#looking forward to that now that I have the context to read them

[kyofsonder]

Physically, I'm already lying down.

Emotionally, I feel like I need to find a soft spot and crumple dramatically to the ground and lay down for a few weeks.

[shaisuki]

𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦

ft. bully! gojo satoru and geto suguru

content warnings college au, heavy bullying, gaslighting, noncon, dubcon, implied sexual assault, allusions to depression/suicide, alcohol consumption, drinking, implied drugging, fatphobia, overdosing, naoya zen'in is an asshole, humiliation, threats, minor oc character. dead dove do not eat.

notes this might come as disappointing since some of you wanting revenge what this two idiots had done to reader. their are some matters that i think is too complicated and impossible so i came with this way as the breaking point where reader starts to retaliate/plan her revenge. will get to it later and to that anon, who asked for the revenge, i will get once i start to finish this one up. please read the warnings, i don't want someone bitching in the comments telling me that the contents above is uncool. it truly is not cool. that's why it have warnings. it is on a fictional context. do read the warnings before continuing. also do let me know of what you think of this chapter.

read part one, here. two here.

SERIES MASTERLIST

synopsis you let them take and take what they can from you. you were a nobody after all but everybody have their breaking point.

the world is a blur to you. colors of red and blue dances in your vision while voices whispers to you. what's happening? you can't move. it's like your body were made of lead. you can't understand what they were saying. multiple faces stares at you, are you dead? is this what you see when people surround you while they lower your casket. is it? you hope it was, cause you didn't plan on living anymore. there's nothing worth moving forward and the world around you turns black.

there's a beep and then silence. you hear before you see and when you opened your eyes, all you can see is a bright light above you. it took you minutes to adjust your vision and realize where you are. you're in a hospital. laying on a bed and you started to get irritated at your oxygen mask. you tug at it. getting frustrated why it keeps coming back at you before someone put their hand on it. completely removing it and there you breath. your sight darted to the hand who helped you until your sight travels to his arms and then to his face. a brief recognition flashes through you.

“nanami?” you call his name unsure but you know it was definitely him. it was hard to mistake him for someone. there's his blonde hair, neatly parted. his pristine beige sweater paired a dark colored trouser, not a crinkle in sight and his signature silver watch in his wrist. you met him once at the literature club and decided you were going to be there too not until it changed due to some circumstances. his lips parted but before he can speak, a cheery voice interrupted him.

“she's awake!?” said haibara, you also knew him since he and nanami were always together. seeing your confused state, his voice died down. “what happened?” you asked them and they exchanged looks before haibara answers you.

“we found you passed out in the lawn. thought you were drunk but you weren't breathing.” haibara's voice was soft while he slowly breaks down the reason why you ended up here.

a doctor comes inside to your room before haibara can finish. you took note of her pristine white coat with her surname embroidered on it. clicking her pen and whipping out her clipboard she pulled out of nowhere. you were distracted by it. the doctor's eyes is on you now and you began to frown.

the doctor coughs clearing her throat before speaking. “hello, ms. (y/n). i'm glad you're awake now.” noticing your confused expression she pauses began answering the question. “to answer your question you were unconscious for two days and is brought for possible assault. we need your con—”

“no!”

“ms. it would help for you t—”

“you heard me!? i said no!” you scream at the doctor and your tears appeared in your eyes. you didn't realize you were screaming. nanami and haibara stand there in silence but the looks on their face said otherwise. concern painted in their faces and the doctor bows before leaving. looking at the men inside in your room to call her if you need anything.

cause if they would test you, they would find the remains of their sperm inside you and then report? who will believe you? it would be buried like the case of another girls like you who were too afraid nor fight their abusers. you don't find the point of that. they would twist the words out of you. it was easy to believe than you.

you curled up in bed and did the next thing you can. cry. now, you're in here and the events before this plays in your head in repeat.

“f-fuck”

satoru curses out while suguru bites your ear. your body like jello as they spilled their load for the nth that day. both of them lowered your body after fucking your brains out. warm up, they say. you shiver as you feel their cum running down your thighs. feeling disgusted as it began to stick after being exposed to the air. you grab the wipes but suguru stopped you, grabbing it from your hands and cleaning you up. fixing your skirt in the meantime.

