaphors, or they lose their potency. Limit yourself.

Before you write your novel, write a page of anything from your characters POV so you can get their voice right. Do this for every main character introduced.