#d.rogues love letters

[ravengards-rogue]

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader, top karlach, bottom reader, strap-ons, breaking the bed, act three spoilers (vaguely), karlach is the weensiest bit of a bully, 18+

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡

Karlach can't keep her hands off you.

Not her fault, in her defense. She had to spend an incredibly long, incredibly daunting leg of your journey not being able to touch you at all. Really, some of the hardest shit she's ever done in her life - even with her time in Avernus being Zariels' little lapdog.

Now that she has the privilege, she has to make the most of it. Her engines burning her up from the inside so she ought to make the most of everything. You especially. Who knows what will be left of her memory when her soul ends up in fugue plane? She hopes and prays her last memory is the feeling of you tucked in her arms all safe.

That being said, she's always on you. She likes fucking you whenever she can, wherever you'll let her. You're proper cute when she sneaks into your bedroll and lets her hand underneath your waistband, muffling little moans into the side of her neck as she holds you. Got the prettiest little voice she's ever heard when you whine for her, grip her forearm and beg all teary eyed.

That's been good and well - fucking amazing really. But there's been one thing that Karlach has been dying to do since she's gotten back to Faerun which is fuck you. Like, really fuck you.

She makes you cum in other ways. Whatever available, really. Hands, mouth, the muscle in her thigh when you're especially needy. Gods, she's grateful to see you like that. Leader of the pack all soft and trembling her bedroll all night, a sight for sore eyes.

But she wants to fuck you. She needed a strap to do that, and those sorts of things are only easy to find in the city - not in the middle of nowhere in the backwaters of the Sword Coast.

She knows you want it too, always begging for more.

You're in the city now, though - and you've visited Sharess' Caress, and now Karlach finally has something to fuck you with. You're finally in Elfsong song now (no more sleeping on dirt!) and the rest of your party has gone off to explore the city. There's plenty of business to attend to. The two of you offered to stay behind, hold down the fort.

(And well, no one was really going to stay after that were they? Not with the happy couple around, with Karlach eyefucking you as openly as she possibly can at least.)

She really is glad that you have all this time to yourselves for now.

Now that she's finally, finally fucking you - she isn't sure it'll be easy for her to stop.

You're pretty laying underneath her. Naked, sweat making your skin sheen as Karlach stands back on her knees and fucks you on your back. Your chest bounces every time your ass meets the thrust of her own hips, your voice trembling as she gets into proper pace to fuck you.

She gives you a wicked little smile, watching with abject fondness as her cock slides into you again. Shiny with your arousal, your cunt is tight with resistance even as she goes slow. You mewl, your hands reaching to push against Karlach's abs.

"Too much, Karlach, can't—" You gasp as she bullies the swollen head back into you. "S-senstive,"

"Didn't take you for such a quitter, soldier. You were just begging for it and now it's too much," She goads, fucking you deeper. You groan as your spine arches, nails scratching at her waist. "Try a little harder, baby."

Your voice breaks into a pathetic moan, weakly trying to push her out. Legs shaking as she fucks another inch into you. You're so wet she can hear it, hear how soft your pussy gets trying to accommodate around her length. Whimpering you close your eyes and shake your head.

"Too much. I c-can't cum again, can't."

Fuck you're delightful. It's nice when Karlach gets the chance to render you as helpless as you always make her feel. Pitiful and tender, she hums a little as she bottoms out again. Her eyes go lidded with want as she looks at the place in where she's inside of you, stretching your tight little hole. Fucking pretty thing you are. Pretty face and pretty heart and the prettiest pussy she's ever seen in her life. She's mesmerized how something so big can fill something so small. You stretch around her cock so well, so perfect.

"Of course you can." She murmurs. Hot hands curl around your wrists, your arms straightening out in front of you as Karlach holds them. Your fingers brush against your abdomen again but don't find the same purchase as Karlach holds you down. "A little more and you'll make another mess for me to clean up like always, huh?"

