#and then a forth traveling across the path behind them

[faytelumos]

I saw some pretty cool UFO activity Thursday night.

[pseudowho]

Fire and Iron

Forced to stay the night with Nanami Kento, the town's blacksmith, after tending to his wounds, you find yourself smouldering in his irresistible flame.

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, loss of virginity

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Your boots cracked through the ice-topped slurry puddles scattering the mud path in the village. The shawl bundled over your shoulders was not enough, and the biting cold wind whipped your cloak back, stripping its usefulness off your shivering shoulders.

Townsfolk waved to you, nodding, smiling; greetings for a familiar face, many of them grateful for your travels to their icy town over the years, lacking even a basic healer of their own, let alone one so talented.

Passing by the blacksmith's hut on your way, you paused out the front, feeling the heat bellowing forth like dragon's breath. You tipped your head back, the smell of ash and steel filling your nose. As you paused, moments after, so did the clang of hammer on anvil.

You opened your eyes, stinging in the brutal cold and smoke. You, once more, like a hundred times before, had caught the eye of the blacksmith. He, whose name you did not know. He, who looked but never touched. He, to whom you had passed so many thousands of hours of your life, and his life to you, through gaze alone.

Stood proud at the anvil, shadowing the forge like the door to hell behind him, his broad shoulders wore only an open-chested white linen shirt, and a thick brown leather apron. With his ashy blond hair, and the lines of his face filled with soot, he was ageless and unknowable. He looked to you, his sharp face quiet and impassive; expression always somewhere between fury and tranquility.

Your lips parted once, as if to speak, and it jumped the blacksmith to life. With a barely perceptible nod, and a grunt, he swung his hammer back, brought down in beautiful accuracy, shaping smouldering steel. The clang rung through you, your chest jolting with a short gasp, and you collected yourself, stepping onwards. You were sure you could feel his cool gaze through the back of your head.

Another patient; another healed. Another grateful family; another life prolonged. The days were short now, and as you stepped out of the house of rough-hewn wood and stone, the forest pines were bathed in dying light, netting the low winter sun above the horizon. It was a punishing journey home, on foot, and the horses were long since put to bed.

The blacksmith's hut held its own sunset, the forge open but unattended. You heard stamps, heavy feet and cursing. You paused in the burst of warmth, illuminated, listening. Curiosity carried your feet into the hut, the heavy wet hem of your skirts collecting ashes, absorbing the blacksmith's domain.

"Are you...are you alright?" You called, uncertain, "Sir?" The footsteps, the swearing, had stopped. You stepped further in, feeling the forge belch at you, almost excruciatingly hot now.

"Get away from there!" The bark, deep and commanding, made you squeak and stumble. Darting through the side door, the blacksmith looped one thick arm round your waist before you fell towards the forge, effortlessly lifting you round, his back to the furnace, his face in shadow.

He was close; close enough that you could smell the soft sweat, the tang of fire and metal. He hissed as your hands dropped to his forearm, and you felt a cold dripping cloth draped over it.

"Do you often wander into places uninvited?" He snipped at you. You recognised the cadence in his low voice-- pain.

"I-- ...you're hurt," you insisted, voice barely above a whisper. Looking up, your eyes tried to gauge his unreadable face in the gloom. You felt him huff, warm air across your cheeks. His arm loosened, releasing you. As he stepped back, turning away to close the forge, you saw the blacksmith's mountainous shoulders tense, twitching.

"It's nothing," he retaliated, brisk. You stepped forwards again, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. At first, he flinched, then begrudgingly allowed you to turn him, and lift the damp rag covering his forearm. A thick welting burn, running the length of his forearm, lay weeping and angry on his skin, already nicked with so many little scars. You heard his teeth grit as the air hit his wound.

"Nothing," you scoffed, "this needs dressing. Let me help you." You felt him flinch beneath your hands, hesitant. He felt his skin prickle under yours, finding such curious pleasure in your touch alongside his pain. Your beseeching eyes took him the rest of the way, and he found himself accepting you.

"I...not here," the blacksmith toned, his eyes flitting to the town around him, "if they believe me injured, I'll lose business." You nodded, rummaging in your overburdened satchel, until he took you gently by the hand.

"My home," he began, hesitant, your hand so soft and small in his broad calloused palm, "you'll...you are welcome. It is clean. Quiet. I...I will not harm you. I promise."

Aware of his size and strength, aware of the air of mystery surrounding him amongst the townsfolk, the blacksmith was quick to reassure you. Your eyes softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles at your words, electricity crackling up your arm.

"I know you won't," you assured. The briefest smile graced his severe face when you offered your name. You felt it warm you from the belly downwards. As he pulled encouragingly on your fingers, leaving the forge to die naturally with the approaching nightfall, you were led through the back of the hut, seeing a newly revealed sprawling cabin of wood and stone, at the edge of the forest. You felt the first kiss of snow upon your cheek.

"Nanami Kento," the blacksmith replied, welcoming you over the threshold. You smiled up at him, taking in his home; barely lit, at first, until he struck a lantern to life. You placed your bag upon a table, rummaging for salves as Kento began to build the fire, skilled and efficient.

You basked in the homely room; autumnal tapestries lining the walls, skin rugs on the floor and furs on the chairs, hanging herbs above a countertop, circled with hung skillets and pans. You relaxed easily into the sincerity of Kento's welcome. A frigid wind slapped the windows, rattling the door.

Before long, an enormous cast iron pot boiled with water, and you knelt before Kento, appraising his wound in the orange glow. Cleaning your hands, wetting a rag with clean water, you moved to clean the ash from his arm before pausing.

"This will hurt," you apologised, looking up to him. Kento's heart stuttered; how many hours had he spent, imagining those sweet eyes, those gentle fingers? Too long. Too many words unspoken over too many years. He was not used to such tenderness.

"I am used to pain," he hushed, smooth and barely audible above the crackle of flame, "my job has certain...hazards, after all." You hummed, swiping the cloth gently, removing dirt and debris.

"Still," you hummed, "I don't like to hurt a friend." Kento chuckled, and you felt yourself blush from hairline to toes at the rich mirth of it.

"We are...friends, are we?" His voice was low and conspiratorial, and you felt it stir a hunger deep within you. You smiled back, mulish as you dabbed salve onto his burn. His knees were parted, with you knelt between them, and your elbows rested on the thick muscle of his thighs. You felt safe, warm, held.

"All those years, passing back and forth," you sighed, teasing, "and not one hello? Just lots of nods," your stomach swooped as Kento laughed again, "and our friendship is just that. An accumulation of nods."

"Would we have stopped at 'hello'?" Kento retaliated. He caught the brief pause in your bandaging, before you continued. You spoke, uncertain again.

"Well," you hummed, testing the water, "offer me one now...and we shall see where it goes." Looking up, you gasped to find your face just inches from Kento's. He smiled at you, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips and back up again.

"Hello," he whispered, quiet and mischievous, "and thank you."

Your breath fluttered out; Kento could feel it against his lips, beckoning him.

"I...it's getting late," you started, and Kento blinked out of his reverie, glancing to the inky black outside his windows, "I should go."

Kento grasped your fingers once more, rising with you as he stood, your shawl shushing against his chest, barely covered by his soft linen shirt. Kento hummed, sounding grave, stepping to the other side of the room.

"It is night," he said, hands cupped around his eyes as he squinted out of the windows, "and the woods are barely safe in the day. I...I cannot allow you to travel. Alone, in the snow. You must stay."

His tone broached no argument, yet still you tried, packing your bag, your cheeks aflame.

"I...it isn't..." you stuttered, and Kento turned to you, chin inclined to the floor, one fine eyebrow raised. You took a deep breath, certain that if you didn't leave now, you may fall too deeply into Kento's insistent heat. Yet...you knew he was right. The path was treacherous. The snow would take you before the dawn.

"Would you like a bath?" Kento offered, turned away to save you your blushes; a gentleman.

"I-- please don't go to any trouble--" Kento swiftly ignored you, beginning to grasp the enormous iron pot, lifting it with stunning ease. His voice didn't even hitch.

"It's no trouble. I bathe every night. You can go before me." Kento carried the pan, stepping behind a folding wooden screen, and you followed him as if to argue, watching him begin to fill an enormous copper bathtub. Your hands shook as you began to remove your shawl, still blushing, so briefly overwhelmed before squashing it down.

Kento glanced up at you, pausing as he poured hot water, "This will take me some time," he said, apologetic, "please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for you."

You nodded, clearing your throat, hands twisting in your removed shawl. Kento chastised himself for admiring the soft curve of your breasts into your waist, the hidden delight of the swelling of your hips beneath your heavy skirts. He did not see how the steam rose fast, dampening his white shirt, how you could see all the way to his navel as he leaned over the bath. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

As you walked the length of the room, your fingertips brushing tapestries and grazing over warm furs, your curiosity drew you to a wide, flat trinket box, inlaid with mother of pearl, the colours an aurora in the rolling firelight. You stroked the box just once, before lifting the lid.

Your eyes crinkled immediately with joy at the treasures within; the box was full of lovingly crafted necklaces of gold, silver, pearl and gem, the chains finer and softer than any you had ever seen. You did not feel Kento approach as you admired them.

"I'd like for you to choose one," he offered, sincere, as you spun to face him. He raised his hands placatingly, a smile at the edge of his mouth, "not in lieu of payment, of course. A gift, I...made them with no real aim as to who should receive them."

"You made these?" You gaped, unable to fathom how such enormous hands crafted such intricate delights, "Kento, I-- they're beautiful, I couldn't possibly..."

If Kento had held any reservation, after hearing his name tumble from your lips, he was filled with the burning certainty that the jewellery should be for you, and you alone. His hand closed over yours as you moved to shut the box.

"Please," he breathed, so close, "choose one, or I shall give you them all." Swallowing, your hand hovered over a fine chain of silver and emerald, your fingertips brushing the gem. Kento hummed his approval, before picking it up, his calloused fingers all softness and grace.

"My favourite, too," he rumbled, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck as he clipped the necklace into place. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your neck, and almost ran as he whispered beside your ear, "Your bath is ready."

Stripping behind the wooden screen, hearing Kento amble around the room beyond, you sighed as the hot water enveloped you. Washing yourself with a soft sponge, cleaning off the grime of the day, your hand wandered absentmindedly downwards, fingertips grazing through your folds, naturally moving to relieve yourself of the building tension--

"I've left you a shirt." Your hand darted upwards with a guilty splash, Kento's voice only meters away behind the screen.

"Thank-- thank you," you squeaked, blushing, before climbing out, so naked apart from your exquisite new necklace. Drying on a soft towel, your hand hesitated over the shirt draped over the screen, before pulling it on over damp skin. It reached down your thighs, but left little else to the imagination.

Kento remained outwardly stoic, unreadable, averting his gaze as you crept out, arms holding yourself and squashing your breasts together, the colour of your nipples as faint as a ghost under the white linen shirt. He cleared his throat, coughing lightly before skirting past to the bath. You felt heat creep up your neck at the gossamer hush of his clothes hitting the floor, the shifting water as he stepped in, the way he sighed in relief, almost as if--

"I shall sleep in the chair tonight," Kento said, slow and considered, "and you shall have my bed." You felt indignation roll within you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you scolded, "you're injured, and this is your home--"

'-- and you are my guest," he grumbled.

"I won't allow it," you insisted, almost forgetting yourself as you approached the wooden screen, "I'll put some furs on the floor and--"

"You believe I would let you sleep on the floor?" He growled, furious at your suggestion, "I should rather you have me share the bed with you over that--"

"Fine. Then we shall share the bed. And there will be no more argument." You clapped a hand over your mouth as the words tumbled forth, unbidden. Mortified by your own suggestion, you removed your hand to speak again.

Kento stepped round from behind the screen, his towel draped lazily round his waist. You gaped up at him, stunned. He was...younger than you thought, his blond hair now soft and floppy, the ash removed from the lines in his face, taking ten years off him. You faced him, his towering form, the practiced rolls, peaks and planes of muscle belonging to a working man, his forearms so thick--

"Then...we should get to bed," Kento insisted, stepping past you, through a doorway to his bedroom, where you heard him rummaging for clothes, "it is late and I am up with the lark."

You hesitated where you stood, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, desperately curious, but paralysed.

"I don't bite," Kento called out, and you gulped down the sounds of soft fabric dropping over his body, still crippled with indecision and embracing yourself as he stepped out to put out the fire. You were lost momentarily in darkness before he stepped to you, the lantern between you, a beacon in the dark. You felt his hand close around your fingers again. You heard him whisper.

"It will become cold quickly, now the fire has died. Come. Stay warm."

You allowed yourself to be led to Kento's bedroom, hypnotised by the small swinging lantern. Kento led your hand downwards, placing it to the edge of the bed for you to feel your way, your fingers gliding through soft fur and cool sheets. With shaking hands, you crawled across to the head of the bed. Kento waited for you, flipping down the sheets, flipping them back up to your chin as you both slipped between them.

You heard nil but your own heartbeat. Kento faced you, the torch light embering behind him leaving him only just visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. The sheets had not yet warmed from your bodies, and you shivered. You felt Kento shift beside you.

"You...are cold," he stated as if in question. You remained quiet, gripping your hands to your chest lest they reach out for him.

"I'm...I'll warm up. Soon," you reassured yourself as much as him. You heard one doubtful grunt from him. Five minutes passed, and still, Kento felt you shiver against the sheets. Pulling a fur up to your chins, he felt prickles up his legs as one of your feet reached hesitantly out to touch him. He felt rather than heard you sigh.

"So warm," you whispered, your little voice soft with comfort in the dark. Kento's breath caught in his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside his soft trousers.

"Do you...need me?" He offered. He felt your other foot reach out in answer, cold toes wiggling against the downy hair on his leg. He felt a dangerous, needy arousal thread through him.

Reaching out his uninjured arm, he hooked it round your waist, chuckling as you squeaked when he pressed against you. You hummed in pleasure at the heat rolling off him, basking in his warmth, forgetting your awkwardness for a moment. Kento and you lay intertwined like that, with you softening like butter in his arms.

After a few minutes, you shifted against him, about to drift off to sleep. Kento must have been near sleep as well, groaning into your hair as you shifted, reflexively clinging you closer to him. Your bottom, completely bare with his shirt shifted up your body, pressed back to his groin. His clothed cock was hard and barely restrained in his loose trousers, and pressed between your thighs.

You felt a jolt run through you, feeling a warm trickle of arousal, so alien to you, seep out between your thighs. Kento almost saw stars as it dampened the trousers over his cockhead, and he frowned, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade in apology and embarrassment.

"I-- I'm sorry, I--...it's been so long...since I've felt a woman-- shit, I'm--" Kento rested his nose against your neck, unable to stop himself from ghosting his lips there. You dropped your head back to him, and he growled in appreciation, nuzzling your neck, feeling your thighs clamp around the tip of his cock, your arousal seeping through his trousers and mixing with his own.

"I've never--" you whispered, blushing furiously, drunk on the feeling of his body against yours, feeling so curiously empty and aching to be filled. Kento understood immediately, and moved to pull back.

"No!" You squeaked, holding onto his arm, pushing yourself back to chase him along the bed, "Please, I-- I want--...you. I want you." Your words sat heavy in the air. Kento shifted behind you, at war with himself.

"You don't know what you're asking," he growled, fighting against you to remove his arm, "I am no boy."

"And I'm no girl, nor stupid," you reassured, "I'm not ignorant."

In an instant, Kento moved above you, on all fours, his arms caging you in, corseting you to his bed. He stared down at you, enormous chest heaving, eyes roving down your body, quickly intoxicated by your peaked nipples, beneath his shirt, the hem of it barely covering your sex, still feeling your arousal dampening his cock.

He leaned down, nestling his mouth against your neck again, tongue flicking out, tasting you. He felt you still under his lips, just a little mouse, in the jaws of a bear.

"And yet, all that knowledge is just academic, until you're crying out that my cock is too big for you," he growled, warning you away, barely able to stop himself. He felt you squirm beneath him, his head swimming with you. He was lost, then, to your tiny whisper in the gloom.

"Show me-- please." Kento shuddered, a drop of pre-cum seeping out of his cock, soaking through his trousers and your-- his-- shirt, to dampen your belly. You shivered, desperate to know Kento biblically, desperate for this fabled ecstasy.

Kento raised his mouth from your neck, reading your eyes, seeing such certainty in them. Tangling his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he pressed the length of his body down against you as he kissed you, his other hand framing your jaw, gently encouraging it open to slide his tongue against yours. Your soft little moan was like music to his ears.

Kissing you deeply, learning your voice and your mouth, letting you learn the peaks and planes of his body with your free hand, Kento kept your other hand plaited with his own, fearful of leaving you to take this journey alone.

He felt himself shudder with the unbridled privilege of being able to worship you, jealously grateful that you had not been left to some boy. He was overwhelmed by the need to set your standards high at the first hurdle.

"Let me taste you," he murmured into your mouth, and you hesitated, unsure of what he meant. Swiping his thumb across your palm, Kento's mouth ventured downwards, sucking the skin of your neck, nipping before soothing the skin with his tongue, feeling you become pliable, supple as water. His fingers danced over the laces holding your shirt together, giving you opportunity to stop him, before untying them, freeing your breasts.

Laying his tongue flat over one nipple, Kento allowed it to curve to the shape of you, to know you, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on your nipple while his hand toyed with and kneaded the other. He revelled in your whines, a high, keening mewl as you arched off the bed into his mouth. You felt his licks and sucks, curiously, between your legs, and you could not help but buck up against him.

Kento grunted at the feeling of your pussy pressing against his thigh, and moved one hand down to hold your hips still.

"Slow down-- let me show you," he ordered, gentle in his insistence. You trembled under his fingertips, your hips settling back to the bed. He rumbled his approval, rolling your nipple under his tongue again until you sighed, breathy and ecstatic, "Good girl."

In reward, his mouth continued to trail downwards, and your eyes fluttered closed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, your fingernails scratching through his damp hair. Kento shivered at the sensation, feeling his cock leap against his thigh.

When his mouth reached your mound, you squeaked out in alarm, flipping the blankets down to see Kento, illuminated in the orange light.

"What are you-- your mouth, Kento--" Kento's eyes crinkled up at you, and two arms came to loop round the top of your thighs, pulling you down the bed towards him, your shirt being rucked up against the drag of the mattress to completely expose your glistening pussy to him.

Maintaining eye contact with you, you trembled with anticipation as Kento poked his tongue out into a point, first grazing your folds, before stroking from side to side to ease in between them. The sound that broke out from you as his tongue stroked over your clit, hot and wet, was one Kento masturbated to for years to come.

You felt as though you had been lifted from earth and dropped amongst the clouds as he licked at you, sucking, stroking, tasting, the pleasure so otherworldly compared to what your own hand could achieve, that you felt yourself being rushed towards your peak at speed.

Twisting and squirming against his mouth, you reflexively tried to pull your pussy away from Kento's attentions. His arms tightened around the tops of your thighs, growling into you, pulling you back as you tried to scoot away. Your hand tugged at his hair as you arched, whimpering, coated in a fine sweat. As Kento groaned into your cunt, you watched his hips roll and hump against the bed, the sight alone enough to send your orgasm crashing through you, and you worshipped his name in a long, keening cry.

Kento let his laps and sucks become softer, languid, letting you float through the haze of your pleasure. Nuzzling at you, tasting you as you trailed lazy blissful fingers through his hair, Kento planted soft kisses to your inner thigh.

Moving back up, stroking his nose against your neck, Kento felt your hand move down his shoulders and back, before coming round to ghost over the front of his trousers. Kento shuddered, kneeling above you to remove his shirt, skin prickling with the need to feel yours against his own.

Gazing down at you, his eyes like whiskey in the flickering light, he grazed a palm from in between your breasts, down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one swift tug, exposing you completely to him.