“worth every penny.” suguru mutters. staring at the new clothes they bought for you. a baby blue corseted puff-sleeved, square neck top matched with a black skirt that rests on your mid thigh is what they forced you to wear. it feels tight. intentionally buying it one size smaller than you usually wore and it more feel you like a stuffed sausage rather a comfortable piece of clothing. you can't say no to what they wanted. you're a bit of grateful that they allowed you to wear your white sneakers rather than those kitten heels that would put your feet in blisters.

satoru's fingers brushes through the expanse of your exposed flesh. playing with the small bow in your top. sighing, “suguru, can we have more with (y/n)-chan?” his best friend chuckles at him. “idiot, we're already running late, after that we can.” satoru pouts. “tch, party pooper.” he ignores gojo and moves his attention to you.

“smile, this is your first real party. you're going to enjoy this.” suguru lifts your chin up with his finger and you obediently nodded. “ditch and you know what will happen.” he warns.

it was a bad idea. the moment you stood in the front door. the party was already in motion. you can hear the people inside shouting profanities and booming music mixed with already drunk frat members and student bodies. this was never really your crowd and when you were shoved inside with gojo and geto you were done and you already felt like crying. you look at the duo in front of you. they were already engaged in conversation with the other people here.

“gojo, you son of a bitch. you fucking came.” a guy hollered in the side and you see more of his features as he gets nearer. a snarl in his face with multiple piercings in his ear. a hair dyed blonde with green accents.

“ah, zen’in. wouldn't missed this just i could wipe that smirk off your face.” gojo mocks him and before the guy whom gojo called zen’in darts his sight to you. he raises a brow. “you two in fat bitches now?” pointing at you with hand cupping a plastic cup. gojo scoffs. “none of your business, zen'in.” glaring at him but he can't see that gojo's looking at him with dark glasses in the way. “then you two wouldn't mind me using her.” he suggested and suguru gaze darkens at him. “fuck off, naoya.” almost growling at naoya and the latter raises his hand in mock defeat before finding shit he could entertain himself with.

suguru scowls after naoya left, he looks at you like you just turned his mood sour. “you're an embarrassment.” he says and you bit your lip. keeping the tears at bay and you don't really want to embarrass yourself more at this party. “hey, hey suguru.” gojo taps his shoulder. “let loose, don't naoya get to you.” satoru glances at you. his blue eyes peering in his glasses. “you're right.” his stare cold at you. “find a seat, (y/n). you're embarrassing us now with you around.” you nod and you find yourself in a vacant corner. near to those already wasted or just plain chilling in the couch in front of you.

what did you expect? that were all sex talk or when they're in good mood. all those praise and compliments are just enough to feel you good about yourself for a bit and then they'll come destroying it. you stare at the view through the window. the night's particularly beautiful and peaceful except the place you're in and you're already missing the comfort of your bed.

you take a sip from your cup. a girl gave it you earlier saying that it's a special concoction that's only made at this parties. unsure you took it. not wanting to show ungratefulness to someone whose only been polite to you and she seems nice. you cringe slightly at the taste and the burning of the liquid as it flows down your throat. coughing you bring down the cup, not used to drinking.

your first time being a party, your eyes wander how your peers lost their selves in the influence of alcohol. some where dancing and mingling. talking like they were friends and you caught of others taking their business upstairs. you were kind of jealous how everyone are the life of the party and you sit here in your misery. you continue to observe everyone and you caught gojo. it's impossible to miss his tall stature and his white hair standing in the crowd. a petite woman is linked to him. her thin arms are wrapped around his neck and it was clear what they were doing. there they stood in the crowd. kissing.