"Karlach," You whine, your eyes fluttering open. Your lashes are wet with overstimulated tears, mouth curled in a soft and pouty flush. "Karlach,"

She laughs, sharp teeth showing as she rolls her hips - undulating slower. A soft pace to ease you into it again. She knows just the right angles. You like two ways. Hard and heavy, her hips fucking into yours

She steals a glance at your desperate face and settles on the latter. "I'm right here, pretty girl. And I'm not going anywhere, either. Now hold on,"

It's the most she spares as a warning before she sets a brutal pace. She use your hands for purchase as she pulls her cock out, and thrusts all the way back in with a loud, unforgiving groan. Her clit digs into the leather backing of the strap when she does, delicious friction making her head feel numb.

You cry out as she thrusts deep and hard, cock buried to the hilt again.

She keeps the same brutal, unforgiving pace. The room sounds with the weight of her thrusts, skin smacking against skin and the soft internal whirr of her engine noisy. Lewd, wet sounds mix with the visual of you laid underneath her, tits bouncing with every smack of hips.

She throws her head back back, euphoria washing over her in a haze.

"Fuck yeah, that's it baby. Feels good. Feeling me right in your stomach?"

You nod deliriously as your hand curls into a fist, struggling to keep up. She laughs at you as she ducks her head to meet your mouth. You kiss her with immediate fervor chasing her lips aimlessly while she fucks you hard and deep.

Her name sounds so good from your mouth, she doesn't think she'll ever get sick of it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡

[ravengards-rogue]

im sure everyone is familar but i just noticed this and Man...when you're romancing astarion and you've already slept w him before the tiefling party (and u have high approval i think) - you can get this line where you can basically goad him into shooting pickup lines at you. and through the different dialogue options, at one point - he'll say i love you insincerely.

you have like several ways of going about this dialogue, and my tav (this time) chose the option to say "having fun are you?" it was really... interesting... astarion in general has a really tonal way of speaking. and he has a line after you ask this of him, where he says he is and its hard not to with you. and he sounds... genuine.

when astarion is trying to get something out of you, he's always really theatrical but when he's being sincere that quality really Mellows. the pitch in his voice is higher and he speaks less smoothly. ike its hard to get the words out almost. he still has the same like delicate quality in his voice, the same airiness but its noticeably sounds more touched.

but its. interesting. that by that point (in act one before anything happens) that astarion knows really little about you other than you tend to look out for him and that you're capable. but when i consider it from astarions perspective, being with you even in (im)mortal peril and the connection you share is probably the first genuine, tangible connection with another being that he's had in his life or at least for 200 years. completely and entirely his outside of being a spawn.

its by a truthfully fucked up metric, but. he really does have fun with you. like he means that part. something about that is So devastating. because at that point, im sure astarion considers it temporary. he's manipulating you and he's trying to take advantage of you and its not real (so he tells himself over and over.)

except. sometimes it is. and sometimes you tell astarion you'll have each others backs. and sometimes you come back to camp covered in blood and you'll laugh with karlach trying to get it out of your hair and the fireplace is nice and crackling and it smells like smoke.

sometimes you'll trek through the forest and mountains and gale will say something and maybe you'll tease him. and you'll laugh. and so briefly he forgets what he's running from.

astarion will offer you his body because he's hoping you don't realize that's all he has to offer, but you're not expecting anything. there's no price to pay for laying under you except maybe his own guilt.

and even still. even with all the caveats. well its fun. maybe his standards are low, but its fun to be with you in some way. and its masked with so much of his usual poetry but maybe that is more meaningful than an i love you. you make him remember so basic, fun. genuine, silly fun.

he doesn't love you there. not yet. but maybe it is more meaningful for astarion at that stage, to simply admit that he doesn't want to be surrounded by unpleasantness forever. that there is more to getting his freedom than survival being easier. maybe he wants to have fun in ways that aren't drinking himself sick even when he can't taste the alcohol.

you're fun for him to be with..that means more than anything for him there. how do you teach someone who's suffered so much anything other than teeth-gritted, matted fur survival is unfamiliar? except trying to show them that it is fun, and good to be alive?

even if its all a sham. a mirage. well it was fun for astarion. he couldn't even forget that. you have so many of his firsts.