Your hand still trailed over his groin as he knelt, and you were captivated, obsessed with the shape, weight and length of his cock in your hands, blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. As you grasped the lace at the front of his trousers, undoing it, and squeezing the head of his cock between your fingers, Kento moaned, ragged, leaning one hand sideways to support himself.

"Fuck-- I haven't-- not for so long," he moaned, low and husky, feeling your inexperienced fingers explore his cock and balls in a way that felt almost abusively naive. As your thumb glided beneath his foreskin, collecting the wetness of his pre-cum, exploring his slit, Kento hissed, panting and grabbing your hand.

You broke out of your reverie, blushing with mortification, tears pricking in your eyes as you began to apologise. Kento interrupted, shushing you, one hand still gripping your fingers around his cock, the other coming up to cup your face, his thumb swiping across your cheek.

"Not you," he huffed, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you with fevered eyes, "me, it's-- I-- I'll cum in your hand if you carry on." Your eyes glimmered, hungry to see how he looked as you pleasured him, and you moved yourself, leaning close, squeezing him again beneath his own hand, and he cried out in pleasure. You felt another drip of his arousal across your fingers, and you gulped, your tongue darting out across your lips.

As you lowered yourself to his lap, Kento's eyebrows raised in shock, and desperate awe, as you licked the weeping cockhead sticking out from your joined enclosed hands.

A low rumble ebbed through Kento, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry as he looked down at you, wordlessly using your hand inside his own, to pump the length of his cock. Feeling the intoxicating glide of soft skin over woody hardness, you let him use your hand to masturbate himself as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking, tasting the musty pre-cum there.

Every instinct screamed at Kento to chase his orgasm, to press your head further down his cock so he could use your little hand to jack off into your mouth, and he felt overwhelmed by the innocent licks and sucks you gave him, eyes cast upwards to see what effect they had on him. Kento moaned desperately, twisting on his haunches, fingers in turn tangling into your hair and coming away, clenching and unclenching at speed.

He felt the approaching rush of divine ecstasy, thrumming up his back in waves, his balls tightening up against the base of his cock--

Snapping, Kento pulled your hand and mouth off him, heaving you up the bed and back onto the pillows, before pinning you down with his body, panting into your neck, trying not to spill his seed over your belly. You were thrilled, ecstatic with Kento's pleasure, eager to see more of it.

You crept your hips up to his, trying to ease his cock into you. Kento huffed, his hand shooting down to press your hips down again.

"--going to kill me-- I swear-- no idea...you have no idea what you're doing to me--" Kento panted, quaking above you, one forearm planted above your head. As his peak ebbed away, Kento plaited his hand with your own again, above your head. He felt his cockhead resting against the smooth resistance of your entrance, and he suddenly felt so responsible for you.

"I don't want to hurt you," he huffed, aware he was bigger than average, but knowing from the fevered look in your eyes that he could not dissuade you-- not that he wanted to, at this point, his cock throbbing with urgent need.

"Please," you begged, "please." You felt Kento's hips press forwards into your soaking wet heat, feeling a slight sting as it met resistance. Kento rested his nose to yours, his eyes still feverish, his body still smelling of iron and ash and smoke.

"On one condition," he pressed, authoritative as his cockhead pressed deeper against your stinging resistance, breaking past thin membrane, gripping your thigh up to his hip as you trembled, biting your lip, tears in your eyes as you nodded-- anything, you thought, anything.

"Marry me," he whispered against your lips, and you squeaked as you felt a twang of pain, his cock suddenly nestled deeply inside you. Kento rocked his hips gently, shushing you, soothing you, his thumb stroking your palm. Not moving, just holding you as you adjusted to feeling so full, Kento waited for an answer.

"Y--yes...yes," you mewled, and Kento growled his approval against your neck, slowly pulling out of you before rutting back into your wet, tender pussy again, so intimate and deep that you cried out for him.

Kento rolled his hips, like a boat on the waves, whispering into you, certain he wouldn't last long; "First-- I'll cum inside you-- then I'll treat you like a queen...haaah...for the rest of my days."

You clung to Kento, lost in the ecstasy of him plowing into you, delighted by his rumbling groans in your ears, blissfully proud of being able to make such an unflappable man fall apart inside you. When his grip on your hip faltered, his shaking hand dropping to stroke quick little circles around your clit, Kento growled and bit into your neck to feel you rock your hips upwards to meet his own.

The sting almost completely eased, you felt quick pangs of pleasure, rising with every beat of your fast little heart, completely carried along by the eroticism of Kento's frantic groans and mumbles into your ear.

"My love I-- you feel so good...so good...god, I need to cum, need you to cum I-- aahhhh, fuck--" Kento felt your pussy clench around him, and he came inside you as you drank down his moans, fascinated by how they matched up with the bounding twitch of his cock, how his hips juddered into you involuntarily, how his face contorted, jaw clenched, somewhere between rage and serenity.

You were famished, starved of him, immediately desperate for more, and you felt him crumple into you, caging you in, shoulders heaving and spent. Kento chuckled as you peppered him with kisses, gripping your thighs round him and rolling him over so you lay above him, straddling him as his cock softened within you.

With his chin on his chest to look down to you, and a lazy lopsided smile across his face, Kento played idly with your hair, stroking your nose, your cheeks. He proudly fingered the beautiful necklace, resting against your breasts, squashed and plush against him.

"You meant it?" He asked, eager, concerned.

You hummed in delight, pressing a tender kiss to his chest as you nodded; "You had me at 'hello'."

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Would the anon who requested Blacksmith!Kento PLEASE STAND UP so I can credit you for breaking my brain.

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 16)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3,157

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15)

Notes: okay i forced myself to finish this part so it's a little shitty and not at all edited.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 2

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The forest goes completely still.

There are no moanings of zombies in the distance, no rustling of leaves on the trees. Even the wind has silenced with your words.

Surprise shocks the group around you. Nesta’s eyes narrow into a piercing glare. The untrust is clear in the way that she readjusts the knife in her hand, and Azriel shifts next to you, his intention to block her path to you should she lunge. Cassian looks like he could growl.

The man at her side flicks his russet gaze to his lover, a frown of concern on his face. He looks like he’s ready to step in front of her as well, but if you know her from any of the stories Feyre had told you, she’s much too stubborn to allow that to happen.

Her eyes are cold and calculating as they flick back and forth between yours, staring you down.

The zombie that they must have been taunting suddenly lurches from behind a large oak and you gasp a little, but Nesta doesn’t do so much as flinch. Instead, she keeps those sharp eyes pinned on you, Azriel, and Cassian while her companion turns to take care of the undead being stumbling behind them. It’s missing both of its eyes, a thick slash leaking black blood across its forehead and into its unseeing sockets. The smell that follows it has your stomach churning, your quick snack from earlier threatening to make a reappearance.

It’s kind of incredible, watching how easily the copper haired man slays the zombie, all while Nesta guards him from the three of you. She has the utmost confidence in him, that he will keep her safe, and she doesn’t need to turn away from who may potentially be the bigger threat, whether she knows it or not.

The man kills the zombie with ease. One quick jab of his knife into the base of its skull has the undead falling limp to the forest floor with a crunch that you’ll never get used to. The man grimaces a little when he wipes his knife clean on the calf of his pants, then returns to Nesta’s side, awaiting her lead.

No one speaks, and it’s a little unnerving. The sun has already started its descent into night, and there isn’t going to be much time for you, Azriel, and Cassian to find shelter for the night if things here don’t go well. Nesta had mentioned something about the middle sister, Elain, but you don’t hear a thing, so she must not be around. Is she with others? Have Feyre and Rhysand made it to Eryef before you? 

“Right?” you blurt, because no one’s speaking. “You’re Feyre’s older sister. Have they made it to you?”

“They?” Nesta questions and you deflate, knowing that they haven’t.

Cassian places his free hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

“Who are you?” the man next to her asks, and you watch his gaze dart to where the sun hangs low in the sky. He doesn’t seem to tense at its position, so you glean that wherever they’ve taken shelter must be close. No one wants to be caught out here after nightfall if they can help it.

“I’m (Y/N),” you offer and gesture to the men with you. “And this is Azriel and Cassian. I’ve been traveling with Feyre for a while now, and we joined forces with these two and their friend, Rhysand.” 

“Then where is she?” Nesta bites and you want to flinch, to duck away from the accusation lining her tone. It is your fault that your group has split up now, that you’re too far away for the walkie talkies to work. 

Neither you, Cassian, nor Azriel have an answer for her.

“She’s with our friend,” Cassian tries to console, because Azriel’s gritting his teeth so hard you think they might crack. He’s in a defensive position, and doesn’t like the way that Nesta is speaking to any of you. “They went back to our van but we couldn’t stay in the house we found because it was…infested. We left a note telling them where we went, and if they follow that, they’ll find your directions pointing to Eryef. When they get close enough, we can contact them on the walkies but as of this afternoon, they’re still out of range.”

“Rule number one of the fucking zombie apocalypse,” Nesta spits, “Don’t split up.”

You swallow roughly, fighting the pricking stinging your eyes. You know this and yet you’d been so stupid. The three of you should’ve waited for them to come find you, surely you could’ve survived in that house a few more hours—

You gag at the thought, turning away from the group. Cassian moves a few paces away with you, leaving Azriel to deal with Feyre’s sister and her counterpart as he tends to you. It makes something warm in your belly, the way that they fall back so easily into their roles; Azriel the menacing force, Cassian the caring charmer.

“You okay?” Cassian murmurs, his hand warm as he rubs your back. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, weary of the newcomers and how Azriel is going to handle them. He’s not very trusting, and everyone’s about to find that out the longer he’s left alone with them.

“Yeah,” you breathe, wiping your mouth. Nothing had come up but the motion seemed necessary. “I’m fine.”

He’s not all too sure that you’re fine but he ushers you back over to the rest of the group when you seem steady enough. He’ll ask you again later, when you find some privacy.

The group opposite you watches as you return. Azriel’s harsh stare keeps them from asking any questions. 

“Where is Eryef?” Azriel asks simply. Nesta blinks.

“Why should we tell you, when you don’t even have my sister with you?” she asks, raising a brow. A flicker of emotion crosses through her pale blue eyes but you can’t make out what it is.

“Surely you didn’t think painting a sign with the name of your safe haven would go unnoticed by everyone besides Feyre,” Cassian adds. “Do you turn away all of those who come seeking help?”

Her eyes narrow once again but it's her companion who answers the question.

“No one has tracked us down before.”

You share a look with your men. It’s not unusual to not have run into many humans out here…at least trustworthy humans. Maybe they’d run into the same problems as your little group, meeting those who wanted to kill. Or maybe their camp is so well hidden that no one really takes notice of it at all.

“Well, now you’ve got us,” Azriel states, “And we know Feyre, have a way of communicating with her should they be in range, so you either show us to Eryef or tell us to leave, because the sun is setting fast.”

The authority in his tone has you shifting on your feet, warmth dancing in your veins. Where this attitude of his had been an annoyance to you when you first met Azriel, now that it’s directed at someone other than you, it’s kind of hot. It also makes your stomach swoop when he speaks like this to you and Cassian during the intimate moments you share.

The copper haired man makes the decision for the both of them, in what seems to be much to Nesta’s dismay. 

“You can come with us to Eryef, but if Feyre and your little friend don’t show within two days time, you’re out.”

And yeah, that seems fair enough.  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Eryef isn’t just a house, it’s a mansion.

Located within the confines of a gated community, you’re not sure you would’ve been able to miss something like this had you and your men come across it. The large, gold gates keep others out while expressing just how much money went into doing so. The streets are lined with brick, some loose in areas from lack of keep up during the apocalypse. They’d make for great weapons, should you need any, and it was smart thinking on Nesta and her companions' part, you think.

Inside of the gate house is a zombie who bangs on the window when you pass. Nesta hadn’t warned you about it, and since you’re traveling in the front of the group so that the two can keep their eyes on you, you startle, stumbling over your feet.

Azriel steadies you with a hand around your bicep, giving you a gentle squeeze to which you nod in response, letting him know that you’re okay. He shoots a sour look over his shoulder but Nesta is as stoney face as ever.

“We kept him alive in case anyone tried coming this way,” she explains, slipping through the gate, her hand tucked in her companions for help. He takes on the role of shutting the gate behind him and securing it with a padlock and thick chain. “Showing them that this place is as infested as the others will keep wanderers away.”

“Is this place infested?” Cassian asks, checking your surroundings as you all walk, the scraping of the zombie in the gate house getting softer as you move through the streets.

“There used to be a lot more,” is all Nesta says, taking the lead. She tosses over her shoulder, “But keep an eye out, just in case.”

“We spent some time trying to corral the monsters,” the man with the freckles explains. He seems a little more open to your presence, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the front Nesta is putting up or if he’s trying to get on your good side for an eventual backstab. “Cut off the arms of some, jaws of others,” he grimaces and your stomach churns. You slow your pace, not liking what you’re hearing. “The ones roaming around inside shouldn’t be able to harm you, but it’s not a guarantee.” 

So instead of killing the zombies infesting this once pristine neighborhood, they’ve mutilated them further? The thought makes you sick. You’ve seen some things since the end of the world, been through worse, but this…this is new.

“What’s your name?” you ask softly. You don’t have the highest hopes that he will answer.

His russet eyes soften as he answers you. “Eris.” 

“Nice to meet you, Eris,” you offer a gentle smile. “I’m (Y/N), and this is Cassian, and Azriel.”

Said men keep you tucked between them as you follow Nesta and Eris to wherever they’re staying. You let your eyes wander across the houses you pass. It’s like the world has gone frozen around you. There is no movement inside, no sign of distress from any of the homes in the community. 

You wonder if any of them had been like the situation you found at the last house you thought was safe. The family trapped in the basement.

You feel a bit queasy as you think of what happened down there, the horrors you saw when you opened that safe room.

You shove the thought from your mind the deeper you wander, down roads of loose brick. The houses only become bigger and bigger, looming over the streets. Some of them are even surrounded by their own fences, though this doesn’t seem like the kind of place one would be wary of their neighbors, only about the money they’d once been drowning in. 

Now, you see the fence around the houses as a second line of defense.

You pray that Feyre and Rhysand make it here safe, because if you can add to your group, get them to trust you enough to let you stay, you think one of these properties could be the place where Cassian might be able to start his garden. 

You can tell that he’s thinking the same thing because of how bright his hazel eyes are. He’s alert and drinking in everything that he can, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he envisions his own paradise, his own place where he can keep you and Azriel safe. His gaze is warm when they settle on you and a smile tugs the corner of his lips.

The thought sends butterflies off in your stomach. Enjoying the warm feeling, you delve into better thoughts while following along. You’re so lost in your head that you hardly even notice the group coming up to what you think is the biggest house you’ve ever seen.

Craning your neck back, you take in the large, forest green house. There are columns of wood on the expansive porch, wrapping around the side of the mansion. There are a few rocking chairs creaking softly with the wind, and it looks picturesque, the thought of sitting out there with a warm cup of coffee on an autumn day, Azriel on one side of you with Cassian on the other—

“Welcome to the Woodland House,” Eris says, unlocking the door with a set of keys. You suppose it’s not uncommon to have a set of keys for a mega mansion in the middle of the apocalypse, but you do wonder where he found them…if they were sitting out on the counter or if he took them from a zombie's pocket. 

You follow the pair inside. It’s like entering another world. Despite the home's large nature, the inside is warm and welcoming, so different from what the world has come to.It makes your chest ache. 

The furniture is oversized and cozy, mis-matched pieces that make the entire space look lived in. There’s a stocked fireplace in the living room with a large woodpile beside it, ready for the long winter. 

“We’ll speak more after dinner,” Eris tells you when his tour comes to an end. Nesta had darted off up the stairs while Eris offered to show you around. Nesta had thrown over her shoulder that it was pointless to do so because you will be gone if her sister doesn’t show up, but Eris only rolled his eyes in response. “This is where you’ll be staying for the next few nights.”

You brace yourself as he opens the door to the basement of the house. You tense a little as you stare down the stairs, brought back to the last scene of the large home you’d been in the basement of. Eris must mistake it for something else because he’s quick to continue. “I know how it must look, but you’re still intruders in our home and we must be careful. If I could put you somewhere else I would,” he promises. “When Feyre returns to her sisters we can give you something that better suits your needs.” 

“It’s alright,” Cassian answers, his thick hand falling to the small of your back in a comforting motion. You release the air caught in your lungs and follow Azriel down the stairs. “Thank you for your generosity, Eris.”

He smiles, looking pleased. “Of course. Dinner will be in one hour. See you then.” 

He shuts the door softly behind you and you’re tense, waiting for the click of a lock, trapping you inside, but it never comes.

Your shoulders droop with relief. Cassian is already halfway down the stairs by the time you and Azriel have shared a look and turn to follow.

“Holy shit,” Cassian breathes, “This place is fucking insane.”

It is. It’s a fully furnished space and it’s the size of another house. You almost don’t want to step off of the last stair into the carpeted cream carpets with your dusty shoes. It looks so soft you think if you lay down you’d be asleep within minutes.

There would be no need to do that, though, because in the middle of the room sits two large sofas that look like clouds. There’s a large screen and projector for movies and if this place had power it would be the place everyone would hang out at. You just know it.

Exploring further, drinking in its luxury. There are two bedrooms and an office, all fitted with pristine furniture and so clean that it feels like there’s no apocalypse happening outside of these walls. 

It seems like Nesta and Eris have been here since the beginning, unless they’d managed to take over this mega-mansion and keep it from being looted, defended, and stocked. You suddenly wonder if there are more to their party.

It’s a safe haven, if Feyre and Rhys can make it here.

On a whim, you find yourself digging through drawers and searching through offices, the bedrooms, trying to find anything you can for an insight on what is going on here. Who owned this house? Where are the signs of humans? 

You pull open one of the closets, shoving the winter coats out of the way but also taking note of them for when the summer winds down and the winter sets in. You’ll need warmth, especially if they don’t allow you to stay. You’ll have to speak with Cassian and Azriel about what you’re all going to do, how you’ll manage to get away with some extra necessities.

Getting down on your hands and knees you crawl further into the space when your gaze snags on a cardboard box shoved as far into the corner as it can. You drag it out, sitting back on your haunches, ripping open the flaps.

It’s memorabilia from what seems like another life.Trophies and sports ribbons, a signed baseball. There’s an old science project, a replica of the planets in space. 

Digging further, your fingers brush a picture frame and you pull it out, examining the family. It was taken in the great room upstairs, the loving parents behind their seven smiling sons. One is getting his ear pinched by the father, a twist of pain on his face and you frown eyes moving up to the culprit, the vile person who could treat their son this way—

Beron. 

You’d recognize the face of the man who wanted to eat you anyday.

The frame falls from your grasp with a crash. 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Cassian asks urgently, as both of the men dart to your sides. Bile sits high in your throat and your breathing is short, shallow because you’re under the roof of what is his home. “Sweetheart?” 

You can’t speak. Your heart races in your chest and your hands tremble even when Cassian pulls them into his strong, reassuring grip. 

Azriel shoves the fallen frame away from the photo that’s loose, glass clinking loudly throughout the basement. He stands, staring at the picture, his fingers clenched so tightly at its corners that it begins to crumple under his unbridled rage.

You squeeze your eyes shut as Azriel shows the photograph to Cassian. You can’t look at it again, can’t see those hateful eyes staring back at you, taunting you—

“Oh, fuck.” 

Oh, fuck indeed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo@kemillyfreitas@5moremin@dream-alittlebiggerdarling@waggel36 @bionic-donut@queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamer@reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24@poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020@jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi@ochiolism@secretly-here@harrystylesfan2686@i-am-infinite

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Of A Feather

M!Harpy x F!Human

This was an entry into a little contest. I went with a harpy plague doctor as my character. Some people liked it and that was enough for me.

When the village head informed me that he could not pay me in gold or goods, I was sympathetic. A bad harvest combined with a harsh winter had left them with little to spare. What little resources they had were used up to try and keep the remaining people healthy, at my behest. 