“satoru.” gojo was taking a swig of his drink when a girl approached him. calling his name like they were lovers but it was more like an ex-fling. never had a relationship with her. she was only a temporary fun. “ah, sar—ah, sayuri.” he almost curses at himself. sayuri playfully pouts at him and there it is, the batting of eyelashes. “that's mean, satoru. you already forgot me.” her lips puckers before placing a hand in his chest. if this was a another party of gojo and he really liked this girl. he would have taken her upstairs. he caught you in the corner. you were like a child in awe at the people in this house. gojo almost chuckles at your cute antics but suppressed it and then a cruel idea pops in his mind. “missed me?” he asks sayuri and there was no answer needed as he crashes his lips to sayuri. his sight never leaving yours and when you caught him. he watch as your eyes widens, you lower your head in embarrassment before chugging that drink in your cup in one swig. he smirks in the kiss as he watches you wiped your tears away. he always liked making you cry.

you should have ditched this stupid party, even it means getting punished by those again. you were hurt. they always like to torture you. listen as they tell you how worthless and unlovable you are while they keep girls who are clearly not you by their side. those girls were perfectly fit for them to be seen in public and you were there for them to humiliate you. with your head lowered, you stifled a sob. wiping your tears with your hands shaking. they kept flowing and you kept messily wiping them and with that you slowly made your way outside. discreetly making your way through the door and you almost laugh. you were a nobody. you're not made for pretty things and this goddamn outfit you wore only added to your misery. you never felt beautiful and it looks ugly on you. wrapped a sausage with a different and it will still look the same.

no one noticed you leaving except for suguru's watchful gaze.

suguru finds his friend making out with a girl he definitely doesn't remember. suguru slaps his back and satoru broke the kiss. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and ignores the girl he was just making out seconds ago. suguru points the door where you left earlier. you're really looking for trouble and with that they left following you.

sayuri was stunned being shoved aside again. she was angry. how the fuck did you get those two's attention especially gojo's? she's beautiful. she's thin. academically excelling and you, a fat nobody bitch easily made those two fall for you. she knows they were just playing at you and sayuri could take it but being shoved again by satoru isn't what she expected tonight. she's going to be satoru's bride. it was decided from the start and satoru knows it. their fathers friends since their college days had made a decision to marry their son and daughter before they were even born and she did everything she can just to have satoru's attention but why can't she even get to look at her without her trying. it's your fault. it's your fucking fault! you deserve to die. you're fucking stupid for accepting that drink like you're a fucking saint and now, maybe you'll rethink your choices of making those your own and satoru will only have his eyes for her and only her.

weird. why are your hands sweating? it's cold. freezing cold. you know this temperature at night is normal but why are you freezing cold. hah, your vision's starting to get funny too. where there always stars in the sky? ahh, i want to go home. i wonder if akira's still awake. i didn't told her that i was going away tonight. my eyes hurt. you were crying. this was your thoughts as you walked away.

it was to easy to catch you with their long strides. satoru grabs your flabby arm angrily. “we told you, you don't leave without us. do you really want to get punished, (y/n)-chan?” his voice snarky as he digs his nails in your arms. it hurts. it really must really hurt but you're suddenly numb to feel anything. you just stare at him in confusion and then you hear voices. they were calling them to get back.

gojo scowls at them. your knees buckled and you sat in the ground. geto tsked. “we're going back to you later.” he says and they left you there and there were loud cheers. you lay there in the ground. numb and your vision fades away.

you blinked as you stare in the nothingness. that's what you last remembered. they left you there and you hoped you died. you can't take another bullshit of what they put you through. the tears continuously flows from your eyes and your blanket is wet with tears. haibara puts a comforting hand in your shoulder and you bursted crying again. this was the real kindness you felt since the accident. they didn't blame you. they only stayed and made sure you were resting enough. stranger they maybe or an acquaintance. you would never forget this kindness from them.

days. nights. you stayed in the hospital until you were cleared. you made nothing of what happened to you. putting it in the records as an allergic reaction in which the hospital agreed. just like that even when you're in the brink of death of what happened to you. if you took the procedure for assault. they would be guilty but it was days old now and bruises are left in your skin as nothing but reminders of the humiliation of what they did to you.

for now, you're going to cry. cry until there's nothing left to cry for.

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐞.𝐦.

This piece contains 18+ content.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader [friends → lovers]

Summary Eddie holds good on his promise to take you out on a date, and as the night comes to a close, you realize you’re not ready to say goodbye [fluff, smut, 4.3k].