[ravengards-rogue]

afab reader, 18+

shadowheart likes sucking strap. she knows she's pretty so she uses it when she wants to get out of something. and the visual is enough to get you off, enough to level all of faerun if you're not careful. lashes wet with tears, mouth stretched around the base of your cock with her hands in her panties to get herself off too. she's always good with her mouth, bratty girl she is. you already know that better than anyone. but god she's so impressive with her pretty little throat, swallowing your shaft. she's a performer when she wants to be - spit stained mouth, lips cracked at the edges. she blinks as it touches the back of her throat with expertise. straight dark lashes fluttering as your hips buck to give your clit some friction. she'll choke and gag then moan when she looks up and sees you so affected. makes her want to do more, be more extreme. if you cum you'll praise her and that's what her body wants more than anything. you must think she's so pretty like that, right? she'll stare at you with the whole thing in her mouth until you tell her just that.

"fuck, shadowheart," you'll groan. she'll melt as your hands cup her face. soft, loving touches and so much praise it makes her tummy flutter. that's what she wanted the whole time, wanted praise. she likes that you speak to her so tender. "you're so pretty like this."

she wants to say she knows but she's not so impolite to talk with her mouth full. so she pulls herself off, lets the tip rub on her cheek as she tells you instead. you should tell her some more anyways. that what she's doing it for to begin with

[ravengards-rogue]

✧ tags : gn reader, sparring, making out lol, ex-mercenary!reader, suggestive, 18+

Wyll barely manages to dodge the swing of your fist.

He can identify the movement at least, a right hook sharp enough that it brushes his cheek even without making the full mark. His skin pulses with nerves as your knuckles brush him, stumbling backwards to not get nicked.

He pulls away and tries to take inventory - predict your next movement before you can make it.

You return to a starting stance, giving him some room. He swings first this time. With your body spread apart shoulder width and turned to one side to make you angular, you duck and put up your arms to guard from his next punch.

He lands against the front of your forearm and the shock gives recoil in his shoulders. He's gotten faster if you didn't dodge him at least. He nearly bites through his cheek, gritting as he looks at you carefully. Tries to examine your moves with the same swiftness you've taught him. On a functional level he understands it, but his body hasn't sharpened enough to use it.

He shakes his head to work off the nerve and regain his focus.

Your expression is firm and calm. A brief feeling of inspiration fuels his next move. He tries again, to aim the punch a little cleaner, land it in a way you can't dodge but you snake out of it a third time putting significant distance behind you.

Unable to predict what you'll do next, Wyll stops. The split second between deciding his next move is enough of an opening for you to strike, a swift spin kick landing on his side and abdomen.

He knocks over with a thud, on his side then on his back so he can push himself up. You join him on the ground before he gets that chance, grappling with him. The mats underneath you are soft enough to make it comfortable, but hard enough for him to feel his loss.

You wrestle on the floor like that, but your obvious strength outclasses Wyll quickly. You lock his arms and legs with your own until he can't move, your forearm under his neck. His chest heaves up and down as your cold, expressionless face looks down at him. Silent and imposing, Wyll lets out a long breath.

"Shit," He takes a deep breath in through his nose, looking up at you. You're close to him. "Mercy,"

"Are you giving up?"

Wyll gives one attempt to wiggle away to no avail.

"Seems like you've bested me. Mercy,"

When Wyll affirms his loss, you let go of him and sit up on his lap. You wipe your brown bone of sweat as he regains control of his limbs, his abdomen still heavy with your weight.