While I had no intention of exploiting him, there was still the matter of payment.  After all, services had been performed, supplies used, risks taken, and time spent.

If he couldn’t pay me with such things, what was left? 

Favors and flesh. 

I was taken to the man’s home, where a small gathering of people awaited me. They had obviously picked from the best looking and available people in the village. Hair combed and styled, attire perfectly coordinated to match skin and eye color, and subtle perfumes that did little to mask the stench of death that still clung to the doors. 

Even in the dim light of the candles, I could tell they were dazzling. 

The life of a plague doctor was a lonely one. Constantly traveling from town to town, potential suitors being scared off by the rumors that disease still clung to me, and many that I met died within the week. An omen of Death, bringer of the Reaper, harvester of Life. Titles that did not grant me land or wealth. 

The lot in front of me showed a fear I was all too familiar with. Some cast their eyes downward, but it did little to hide it. A few dared to glare or even scowl when they thought I wasn’t looking.  

I was about to depart, not wanting to further upset those still grieving, when the door opened. 

A chill from the autumn night stirred the curtains and made the candles flicker. As shadows danced across the walls, I could hear a few muffled whimpers and whispers. 

Labored breathing followed. 

The woman at the doorway was still wearing the gowns of mourning, her hair tucked away under a scarf. Despite this, her eyes weren’t red and puffy. 

In fact, she looked almost… Relieved to see me. She clutched a lantern, but I could see it shaking in her hand. For an instant, I feared she would drop it. 

When I took a step toward her, there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She stared at my gloved hand, the fingers slightly limp. 

As her lips parted, I expected a biting remark or curse thrown my way. 

Instead, she tightened her grip on the lantern and set her jaw. 

Standing up straight, she drew herself to her full height. The lantern shook in her grasp, the flame dancing and moving the shadows on the wall. While far from an intimidating stature, the boldness that rolled off her gave me pause. 

Determination now gleamed in her gaze, the lamplight making it look almost like a hunter’s glint. 

Tension rose in the room. Eyes flicked back and forth. The crowd cleared a path as she walked up to me, no hesitation in her step. 

There was no need to ask who I was. The mask and robes left little doubt. 

Without a word, she curtsied to me. She looked back at the villagers, as if daring them to try and stop her. No one said a thing. In fact, everyone seemed to be relieved at her presence. There was a glimmer of hope. 

No one would have to choose a sacrifice to give to the boogeyman. 

We left the home, the door slamming behind us. 

I led the way, and she followed me to the outskirts. Not one person stopped to thank her or bid farewell. It suddenly made sense to me. They had wanted to be rid of her, and she of them. A few faces in windows twisted and contorted with disgust. Never with sorrow. 

Like me, she was an outsider.

Once we reached the border, where the dirt road gave way to the sprawling beyond, I saw her hesitate. She stared over her shoulder, and for a moment I thought she would weep. 

Clumsily, I reached into one of the pouches on my belt and produced a handkerchief. She stared at the square of fabric, and then began to laugh. Tears still welled, but I felt better knowing they weren’t from sorrow. 

I found myself entranced with the emotion and expression. She quieted too soon, and we were once more on our way. 

We walked in silence, and I was beginning to work out the terms of a contract and the conditions of my new companion’s stay. 

She continued to look out of the corner of her eye at me, smirking when our gazes met. I didn’t pry into the details of her life, nor did she mine. Perhaps it would come in time, when she became accustomed to her new position. 

When we arrived at my home, I allowed her inside and set up her accommodations. She explored the rooms and seemed satisfied. Rather than shrink away or cry out at the sight of my more macabre collections, she seemed intrigued. 

It was far from luxurious, but she would be comfortable until we found a more long term solution. I also supplied her with books so we could begin her training proper. She took them, but seemed confused, raising a quizzical brow. 

“We will start your studies tomorrow. By the end of the week, you should know what to expect moving forward.” 

I bid her goodnight then went to my own room to draw up the contract of her stay. 

An assistant would help relieve the burden of a few jobs, but I couldn’t afford to keep one for very long. My focus was purely on this new endeavor that I never removed my clothing to prepare for slumber. 

I was perched at my desk, having scribbled out dozens of lines on my papers when I heard the bedroom door open. Living alone, I had never gotten into the habit of locking it. 

She came into the room, wearing only her shift. It was threadbare, leaving little to the imagination. Her eyes flicked around the room, perplexed at my lack of a bed. The confusion didn’t last long and she approached the desk, standing behind the chair. 

While both of us were about the same height standing, she nearly towered over me. 

I turned to face her, and she leaned forward, putting her hands on the desk behind me. The bare flesh of her arms barely brushed against my robes. Even through the thick material I could feel their warmth. Breath fogged up the lenses of my mask, obscuring my vision. 

It was then I realized while I had expected a repayment in the form of a favor, she had chosen flesh. Perhaps she assumed that doing so would end her stay with me sooner and she could flee back to her village, or wherever she decided, after. 

Slowly, I lifted up my glove and pressed the back of it to her lips as I waited for the fog on my mask to dissipate. 

Her eyes became lidded as I felt the pressure of her lips against the leather. With an intentionally gradual pace, she brought them further down, where the glove went under my sleeve. 

She seemed perplexed at the material going so far up, but I could still feel her warm breath rolling down my arm. I was statue still as it flowed to my chest and heart. 

Blood sang in my veins as desire long buried began to claw its way from the grave. 

I retracted my hand from her. Her fingers twitched, curling on empty air. Slowly, she stepped away, eyes averting apologetically. Lips moved, tongue flitting nervously as she prepared to speak. 

Instead, I put my gloves on either side of my mask. 

Without waiting for a request for assistance, she slipped it off. 

I expected her to recoil in horror, or to flinch. But she only stared, eyes hungrily taking in the details of my face. While I was certainly far from a beauty, she clearly expected something more grotesque or marred. Her gaze seemed to focus on my hair, the long plumes that caught the light in a strange way, the way it frayed out.  

I stood up, expecting her to take a step back. Instead, she was resolute, not moving from her spot in front of me. 

My gloves found her hand. I could feel it shaking. She laced her fingers with mine, breath still tickling my lips. 

Gingerly, she set the mask down with her free hand. Dexterous fingers worked open my robes, running softly over the pebbled skin. Inhaling sharply, I flinched away reflexively as the shed material fell to the floor, leaving me in only my breeches and boots. 

While I possessed the same flesh as her on my head and torso, black feathers began to dot and eventually cover my arms, giving way to wings stuffed inside gloves. They too fell to the floor, no longer being held in place by sleeves.

I could see her eyes going lower, wondering what lay beyond the clothing. Ironically, the one part of my outer clothing that resembled a bird masked my human features. 

Then, she finally hesitated. Blinking, she traced over my shoulders and ran fingers down my bicep, stopping where flesh ended. The slightest edge of her nails made my feathers ruffle. A few formed a black ring around my boots. 

I could see the worry in her eyes. An unspoken question. 

What are you?

I made no move to pull her closer. Nor did I push her away. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to frighten the other. 

When she stepped back, I could feel a pang in my heart. The small space now between us cut through me like an icy blade. 

She grabbed her shift’s hem. Pulling it over her head, she let it join my feather’s on the floor. Despite all the heat coming from her touch, nipples were erect, skin covered in gooseflesh. I found myself closing the gap, letting our bodies share the warmth between them.  

Soft lips pressed against mine, arms encircling my waist. Legs wrapped around, bare flesh of thighs and calves rubbing against breeches and boots. My touch feather light, I followed every curve and crevice of her skin, unable to fully embrace and grasp her like she did to me. 

As I traveled downward, I could feel her breath catch against my neck, fingers digging into my back. I lacked the dexterity she did, but I could feel the trickling folds between her legs. Since I didn’t possess fingers, I moved my human mouth down and parted her thighs. 

The clothing we’d shed formed a slight cushion as she sat, hands tangled in my hair. I could feel her fingers exploring as my tongue plunged in and out of her. Each quiver and shake brushed against my feathers, the sensation only seeming to add to her enjoyment. 

Ankles locked between my shoulders, pulling me more into her. I increased my efforts, hooking her legs in the crook of my elbow. The gasps and moans became cries and screams of ecstasy, begging for more. 

The fingers in my hair formed a fist. My lips pressed to hers, groans and growls escaping me in a carnal language we both knew all too well, my tongue exploring as hers called out for more. 

When she finally loosened her grip, I shifted. Breeches brushed against her soaking folds, betraying the hardness within. Shaking legs spread wider. In the moonlight, I could see her shimmering wetness. Shallow breaths betrayed her ache. The need to be filled.

With some difficulty, I molted the last bit of my clothing. My boots clomped noisily on the floor. My breeches had barely slipped down my thighs when she managed to get up, her whole body shaking with the effort.

Once more, she leaned over, hands resting on the ground behind me. Straddling me, she lowered herself down. 

The warm and wet gripped me tightly, and I could see her spread across the girth, before vanishing behind my feathers. She tossed back her head at that, breath catching as she took a moment to recover, before starting again. I met her with each movement, once more devolving into the ancient language. 

However, she seemed to have had enough of it, and her lips covered mine. Her tongue explored, no doubt tasting herself. This only seemed to invigorate her further, moans and whimpers rumbling through the both of us. Even muffled, the sounds rattled me to my core. 

I wrapped my wings around her, not wanting a feather’s width of space between us. I wanted this to last. But I was dancing so close to the edge already. 

My taloned feet traced over her calves. The sharp tips must have lightly scratched her, because she stared at me, finally parting our kiss. Trembling legs gave out then, and she collapsed on top of me, labored breaths telling me she was at the brink herself. 

Despite the hesitation, she gave me a nod to continue. 

They gripped her ankles tightly, locking her in place. Taking her under my wings, I let her rest against me as I rolled my hips. Each thrust was punctuated with a sigh or a moan. The slow pace drew out each motion. 

Soon, I could feel her trying to wriggle down onto me, begging me to fill her faster. A few times I gave in, remaining inside her, only to draw back out again. She would bite her lips, scratching at the floor. The request was loud, despite a word not being spoken. 

Each breath and sigh further fanned the heat inside me. My motions were rough and out of practice, but she craved it all the same. 

Finally, I hilted and held her fast, feeling the flame of passion sputter out. She twitched around me, soft sighs telling me she could feel each drop inside her. It spilled out onto my stomach and hips, my grip finally loosening. 

We stayed entangled, clothes and feathers scattered around us. I managed to get my robes and drape them over her. The shivering eventually ceased, and she laid against my chest, hand resting on my shoulder. Slowly, her eyes closed and I could feel the soft breathing of slumber. 

The lenses of my mask gleamed in the candlelight, watching over the two of us.  

[queenxxxsupreme]

Benevolent Creatures (Jaskier x siren!reader)

A/N: Hi babes!!! I will be posting a little something shortly to just explain a couple things but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: nothing outside of canon for the Witcher Netflix

Word Count: 4.5k

“Where is Jaskier leading us, Geralt?” Cirilla asked quietly. Geralt looked over his shoulder to where she sat atop Roach.

“I don’t know.” He answered.

Just ahead of them was Jaskier. He strummed his lute as he walked down a narrow path of moss-covered stones.

Ciri’s eyes flickered to her right. Something scurried beneath the underbrush.

“How much longer until we get to wherever it is you’re taking us, Jaskier?” Geralt stepped over a tree root, then guided Roach by the reins over it.

“Not long at all.” The bard spoke over his shoulder. “We’re nearly there.”

“And where exactly is there?” Ciri raised her eyebrows. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’ll see.”

Geralt didn't like how silent everything was. There were no crickets, no frogs, no birds. There was no sign of life anywhere in the swamp.

Roach huffed and whinnied, jerking her head back. Her ears flickered back and forth as if she too was trying to find some sort of sound.

“Shh, girl.” Geralt signed axii, calming her down.

“What’s wrong with her?” Ciri furrowed her brow.

The witcher looked to his Child Surprise, then returned his gaze ahead.

“She knows something isn’t right.” He pulled back a branch from a black willow tree that dangled in the path.

Just a few moments later, the walkway opened up to reveal a pool of water. A wooden bridge that seemed to be decaying crossed over the water and led the way to a small wooden structure on the other side of the pool.

The wooden structure— which appeared to be a home —sat up on wooden stilts four feet off the ground. The front porch wrapped entirely around the home. Green moss and vines of all sorts grew along the sides of the structure, appearing as though it was being engulfed in greenery.

“Jaskier!” Geralt hissed. “What are we doing here?”

“Relax, Geralt.”

As he climbed the stairs to the house, Jaskier straightened out his jerkin and tucked his hair behind his ears. But he decided that having his hair behind his ears wasn’t a good idea and made him appear as though he was trying too hard. So he shook his head out to give himself a bit of a roughened look.

Letting out a breath, Jaskier raised his hand to knock on the door. Before his hand even touched the door, it was pulled open.

You stood just inside your home, a soft smile on your lips.

Without so much as a second thought, the bard embraced you in a firm hug. His arms wrapped around your waist and then around your shoulders. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your intoxicatingly sweet scent.

You kissed his neck since that was all you could reach, your fingers grasping his jerkin.

Jaskier pulled away so that he could properly kiss you. His hand found your chin, tilting your head up.

You smiled against his lips. Your hands came up to hold onto either side of his face. The sound of his heart beating quickly filled your ears. It was a familiar sound you always longed to hear.

He pulled away first, blue eyes finding yours.

“You smell odd.” You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked up at him, brushing your thumb across his stubbly cheek.

You couldn’t quite place what he smelled like, but it wasn’t his usual scent. There was someone else laced with him, someone’s scent that made the hair on your neck stand on end.

“Well, I haven’t properly bathed in days— thanks to a series of unfortunate events.”

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to offer him a bath, but you heard movement to your right. You turned your head, eyes landing on the witcher and the child Jaskier had been traveling with.

You could sense her Chaos, the powerful aura radiating off of the girl. But she wasn’t what concerned you.

The white haired witcher carried twin swords on his back. A part of you wondered if they were the same swords he had decades ago. The same swords he used to try to murder you with. The same ones that he used to kill your sister.

A scar on your forearm burned from the sight of the swords. Instinctively, you placed your hand over the scar.

You took a step away from Jaskier, brows drawing together.

“Julian, what is the meaning of this?”

Geralt’s nose scrunched as he realized who you were. Your voice was far too familiar to forget. His medallion trembled, causing him to place his hand over it. The wrinkle between his brow deepened with frustration.

Without any explanation to the girl, he reached an arm out to guide Ciri behind him.

The simple action made you even more tense and unsure of the situation. He was preparing to fight you.

A growl began to vibrate in your chest, animalistic and primal.

“What the fuck, Jaskier!” Geralt demanded, drawing a sword from his back.

As you growled once more, dagger-like claws grew from what had once been human nails on your hands.

The bard came to stand between you both, holding his hands out to either of you.

“No, no! There will be no fighting!”

“Witcher.” You spoke through your teeth.

“What is she?” Ciri asked quietly, her question directed to Geralt.

“Siren.” Geralt let out a breath. He didn’t want to let on that he was worried. Should you choose to do so, you could very easily incapacitate him and slaughter Ciri and Jaskier. “Jaskier, why the fuck have you brought us here?”

“We will be safe here for a little while, Geralt! At least until we can get some sort of plan figured out.”

Your eyes shot to the bard, unaware of his intentions. Never had he brought anyone to your home.

“Ciri will not be staying here.” Geralt told him, yellow eyes finding yours.

Your lip curled up into a snarl. Human teeth were replaced with what looked like dozens of sharp canines.

“Alright, darling.” Jaskier turned to face you, reaching out to place a hand on your arm. You turned and stormed into your home before he could put his hand on you.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

Jaskier followed quickly behind you.

“Y/N, I don’t—,”

“You brought a witcher here to my home, Julian! And now I cannot stay here!” You spun around to face him. Your chest ached with betrayal.

“My love, my dear heart. Geralt isn’t here to cause you any harm.”

“You can’t see into his mind.” You shook your head, walking away from him once more. “He’s already made his decision and decided my fate.”

“He’s probably made that decision based on what he knows of other beings like you, but my heart, you aren’t like them.” Jaskier took your hand to stop you from moving away from him. “You are different. All you need to do is show him.”

You looked up at him, searching his blue eyes for a few moments.

Gods, you had missed those blue eyes so much.

“I won’t beg a man for my life, Julian.”

You pulled your hands out of his and turned to walk away again. This time, you only made it a few steps before he spoke.

“I’ve told you stories of Geralt before, my sweet. You’ve heard the ballads of our journeys. I am so, so sorry that I brought them here to your home.” His eyes fell down to his hands momentarily. “I wouldn’t have done it if I had any other choice, dear heart. That girl out there, she’s in danger and this is the only place that I know she is safe. And Geralt trusts me, he trusts my judgment enough to allow me to bring her here…. So I-I suppose all I am asking is that you just please, please my love, my heart, trust me as well.”

You looked past him to the front door that was left open. The witcher still stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to the porch.

Your stomach twisted with the idea of letting him into your home, into what was perhaps the only safe place you had left. After what had happened the last time you encountered the witcher, the mighty Butcher of Blaviken, you didn’t even want to be in the same providence as him.

“I do trust you, Julian.” You murmured.

Jaskier kissed your knuckles and then your lips, smiling at you.

“I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than that.” You raised your brows as he took a step away from you.

“Indeed I do.”

***

While Jaskier talked with Geralt and Ciri outside, you busied yourself with straightening a few things in your home.

There was a small stack of books that had grown on the kitchen table. You picked them up and crossed the room to the wall of bookshelves on the opposite side of the room.

“I didn’t think sirens were capable of appearing….” Ciri trailed off as she walked into your home. “Human.”

“They aren’t.” You placed the last book on the shelf. “Sirens are only capable of looking like sirens.”

“But you said she was a siren.” She looked over to Geralt.

“It’s…. complicated, Ciri.”

You crossed your arms, eyes set on Geralt.

“Because something is complicated, you refuse to explain it to her?”

The witcher gritted his teeth together.

“You are standing before what is perhaps the last Nixe on the Continent, Ciri.” Geralt held your gaze. “They were nearly hunted to extinction at the beginning of the century.”

“Why?”

“Because they are extremely dangerous. Far more than the sirens you’ve seen from Skellige.”

You tilted your chin up, trying your damnedest to remain calm and collected while the witcher spoke of the truth he knew.

“Every creature must hunt for their food.” You said. “A lion hunts for its food just the same as a fawn. Doesn’t mean the lion should be killed.”

“Your kind turned into a problem when you began slaughtering hundreds of humans purely for entertainment.”

The tension in the air was thick and uncomfortable as neither you nor the witcher backed down from the glaring contest.

Jaskier clapped his hands together, making you look in his direction.

“Alright! Geralt, let’s go outside.”

“Come on, Ciri—,”

“No, she stays here.” Jaskier pointed to Ciri.

Geralt’s eyes shot over to the bard.

“I am not leaving her here with—,”

“Yes, you are.” Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm. “If Y/N wanted to spill blood today, she would have done so already. You know that. Now, outside! Come on!”

You watched as Jaskier ushered Geralt out of your home and closed the door behind himself.

Ciri looked around your home for a couple moments before her green eyes flickered to you.

“How long have you known Jaskier?”

“A while.”

“Geralt said you were dangerous.” Ciri’s blue eyes looked you over. “You don’t look dangerous.”

You wore an off white dress that brushed the floor as you walked. There was a slit up one side of the skirt that came just above mid-thigh. Over the dress was a dark green underbust corset. You wore no shoes, finding the material irritating and the restriction caused by them unbearable. Brown leather bracelets encircled both of your wrists and ankles.

You twisted a ring on one of your fingers as you moved towards the kitchen table.

“Come have a seat, child.”

She sat down across from you, curious to hear what you had to say.

“My kind…. We are very similar to sirens found on the coasts. We both are only women, and we both can produce what you know of as a siren song. But only sirens can fly, and only nixes can shapeshift.”

“That’s how you are able to appear human? By shapeshifting?”