A/N This is the long-awaited continuation of come whatever may. You can read that first if you'd like, but enough context will be provided here. Spoiler alert: the sex is very soft, teasy, and desperate because they’re in l-o-v-e. Haven't written smut in nearly two years, but I evoked the muses of times past—and thus!...

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summer is long gone, but when you open the door to Eddie holding flowers, the warmth that rises to your cheeks makes it feel nearer than ever. It’s a vibrant bouquet composed of white roses, red lilies, baby’s breath, and leafy foliage. The wrapper crinkles as he extends them to you with an easy smile and soft hello. Your eyes flick back up to his after admiring the delicate blooms. 

There’s a healthy flush to his cheeks, his curls neat and defined. The black leather jacket he’s wearing clings to his slender frame with a polished edge. Under the weight of your gaze, he huffs out a chuckle that reminds you you’re still on earth. 

“Gonna let me in, sweetheart?” Charm drips from his voice and shimmers within his chocolate eyes. 

Nodding, you shuffle backwards, allowing him to enter and push the door shut behind himself. As he steps further inside, you can feel his gaze sweeping over your outfit. An olive-green corduroy dress layered over a beige turtleneck that’s soft against your skin. His smile grows, glinting bright enough for anyone to believe he just won the Lotto when, really, it’s just the pretty sight of you holding the flowers he bought. 

“These are beautiful.” You raise the bouquet, but Eddie’s eyes remain on you. Seeking refuge from his gaze, you tuck your nose down to inhale the sweet fragrance of the petals. “They smell amazing too.” 

“That’s all you, sweetheart.” 

You get shy when his eyes meet yours. “You like my outfit and everything?” 

Eddie swallows back a degree of his earnestness so he doesn’t sound too far gone. “Of course I do, are you kidding me?” 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Robin descends the staircase with a bag slung over her shoulder like she’s prepared to leave, hair tied up in a messy bun. Given your parents were away in Indianapolis for the weekend, you’d asked her to come over and help you get ready so you wouldn’t be alone. 

Eddie’s eyes flick to her, clearing his throat. “Did you help her pick this out, Buckley?” 

“Obviously,” she smirks. “Nice hair.” 

“It is really nice,” you agree with a soft smile. Eddie lifts a passive shoulder, chest fluttering. 

“Rob, do you think you could…” she takes the bouquet without you having to ask. The two of you had shuffled through the attic and dug out a vase earlier that afternoon. 

Eddie had promised this date, along with flowers, a week ago when you slipped away from Steve’s party to be alone. That night, he’d kissed you in the heat of the moment but wanted to backtrack and do things right. You deserved that much. 

The time you’ve been looking forward to has finally come. 

With your hands now free, the only thing you can think to do is wrap your arms around Eddie. The world goes still as he hugs you back, nerves quelling beneath your skin. For a moment, you merely enjoy the warmth of the same arms you’ve been wrapped in countless times before. With your head tucked into his chest, enveloped by the faint scent of his cologne, you release all the worries that ride on the sweeping coattails of change. For a moment, he’s just Eddie, your best friend. 

When you pull away, he leans in, tilting his head with that familiar, boyish curiosity. “You alright?” he asks quietly, searching your gaze.

You nod, a smile breaking through. He takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze, “Just checkin’.” 

Robin soon walks back into the foyer. “I put the flowers in a vase for you,” she announces, taking her hair down and shaking it out. “Hate to admit it, but you two are actually cute. It’s disgusting.” 

“Hey,” Eddie lifts his hands, laughing. “Little victories.” 

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder with a content sigh. “Welp, I’m about to go pester Harrington at Family Video.” She turns to Eddie, playfully narrowing her eyes. “You better treat her right, ‘cause best believe I’ll be hearing all about this date.” 

When she slips out the door, Eddie smiles at you in silent assurance. 