There's a long pause of silence as you collect yourselves. Wyll looks up at the ceiling, bright overhead lights painting you both in stark shades of yellow-white.

After some time, your expression breaks. You smile softly. The contrast never fails to be novel. Laying a hand on Wyll's chest, you pat lightly like you might pat someone to sleep. The touch soothes the pounding of his heart from the physical activity.

"You've improved in the short time we've sparred today. You're quick by nature, huh?"

He laughs to himself. Both at your sudden change in your demeanor and the way you're completely comfortable when held up to his utter exhaustion.

"I'm glad to hear it. I don't know if I could handle going another round with you," Wyll says, then adds with a crinkled nose. "Ah, that's not what I intended."

You tilt your head, eyes glimmering with mischief.

"You can't really keep up with me in that instance either, can you? We're working on your stamina after all."

Your reply gets a chuckle out of him. He lets one hand go onto your waist, the other taking yours into his. His lips brush up against your knuckles, kissing them as he looks up at you. Affection bleeds through his touch, eyes lidded with adoration.

"You wound me, my love. Have I ever not pleased you?"

"Flirt. You please me plenty. I guess being married has made me greedy,"

Wyll grins at you. "That's entirely my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't look so happy about it,

"Sorry, sorry." Wyll apologizes without any sincerity, opening your palm up with his hand to kiss the inside, down to your wrist. "But...I've earned being a little happy about it, I think."

Your expression changes, from faux annoyance to something else.

Wyll can feel the subtle of the mood shift, the breathy quality to your laugh. He slides his hand down to your hip, squeezing firm as you start to lean forward - balancing on one hand to keep you upright.

He'd welcome you falling into his chest, in any case, though he doesn't ask that of you.

Little moments like these still make Wyll feel like he's sneaking around. He should be more used to it by now, he's a married man - and he's been around debauchery even longer than that.

Yet, the hand sneaking up underneath your loose blouse, feeling the skin against his palms seems like something forbidden. Wyll doesn't dislike acting on that feeling, that this is something he's sneaking around to do. Unknown energy courses through him, making his skin warm.

He puts his hand on top of yours, the one on his chest - the one with the ring on it, letting pointer smooth over it. The proximity between your closes, noses brushing. With an innocent blink, you press your lips against Wyll's.

The gesture is chaste at first, enough to feel lovey-dovey and innocent. He's the one to deepen it, his hands sliding lower. You make a pleasant sound as he squeezes your ass, firm. His tongue slips against yours as you kiss, subtle slides as your incisors press into the plush of his lower lip and pull.

Half-way through kissing, you grind down on his lap. It's only then that Wyll pulls away from you. Eyes half-lidded with a less than favorable feeling stirring in his pants. There's a little line of spit connecting you that he feels especially embarrassed by.

Gods you make him lose so much control of himself. He'd have fucked you so thoughtlessly if he took even a second longer to pull of.

You pout when he pulls away, batting your lashes at him. "It was just getting good you know?"

Wyll smiles apologetically.

"Other people use these mats for training." He reminds you.

"They can be cleaned," You retort just as quickly. He has to pause to take in how fast you've said. Wyll laughs at you.

He brushes the tip of your nose with his again.

"Do you know you're rather hard to negotiate with?"

You pretend to think on it.

"Oh, I'm well aware. Me being hard to refuse is half the reason we're married, I think."

Wyll laughs against your lips, "I suppose that makes me a luckier man than I thought."

"Does this count as you relenting to my wishes?"

He feels the stirring in his pants and nods his head against better judgement. You giggle.

Wyll sighs. "Are the doors locked?"

"Mm. I locked them when we came in."

He looks at you with suspicion.

"Was this premeditated?"

"Maybe," You say, challenging and enthusiastic. "Does that warrant punishment, Duke Ravengard?"