“Yes.” You nodded, rubbing your arm absentmindedly. “Centuries ago, nixes existed just as any other creature. I suppose you could say we are dangerous, but humans are dangerous as well.”

“How are you dangerous?” Ciri tilted her head to the side a little.

“Just as sirens do, nixes hunt humans.”

The girl shifted in her spot, her eyes falling to the deer mandible on the table.

“Don’t worry, child.” You reached over to offer her a comforting hand, but at the last minute, you decided against it. You returned your hand to your lap. “Julian wouldn’t have allowed you here if I was like that.”

“Nixes…. What did Geralt mean when he said nixes kill for entertainment?”

You let out a soft breath.

“Nixes and humans are very similar, dear. Humans kill for pleasure too. They start wars, they slaughter their neighbors…. But my kind, we had a few slip ups where we went too far…. And there was no going back. For that very reason, we were hunted to near extinction.”

The front door opened and automatically, you stood up. It was only Jaskier, who offered you a gentle smile.

“Ah, sorry about that, ladies.”

“Where’s Geralt?” Ciri asked.

“He had to take Roach into town to be stabled.l since Y/N doesn’t have a stable she could stay in.”

“I have no need for a horse.” You reminded him. “They tend to have a strong dislike for my kind.”

You sat back down in your chair as Jaskier came to stand next to your chair.

“I apologize for his behavior, my sweet.” He placed a hand upon your arm and leaned down to kiss your head.

“There’s no reason for you to apologize for the ways of another man.”

“I hope Ciri isn’t giving you any hassle.”

The girl wrinkled her nose at Jaskier.

“None at all.” You smiled, shaking your head softly. “She’s just curious.”

***

Jaskier took Geralt away from the house in hopes that maybe you wouldn’t hear their conversation. But the witcher wasn’t keen on putting space between himself and the monster that had been left with his Child Surprise.

“I will not go any further, Jaskier.” Geralt spoke firmly, stopping his tracks just a few feet from the porch.

“Geralt, you—,”

“You led us straight to a fucking siren, Jaskier.”

“You don’t understand, Geralt! Ciri is safer here than she is anywhere else!”

“She’d be safer in a wyvern’s nest than here.”

“In all our years, Geralt, we’ve come across plenty of monsters that weren't actually monsters. Y/N is one of those–,”

“I promise you, Jaskier, she isn’t what you think.”

“But she is, Geralt!” A smile came to Jaskier’s face. “I’ve known her for seven years, and I swear to you she is one of the kindest, most gentle beings I have ever met. And-And I cannot have you holding such a harmful bias against someone I love!”

Geralt shook his head, rubbing his brow.

“You said the same thing about the blacksmith’s daughter in Caingorn last month.”

Jaskier shook his head and waved his hands dismissively.

“No, no, Geralt. Love isn’t black and white my friend! It’s shades of gray. Y/N— She is my one true love. The one my heart yearns for every bleeding second of the day. The one I long for when I am away. The one that causes a fire in my–,”

“Does she know your love isn’t black and white?”

“Yes! She does! And she is welcoming to my love.”

The witcher raised his brows. Jaskier let out a sigh, brushing his hair back.

“Geralt, please. She’s someone important to me. I love her and I trust her with my life. Yes, in the past she has hurt people…. But what matters is that she isn’t that anymore.”

Geralt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes flickering to the house.

He wanted to trust Jaskier, but sometimes the bard’s judgment could be distracted by the presence of an attractive being.

“The first time I feel that Ciri’s life is in danger, we are leaving.”

“Thank you, Geralt!” Jaskier embraced him in a tight hug. “And I will speak with Y/N about her…. Hospitality. Though I’m sure showing up on her doorstep was quite the surprise. Y/N isn’t keen on strangers, but she is a sweetheart once you get to know her.”

The witcher grumbled, disagreeing with his friend.

***

With two satchels over his shoulders, Geralt made his way into the house. His eyes flickered around the room in search of Ciri. He spotted his Child Surprise sitting at the table with you and Jaskier.

Jaskier’s chair was pulled rather close to yours, his arm wrapped around yours and your fingers laced together.

For a split second, Geralt saw you smiling as you spoke to Ciri. But then your eyes flickered over to the White Wolf and in the same instant, the smile fell from your lips.

“It’s getting late.” He spoke, placing the bags down beside the table. “Jaskier mentioned a guest room where Ciri could rest.”

“Just down the hall.” You nodded once.

Ciri’s stomach growled with hunger. She smiled sheepishly, bringing her hand up to her stomach.

You and the witcher were the only two to hear thanks to your enhanced hearing.

“My apologies, child. I wasn’t aware I’d be having company.” You frowned, feeling a bit guilty that you didn’t have the proper food for her.

“In the morning, I will go into town and gather what supplies we will need.” Jaskier volunteered.

You stood to your feet and moved around your home, picking up a netted bag.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” Jaskier’s eyes followed you.

“I can’t have her going to bed with an empty stomach.” You gestured to her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. For the meantime, start a fire in the hearth, please.”

As the front door closed behind you, Ciri looked at Geralt.

“I quite like her.”

He grunted and rolled his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be so quick to pass judgements.”

“Same could be said for you.”

Geralt turned his head to look at the bard, who moved away from the table to start a fire in the hearth.

***

After a small dinner consisting of fish cooked over the fire, you found yourself sitting alongside the young girl as she asked you questions.

“Are Nixes from a specific area?”

“We can inhabit any water source. Lakes, rivers, ponds, seas.”

“And swamps?”

You smiled a little, nodding your head.

“Yes, even swamps.”

“Where are you from?”

You looked over to her for a few moments, trying to think of a good answer.

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, child, you don’t keep track of something so trivial.”

She nodded her head and fell silent for a little while.

“I think it is a good time for bed.” Geralt stood to his feet.

“Y/N, have you got anything Ciri can change into?” Jaskier asked. “At least until her clothes can be washed tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course. But I do think she could use a bath before changing into clean clothes, don’t you think so, dear?”

“A bath would be lovely.” Ciri nodded her head enthusiastically. The poor girl was smudge with dirt and grime. Her greasy hair was pulled back into a braid and she smelled less than pleasant. A bath would be the perfect way to finish the night.  

“There’s a pool of water not too far away–,”

“It’s getting dark outside.” Geralt interjected, causing himself to be at the other end of your glare once more. “There are things outside that could harm Ciri.”

“I can keep her safe, witcher.”

Geralt locked his jaw.

“Geralt.” Jaskier said his name as if to encourage him to let you take the young girl out.

“Fine. Ten minutes.”

You nodded once, a wordless agreement.

***

You sat on the edge of the pool of water. One foot was dipped into the water. You leaned back on your hands, your eyes flickering around the edge of the woods.

While the princess bathed, you sat guard.

Crickets, cicadas, and frogs made a beautiful and tranquil sound that resonated through the woods. Every now and then, something would splash as it broke into the water on the other side of the pool. Ciri would jump and turn in the direction of the noise. You would tell her that it was a bullfrog or a fish breaching the surface, and you may have lied a little bit to her whenever the noise came from an alligator. The animals had no interest in coming close to you, so the girl was safe.

“Y/N? Can I ask you something?” Ciri brushed her wet hair over one shoulder. You gave her a nod in reply. “Geralt is usually a very good judge of character…. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so hostile towards someone within the first few moments of meeting them.”

You turned your head to watch a black and white ringed snake slither along the top of the water and away from yourself and Ciri.

“This isn’t my first encounter with him.” Your eyes flickered back to her. “The Continent is unfortunately far too small for those of us unfazed by time.”

“I take it you don’t like each other.”

There was a long pause as you gazed at her, tempted to tell her all the gory details of the first time you ran into the infamous Butcher himself.

“He killed my sister.” Your voice fell to a quiet murmur.

“I…. I’m sorry for your loss.

You sat up, brushing the dirt off of your palms.

“She was the reason for her own demise in the end. Witchers rarely give my kind a second chance. The White Haired One saw us as more than just beasts. He gave my sister and myself a second chance. She could not control her urges.”

“Urges?”

You nodded lightly, reaching your hand out to skim the surface of the water.

“Every monster craves something. Most act on their hunger, slaughtering entire villages to satisfy their cravings. Some act on the pain that rests inside them. They destroy whatever they can get their hands on in an effort to get others to feel the same pain they do.”

“And what is it you do?” Ciri tilted her head to the side just a little.

“Survive.”

[breannasfluff]

Wild Wolf - Time

The path is visible over the low rise of the hill, along with a small grove of fruit trees. Wind breaks away with a squeal of delight and races for it, Noon at his heels. They both ignore Twilight’s shout behind them.

Noon smells him before they reach the little grove. The sour tang of monster blood, tinged with hylian sweat. He slows and gives a low growl, which Wind ignores.

“Apples! I’m starving!”

Danger, watch out! He barks, bounding forward to try to herd the sailor away.

“Go on, I just want an apple!”

Not safe!

The sharp sound of metal being drawn has Wind freezing. One of the apples in his arm falls and rolls across the grass. From behind a tree, a tall hylian in formidable armor steps forth. There are blue and red tattoos on his face and one eye is bisected with a scar. A slash from a sword, perhaps?

Dawn had a scar over one eye, but it wasn’t this extensive. This reaches up toward the hylian’s hairline and down his cheek.

“Who are you?” comes a deep, rumbling voice.

Noon puts his ears back and growls.

One eye lazily drops to run over him. “Your pet doesn’t scare me, even if he is a coyote.”

He adds bared teeth for good measure, taking a stiff-legged step forward. The fur on his back and ruff stands up. Danger, will bite, aggressive!

The only answer is a dismissive snort. “Answer, boy. I don’t know you.”

“And you know everyone?” Wind, because he is a Link, is too challenging.

Noon can still hear the double-time beat of his heart. What should he do? He’ll protect the sailor, of course, but a small coyote isn’t much of a match for a large sword.

“I do, in fact, know anyone worth knowing.”

“Maybe I’m not worth knowing!”

One eyebrow goes up. “I highly doubt that. Now answer, boy, who are you?”

Noon takes another step forward, growl kicking up.

The scrape of steel is joined by the pounding of feet and Twilight shoves his way in front of Wind, sword drawn. “Leave him alone!”

The hylian stares, but Twilight ignores him, keeping his focus on the large sword still pointed in their direction. “Wind, drop those apples. We’re leaving.”

Hyrule hovers just outside the grove, hands twisting. Noon tries to keep an eye on everyone, but it’s hard to juggle. Where’s Four? Hopefully with Hyrule, or set down to hide if there’s a fight.

Wind takes a slow step back, still clutching his armful of apples. “But…I’m hungry?”

“No. Drop them and go! Hyrule, get him out of here, will you?”

The traveler darts forward to grab Wind and drag him backward.

No longer having to worry about him, Noon takes his place at Twilight’s side. He’ll protect his boy in the coming fight if needed.

“I have no quarrel with you.” The rancher’s voice is strong, with no waver. “Will you let us leave?”

Still, the stranger stares. The sword is slowly lowered until the tip digs into the grass. Twilight keeps an eye on it and takes a cautious step back. Then another.

“You…” the man’s voice is faint.

Still backing up, the rancher keeps his eyes on the weapon, his own still raised. Unfortunately, he’s not watching his feet and lands on one of the apples. It rolls under his foot and he flails, going down with a yelp.

Noon flattens himself as the sword is thrown free and whistles over his head. Then he throws himself in front of his friend with a snarl. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his pack safe!

The stranger doesn’t attack. Instead, he sheathes his sword on his back and steps forward, hands raised.

He may not have a weapon, but Noon’s growl kicks up another notch. Danger, will bite! Protect! Stay away!

“…Twilight?”

[leaderpinhead]

Ortho - Hack Attack

Prompt: Doll

Ortho paused when he felt an uncomfortable nudge in the back of his conscience. He activated his firewall programs and analyzed the foreign presence. “I think someone is attempting to hack my systems.” 

The others paused to stare back at him. When Ortho had mentioned the tech expo a few weeks ago, he had been surprised by how the others naturally began planning the short weekend trip. Even Sebek loudly proclaimed how foolish it was for them to travel to a foreign place with no protection and included himself after receiving Lilia’s blessing. They were an odd group walking around the small convention center, but Ortho would have only been happier if Idia had tagged along with them. 

“You mean," Yuu slowly said, “someone is trying to attack you?” 

Ortho hummed. “I suppose in simple terms that would be accurate. They’re not being very hostile. I would say they were more testing my firewalls out of curiosity. Some of the other guys in the dorm ask to do the same for practice developing their own anti-malware programs.” 

No sooner had the words left him did the presence return with a much higher intensity. A piercing pain briefly raked through him. He huffed to cover a wince. “That’s just rude!” 

“They trying to hack you again?” Ace asked. He looked less concerned and more relaxed than Yuu, folding his hands behind his head. “Guess we shouldn't be too surprised. These nerds have been practically drooling over you since we got here.” 

“They thought you were some kind of… autonomous doll?” Jack added, only slightly stumbling over the phrase. His ears flicked back and forth from the constant echo of voices in the large room. “They even asked Deuce what AI software was installed in you” 

Ace snorted. “Like Dunce here looks smart enough to program a toaster.” 

While Deuce and Ace bantered with each other, Ortho focused on his attacker. It was easy enough to create a decoy to distract the hacker while Ortho followed the remote connection back to its source. They were clearly amateurs, neglecting to realize they left themselves completely open to a counterattack. Ortho made quick work of their systems. 

“All done!” Ortho said cheerfully when his consciousness returned to his frame. Deuce sputtered mid-word, and Jack jumped beside Ortho. “I won’t have to worry about them anymore.” 

From across the conference room came a distressed shout. “My computer’s smoking!” 

“What the heck? Mine’s playing outdated memes over and over again.” 

Grim snickered on Yuu’s shoulder. “That’ll teach ‘em to think twice about messing with us!” 

“I have to become more proficient with the technology they have here!” Sebek declared. “If Malleus was attacked in the same manner, then I would be completely useless. I will not allow that to happen!” 

“I don’t think you have to worry too much about that,” Ortho said. No longer concerned with his attackers, he moved to the next booth in their path. “But I would be happy to show you how to counter a cyber-attack!” 

Sebek agreed and started planning their “intense training sessions” as they walked together. The overall good mood they had been experiencing slowly returned, and Ortho was relieved the interruption didn’t completely ruin their day. He dealt with the other hacking attempts quietly, though he was sure Yuu caught on to what he was doing after the fourth monitor they passed started playing a loop of a cat flying on a rainbow. 

[hrefna-the-raven]

Web of faith

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - drow ending

Words: 2664

Notes: this story has have two different endings, depending on which Kar'niss you prefer, this is the one for the drider lovers ;)

In any case I think you all for tagging along on Kar'niss' journey during this series and I apologies already if it gets a bit hectic in this last chapter, I was too impatient and wanted to get that ending ready xD

Chapter 7 - Drider ending

The moon hung low in the sky, being visible for the first time in years as the shadowcurse slowly released its hold on the lands, as Halsin carefully explained the procedure of an ancient ritual he came across during his travels to Kar'niss. The drider listened intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear, hope and doubt. The proposal Halsin presented was both promising and daunting - a chance to finally break free from the curse placed upon him by Lolth.

The ritual would not be easy but demand pain, time and sacrifice. Kar'niss would be bound to the surface for the rest of his life, forsaking his freedom for the possibility of regaining his drow form. And the path to transformation required even more than that. He would need to pledge his allegiance to yet another god, more precisely the daughter of Lolth, Eilistraee. The drider flinched at the mention of her name, he knew she was the opposite of her mother and yet, the painful memories of his transformation still lingered dangerously in his broken mind. Different thoughts swirled chaotically in Kar'niss' mind as he weighed the risks and rewards. Would he be condemned to a life of servitude once more, his worship leading him down another treacherous path? Or could he finally find redemption, love and a place where he truly belonged, together with his beloved?

His eyes flickered with determination as he gazed at Halsin. The druid understood the turmoil within the drider, for he too had faced similar choices in his past that lead down a dangerously destructive path. He gave the drider a reassuring nod, tapping his shoulder as he walked away, giving Kar'niss all the time he needed to make his choice.

Your heart weighed heavy as you left Moonrise Towers, heading towards Baldur's Gate without Kar'niss. You weren't sure why he decided to stay behind and travel with Halsin but you trusted the druid enough to keep your beloved safe until you had rid Faerûn of the Absolute's hold. You were to meet both again at the grove and so, with your mind reaching out one last time to Kar'niss', vowing to return safely and proclaiming your undying love, you ventured forth, leaving the shadow-cursed lands and your beloved behind.

Kar'niss entered the forest alone, Halsin setting up camp at the outskirts as only the ones in need of help may enter this place. As he hesitantly ventured further into the forest, Kar'niss couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. His eyes frantically darted from one shadow to the other, his senses heightened with every step. The dense foliage closed in around him, making it difficult to navigate through the twisted maze of trees. Thorned hedges blocked his path, forcing him to squeeze through narrow gaps, while branches covered in leaves blocked out the sunlight, casting an eerie gloom over the forest. The air grew heavy and Kar'niss could feel a sense of ancient power lingering in the air. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. Doubts and fears flooded his mind but he pushed them aside, focusing on his goal to break the curse that had befallen him, he had to, for you, so he pressed on, his determination unwavering. He heard strange noises and whispers in the wind, as if something was guiding him deeper into the heart of the forest. And then, in the midst of the darkness, Kar'niss saw a flicker of light. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Intrigued, he quickened his pace, following the faint glow through the winding maze of trees.

As he emerged into a clearing, his eyes widened in awe. Before him stood a majestic drow in the middle of the pond, gracefully floating above the water surface. She was not just a myth or a lesser spirit, he instantly knew that she was the goddess with the power to grant him the healing he sought so desperately.

"Eilistraee", Kar'niss whispered as he bowed before her.

A soft breeze whispered through the clearing and as he glanced upward, she stood before him, her finger gently pressing against his lips to hush him. In that moment, he felt the warmth of her divine presence reaching out to him, touching the depths of his being. With a trembling hand, Kar'niss reached deep into his heart, pulling out the memories of you, the one and only person he truly cared for and for whom he had defied already two gods. He poured his love and hope into those memories, offering them up as proof of his commitment. And as the memories dissipated into the air, the goddess' eyes were filled with a glowing soft beauty and a gentle smile played upon her lips, her finger leaving his mouth and pointing towards the small pond. His legs moved on their own accord, carrying him to the water, stopping only when just his head remained above the surface. Despite feeling cold, the water radiated a warm energy that seeped into his very being, chasing away the darkness in his mind. In that moment, Kar'niss felt the weight of the curse lift from his soul, replaced by a renewed sense of clarity. His mind still felt fractured but the incessant ramblings of the voice in his head ceased and the overwhelming sea of shame that threatened to engulf him gradually subsided. His drider body felt different, it felt...normal...like it was just another body, now devoid of the sharp, agonizing pain caused by the curse.

Kar'niss took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, enjoying the calm and quiet, despite his body still being the one of a drider, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing at Halsin's little makeshift camp.

"Welcome back", the druid smiled at him, "let's rest the night and head back to the grove at sunrise."

You didn't care about your triumph over the Absolute and you cared even less for the celebrations after as you swiftly packed your stuff and almost ran towards the city gates. Your steps halted when a hand gently rested on your shoulder and and the sound of a familiar chuckle, one that had warmed your heart throughout your journey, reached your ears.

"Eager to reunite with your beloved?", Gale asked, "You know, there's an exceptionally talented and, if I do say so myself, remarkably attractive wizard who could assist you in returning even faster. It's not wise to wander alone all the way."

You pulled Gale in a tight hug, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as you chuckled. Amidst all the misery you had to endure, you felt truly blessed that fate had brought this wizard into your chaotic life. The kind friendship that formed between the two of you was more than precious and you truly hoped that this wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

"Promise me you'll come visit", you pleaded.

Gale nodded, mumbling an incantation and watched with teary eyes as you stepped through the portal.