●・○・●・○・●

The sun hasn’t quite begun to set, but orange and pink faintly blend on the horizon. A cool fall breeze flows in through the cracked windows as the radio plays softly. Eddie had asked his Uncle Wayne to borrow his pickup truck because it’d be more romantic than his bulky van. You can’t say whether he was right, only that you’re grateful to be riding shotgun with him—headed to an unknown destination, no less. 

You’d already guessed through a list of places that Eddie denied with amusement. Sighing, you look out the window to people bustling about, walking dogs and strolling out of shops. You’re coming out of the more commercial side of town, nearing Lover’s Lake and the state park.  

“I give up,” you sigh. 

Eddie chuckles, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, ignorant to his warming effect on you. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you a hint.” That makes you peer over at him in interest. “If I had to guess, I’d say not a lot of people have had the chance to try it out yet.” 

That’s a dead giveaway. Your mouth falls open in surprise. “That new place along the lake—Stillwater Grill?” The twitch of Eddie’s lips is telling. “No way!” The excitement in your voice makes his chest tighten.

Stillwater was supposed to be good, from what you’d heard. A slightly elevated dining experience minus the formalities and steep pricing of a restaurant like Enzo’s. Where classic American favorites embrace small-town charm, according to the paper. 

Upon your arrival, the parking lot houses a pretty decent number of cars. Lover’s Lake provides a serene backdrop that catches the evening light. Couples stand outside admiring the view. Eddie opens your door and helps you out of the truck like a proper gentleman. You happily tuck yourself into him as you walk inside. 

When you were younger, you often wondered what love would be like. Books and the movies always presented countless possibilities, but you always believed it’d be special for you. So different that nothing else would be able to compare—perhaps, selfishly. One thing for sure, you never could’ve dreamed up someone like Eddie. 

As he sits across from you under the dim glow of the lights, laughter and chatter filling the air, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to put all this into words. Belly full, you realize what you’ve enjoyed even more than the food and cozy, rustic atmosphere was is company. 

Eddie has an inexplicably magnetic way. There was a magic in getting him all to yourself. In relishing the lovely sparkle in his eyes that suggested he was always on the verge of laughter. The passion he exuded made it seem like the way he loved a given thing was biblical. He could talk the ear off a cornfield if he wanted but knew instinctively when to listen. Even your passing remarks seemed to bear some semblance of importance to him.  

Conversing with him had always been easy, but without other people vying for his attention, you were truly able to admire the boy before you. To embrace the deepening attraction. 

As you wait for the waiter to bring the tab, you don’t realize you’ve grown silent and begun blinking at him with the fondest eyes. 

●・○・●・○・●

The wooden stairs of your front porch creak under both your footsteps as you climb them, stopping in front of your front door as the night settles around you. Moths flutter around the lanterns framing the door, crickets chirp in the lawn. Eddie kicks at a dead leaf, combing through a sea of thoughts in search of the right words. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says. You wait for him to continue. His doe eyes search yours for the briefest moment, seeing right through you it seems. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna be hard for me to quit you.” 

Your mouth opens a couple times in a mix of giddiness and surprise. “Yeah,” you finally breathe. “Yeah, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” 

Smiling, he steps forward to capture your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that you feel everywhere. It manages to outshine the first, more desperate, kiss you’d shared a week prior. This one is steady and sure, like a promise sealed with a prim bow. When he pulls away to look into your eyes, you shyly duck your head. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asks, lifting your chin. 

He doesn’t want to go, instead wishing he could stall and stay right here with you. He’s parted ways with you hundreds of times before, but now he can’t seem to figure out how he ever did. That’s how he knows he’s in trouble. The best kind. 

“I’ll pick up,” you promise. 

He stands at your door until you see yourself inside. It’s quiet without him. Your eyes land on the flowers he got you, now in a vase in the living room thanks to Robin. Too quiet. The sound of your front door reopening stops Eddie in his tracks. He turns around with a slight furrow between his brows. 

“Everything okay?” he calls, mindful of his volume. 

You make a small motion for him to come back to you. He listens in a heartbeat. 

There’s a weighted look in his eyes beneath the playfulness, “Miss me already?” 

“No,” you lie. 