In a swift motion, he pulls you up and flips you onto your back. You squeal delighted by the gesture, arms wrapping around his neck with a grin. He presses his forehead to yours as your legs wrap around his waist. He locks eyes with you, eyes filled with both mirth and desire.

"I think it does my love. I hope you're ready to endure it."

[ravengards-rogue]

✧ gender neutral reader, reader has a fucked up life ksdlkflk

wyll tells you he loves you anticlimactically. he waxes poetically about his feelings for you often that there's not really so much of a need to say it to you. you are the orange of his sunset and every shade of vibrancy tucked into the corners of the world.

love is almost juvenile in comparison to the adoration he experiences.

when he does tell you he loves you - he's hoping for reciprocity. for all the other ways you show him your affection, you keep your attentions rapt and your lips sealed tight. you'll touch him softly, or bring him something to eat. you'll show him you love him, but you never say it.

it makes wyll wonder if there is some reason for it. or if its something you struggle to say.

"i love you," soft and warm like flame licked embers of a campfire going dull. your expression changes microscopically, you smile. but you still don't say anything. "do you feel the same?"

you're surprised by his asking. "of course,"

wyll isn't offended, he tries to assure through his words. "i've never heard you say it before."

you don't take time to consider it.

"im loyal to you. i'd die for you. those things are more apt than love." you say instead.

you sit next to the campfire and sharpen your daggers in silence.

"i'd much prefer if you lived for my sake." wyll offers back, his knees bumping yours. you don't budge. your expression is unchanging. you turn your head to look towards him, dagger against sheath as you admire its reflection.

"if it was for your sake, ravengard - i'd lay my life down. as your comrade or your lover. if it was my life or yours, i'd pick yours."

wyll does not know at first how to weigh sentiment. he then, briefly, remembers you at the start of your journey. concerned with yourself. only yourelf - isolated like a mutt chained to a post and left for dead. an animal that's gnawed through metal to stay alive.

because of that, violence comes to you naturality wyll should abhor. your instinct is to kill. maim and shred and rip apart until there's nothing that should threaten your life that you regard preciously. since no one else ever would

he should abhor it so deeply.

he doesn't though. there's nothing that wyll could condemn you for now - this late in your journey. should your nose shepherd you to violence, wyll won't ask you to heel. only if he think you're at risk of losing control would he take place in placating you.

only for wyll are you docile.

you had to survive for only yourself for many years. it showed in how you carried yourself. potent paranoia. in the beginning you hardly smiled and did the kind things like you were waiting for them to hurt you. you were always surprised when they did not. now you've melded so far into the pack, wyll forgets what you once were.

the words are not light, wyll thinks. no matter which way you pose them. he feels odd trying to internalize such a thing. you would die for him. a rush of euphoria following by a ticklish sensation abut how much he commandeers you, how he guides you.

he would prefer you to live for yourself. but if you'll give your life for his sake, all he can do is cherish it.

"my life is yours, wyll. should you try you try to give yourself up again, i will take your place. should the world turn its back on you, i will turn my back on it."

your voice does not tremble. there is confidence, conviction in the sentiment that traverses beyond just warmth.

is there a word stronger than undying love? wyll should look for it. you smile softly then add. "i love you too. if you must hear it so much."

wyll reaches for your hands as you put your own weapon away. he grips it firm in his hand. his heart murmurs your name when he sees your face flush in embarrassment.

"i won't take it for granted. i promise."

you chuckle and squeeze his hand tighter. "damn right you won't."

[ravengards-rogue]

✧ barbarian + gender neutral tav, bottom/sub gale, top + dom!tav, gutting a fish, horny to horny tadpole communication lol 18+

gale daydreams too long about the rough callouses on your hands on his skin.

you answer him in short sentences when he mentions them but he's come to realize this isn't disinterest. you just aren't one for talking much, and you listen to him intently. occasionally you'll remember something entirely arbitrary he's told you - and he'll feel his heart stammer like a boy in love and not a man of middle age.

he notices your hands first when he tries teaching you the weave. the times after, you're healing him because he's been battered relentlessly in battle. calloused hands - the kind of hands that wield weapons and massacre. gale has seen you rage so often, though he's never thought anything of it. you're polar opposites in all aspects but especially that kind of raw power.