Kar'niss let out a anxious sigh, his hands automatically reaching for the small vial that now dangled on a delicate silver chain around his neck. It was Eilistraee's parting gift to him before she sent him back to Halsin. As he touched the smooth glass, a sense of familiarity washed over him, accompanied by a faint sparkle of sky blue liquid under the warm glow of the setting sun. The words spoken by the goddess echoed in his mind, creating a comforting haze that eased him away from the lingering effects of Lolth's curse. As he stood at the small cliff next to the grove, he couldn't help but wonder how you would react upon your return, finding not a drider but the drow whom you had once loved. The smile forming on his lips quickly faded as apprehension replaced it, fearing the possibility that you might not come back at all. You were bound to fight the Absolute and her vile cult. What if you wouldn't survive this? What if you had survived and determined that, now that you were the saviour of Faerûn, you no longer needed a broken creature like him? It caused him pain, but could he really hold it against you for choosing someone else over him? Perhaps the wizard, judging by the way he looked at you, Kar'niss was almost certain he would attempt to steal you away from him. Maybe this could change if he'd finally become his old self again?

"Kar'niss", he heard your voice call out.

Fear engulfed his body as he dreaded the return of madness and voices. He hastily tore open the vial, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his trembling hands brought the small bottle to his lips. He couldn't allow this to happen again, he had to complete the ritual. He wouldn't be able to endure descending into pain and madness once more.

"Kar'niss, there you are!", you beamed as you sprinted towards the drider.

NOTE:

below is my drider ending for the story, if you prefer drows, you should click here and not read below ;)

He turned around in surprise, causing the vial to slip from his grasp and shatter into countless fragments on the ground. His seven eyes widened in shock as his body sank to the earth, desperately attempting to salvage the remaining liquid by frantically licking his fingers, hoping to obtain at least a few drops of the supposed healing potion.

"You came back?", he sobbed, "I'm sorry I messed up, I'm still a monster, I can never...I can never..."

"Silly Niss", you sighed, hugging him tightly, "of course I came back and I told you I don't care how you look now."

Stepping back slightly, you raised your hand, making sure he noticed the ring adorning your finger. His eyes welled up with emotion as his hand reached for yours, gently rotating the ring with his fingertips.

"I told you my answer is yes", you said softly, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, "and now that the Absolute is gone, I will remain by your side so that we can finally build a life together."

"But I'm a monster", he averted his gaze, his voice filled with doubt, "we can never venture elsewhere and I fear I cannot provide you with what you desire."

"Kar'niss, all I desire is you", your words were filled with a deep love and unwavering devotion as you cradled his head gently in your hands, "I never stopped loving you and I never will."

The touch of your skin against his was a sensation he had longed for, as your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close in a warm and tight embrace. Your face nestled against the side of his neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in its wake. Kar'niss let out a contented sigh, savouring the newfound sensations that had awakened within him since he bathed in that enchanted pond. Even the slightest touch to his chitinous parts now sent waves of pure bliss coursing through his entire being.

A deep rumble emanated from his chest as your trail of kisses descended. Your hands found his pedipalps, gently caressing them and although it felt pleasant, the sensation was markedly different from before, less intense. However, something new stirred within him this time, something that hadn't been present during since he was turned into a drider. Awkwardly, he lifted himself up, feeling a long-forgotten tingling heat spreading through his lower regions. When he glanced down, he noticed a long hard skin coloured member nestled between two plates, just above the point where his drow and spider forms merged. Your eyes were already fixed on his newfound body part and before he could utter a word, your lips enveloped his firm length, sucking on it eagerly. Kar'niss let out an almost primal growl, his legs nearly giving way as waves of lust washed over him. This sensation surpassed anything he had ever experienced before, surpassing even the pleasures he enjoyed with you, whether as a drow or as a drider. Your gaze shifted up to his face, observing how your beloved unravelled under your touch. Your tongue swirled around the tip and you hummed in satisfaction as you witnessed his mouth hanging open, eyes closed, hips instinctively thrusting to feel more of you. It didn't take much time for him to be overwhelmed by pleasure, pushing him to the brink and soon your mouth was filled with his warm seed, a sickly sweet flavour tingling your taste buds.

Kar'niss', now clawless, fingers curled around your neck, his other hand supporting your lower back as he gently laid you down on the ground and swiftly removed your clothes.

"Niss please", you moaned, a gentle breeze brushing against your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine. A blush spread across your cheeks as you drew him closer, your lips colliding in a passionate kiss. He pulled away, slightly panting, his tongue gliding over his lips, his eyes greedily fixed on your delicate naked figure. It almost felt like your first time together after your reunion at Moonrise Towers, nervousness cursing through you, just as much as the anticipation of having him without all that broken madness. Your eyes closed in delight as soon as you felt two fingers teasingly graze your entrance, while his tender lips pressed against your sensitive nub.

"I remember your taste, my tiny goddess of flesh", he mumbled against your wetness before delicately sucking and licking your clit.

Your hips instinctively bucked, the sinful sounds of your moans blending with the rhythmic crashing of the waves below as Kar'niss' tongue skilfully danced between your wet folds, his fingers pumping into you at a lazy pace. The sensation was softer, his slender digits caressing you with tender care, curling slightly to find the right spot while his tongue pleasured you in the most intoxicating ways. Kar'niss' heart overflowed with warmth; he would never be a drow again, yet here you both were, completely vulnerable and consumed by each other. You fell apart for him, still loving him unconditionally. It was never about his appearance for you; what truly mattered was that every trace of Lolth's curse had vanished from his mind. This allowed him to once again experience the warmth of your touch with his own body and soul, an unbreakable connection. Your climax approached rapidly, however you didn't want to cum just yet, not like this, you needed all of him inside you, so you grasped his head and guided him to move up.

Kar'niss immediately understood your desire and lifted you effortlessly, drawing you closer as he stood tall. His hands secured your position as his hard cock glided into you and you both moaned in pleasure. He thrust into you at a merciless, chasing both of you towards the edge as neither of you had the patience to go slow. In that moment, time seemed to rewind, transporting you back to that small sanctuary in the Underdark, bodies and souls dancing in perfect harmony through the planes of your desires as the pleasure of your sweet release embraced both of you simultaneously. Kar'niss almost melodically uttered your name before gently lowering you to the ground, his breath heavy and erratic. Your hand instinctively sought out his head, tenderly running your fingers through his white hair, silently inviting him to recline beside you. The drider curled up, enfolding his arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against his body. It almost looked strange as his towering spider-like form laid on its side, eight legs encasing yours, while his upper drow body clung affectionately to you, his head serenely resting upon yours.

"What's on your mind, my beloved?", you whispered softly.

"We are finally here together. I'm...I'm worthy and we'll have our future."

The grin that tugged at the edges of your mouth was irresistible and Kar'niss couldn't contain their own joy either. Your arduous journey, though it began with sorrow, had reached its end....a rather happy end....

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[bts-hyperfixation]

Is Three A Crowd

A NamjoonxF!ReaderxSeokjin fanfiction

Summer Madness 3/33 Namjoon arrives late to an after-party and finds that the girl he is crushing on has started flirting with another member in his absence. M/M/F threesome, Oral(both), Eifel tower

Another weekend, another after-party.  Nothing new when you've been running the K-pop scene for as long as you have. You glance around the room, familiar faces wave at you as they pass but the people you were scanning for had yet to walk in. 

You knew they were there, you'd interviewed them on the carpet before the event started and you'd been looking forward to catching up properly. BTS had been on tour for the last few events, and even the few before that, none of you had managed to cross paths.

You'd met the boys on the day they had debuted, also your debut. Your manager had sent you because everyone else had been busy and not many cared about the group then, more of an afterthought than the main event, no one had believed in them all that much after their company's previous flop. But you'd known from that first stage there was something special there. Ever since then, you've been the main port of call to interview the group because of the rapport you have steadily been building. Much to the envy of your co-workers much later down the line. 

Finally, they walk into the event, welcome drinks in hand. Everyone except Namjoon that is. You can't say you aren't a little disappointed, even as their friend you had your bias. He was one of your closest friends and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't also your biggest crush. 

Still, the other six members find you in the crowded space and summon you to join them at the reserved table waiting for them. 

You slide into the booth next to Jin and take the drink Yoongi is passing across to you. They tell you about their latest shows and the pranks pulled by the maknae line in each of the hotels they had travelled to. You laugh and join in where possible but your eyes still glance around the room looking for their final member. 

"Yah Y/N, I am worldwide handsome you know, most people would kill to be this close to me and you won't even look at me." Jin Jokes.

You look at him apologetically and then proceed to give him 110% of your attention in penance. You talk with just Jin for a short while as the other members filter out amongst the crowd to catch up with other guests at the party. At some point, your jokingly close attention turns into genuinely close attention. His arm snakes around the chair behind you; he leans in closer to hear you better as the crowd gets louder. 

"I really have missed you Y/N," he says

The singer raises a hand to brush errant hair away from your face behind your ear. The heat in your cheeks no longer feels as if it's coming from the warmth of the room. 

Jin's face is inching closer to yours and just as his lips brush over yours there is a cough from next to the table.

"Trust me Y/N, that look has never been followed by anything good." Namjoon comments disapprovingly. 

The group's leader motions for the two of you to slide along the bench, despite there being nothing but room available on the other side of the table.

"How much have I missed?" He asks as if he hadn't interrupted anything.

"Nothing interesting." You shrug.

You watch as Namjoon's gaze goes from your eyes to Jin's hand still on your shoulder, and finally, to Jin. The older man mumbles about needing to find Hoseok and skulks away. 

"I was looking for you," You say when you're alone.

"You were?" He seems surprised.

"Yeah, I missed you." 

"Not as much as you missed Jin it would seem."

He sounds a little bitter. 

"He was just joking around, flirting for fun. Perfectly harmless, like we usually do." 

You gesture back and forth between the two of you but it doesn't seem to make Joon feel any better

"If I'd been even a minute later I doubt it would've remained harmless." His tongue popped in his cheek in that wonderfully attractive way it does when he is frustrated.

"Namjoon... Are you jealous?" You ask

"Wouldn't you be in my position?" He asks in return.

Neither of you wants to answer, so you don't. Not that you get the chance. Jungkook interrupts you both, dragging Namjoon with him to speak with some people on the opposite side of the room. You decide it best if you go and mingle with others to clear your head. 

Much later in the night, as most of the guests begin to clear out you find Jin and Jimin sitting on the corner of the stage. You slide next to Jimin and insert yourself in their conversation, listening to them talk about their plans for the rest of the evening. 

"Taehyungie and I are heading to Hongdae if you want to come Y/N?" Jimin offers.

"Or you can come with me Y/N," Jin says.

"I thought you were going home Hyung?" Jimin looks confused.

"I am," Jin responds winking at you. 

"You are what Hyung?" Namjoon asks, appearing out of nowhere. 

Jimin takes one look at Namjoon's face, pats Jin sympathetically on the back and wanders away. 

"I am going home, hopefully with Y/N, seeing as you never made your move I figured it's my turn." The eldest shrugs, a challenge in his eyes as he addresses Namjoon

You struggle to keep up with what they're talking about. Surely Jin's proposition had been a joke, almost everything Jin said was a joke, and this shouldn't have been any different. But the tension between them was palpable.

Namjoon's jaw ticked and Jin looked triumphant. The leader glance between his hyung and you. Your head spinning from the attention whiplash. You'd assumed Namjoon was off the table as soon as they received their first number one... Not that you'd ever been brave enough to vie for his attention before then either.

The next thing you knew, Namjoon was pulling you into his arms. You barely have time to breathe before his lips are on yours. You kiss him back, a little unsure, but definitely happy to indulge while it lasts. You can feel Jin watching the two of you, but Namjoon doesn't seem to care. 

His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you right up against his chest. 

"Well, I guess there go my plans for the evening..." Jin sighs dramatically "Unless..."

"Hyung.. if you suggest what I think you're about to suggest to me I will punch you in that pretty little face," Namjoon says, his lips barely leaving yours.

"Oh come on Joonie, it'd be fun." The elder teases.

Namjoon finally pulls away just so he can roll his eyes at Jin, but he is only met with a mischievous grin. And you are left questioning what they are managing to talk about with you standing right there.

"Does either of you want to fill me in?" You ask breaking through the almost unbearable testosterone.

"Both of us it would seem," Jin says waggling his eyebrows.

"Don't be crude Jin." Namjoon scolds.

He winds his arm around your waist and pulls you against his side. The rapper leans close until his lips are pressed right up against your ear.

"Hyung seems to be suggesting that you might enjoy a threesome... with us." 

Immediately your face is on fire; you stumble away from Namjoon and stare at the two of them. The animosity between the pair seems to have vanished in favour of light amusement, both sporting smirks as they take in your reaction. It would be a lie to say that having both of their attention on you has your stomach tying itself in knots. 

You bite down on your lip, knowing that this is completely ludicrous. This isn't a situation that happens to people. And yet here it is, served to you on a silver platter, a threesome with Namjoon and Seokjin. 

And then the next hour is a blur. A blur of gathering coats, calling a driver, kissing in the back seat. And then you are in Namjoon's living room. And your clothes are on the floor. And the boys are on their knees in front of you.

Namjoon's hand trails up your left leg as Jin's mirrors on the right. They each kiss along your thighs, biting softly as they go each leaving their own marks behind. 

"So pretty," Namjoon comments

"I think you mean beautiful," Jin retorts.

As Namjoon's lips continue inwards towards your core, Jin's travel upwards.

His tongue laves across your hip, following your curves along and covering every inch of you he can reach without interfering with Namjoon.

Namjoon places both of his hands on your thighs and pulls them apart so he can place his face in between them. His tongue flicks out to play with your clit making you moan at the slight contact. 

Jin takes your hand, seemingly eager to also show off the talent of his tongue. Not to be outdone, he drags one of your fingers between his teeth and sucks gently at first before swirling his tongue around.

"I can't get a good enough angle here," Namjoon complains.

"Then let's take this to the bedroom," Jin says.

The eldest stands and sweeps you into his arms carrying you through the apartment and dropping you onto the bed. He beats Namjoon in finding a way between your legs and attaches himself to your clit. His slender fingers play with your pussy as you both listen to Namjoon grumble about being replaced. It makes Jin chuckle, the vibrations doing wonderful things for you. 

You groan as two of his fingers finally pump their way inside of you, curling to find the spot that he knows will make you cry out. 

Unfortunately, that cry is promptly swallowed by a now-naked Namjoon as he lowers himself onto the bed next to you and takes your lips with his.

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound amazing when you're being pleasured?" Namjoon asks, no hints of humour in his tone. 

"No."

"Well remind me to tell you every day."

The implications of every day and the feeling of Jin against your core has your head going too cloudy to respond.  Namjoon doesn't seem to mind the lack of an answer. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear in between nibbling your ear. His hands roam across your chest playing with your nipples. 

Your back arches from the delicious pain driving JIn's fingers deeper inside of you and pushing you over the edge into your first orgasm. Jin pulls away to wipe his mouth and Namjoon takes his opportunity to push him out of the way. The Eldest cries out dramatically to make sure Namjoon is aware of his indignation.

The rapper grabs a condom from his bedside and slides it on smoothly before Jin has a chance to recover. 

"Ready?" He asks lining himself up to your entrance.

You nod and Namjoon pushes forward, bottoming out quickly with a groan despite the tight fit. 

"So hot." He whines.

He buries his face next to your shoulder and indulges in the feeling of you around. 

Jin clambers back onto the bed having shed his own clothes. He crawls to the headboard and pulls your head into his lap.

"Come on Joonie, get moving you're holding up the queue" He complains. 

The younger man reaches out to hit him but does as he says anyway. He starts with shallow thrusts setting a pace to see how deep inside he can get.

Jin strokes your hair back off of your sweaty head, smoothing it down gently. 

Namjoon's thrusts get rougher as he builds speed, you're suddenly very glad Jin is protecting your head from hitting the headboard as Namjoon piles into you. 

"You look amazing like this Y/N. All spread out like a buffet." Jin coos.

Once again he takes your hand and brings it to his lips wrapping his tongue around each finger while keeping his eyes on yours. 

"You feel amazing like this too," Namjoon comments through gritted teeth. 

You turn your head to the side to avoid Jin's gaze and come face to face with his throbbing erection. You can't help yourself as you stick your tongue out to lick the part of the shaft you can reach.

"I bet your mouth feels amazing," Jin says, directing himself so you can reach more. 

"Why don't we switch positions so you can find out?" You tease. 

"You heard the woman Namjoon. Pull out for a second."

Again the younger man grumbles but he does as instructed and pulls out long enough to flip you over. He drives back inside of you harder, forcing you straight into Jin's abs. He makes it especially difficult for you to take Jin into your mouth, taking pleasure in creating the challenge for you.

The new angle has him hitting you in the best way, brushing up against your most sensitive spots with each drive.

Eventually, you manage to stand strong o your knees, pushing back against him in time to each motion making it possible for you to entertain Jin at the same time. You kitten-lick at his tip a few times, your hands on his thighs feeling the way he shivers under your touch. His hips buck into your awaiting mouth and you lower your head down as far as it will go, choking before you can swallow the final inch. 

"I'm so close," Namjoon admits. 

His thrusts are losing rhythm with each motion.

"Her mouth is so good Joonie." Jin groans

His fists curl into the sheets below him and it's clear he won't last as long as he might like. You snake a hand under your stomach and play with your own clit as you try to match your mouth's rhythm to the beat of Namjoon's hips. 

You cum and squeeze tightly around Namjoon causing him to finish almost in tandem with you. Your blowjob becomes sloppy as you lose focus, but Jin seems to enjoy that all the more his toes curling and his jaw going slack as he cums down your throat. 

Namjoon pulls out of you and helps you to lower yourself into Jin's lap so he can fetch a towel for all of you. Jin scoots down on the bed to bring himself level with yours, kissing the remains of himself from your lips before pulling a face at the salty taste. 

"Can't wait to get a turn inside you next time," Jin whispers in your ear.

"What makes you think I'll let you be involved next time?" Namjoon questions raising an eyebrow "She's mine now." 

"Don't you need to ask me out before you claim I'm yours?" You ask.

"I'd rather we didn't waste any more time after dancing around one another for over ten years..." He shrugs.

He settles down on the bed on the opposite side to Jin, once again pushing the older man away so he can gain better access to you. He kisses you deeply in a way that leaves no room for questioning whether or not you're now his.

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Masterlist

Summer Madness Masterlist

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Acting Attorney: The Props that Shape Our World

When you step out into the world on your own in university, there are many new challenges to face as part of growing up. 

But what do you do when you have a crush on your best friend’s childhood friend? And worse… What do you do when your best friend knows?

Word Count: 2,655

-

University was a strange place. Uncharted territory. Countless unknowns. You found you were constantly bracing yourself for the worst. Someone would pull the rug out from under you and deem you unworthy of attending this course. Someone would come up from behind and stab you in the back while taking what little savings you had. Something, inevitably, would happen, and these safe spaces that you were only starting to get used to would be lost forever. This was all too good to be true.

The betrayal you were expecting. But never from Damien. Never about Mark.

The first meeting had not gone well. Mark had specially travelled to the campus for a visit. His academic hours were far fewer, allowing him more time to make the short journey to where you and Damien were staying. You were left with a sour taste in your mouth because Mark oozed rich kid energy and seemed so out of touch with reality. You could have said the same about Damien, but Damien at least was raised in an overly sheltered, narrow-minded environment. Mark didn't have that same excuse.

You would have left it there, but you couldn't disappoint your friend. It was a begrudging promise that paid off. The second time Mark came over, it was to get out of his own place for a little while. He was stressed, pacing back and forth across the tiny living room with such intensity that you were surprised a path hadn't been worn into the floor by the time you arrived. He had his first performance exam coming up, and the nerves were kicking in. Damien had quietly explained to you that Mark always hated exams, especially auditions, even though he was more than capable. When he stepped out to fetch drinks, you had stepped in to help.

Somehow, you had pried the book from Mark's hands and began to guide him through the soliloquy he was assigned. Damien was right - Mark was confident in the performance, but it was the worry of ruining an opportunity that was eating him alive. When Damien returned with three glasses of water, you suggested that the legal students should pretend to be an audition panel, even going as far as pulling out the heavy winter scarves and messing each other’s hair to complete your "disguises". It had been so ridiculous, but it worked. Mark couldn't stop snickering, and afterward had questioned whether you had missed your calling in the theatrical world.

His grateful smile after it all stuck with you for some time. Just when you thought you could box everything up and move on, Mark would swing by, and you'd have to start all over again. You'd keep this to yourself. You had more important things to focus on. A crush was not one of them!

But Damien. Your best friend, your worst traitor. He grew up in the legal world. He was an ace in reading body language and subtle cues. When you tried to insist you saw Mark simply as a friend, you knew he didn't believe you (truthfully, you didn't believe yourself either). You had never seen him give such a mischievous smirk when he was presented with clear proof of your infatuation from your disastrous attempts to lie. When you pleaded with him not to say anything, Damien had promised you he'd never initiate such a conversation with the man of the hour.

Nothing more was said.

Trusting Damien to leave it in the past was a mistake.

-

Your course was on break for a week, and he decided that the two of you should pay Mark a visit for a chance. It was in the same city, nothing a short bus trip couldn't handle. However, he immediately set off toward the main campus instead of what looked like the residential area.

"Mark mentioned in his last letter to me that he was helping his tutor go through the storage backstage," Damien explained as he pushed one of the doors open. "I'd hazard a guess he's still poking around here. If he had any excuse to spend more time around props when we were children, he'd take it. Otherwise, we follow the, uh…" He trailed off, passing the page he had been carrying to you. Instead of writing out an address and directions, Mark had opted to draw a map.

Ordinarily, a map would be a fantastic aid, a guide through the labyrinth of buildings and streets to help lost travellers find their way. Unfortunately, in his excitement of potentially having visitors, Mark had made what was frankly the worst map you had ever seen:

It was made in a hurry by someone with a heavy colouring pencil and no eraser. The road outline was scribbled over several times to try and hide a mistake. One building had an extra piece attached to it, while another had a corner that was slightly scribbled out. His pencil had even made a small hole in the paper from the pressure. Finally, the rectangle in the top-right had a poorly drawn face with two bold arrows pointing to it. However, Mark had neglected to label a single thing. Without suitable directions (or even any sort of visual landmark), you understood why the university was the safer option.

You handed it back with a grimace and Damien swiftly pocketed it. At least the floorplan in the main entrance hall was easier to navigate than Mark’s diagram of lines and boxes.

-

The auditorium was nothing like the lecture halls you attended. While those were tiered seating with built-in chairs and long tables, this was a single level hall with a large stage at the back. Chairs were set up in neat rows, with a gap in the middle for the main aisle. You did recall Mark talking about lectures happening here. Without even a small table clipped onto the side of the chair, you felt sorry for the students that would try to take notes here. Surely students couldn’t take notes here, right? They would have terrible back strain! 

Damien had approached an older lady and asked her if she had seen Mark. She pointed to the back and said he would be finishing up soon. Once she had hurried off, he led the way backstage.

-

"Really, Mrs Butterly. I told you I can manage this just - Damien!" Mark scrambled out of the prop set he was tangled up in so he could charge over and pull the law student into a tight hug. Then, as he pulled back, he noticed you standing just behind Damien. There was a flash of confusion that was quickly replaced with a grin. "I thought Damien said you had study classes today. Come here!"

As you were pulled into a hug, you glared at Damien. In response, he shrugged with feigned innocence. "Apologies. I must have misremembered my dates. Mayhaps that is happening next week?"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to. Doesn't matter. You're both here! And it's the perfect time to do so. Once I finish here, I'll be free for the day. Is there anything at all you want to do?"

"Find a bathroom," Damien unceremoniously answered when Mark moved back toward the boxes.

"Oh! That's simple. Go back out the auditorium the way you came, then take the left corridor beside the steps. You should see the door signs from there."

"Thank you. Won't be long."

It wasn't until Damien was gone that you realised you had been betrayed. He left you! Alone! With Mark! How on earth were you going to get out of this??

An idea hit you as you stepped over a box and asked what Mark was even doing.

"I volunteered to help one of my lecturers go through some of the props we store backstage. They want to take inventory to see what we can keep and what we can throw away to replace. It's a treasure trove, and we've barely scratched the surface. I'm just putting all these items away."

A large assortment of items were scattered around the floor surrounding the three large boxes: mugs, books, gardening tools, board game pieces, empty photo frames, folded cloth, and that was at a glance. A fourth box was behind Mark, the flaps on top loosely closing it. In the distance, you could make out other large containers stacked against the walls. 

You offered to help tidy things away, and Mark was delighted to have another pair of hands. As you gathered the pieces of a chess set, Mark explained that there was currently no system as to where to return items. The plan over the upcoming summer break was to renovate the storage space, and then better homes would be assigned for items in the fall.

You admitted it sounded like a lot of work, and Mark agreed.

"You don't realise how much goes into acting. In order to recreate the feeling of watching life unfold, you need everyday items." As an example, he lifted an empty tool bag, "But with so many stories, there are so many props. It's a world all its own. It follows the rules we expect, but has its own laws." As he lowered the bag into one of the boxes, you found yourself unable to look away from the sweet, wistful smile on his lips that often appeared when he could talk about the arts. "It's easy to lose yourself in all the things you can find. Life seems so much simpler in a story, and yet… It's a weird world. We found two broken tubas this morning. Not even Mrs Butterly, the head of drama, could tell me why they were here."

The ridiculous example, along with Mark turning his attention to you, wasn't what you expected, and it brought out a surprised snort. The moment seemed to spur inspiration that brought joy to Mark's face.

When you later found a set of thimbles, questioning why actors needed something so tiny that the audience wouldn't even see, Mark reached over and snatched one out of the box, along with his coat. In moments, he had created a scene of an older lady standing by the window, trying to focus on her sewing when she knew her granddaughter was in the maternity ward. His hand shook, miming the needle pricking his hand despite the thimble.

"- which symbolises that despite the familiar security, the suspense for big news has her distracted." He carefully returned the thimble to its place once he had finished demonstrating his improvised scene, and dumped the coat back on the ground. "Even if the audience can't see it, it helps the actor portray a scene to the best of their ability. You get what I mean?" Chocolate eyes glanced to the side to look you in the eye, and you nodded with a breath caught in your throat. Whatever he saw on your face was enough to prompt Mark to drop to his knees and rummage through the box. 

"It's like, uh…" Several things were lifted and taken out. Mark was muttering, stalling for time while searching for something. You stayed on your feet as you peered into the box, like you could somehow magically know what he was looking for. It meant that you could see the way his face lit up when he grabbed a small box and presented it up to you.

"Like this! To the audience, this box could be anything, but you and I can see the fake glass in the lid to allow us to peer in and see what's really inside." You gasped. It was a beautiful golden pocket watch. The face was a pale cream with bold, black Roman numerals circling it. The hands were stuck at half-past two, but that didn't matter. "It adds to the surprise when the audience sees what your character is excited about, only having to wait a moment for you to open it and share the discovery with them."

"Something to share with me?" A new voice startled you both, heads spinning to see Damien leaning against the wall with arms crossed. "Well, I didn't think you'd propose quite this fast, Mark."

Your head whipped back to look at Mark, suddenly keenly aware of the situation. Him, kneeling on one leg with the other raised and foot on the ground for better support. You, standing as you hold a generic jewellery box. You felt your face heat up as you watched Mark's cheeks begin to turn rosy, only to glance away and try to admire a ladder resting against the wall when Mark caught your eye. Anything was better than looking at Damien's smug face. He was probably relishing seeing his two friends caught right in the middle of a moment.

"I, uh, well, it's more that…" Mark fumbled over his words as the ability to give a reasonable explanation was surprisingly sparse. It was as though something was very suddenly on the forefront of his mind and he was trying very hard not to blurt something out about it. "We were - we were acting! Testing their ability to react to a present."

"Uh huh…." Damien wasn't convinced, even if it was the truth. "So, do I get to be best man?"

"Damien, you are one of the best men I know."

"You're still kneeling."

That, finally, prompted you and Mark to break from the prolonged freeze-frame and scrambled to his feet with such haste that he nearly tripped into the crate. Dropping the jewellery box back where it belonged, uncaring whether it landed safely, you surged forward to help rescue Mark before he became part of the prop inventory.

"Hey, uh… sorry. For putting you in that situation, I mean. I didn't realise what I was doing…"

"Living out your daydreams?"

"Can you stop being a third wheel for ten seconds, Damien?"

Your gaze lowered for a moment while you struggle to think of a response. Was Mark apologising for the embarrassing situation, or for having feelings for you? 

"Are you okay?" Cautiously, Mark rested a hand on your shoulder. Your silence had made him grow hesitant. "I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I?" You shook your head, deciding to redirect focus back to him with your question of whether he was uncomfortable. "Me? I, um, I don't want you to think that I am at all because, well -"

"He wants to ask you out for drinks."

"DAMIEN!!"

"What? You said ten seconds. I gave you fifteen!" Damien raised his hands in self-defense, but you knew that smile was one that was tinged with evil. He was enjoying every minute of this. "Look. You've both danced around this for weeks. And since you've both foolishly confided in me, I decided to take matters into my own hands instead of subjecting myself to any more of this farce. The feelings are mutual, so we should hurry up and get this tidied up so you two can go out and enjoy yourselves."

In all the time you knew Damien, you never expected him to be so blunt about a matter like this. Judging by how Mark's mouth was gaping open like a fish, he was thinking the same. Damien casually stepped around the two of you and began lifting the scattered props like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest secret you and Mark had been desperately trying to hide from one another out of fear of rejection.

"Would you be okay with that?" Mark's whisper caught your attention. When you confirmed as much, Mark leaned over to kiss your cheek. "We'll plan something nice when we're back at my place." He turned away with the intention to help Damien. But when you didn’t move, seemingly still trying to comprehend the last few minutes with eyes lowered, he returned to your side and gently squeezed your hand.

You looked up at him. He smiled.

Somehow, you knew that smile read ‘I love you’.

[raindroppoetry]

Stars Above Home

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Soulmates

Joshua watched him carefully, side-long from across the aisle. He sat on a pew dressed in a white and blue silk robe next to a man with a stern visage wearing similar colors. The boy’s hair was golden and his features stunning with high cheekbones and eyes the deep warm amber of autumn’s end when leaves had fallen and turned red and brown. 

But it wasn’t his beauty that drew his eye, nor the fact he could feel the noble presence of Bahamut in the aether surrounding him. Something familiar was about him, something inviting, something alleviating, like the first stars of twilight that flickered alive above the towers of his home late in summer when the night air was still soft on the skin.

The boy glanced at him, and as their gazes met, immediately averted his eyes. A blush appeared on the apples of his cheeks and he fixed a determined gaze on the chancel ahead. 

Joshua followed his example. Next to a majestic statue of Greagor spoke an old woman clad in white and blue. The high walls spread her voice from row to row in loud echoes. 

The house of worship was built of grey stone, only the altar painted white. Joshua’s eyes wandered on the intricately carved dragons that decorated the pillars holding up the high ceiling and the massive arched windows of stained–glass that depicted legends of Greagor and Bahamut. A soft–colored light fell through to the floor and upon the pews on the opposite aisle.

Unable to help himself, Joshua glanced at the boy again and met his eyes already observing him curiously from under his brow. Joshua smiled at him brightly. Hastily, the boy glanced down then back up before allowing a shy smile in return.

Since his attention had been stolen, Joshua had little idea what had occurred during the ceremony. He had traveled to Oriflamme with Clive and his father as well as several other nobilities and guards to celebrate forty years of peace between Rosaria and Sanbreque. It was ’the first Remembrance Ceremony of hopefully many more to come,’ his father had said. 

The woman ended her speech, and two men came forth. Gracefully they presented a large work of embroidery, featuring the coat of arms of both their countries against a night blue background. Above them the Phoenix and Bahamut faced each other, mid flight. 

”For the continued good will between our nations!” the woman called out. Joshua repeated the words in unity with all. 

As they walked out of the church—Joshua next to his father who was entangled in a conversation with a man Joshua didn’t know—he noticed the boy walking right ahead, in step with the man from the church—likely his father. 

Whitewyrm castle rose ahead, at the end of the path paved with white stone. Its many towers rose high towards the clear skies and the sun glistened on its surface as if it was made of jewels. To Joshua it seemed like the castles in the fairy tales he’d read, where princes would save princesses and live happily ever after. 

He glanced at the boy again. 

He was talking up to his father, the man not allowing him a glance. Joshua was too far to hear the exchange that came to an abrupt end when the man’s lips twitched and he waved the boy off like an irritating insect. The boy parted from the crowd, ambling into the garden, and when the bushes nigh hid him, took off in a light run. Joshua fell behind without noticing, watched him vanish among the bloom. The crowd continued their journey, but Joshua hesitated, gaze darting after his father then the boy. Elwin was deeply engaged in the conversation, Joshua’s absence gone unnoticed. 

 He ran into the garden.

Keep reading

[dreamyautumns]

Twisted Wonderland Mythology AU Kapow💥

You, Ace, and Deuce approach the base of the gigantic volcano within the Queendom of Flames and stare skyward at the towering mountain. You gulp nervously and hold Grim close to you.

“Hmm? Oh, you three, over here!” someone calls. You turn and see a woman with black hair dressed in a scarlet robe standing by the entrance.

“Hello, you the receptionist or something’?” Ace asks.

“No, sir. I’m simply overseeing the passage of mortals like us who visit the God of Strictness. Is this your first visit?”

Deuce nods. “We’re here because our friend, Y/N, wants to speak about the impending issue they keep seeing in their dream.”

The lady laughs. “You’re having a nightmare? I hardly believe that’s anything to bother our God with. Very well, go inform him of your “dream”.”

You sigh and enter the cave of the volcano, followed by Ace and Deuce. The temperature inside begins to increase rapidly. Your cheeks begin to flush bright red from how warm it is.

“Holy hell… it’s like an inferno in here,” Ace pants, fanning his face. Deuce rubs sweat off his forehead and Grim yowls in detestation.

“Fnya! It’s an oven in this volcano! Is there really a God who lives in here?”

“Who dares speak ill of the God of Strictness?”

Your body freezes as you turn the cave’s corridor. Your gaze tracks upwards as you land on a scary, glaring set of deep blue eyes. Ace and Deuce come up behind you and gasp.

A giant sits upon a throne of carved, black obsidian, his gaze piercing and his expression stern. His red hair is short, and is slightly covered by a crown of vibrant, ruby roses. A robe of scarlet red is draped over his body, held by a white sash with a checkered pattern. His calves and feet are submerged beneath the lava that burbles below him. Grim’s ears fold down as your eyes lock onto the giant’s.

This is… the God of Flames, Passion, and Strictness… Riddle…

~

Riddle shifts his position, his face unamused. He then extends a palm and beckons the four of you forward. “Come forth, mortals. You seek an audience with me, no?”

You stammer before Ace pats you on the back and pushes you forward. “Y-Yes! Your Majesty!”

Riddle tilts his head. “Your Majesty? What an interesting title you’ve bestowed upon me. I assume you’re not from here, human?”

You nod. “Yes, again! I-I apologize for my ignorance…”

Riddle simply lifts his palm as giant stones begin to emerge from the pits below. A walkway forms in midair, which leads to the stone platform before the god. “I don’t have all day. Humor me, humans; what is it you seek?”

You hesitantly step onto the path and approach the platform, with Ace and Deuce trailing behind. Grim flicks his tail in anticipation as you step onto the stone.

“The God of Strictness, I am Y/N. I’m a mortal from an independent village, secluded from any land ruled by a god. I came to seek an audience with you, Your-“

“Get to the point, mortal.”

You gulp nervously. “Y-yes sir! I apologize for my banter, b-but I was wondering if you could possibly explain a strange dream I had?”

Riddle pauses, then laughs. It echoes across the chamber of the volcano, shaking the ground and jostling the lava beneath them. “A dream? You’d be better suited to speaking with Malleus Draconia of the Briar Valley, mortal. Your concern means nothing to me. Now begone; it is almost tea time, and as per the rules of the original Goddess of Strictness, “Tea time shall take place between the hours of 4 and 5, no earlier, no later.” An the rules are very important in this land, yes?”

Deuce bravely steps up. “Y-Your Majesty!”

Riddle raises an eyebrow. “What, mortal…?”

“I-I don’t wish to be disrespectful in any manner, but my friend here traveled for three days and three nights for you to simply send them away again!”

“How is that any of MY concern?”

“Deuce, whatever the hell you’re doing, stop!” Ace hisses through gritted teeth. Deuce, however, continues.

“I just think it’s a bit unfair how far they had to go for you to just dismiss them. Couldn’t you at least provide them with insight as to how to get to the Briar Valley?”

Riddle sits up fully. “Are you questioning my authority?”

Grim yelps and covers his ears. “Deuce! Don’t go making him mad!”

Deuce freezes and puts his hands up. “N-no, sir! But-“

“There are no BUTS, and there are no OTHER questions. They will leave my palace AND my kingdom and return to their sorry excuse of a village. Ha! How inane! A village without the rule of a god. No wonder they are so uneducated about the world!”

You look up, offended and about to say something, when Ace angrily steps forward. “Hey JERK!! Don’t talk about my buddy that way! You might be a god, but you’re a lousy excuse of a ruler if you can’t even understand the concerns of the people who seek you out!”

Riddle goes quiet. He then stands up, his eyes glaring at the four of you as he angrily stomps his way over. The lava beneath you splashes and sloshes around as the god approaches.

“O-oh, damnit! Wait, I got carried away! I didn’t mean any-“

“GUARDS?!” Riddle shouts at the top of his lungs. The volcano shakes and rumbles as you stand there, terrified. Grim growls angrily and bares his teeth. “Take these INSOLENT little pests and get RID of them… OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!!!!!!”

A horn sounds somewhere as several guards file into the volcano. Ace and Deuce prepare to run with you until something looms above you all. You let out a shriek as Riddle’s hand grabs you roughly and squeezes you. Grim falls to the ground.

“Y/N!!” Grim shouts.

“GUYS!!”

Riddle holds you firmly as the trio of friends is escorted away. You desperately reach for them as the god lifts you to his face.

“And YOU… well, let’s just say we’re going to have a little chat…”

[loafbud]

[ Twisted Inkblot | Fanfic ]

A Splatoon + Twisted Wonderland Crossover AU

CHARACTER APPEARANCES: Neo Agent 3, Lil Buddy, Lilia Vanrouge, Mr. Grizz (mentioned only: Judd/Lil Judd, Squidbeak Splatoon, Malleus Draconia)

CONTENT WARNINGS: contains violence (fighting scenes w/ mild violence; one moment is more graphic & is not described in detail, but implied); character death; nausea mention/feeling sick

WORD COUNT: 3,882 words (21,897 characters)

A/N: ASDFGH I FINALLY WROTE IT BUT,, WHY IS THIS SO LONG,,, this was meant to be shorter tbh..... I haven't written fanfic in years dawg lol this is based on a dream i had months back (which i also drew a scene of), so everything that happens in this story actually occurred in the dream- also do expect OOC (out of character) stuff & AU/details that aren't canon (Lilia wore a red cape in his general armor + was the briar valley king in the dream, for example)

UUUH BUT YEAH IDK WHY I SPENT OVER 3 HOURS ON THIS (im too lazy to draw header art for this)

Clutching their Hero Shot, Agent 3 sprayed forth an uneven path of ink ahead of them to swim in.