(the story of them goes that you used to tussle with bears as a child. when asked to elaborate, you shrug passively. apparently all that matters is that you won more often than you lost.)

he likes your hands. your hands are calloused and scarred. all of you is scarred, but your hands especially. split knuckles and thick, coarse skin that's been split and healed with nothing but time. strong, capable hands that carry fresh hunt into the camp and butcher them close to the water so the blood can be washed away. his are soft and smooth, a calm life in the vibrant and advanced city of waterdeep has made them so. the most violence he's ever received until recently, a paper cut from an especially feisty tome.

gale spends too long looking at them. you notice his gaze, naturally perceptive. and gale - well gale flushes. he's leering, and his thoughts are all but appropriate.

he's not prone to shyness. but you're a little different from those he kept in his past. constructed with that sort of unfamiliar grit makes his stomach churn with desire that burns white hot. gods.

it's inappropriate - entirely. together at camp with a makeshift table and cutting board (a slab of wood, really). you're cooking together, and gale is watching you gut a fish. your fingers are soaked in blood as you carefully scale and clean skin. there's also a fresh body you've so morbidly carried for astarion to eat.

you glance at him, head tilted - brow taut with interest.

"something on your mind, wizard?"

"not particularly," he replies, trying to avert his gaze. you go back to your task, the barest amusement on your face.

"you're a shit liar." and then, as if you sense that you can't pull more out of him - he feels something electric brush against his spine. the tadpole, your tadpole. you reach out to him through it. the voice in your mind is entangles with his as he allows you to touch his thoughts. you never do so without being careful.

it's...oddly euphoric, makes his stomach feel honeyed with lust. a harsh way of speech coupled by a soft whisper. stop being lewd or you'll cook yourself on a flame.

it's an instant protest, though between you is only silence.

"lewd?" he says in a whisper yell. you don't reply to his exclaiming. nor do you mask your amusement. you're enjoying this. your hands make quick work of flaying the dead sea creature. the head goes into the soup. you dunk the bloodied carcass in water leaving delicate white fish behind, then you use a dagger to carve the bones from it.

the blood stains your fingers. even with the savagery you're always committing, your delicate with the flesh.

you press into his mind, a knowing glance at the way his eyes lock onto the gesture.

gale is hesitant to let you in again. you shrug.

"even if you don't want to tell me what ways you want me to fuck you," you say, low enough so that only gale hears it. "well. you're a bit of a lost cause on hiding it."

gale is so momentarily scandalized he just stops. a smile tugs at your lips as you look at him more directly this time. heat licks at his his calves, a little ashamed as he lets you in.

(the images conjured in his mind are imperfect but vivid. all of them terribly rough. his mind desires it more than his body, to feel the roguish warmth of your palms handle his limbs in ways so untender some gods would consider it against them. a harsh first around his cock or around his throat, thumbs pressing into pulsing heart. hardened touches rounded with tender praise.

fingers inside of him. gale laid out over your lap - tucked into you in some completely vulnerable way.

there's a single undercurrent desire, one for you make a mess of him and it's louder and more attention seeking than all the rest. the need to be under your thumb makes his cock twitch so hard it's painful.

he imagines himself spent in your arms, cumming helplessly. limp against the strength of your chest and arms. the thought makes his physical body shiver.

the idea lingers so deep in the recesses of his mind he wonders if they're being projected right.)

he severs the connection when the embarrassment catches up to him, waiting anxiously for whatever thing you might end up saying. there's a smirk on your face, a salacious little chuckle as you discard bones into a metal bowl fashioned on the slab you cut on. for an elongated moment, you're unreactive. it's so strange gale wonders if he might've conjured up the entire interaction.

you walk yourself around him to put something in the pot - fresh cuts of white meat, before you blow warm air against the back of his neck. he nearly jumps out of his skin.

your words are assured.

"didn't take you for a masochist," you hum, calloused palm underneath the velvet of his nightwear. he looks at you over his shoulder. you make it clear you mean every word of what you'll say. "but i'll fuck you however you wish, lewd wizard. try to focus on dinner for now instead of ogling."

with your task now finished, you place a single long kiss on the nape of gales neck before disappearing completely - slinking off into the night to wash your hands. gale feels blood rush between his legs as he clears his throat.

he grumbles as he waddles over to stir the pot, skin painted with pink and feeling no less horny than before. "easier said then done."

[ravengards-rogue]

beta molly and the way she weeps when you pop your knot in her. withering gasps and sobs, pretty green eyes tinged red with a blush down her soft freckled chest….

✧ tags : omegaverse, alpha!reader, gn!reader, reader has a penis and knot, reader is in rut, betas have faint scents, lotsa pet names, knotting, 18+

✧ wc : 1.2k

✧ a/n : hnngjgjfsdhkjsdjnflksjdfkdlfsdkksdflkfsgvsjkdfdl. its fine

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

"You're alright, sugar. Just breathe."

Molly gasps as your cock swells inside of her. Her voice is soft, prickly against your ear and warm as she whimpers. The soft curves of her body melt against your as you're slotted together, the red-head snug and comfortable in your lap.

You feel her face press against your neck, nose nudging against your scent gland and you groan. You know it's not easy for her, no matter how much you stretch and prep her, to take you. She always insists on it.

You think it's something to do with the fact it's the one thing she doesn't have.

It's what Molly is always most insecure about. Not being an omega, that is. You can't blame her, not after Dutch all but tossed her aside. Makes her antsy. She's skilled at catching even the faintest hint of an omega on you. Weeps herself into a fit whenever it gets too strong and demands you stay next to her for a few days to wash it out of your scent.

You can feel it whenever you reach your ruts, her own desperation to prove her worth—prove that she can be good and take it.

She's a pretty sight when she insists to take your knot. Always. There's many times you nearly gave it to her. Green eyes and hands fisted in the front of your shirt and all determination and longing, as if she's not the most delicate little woman in the world. For the longest time, you let her down gently with a firm, but kind 'no'. You'd spent your ruts with her, fuck her to your hearts content, but knotting was always off-limits.

And then just a few days ago, you helped Karen get somewhere safe to ride out her heat. You may be a lot of things, but you're not so much of a scumbag to leave her to own devices. A scented coat across her back and a horse ride to nearby inn later. Didn't lay on her, of course - but you did wait it out with her for a while. You came back and reeked of nothing but sugary liqueur, nothing like the soft, light scent of strawberries and clove you usually do.

Molly's been less than happy with you about it. Not helped by your rut coming in only days later, jump started by a woman who ain't her. After some crying, she'd demanded of you again but with more more fervor than normal.

And you're not stronger than the woman you so adore weeping in your arms about it, so you promise it to her. But only after making her cum enough times to make her stupid with it.

Even after though, the fit is tight. You've stretched her open, made her cum so many times she was near limp in your lap - but she still insisted. And she is still so so tight.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen strain as Molly's pussy pulses around you. You take a shallow heaving breath, hands on her hips as the base of your cock starts to swell.

Molly's insides are softy and sticky, silken against your length. You're too big for her. Her body isn't made for it. She can hardly take you as is on days you're not like this.

But you try to keep your composure anyways. Ignore the baser part of your instincts aching for her inconceivably. Aching to pop your knot and keep her full, make her head useless for anything but thinking of you.