Spray ink, swim, spray ink, swim… It went this way for a while. Agent 3 was beginning to lose track of time

Treading carefully along the rugged path, the inkling looked up and widened their eyes, frozen in step. Just up ahead, a figure stood in the clearing of a flat mountainous area in front of the door of the ancient sand-colored sanctuary. Agent 3 recognized the general armor shrouded by a long ponytail and crimson cape that swayed majestically in a silent breeze. A gasp caught in the agent's throat.

Lilia Vanrouge! But… why is he here?

Before Agent 3 could announce themselves, the fae spoke without looking back. "You shouldn't be here," he said coolly.

Neither should you! Agent 3 wanted to say, but bit back those words. The inkling put a firm foot forward, Lil Buddy losing his balance on top of their head. "What about Briar Valley? They need you there now more than ever!"

"It's far too dangerous for you to be here."

Agent 3 flew their gaze across their surroundings. There were no signs that an enemy was nearby; nothing looked upturned or in disarray. The sacred aura surrounding them felt still and undisturbed. The inkling looked at Lilia again and hadn't realized until now at how on-guard and tense his stance was, like he was waiting for an ambush at any moment.

Stepping closer, Agent 3 stammered. "I-I saw what happens in my timeline…"

"You shouldn't have traveled back here to the past," Lilia shot a look at Agent 3, daggers in his eyes. "You've done all that you could. There's nothing left for you to do."

"B-but…" Agent 3 reached for Lil Buddy on their head and held him in their arms, "we want to help."

Lilia fell silent for a moment, his gaze dark. After a moment, the fae lifted his chin. "As general, this is my responsibility. There's nothing you can do here."

"Me and Lil Buddy can figure out something."

"You'll only get in the way!"

Before Agent 3 could get another word in, the air began to rumble around them. Lilia shot a look towards the center of the mountainside sanctuary clearing. A dark portal manifested before them, big enough for a giant oak tree to fit in. Moments after the portal solidified, a giant figure lumbered from it, its body covered in brown fur. Agent 3's body grew cold as they recognized the grizzly bear standing before them.

Mr. Grizz!

The ominous swirling portal trickled away behind Mr. Grizz as he approached the fae and inkling, his eyes glowing a menacing red. Several other portals appeared and dispersed around him, a silver Lizalfo spawning from each one until there was a large group of them.

Lil Buddy gurgled in a growl in Agent 3's arms, but then scurried inside the agent's backpack after making eye contact with one of the menacing Lizalfos. Agent 3 could feel the smallfry trembling in fear. Glaring at the bear, they were about to reach for their Hero Shot when Lilia put a hand out to stop them, giving Agent 3 a warning look.

When Lilia looked back at Mr. Grizz, his dark red eyes gleamed with hatred. "So you've came back," he sneered.

Mr. Grizz's tone was casual, like malice hidden beneath a sheet of ice. "I'm on a tight schedule, so I'll make this quick." He gestured his hand to the doors of the mountainside sanctuary. "Allow me to obtain the Great Golden Egg to aid in my plans to keep mammals from going extinct, and me & my minions will leave you two in peace. Also, to be clear, these lizalfos aren't mammals. But they've decided to work for my cause."

Lilia gave a long, cold stare at the bear. Agent 3 wanted so bad to take their Hero Shot and teach Mr. Grizz a lesson! But they stood back and held back the urge, watching from the sidelines with Lil Buddy daydreaming.

Smoothly, the giant grizzly bear strode across the dusty clearing of the ancient sanctuary entrance as he spoke, his voice like thawing ice. "I've seen the future. It's looking rather bleak for us mammals, Mr. Vanrouge; an absolute wasteland eventually overran by sentient sea life." When Lilia sneered in silence, Mr. Grizz continued.

"I'm only helping us out. Don't you want a bright, promising future for your fae? With the Great Golden Egg in my possession, I will ensure the longevity and prosperity for all mammals. Disallowing me to do so will guarantee a mammalian mass extinction."

General Lilia's eyes were narrowed, his pointed ears perked, breathing steadied. Agent 3 could see the grip of Lilia's hand relaxed on the hilt of his weapon. Don't believe what he's saying, Agent 3 hissed mentally. Images of their timeline flashed in their mind, like a movie film riddled in dust, an aged relic left unscathed. Mr. Grizz doesn't know… but regardless of what he does, the mammalians won't make it…

And yet they recall the felines Judd and his clone Lil Judd, who are in fact mammals. A shiver trickled down their back. They remember seeing a large, towering furry figure that closely resembled the callous grizzly bear. But Mr. Grizz didn't come from Agent 3's timeline, as his timeline was here in the past. Surely that didn't mean…

Mr. Grizz's booming voice broke into their thoughts. "I take your silence that you're considering the thought," he told Lilia, who remained composed under a stern gaze.

The bear rolled his large shoulders back, trails of red mist radiating from his body, slithering over to snake around Lilia and Agent 3. The inkling and fae shared a cautious glare. Stay on guard. Lil' Buddy, oblivious to the situation, was too busy trying to lick the black-and-red streams, stretching his neck out from Agent's backpack.

"So…" Mr. Grizz's voice brought their attention back to him and when they looked at him, Lilia and Agent 3's eyes widened with horror: Mr. Grizz was headless! The dark red miasma seeped out of his neck, smoky purple clouds forming a collar. Mr. Grizz's head was on the ground by his feet, facing them with a composed smirk and eyes rimmed with pride as he continued, "…do I have your trust?"

The red miasma steamed from his eyes until it concealed his head. When the miasma cleared, his head was back in place. There was no sign of wounds, and he had no discomfort or pain in his eyes. The grizzly bear had a relaxed composure as he watched Agent 3 and Lilia frozen with fright, the smallfry salmonid unaware in his own little world.

Fear crept up Agent 3's shoulders, shuddering at the sight. H-how was he not in pain? Several steps in front of them, Lilia gasped and clenched his fists. His eyes were wide with dread, breath slow and shaky. Agent 3 felt sick. They had never seen the general this shaken before.

When Lilia spoke, his voice was teetering on the edge with disgust. "You… you made a deal with the devil after all!"

A haughty laugh thundered in Mr. Grizz's chest. "Correct," he chimed. "If I were to face anyone in opposition to my plans, I needed the necessary power to put 'em in there place."

The silver lizalfos squawked and chattered in clamorous victor. Lilia staggered forward and Agent 3 thought he was about to fall. But then the General fae's body tensed as he clutched his weapon hilt, his bangs casting a shadow across an unreadable expression. For a moment, Lilia seemed to stunned to speak. But when he finally spoke, his voice was ice. "You know… for a second, I considered your plan of action. Considered forming an alliance, even. And now I'm hearing you've formed an alliance with an enemy-" Lilia unsheathed his weapon, lunging forward in a snarl. "I will not let mammalians be saved under your govern, Demon King Grizz!"

Agent 3 reached for their Hero Shot but their body grew numb. "I-if Mr. Grizz formed an alliance with the devil," they murmured under their breath, voice quivering. "Then… that means… th-that means… Mr. Grizz is the Demon King…!"

BOOM!

Mr. Grizz swung a burly arm at the lunging fae, sending him to land on the ground with a crude thud. "You're right on the money, fae," Mr. Grizz spat in a wicked grin. "I've gained the new title of Demon King, and you will respect me as such! But oh, I see you've made yourself clear as to where you stand… therefore-" his face gnarled in a menacing toothy smile, eyes blazing with crimson malice "-you are an obstacle in my plans."

Lilia shot back up on his feet in the blink of an eye, vigor burning bright in his wild eyes. "Ah, a fight," he sneered. "I haven't had good combat since fighting off those five Lynels! Hraaaah!"

Agent 3 watched from the distance as Lilia whirred around Mr. Grizz like a hawk, landing blows and strikes on the Demon King. Mr. Grizz barely budged from his spot, a wicked smug look plastered on his face as he casually lifted his large hands, countering the strikes. The confrontation was short-lived when the demon bear scored his claws down Lilia's side, piercing his armor.

"Vanrouge!" Agent 3 shouted, fear glazing their eyes.

Dust clouded the air from the impact of Lilia's fall, catching in his throat and making him cough. Sprawled flat on the ground, Lilia propped himself up on a trembling arm as he breathed heavily, winded from Mr. Grizz's attack. Agent 3 clutched their Hero Shot firmly, gritting their teeth. Lilia's face was obscured by his long hair, disheveled from the combat. Come on… they hissed in thought. Get back up… don't give up now!

Almost as if the fae heard their troubled thoughts, he was beginning to rise himself up. But just as he was about to kneel back up, the towering grizzly bear sent a heavy kick to his side, sending Lilia stumbling back on the ground.

No!

Bellowing in laughter, Mr. Grizz stepped next to the wounded Lilia as the Lizalfos around them began chittering. "Can't you see," Mr. Grizz snickered. "You are powerless against me." A silver Lizalfo scurries over to grab the end of Lilia's bright crimson cape, studying it with curious eyes as the grizzly bear continued. "Oh, how unfortunate of an opportunity you passed. We're on common ground! And yet you chose to play a moral high and stand in my way. How foolish of a General the fae will see you as… they'd see me as a better fit for their ruler."

With a grunt, Lilia propped himself up on a weak elbow and turned his head on a stiff neck, eyes clouded and glaring up at the grizzly Demon King. "Foolish bear," he spat, chuckling sickly. "You have a beehive in your brain if you think they'll take orders from a bear."

Suddenly, darkness clouded over Mr. Grizz's gaze. His expression was unreadable as his body began glowing crimson, dark miasma and black streams steaming from him. The growing energy around him send a burst of wind that nearly knocked Agent 3 on the ground. They dug their heels in the ground and covered their face with an arm, Lil Buddy ducking in the backpack. Lilia remained on the ground, his intense gaze ingrained on the Demon King. Chattering rose from the Lizalfos dispersed around them, hopping in place with excitement. The air around them grew thick with malice, the skies becoming swallowed by red clouds shrouding the afternoon sunlight. It didn't take long for everything to become engulfed in a dark crimson lighting.

When the miasma cleared, the appearance of Mr. Grizz had changed: he had glowing purple streams of long hair that flowed like flames, his chin covered in the same purple matter; tufts of it flared out on top of his head. His shoulders were broad and his eyes glared a menacingly bright yellow. Once the miasma's energy burst died down, he lifted an arm to the side. The air above his palm swirled with red sparks as he summoned a crimson-red scythe nearly the length of his body, the blade in a thick sheen. Gripping the scythe radiating with darkness, the Demon King bear looked down at Lilia as his face twisted in the vilest grin Agent 3's ever seen in their life.

"'They won't take orders from a bear', huh? Ok. Well let's test that theory, shall we?"

Mr. Grizz clasped both hands on the scythe hilt firmly. Rolling his shoulders back, he rose his scythe in the air, his eyes growing wilder and wilder. Agent 3 felt sick.

"No!" they wailed. "General, get up! Get up, get up!"

A nearby lizalfo leapt in front of them and, before the inkling could react, the monster lashed its thick tail at Agent's head, knocking them down on the ground. At the same moment, Agent 3 heard a sickly sound followed by a bloodcurdling wail from Lilia. They couldn't look. They couldn't look…

They couldn't look.

There was nothing they could do.

A sharp wave of nausea overwhelmed Agent 3. More and more lizalfos began spawning around them, concealing the brutal onslaught that Mr. Grizz unleashed on Lilia Vanrouge. The world was beginning to spin around Agent 3. Shifting into their squid form, the inkling super-jumped away from the mountainside clearing. They needed to get away fom the sanctuary. Far away.

...

Hours had seemed to pass after dozens of super-jumps. Even from here, the red skies stretched across overhead, and Agent 3 could hear the distance sneers of lesser monsters in the distance. Agent 3 reached the isolated forest that governed the time portal that lead to the future, Agent 3 and Lil Buddy's timeline.

After what had happened, Agent 3 wanted nothing more to do than to wail to the heavens and hope for a hole to appear beneath them. But they clutched their Hero Shot, eyes heavy with misery. They traveled back in time to defeat Mr. Grizz from affecting their timeline, but he evolved into the Demon King and slayed General Lilia.

I failed!

Agent 3's eyes were glued heavily to the whirling, brilliant time portal. Do I even want to go back? How much different would the world be in my timeline? Would it change at all? Or would it be the reflection become the reflection of my failures?

Lil Buddy leapt out of their backpack, landing softly on the low vibrant grass. He garbled in a murmur, staring at the inkling with a worried look. Lil Buddy shuffled over, nuzzling their muzzle against Agent 3's ankle, but the inkling was too deep in emotional thought to notice.

Furrowing their eyebrows, Agent 3 gave one long look at their Hero Shot before flinging it behind them, not looking back as it landed somewhere by a berry bush. Lil Buddy jumped in fright at the sudden action. He warbled a sound of concern before Agent 3 made powerful strides towards the time portal. Scurrying in circles, Lil Buddy seemed to go 'Wait! Your Hero Shot!' as he scampered after them in a hurry. Right before walking into the portal, Agent 3 halted, their tentacle swaying to a halt, barely bushing the portal entrance. They closed their eyes shut, fighting back a stray tear coming from their eyes. With their fists clenched, they stared down wildly into to the shining pathway inside the portal.

Whatever lied beyond that path… it was their home in a changed world.

Agent 3 readied themselves to jump, Lil Buddy leaping up to grab their shoulder tightly, and staggered into the time portal. The portal shrieked with light, filling their ears and spreading blinding light into their vision until their world was covered in white light and they lost track of time.

...

Bright white light ebbed away into clear blue skies as Agent 3 and Lil Buddy flew out of the time portal, which was a short height off the ground. Even grass softened their landing with a thump. Lil Buddy landed on his back and he wriggled himself back up, hopping in place while warbling with excitement. Agent 3 sat up with a groan, rubbing the brilliant lights of the time portal away from their eyes. After they recovered, their hearing was met was the cheery music of birdsong in the distance and just began taking notice of their surroundings:

They sat in a vast field, a bright royal castle sitting atop vibrant grasslands with a garden maze in front of the courtyard. Trees lined the horizon far out and around the fields. The air felt unruffled, as though it was a world coaxed in tranquility.

Agent 3 finally stood up on their feet, a look of confusion across their face. The location was the same before they jumped to the past, but the castle wasn't there before. Was this the right timeline?

Looking closer, Agent 3 could see two jellyfish guards standing on either side of the castle's front gates, but in the courtyard there were a small crowd of humans flocking around in a fair chatter. Agent 3 staggered back. The humans survived! A gasp of astonishment caught in their throat. But there's also jellyfish! So does that mean Mr. Grizz plan worked? But why is everything so peaceful? And why are there jellyfish? What about the other mammals? What about the species from my timeline? How's the Squidbeak Splatoon?

Sharing a look of surprise with Lil Buddy, they stumbled forward in a dash closer to the bushes that lined the courtyard's gates. They neared the edge of the hedge that stopped by the front gates, giving the two a better, closer view at the brilliant courtyard. Agent 3 was able to study the humans in more detail. Their heart skipped a beat.

Those aren't humans… they're fae!

The crowd had grown a little more since the inkling and smallfry arrived without being seen. The chattering steadied into silence as a voice began speaking up ahead of the crowd. It sounded like they were holding some sort of ceremony, or an important meeting. Whatever it was, the energy in the air felt airy and easygoing.

Cheering and an applause followed shortly after and died down as the speaker continued in a light voice that carried in the clear air. Agent 3 looked down at Lil Buddy, who was gnawing at the leaves in the hedge. "I thought… I thought Demon King Grizz was going to wipe us out in exchange of keeping mammals existing. But-"

A shriek followed by several murmurs of shock from the crowd cut off Agent 3. When the Agent saw spooked them: one of the fae had turned into a tombstone standing in the ground! But that's not all… the tombstone lulled idly in low, sweeping voice, singing ominously. The faes' voices rose in a cacophony of panic and astonishment.

"What's going on?" "N-no… it can't be!" "But… but this only happens when…" "Where's Lilia Vanrouge?" "Didn't he travel to the past for an important mission?"

The air grew cold.

Agent 3, who was kneeling behind the bush, almost stumbled back. General Vanrouge? He existed during my timeline in the future? But he told me he didn't come from this timeline!

Their thoughts were racing until gasps came from the crowd again. Another fae became a singing tombstone. Then two more. Then eight. Their joined voices formed a looming choir, the clear blue skies smiling down on the fae whose eyes were wide with dread.

The fae from before who was the announcer finally spoke up, their voice low and unsteady. "The Choir of Tombstones… a widespread phenomenon passed down as stories since ancient times. It's said to only happen if the fae kingdom is left without a fitting leader to rule it, and the tombstones sing the song of mourning for their fallen king. If Lilia Vanrouge traveled to the past weeks back and the Choir of Tombstones are appearing, that only means…" The fae's voice choked. "King Vanrouge is dead!"

The sounds of Mr. Grizz slaying Lilia rung in the back of Agent 3's mind, and they had to fight back the urge to puke. The inkling couldn't see the announcer fae, but assumed they too had turned into a droning tombstone, from the cries of exclamations from the remaining fae.

The ground began to rumble and before Agent 3 could move away from the hedge, a burst of red-and-black miasma burst from the castle door, sending the jellyfish guards flying. The force sent a gust of wind that felt all too familiar to when Mr. Grizz gained his newfound demon powers. The debris from the shattered castle door was scattered across the courtyard, the fae shouting and scurrying around in fright.

When the red miasma cleared, standing there was a broad, towering figure that Agent 3 thought they'd never have to see again. To make matters worse, the ominous choir that mourned over Lilia's murder seemed to be fanfare for his grand entrance.

Demon King Grizz!

But he wasn't facing them- his back was turned. Flowing along with his glowing purple hair was a long, crimson cape he adorned. It looked tattered and it was torn in a few places. Suddenly, Agent 3 grew sick in the stomach and immediately recognized the cape. It was Lilia Vanrouge's cape.

In the midst of panicked murmuring and gasps, several fae exclaimed all at once.

"Who is that?!" "Is that the Demon King that was prophesized in the stories?" "I thought bears went extinct?"

Mr. Grizz didn't look back, the crimson-red cape flowing behind him with power. As he spoke, the ominous choir gradually grew louder as, one by one, more fae turned into tombstones. "The fae stole the Great Golden Egg from me. And look what it costed them! They converted the Golden Egg into energy to fuel their own devices, and elected Malleus Draconia as their new king! That blasted fae king put me in a three-thousand-year sleep. But finally… finally, my time has come to arise from my imprisonment and finish what I started!"

The last remaining fae, legs trembling in fear, clasped his fists together and lifted his chin in a weak attempt to look brave. "You won't rule us," the fae spat. "O-our leader Lilia Vanrouge may have been slain. But we have Malleus Draconia! When he's back from his journey, he'll put an end to you! A-and he'll become our new k-" The fae's voice faded and joined in with the choir as he became a tombstone. The choir seemed to fade… before looping back around singing their mournful song.

Chills sent down Agent 3's tentacles when Mr. Grizz responded with a chuckle as frozen as ice. When he turned around to face the crowd of singing tombstones, he wore a wicked grin, fangs glinting in the light. He put his head in his large hand, chest heaving with booming laughter, throwing his head back with a crazed expression. As his laughter stopped, he dropped his gaze to face directly towards where Agent 3 and Lil Buddy was hiding.

"I've arrived."

[wytchsbrew]

The church lay in complete silence around them, save the sound of the sandstorm raging outside.

Lightning crackled along the planet, lighting up everything with blue and purples in intermittent bursts. Thunder rumbled quick succession, shaking the windows that lay blotted out with raging, yellowed wind.

Safe inside, though, were them. Just Vash and Wolfwood, alone, without a single disturbance in the world for one of the first times in a long while.

They'd been traveling when the storm rolled in, and Wolfwood had grabbed Vash and dragged him into the nearest building - one single, abandoned church in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the ruins of a one great town. The church sat as the final reminder of the place that once existed.

They'd locked the doors behind them, and settled in for the night. There was no way they could travel until the storm let up, leaving them trapped for several hours.