"All ye damn alphas are so," She shudders, burying her face against your shoulder. Her words are clipped by a moan, subdued and wanting "Uselessly big,"

You laugh against her. "I'm sorry, baby. Real sorry,"

She knows you're not, probably just as much as you know her vitriol lacks teeth. It's hard to take her seriously when you pull away and look at her. Her expression perfectly debauched, wide green eyes red at the rings - weepy from stimulation and rogue-red lips smeared from stolen, needy kisses.

When you feel Molly sink all the way down to the base of your cock, knot tight - you gasp against her neck. Fangs prick with urgency, to mark her and claim her. Sink yourself so deep into her wet, willing cunt she couldn't run if you tried. You have to remind yourself to keep your instinct at bay.

"Don't hold back from me," She huffs, somehow sensing that you are. You stare at her love struck, eyes starting to glaze over and take in just how pretty she is. How pretty she will be even sooner with your knot stuck in her. "Don't you dare."

"You're playing a very dangerous game, sugar."

"I don't want to beg any more for what I want. You always say you wouldn't make me do that, not like Dutch," Her voice is attempting to be demanding, but falls flat on it. It only ends up sounding desperate and needy and so perfect for you to sink your teeth into. "Give it to me. I want it."

"You're so spoiled," You remind her with a breathless laugh. "A good girl like you doesn't know how to be anything else does she?"

She shakes her head and tucks wraps her arm around your shoulder. You grunt, almost pained as you feel her intentionally squeeze.

"Alright, alright—you made your point. It's gonna hurt."

"I want it, damn it."

"Okay," You close your eyes and hold her hips "Okay, sweet girl. Be easy, please?"

She nods, satisfied - most obedient she's been all evening and it makes you want her even more. You like when she acts that way, like a spoiled princess. You don't know what part of you that is. If it's the Alpha in you, all wrapped in biology and blood or just you. The you that desires her for all she is so hungrily it makes your chest ache.

"Fuck, baby." You shake and you grip her tight. You want her so bone-deep you can feel it in the back of your skull, in your gums. Your fangs protrude against your lower lip. Buzzing, all the muscles in your body go taut like a bowstring. You can feel yourself swell and twitch, just as you can feel Molly respond to it every time. "Feel what you do to me? That's,"

You pant, trying to keep your sense. "It's all yours baby."

Molly crumples against your lap like those are the words she's wanted to hear most, more than anything in the goddamn world. She whines helplessly for the first time. You push your knot into her in one hard thrust. Willing and eager, and that's what gets you. Strokes your ego enough to make the base of your cock swell and swell and swell, and you push until you can't be anywhere but inside. You can feel the way the air gets punched out of her lungs right after, a shaking shuddering breath making her whole face turn pink.

The strain of it is too much, but she takes it like she has everything in the world to prove. Big, water-rimmed eyes and shaky little moans but still insistent.

She whimpers soft and girlish as you ease your knot into her and make her take to you. She accommodates you so well, pussy so perfect like it was made just for you.

All yours, like everything else about her should be in a perfect world.

Your body works against your mind as you cum inside her, thick ropes shooting up with no where to move from. Your cock stays still like that, twitching and hard as you let out a deep and long breath trying to regain some composure.

"Gotta stay like this for a while sugar," You hum, uncharacteristically checked out.

She giggles contentedly, pleased - happy sighing as she remains draped around you, soaking in the attention. "I already know that, you know."

You nod, adrenaline making the blood rush to your ears as you hum. You let your big hands hold the back of her head, drowning her in your affections as you kiss her freckled shoulder. "Just makin' sure."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[ravengards-rogue]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ TAGS

✧ housekeeping : any and all blog maintenance stuff goes here

✧ rogues love letters : fic tag

✧ d.rogues love letters : drabbles tag

✧ sharess' whisper : any short thirsts

✧ guild gossip : ask tag / replies

✧ zero.thoughts : shitpost tag

✧ z.selfship : self-ship stuff

✧ character specific post tagged as zero.___. i.e zero.astarion, zero.wyll, etc