And when Vash had been thumbing through old religious texts he'd found behind the pulpit, and innocently asked, "Hey, were you ever Baptized?", he thought it to be an innocent question. He really did.

He never expected Wolfwood's hands to move to his hips, and for a pair of lips to touch his ear, and whisper, "Not officially, but... you can certainly Baptize me, if you'd like."

He'd turned to look at his partner, saw the swirling pits of shadows in his eyes, and immediately understood.

That was how they'd ended up in their current situation.

Wolfwood on his knees in front of the altar, coat thrown across the room, white shirt completely unbuttoned, peering up at Vash like he were looking at the depiction of God, reverence and worship in his gaze and expression. His hands lay in his lap, bound by the rosary he usually wore around his neck. His dick was pulled from his pants as well, standing proud inches from the large, silver cross.

Vash, standing above him, cock in hand, slowly stroking it just an inch or so from Wolfwood's upturned face. His flower petal covered, leaking Plant cock slowly dribbled forth sticky nectar from it's crown, a little right now, but Vash, and Wolfwood, both knew this would be grow much worse the longer they went on.

Which Vash imagined was what Wolfwood had in mind in the first place.

"You have asked to have yourself Baptized today," Vash said, his voice echoing through the expanded pulpit. "In doing so, you are accepting the responsibility of training yourself in the practice of faith. It will be your duty to upkeep God's commandments, by loving God and others. Do you clearly understand what you undertaking?"

Wolfwood grinned lopsided, and nodded. "Of course, Reverend."

"Then the church welcomes you with great joy, my child. In it's name, I claim you for Chris our Savior by the sign of his cross. I now trace the cross on your body-" Vash took a small nudge of a step forward, and lifted his cock to Wolfwood's mouth.

Slowly, he traced the symbol of a cross across his pouting lips, leaving a shining path in its wake.

"We now ask God to give this child new life in abundance," Vash whispered, and carefully spread his crown along Wolfwood's lips, before stroking his hand up and down his aching erection. A bit of nectar spilled forth and fell to Wolfwood's lips, where he lapped it up with a desperate tongue.

This entire situation had no right being this insanely delicious.

"Do you reject sin, so as to live in the freedom of God's children?"

Wolfwood nodded, and Vash pushed his crown forward, into his hot, wet mouth - but only by one small inch.

"Do you reject the glamour of evil, and refuse to be mastered by sin?"

Wolfwood moaned a yes, his mouth vibrating around Vash's cock.

Vash gave him another inch, sinking slow into that beautiful fucking mouth, the underside slick against his soft, velvet tongue.

"Do you reject Satan, father of sin and prince of darkness?"

Wolfwood's tied hands lifted and fell to his own dick, shoving the thick girth between his palms. It looked obscene, watching his dark crown appear amongst the rosary binding the tops of his hands, the glittering beads looking at odds against the sexual sight.

Vash fucking loved it, and took it as a yes, and shoved his dick in a couple more inches than he meant to.

"Do you believe in God, the Father almighty, the creator of Heaven and No Man's Land?"

Wolfwood began jerking himself off the best he could with his hands completely bound, and nodded, fast, desperate, and Vash gave him another inch. He felt his throat closing around his cock now, constricting ever so slightly as he grew nearer.

"Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting?"

Wolfwood moaned, the slick sound his own menstruations filling the pulpit now, his throat choking around the girth. He sounded beautiful as Vash pushed in the rest of the way.

He immediately began thrusting deep into his throat, choking him, spilling his semi-leaking nectar into his throat, and Wolfwood took it. He took every inch as it slipped passed the resistance, he kept his tongue flat, his mouth pliant, completely giving up everything for the control of Vash's cock.

Vash curled his free hand into Wolfwood's hair to keep him steady, and fucked into him hard.

He relished in the sounds of his choking. Of his sputtering. Of the sight of drool leaking down his chin and lips, of his hands trying to go faster and faster on his own erection, the sound of the cross jangling against the beads becoming louder and louder.

The intoxicating environment of it all proved too much for Vash, though. He'd not touched his own dick in weeks, and neither had Wolfwood, the two of them too busy during their travels to have time for each other's naked bodies, so he knew he wouldn't last long.

The familiar tendrils of white hot pleasure coursing through his stomach came as no surprise, and he gasped through it, quickly trying to rasp out the rest of the sacrament to keep this hot little roleplay going.

"Is it your will to be Baptized by me in the faith of the church?"

Wolfwood made a noise that sounded like a mix of a sob and a desperate yes, please!

Vash had heard enough.

He yanked his cock from Wolfwood's mouth, and took it in his hand once more. Fast and slick, he jerked himself from base to crown as fast as he could, hard and quick.

His orgasm hit him in a swirl of heat.

"I Baptize you in the name of the Father-"

Nectar and seed mixing together shot forth and landed in a glittery string on Wolfwood's cheek.

"And of the Son-"

Another pulse landed on his chin.

"And of the Holy Spirit."

The full burst of his sweet smelling orgasm hit Wolfwood in the open, waiting mouth, landing on his tongue in a torrent of sticky sweetness, and he drank it, lapped it up, his hands going faster and faster along his own cock.

When he swallowed, Vash yanked his head backwards, staring down at him with strength and a pounding in his chest. Wolfwood's dazed, glassy eyes met him, face covered in Vash's seed, throat bobbing with little mewls of heated sound.

"I have freed you from sin, given you a new birth by water and the Holy Spirit, and welcomed you into this holy place," Vash said with a gruff, deep, dark tone in his voice, sultry - it surprised even him, and Wolfwood seemed to fucking love it, if the way he moaned louder was an indication.

The clattering of his cross and beads increased, till it was echoing around the church in tandem with Vash's prayers and Wolfwood's moans.

"I anointed you with the chrism of salvation, so you may live always as a member of my body, sharing everlasting life with me, and only me-"

A shout of reverent prayer left Wolfwood's lips, as white spend shot from between the rosary and overflowed onto his bound hands. It coated the glittering cross in a terrible, sinful display of religion.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

Vash felt on the verge of a panic at the sheer attraction he'd just felt toward the man on his knees in front of him, and Wolfwood, once his body subsided from it's tremors and after shocks, looked up at Vash with a small smile on his sullied face.

"Amen."

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #19: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our maps: The Isle, The Dungeon (so far)

[You can use the links above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle and the so far uncovered portions below the surface. On the Dungeon map, you are currently in Floor 2, in Room 12.]

Now, back to the adventure!

[As @leatherandtea commented on last week's entry, "the only way out is through!" Time to slice some eels (or die tryin')!]

You look behind you, eyeing the path you took to get into this flooded chamber, but you know that you haven't the time to turn and run, not without risking serious harm from the encroaching eels.

You keep up your offensive and bring down your katana towards the nearest eel. [Attack Roll: 14 - Above your AV of 11 - Miss!] Your attack misses, the blade striking through only water before hitting the stone floor beneath.

The eels strike out! [Attack Rolls: 3, 20 - One is under your AC of 5 due to their out-of-water fighting conditions and the other is above their AV of 11 - Misses!] Both creatures lash out at you, but you quickly recover, sidestepping their attacks.

You take a split second to collect yourself, line up your blade, and bring it across the closest eel. [Attack Roll: 10 - Between your AV of 11 and their AC of 2 - Hit! Damage Roll: 6 - Max Damage!] You sever the eel's head entirely from it's body, cutting a clean slice straight across its throat. Blackish blood sprays out onto the nearby stone wall. Just one eel left. [50 XP gained!]

The remaining eel wriggles and reaches out as your blade flies past, attempting to bite down on your right shin. [Attack Roll: 15 - Miss!] You pull your leg back, just in time and take a stronger stance. Confidence grows in your chest as you realize you've bested two of these creatures with relative ease. Perhaps you will make it out of this flooded hall alive.

You bring your katana back overhead and strike down. [Attack Roll: 3 - Hit! Damage Roll: 6 - Max Damage (again)!] Your blade lands exactly where you intended and it splits the eels from crown to belly vertically. In a spatter of blood, the final eel thrashes at the waters' edge before quieting. [50 XP gained!]

You grab the 3 eel bodies and hang them off your pack, letting their necks drain out their remaining blood onto the floor. Although the skin and eyes are strange compared to other eels you've eaten in the past, the meat itself looks good. You don't know if you'll have means to cook it, but if you can drain as much blood from the bodies as possible, it should be better than nothing to eat (if somewhat dangerous, you've always heard eel blood is poisonous).

You take a moment to rest and nibble away at the last few pieces of your pocket cheese, pondering the raised corridor and slight orange glow you can make out from within it just across the flooded chamber. [Resting roll (1d6): 2 - You recover 2 Grit!]

Seeing few other options (the iron slab to one side of the flooded chamber has no visible mechanics, if its even a door), not wanting to travel back through the trapped oil room, and absolutely not wanting to get in the water after your altercation with the eels, you ritual cast Teleport [Roll (1d6, failure on a 6): 2 - Success!] and appear in an instant in the raised corridor to the west.

Before you, the path curves downward, deeper into the stone of the Isle, bearing faint marks of worn-away stairs. From below, you can smell old seawater [The path heads down to the next floor of this expansive dungeon - Floor 3.]

[It's really fun rolling out this combat because it feels really high stakes, even to me, as I do it! I couldn't believe those 2 max damage rolls in a row. Medon is made of tougher stuff than I imagined, it seems. See you for the next one! - Christian]

PBB #20 is up now!

[red-riding-wood]

Chapter 3

OC: Aleera

Fandom: Game of Thrones / ASOIAF

Summary: Former protector of the last Targaryens and bastard daughter of the Mad King Aerys, Aleera ventures to Westeros in search of the family she's never known, and finds herself swallowed by a world of cruelty, ambition and lies... She must leave behind her heart to survive, and, like her ancestors, forge her path through fire and blood. Madness and greatness, they say, are two sides of the same coin, and may the world hold its breath to witness how this coin lands.

Warnings: (for entire story) angst, graphic violence, gore, cursing, sexual assault, graphic sexual content, incest, torture... standard GoT stuff. I'm not holding back with this story so if you're not a fan of dark or disturbing content this is not for you. Also future Ramsay x OC and Petyr x OC and those two are their own warnings.

~ Combines content from Game of Thrones TV series and the ASOIAF books. Some canon changes are made to suit the story. ~

I had ridden ‘til my back ached and my thighs wobbled as I dismounted my steed; I had been sure to take the same one Illyrio had provided me, to give the Dothraki less of a reason to follow. But soon enough, I would be across the Narrow Sea, and they would not follow me onto ships, for they feared any water their horses couldn’t drink.

The mare snorted, dark nostrils flaring as she chewed at her bit, restless. A veneer of sweat collected on my fingers as I brushed them across her muscled neck, and yellow eyes flashed at me, wary and wild. I stared into them for a moment or two as I stroked her neck, and something in them that I couldn’t quite explain stirred all of my pain to the surface – the pain that I had been doing everything in my power to force down, to shield myself from. I swallowed a knot that formed, thick, in my throat.

Fingers of dusk light caught the bright of her coat, the dapples that shone almost iridescent across the palomino. The horse was beautiful, and she rode well, but I would have to part ways with her if I was going to cross the Narrow Sea.

Escaping the Dothraki horde hadn’t been as difficult as I’d thought; once their khaleesi had left the tent, silver hair standing out in the sea of dark, they were too enamoured to notice me slipping away to the horses.

It was the sea that would prove difficult. I would need to smuggle myself on board a ship before the next dawn, in case Viserys or Illyrio or the Dothraki came looking for me. No ships would depart this late; they would wait ‘til the morrow, to sail with the sun in the sky and the seas calm.

The dragon egg weighed heavy in my satchel as I led the mare down to the docks, winding through the markets of peddlers, shop owners, fishermen and hunters and seamstresses, still bustling with activity early into dusk. I stood out a sore sight, with the palomino and its yellow tasselled saddle, and my bruises and my torn red tunic.

Past the almost overwhelming aroma of spices and tonics, and the reek of sweat of the peasants and travelers, I veered to a small stable. The owner, or perhaps stable-hand, ceased his mucking when he caught sight of the palomino, and leaned on his pitchfork.

“I’m looking to sell this mare,” I told him, taking care to choose my words and instill my voice with confidence. I used the common tongue of the Seven Kingdoms; if he asked, I was travelling back to Westeros.

The man’s eyes scoured my appearance, and he asked, “Did she buck you?”

“I am unaccustomed to the unruly terrain of the Pentos outskirts,” I said. “I stumbled down a rocky hill. The mare is quite capable; she has never bucked nor spooked.”

He took another look at my bloody, bruised knees and scuffed face, and nodded. We bartered, back and forth, but briefly; the more I watched the sun’s forked fingers slim on the horizon, and the more shops I noticed closing for the night, my unease grew. I settled on the far low price of five golden honors, a common currency of the Free Cities.

With those coins, I had my wounds tended by a healer. She dribbled wine and salved honey on my cuts, and I refused milk of the poppy, a painkiller she sold for an exorbitant price. She asked how I came to bear these wounds, and I told her the same I had the stable owner.

At the seamstress, I traded my silver-mouthed scabbard to buy one of nothing but boiled leather, and a roughspun tunic of a muted, brown colour typical of peasants in Essos. She asked me what became of such a fine tunic I wore, and I once more told my story in as few words as possible. I allowed her to take it to repair and do with as she liked, but for its condition she offered no more than a mere shawl to protect my hair from the sun. I accepted, for I would use it to hide the unmistakable shade of crimson.  

By the time I walked the winding street again, with the yarn of my tunic itching my bruised flesh, I was fifteen again, before Illyrio had welcomed me into his home. My stomach growled in hunger, and I kept a sharp eye for bread and cheeses I could thieve, and a sharper one for criminals that might emerge from any corner. Old habits did not go so willingly into the dark.  

Only, for the first time in my life, I fought and survived not for the younger sister who awaited my return to be told a bedtime story, nor the older brother who I would’ve spoiled with a nicked finery in a desperate act to please, but for myself. For the first time in my life, I was well and truly alone. 

Not for long, I assured myself. Soon, I would be in the loving arms of my true mother. And I kept telling myself this, until the scars burdened for my family didn’t sting so hot and the pendant round my neck didn’t burn so cold.

Pulled sharply from my reverie by the roar of a nearby crowd, I chastised myself. One moment and one moment alone not on my guard, and I could’ve been dead – or worse.

Thankfully, the commotion only seemed to be from a crowd of theatre goers, clustered around the final act of a play. One of the mummers wore a white, thinly spun wig that patched the balding of his forehead, and his eyes seemed to sink into his face from the weight of the crown atop his skull. He sat in a chair made of dyed wooden planks that jutted from the seat at every odd angle, lined in iron swords.  Curious, I eased closer, weaving my way through the ring of peasants round the paying customers.

Another actor, clad in ridiculous wooden armour stained a garish gold and a white linen that had been fastened at his shoulders to resemble a cloak, addressed the crowd. In the background, others worked to run giant props of painted fire across the stage, settling behind two men whose jaws gaped in silent screams, their knees dropping to the floor.

I had glimpsed several plays depicting the Mad King before, but Viserys had always told me their characterisations were wildly distasteful, that witnessing one brought a stain to the Targaryen name.         

The armoured man said procured a glint of silver from his pocket, and said, “Greatness and madness, you see, are two sides of the same coin.”

The crowd fell silent with a hush.

“Each time a Targaryen is born,” the false knight said, “the gods flip a coin and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.” Taking a dramatic pause, he then flipped the coin into the air, and arms tangled around me, greedy fingers reaching from fevered limbs for the silver. I squared my shoulders and took a step back, allowing them to converge around me but keeping my gaze fixed on the actors and their silly little play.

And when at last someone had snatched the coin from the ground, and everyone settled like hens after a wild dog had been let into their coop, the knight said, “The gods must have dropped the one for Aerys Targaryen.”

I looked again upon the wilting visage of the Mad King, milky eyes staring almost blankly at the burning men but chapped lips slightly parted and curved into a sick smile as his chest heaved a few silent laughs. I’d never met my father, but I couldn’t help but wonder, in that moment, what it would have been like to stand in that room, to hear the laughter of the king and the screams of men as the flesh melted from their bodies, to choke on the heat of the flame and the billows of smoke. Though he had existed long past the extinction of our last dragons, he had still ruled through fire and blood. The infamous words of our ancient house.

The knight drew his sword, stalking towards the king as he turned his back to his guard. The false blade was shoved between the arm and the side of the king, as the elder actor’s head flinched back, milky eyes going wide, shaking fingers curling inward as he collapsed to his knees. I recognised the knight now as Ser Jaime Lannister.

“Kingslayer!” Someone shouted with virulence at the stage, and the knight wore a gloating smile as he turned, blonde threads of his wig falling before his eyes as he turned to face the crowd.

A red fruit splattered across the gold of his armour, and he flinched, smile falling from his lips. Its juices leaked like blood down his breastplate. “Guards!” he called, voice having lost its bravado.

A few leather-clad sellswords emerged from the outskirts of the audience and dragged the seething man, kicking and yelling, repeating the word over and over at the man in gold. Something crawled beneath my flesh, and I began to remove myself from the event, butting shoulders with a couple of annoyed commoners.

I knew the rest of the story. I’d heard it a thousand times from Viserys, how the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister, had thrust his sword through my father’s back as the usurper and his men marched on the Red Keep and claimed the great city of King’s Landing for themselves. How they ended the greatest dynasty the world had ever seen.

His words were imprinted so firmly in my memory, it was almost as if I was back in the depths of the Free Cities, hearing the tale from the tongue of the man who’d once been my brother. I remembered every inflection of spite in his tone, how he loathed the Lannisters and the Baratheons and the Starks, how he thought himself above them all because of his birthright.

And to think, how I would’ve followed my unworthy king, across the Narrow Sea, and slain those who raised a sword to him, and lived and died for him and hoped that someday he would love me for everything I had given him.

“Viserys is no dragon,” my sister had said. And he was no king, either. And maybe, someday, my blade would cross with his, and if he were to drag me before his throne and make me bow, I would answer him with fire and blood.

My heart beat viciously in my chest, and a tear crossed the cheek of my burning flesh.

“At times… I fear you more than Drogo.”

My sister’s words came to me again, in my flash of wrath, echoing in my pounding skull, and in my hollow chest threads of darkness sprouted from the shattered remnants of my heart and seemed to strangle me from the inside out. Black, they were, black as the pitch of the eyes that landed on me from across the square from a woman in red robes.

A priestess of the Lord of Light had stopped to let her gaze linger on me, pierce through me, as if she see the black tendrils around my heart, as if she could feel the fire roaring to life in my fractured soul. The dragon’s egg in my satchel weighed heavy against my shoulder, and my amulet still burned wretchedly cold against my flesh.

I blinked, eyes caught in hers, devoured by the pitch black that seemed to reach so curiously for me, before pulling my shawl tighter round my red hair and continuing downward, towards the docks.

The scent of the ocean grew stronger, the rot of seaweed left on the beach in the harsh sun that died now, slowly, along the rolling waves of the horizon, and the salt and brine that clung to the cloths of the fishmongers crinkling my nose as they brought in their last catch of the day. Kegs of ale, fish and fruit were hauled across the wooden docks, to and from the ships.

I had barely set foot on the first board when something caught the corner of my eye, the dark robes of four men who carried no trap or net nor barrel, who covered their faces but on the hilts of their swords could not disguise the unmistakable glint of Lannister gold.

My heart froze in my chest. And I paused, my fingertips running along the boiled leather of my scabbard.

There was only one reason the Lannisters would be so far from home, that in favour of muted robes they would not wear their cloaks of red and gold so proudly.

And though I loathed Viserys for what he had done to me, and though my heart still splintered from my sister’s betrayal, I could not find it within myself to make peace with the images of their blood on the assassins’ blades, of their lifeless corpses keeling over like Aerys had.

Though I had fought their battles all my life, though a smarter woman would’ve turned her head the other way, I found myself drawing my blade for my unworthy king and his perfect queen one last time.

NEXT CHAPTER

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