●・○・●・○・●

It’s a wonder how you manage to make it feel like there’s a pleasant fire kindling within him. What started out as yet another easy conversation, has turned into you straddling his lap on the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as the TV drones in the background.

Everything feels heightened now. The brush of your lips against his, your fingers gently scratching at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie’s lips part in a soft, shuddering breath when you roll your hips over him. 

“Hold on a second, sweetheart.” His eyebrows are pinched as he pulls back from the kiss, hands stilling you. 

You blink down at him all owl-like. “Did I do something?” you murmur, purposely shifting over him again.

He restrains from canting his hips upwards. There’s a softness to his gaze even though his cheeks are flushed hot. 

“If getting me worked up counts. You’re real good at that.” His shamelessness is dizzying. “Just don’t wanna get ahead of myself.” It’s a subtle invitation, a chance for you to call things off in case you aren’t on the same page. 

But you can feel warmth pooling low in your belly. “What else am I good at?” 

He knows you’re game then. For whatever this is, whatever it’s bound to become. 

“Trying to pretend I’m not driving you crazy too.” He chuckles when you duck to hide your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. 

There’s a gentleness to the way Eddie’s hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, meeting the delicate skin of your inner thigh. 

“Eddie,” you murmur, lifting from his neck as his fingers continue their trail upwards.

“Hmm?” He pauses, thumb stroking your skin in soft circles. 

“Can we go to my room?” A slight shiver runs through you as his fingers move to trace along the crease of your thigh.

“Your call, sweetheart.” 

Before he withdraws his hand, he snaps the waistband of your panties and grins when you straighten.  

●・○・●・○・●

The lamp on your nightstand casts everything in a dim, warm glow. Eddie shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your desk chair, eyes roving over the notebooks and pens strewn about. The sight of his tattooed arms makes you move to kiss him again, letting your lips wander to the corner of his mouth and his chin in a trail of warmth. He throbs in his jeans when you slip your fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and curl them into his stomach. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away from your lips and he steps back enough to pull the fabric over his head in one swift movement, muscles rippling as the dark ink on his torso is revealed. With newly disheveled hair, he kisses you backward onto the bed, crawling over top of you as you settle into the mattress with a pleased hum. 

Having the upper hand allows him to press hot kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as you huff out sighs and caress his milky skin with buzzing fingertips. Nothing about his movements is rushed, each press of his lips intentional enough to believe he'd had them planned for years.

Eddie didn’t know your body yet, not in the way he’d like to. But he was reading it in real-time. Cataloging every writhe and hitch of your breath so he knew where to return. The obsessive part of his brain often gets on his nerves, but he’s grateful for it now. Grateful he wants to see every move and sound you can make. There’s an artistry to it, a musicality. 

An inkling of panic arises when he begins to suckle on the side of your neck as you offer it. Not because he’s being rough, but because it’s overwhelming enough to want to crawl out of your skin. A soft whimper rises up your throat as your hands find his flexed biceps, digging in. You’re unsure of whether to pull him closer or push him away. 

Eddie rises from your neck on his own accord, running a finger over the spot. “You like it when I kiss you here, huh?” There’s a slow, honeyed quality to his voice. 

When you offer a helpless nod, he leans back down again, and you shudder as his mouth laves over the same sensitive area a little ways beneath your ear. Exasperated, you blindly paw for the waistband of his jeans, fingers shaky as you fiddle with his belt buckle.

Feeling your struggle, Eddie moves to press a final kiss to your throat before pulling away from your neck. 

“Stupid thing,” you pant, pouting up at him for help. 

Chuckling, Eddie reaches down with one hand to undo it with ease. Then, watches with blown pupils as you hurry to undo the button and zipper. He slips off the bed as smoothly as he can to remove his pants, black boxers tented and straining. A spark of heat surges through you as you press your thighs together at the sight. 

No sooner is he crawling back to help you out of your clothes. The lacy underwear set you’re wearing beneath is a pretty shade of baby blue, and Eddie can’t help but palm himself. 

“Jesus,” he sounds awed and devastated at the same time. “You’re so gorgeous...” 

Before he’s even had time to process, you take off your bra, baring your chest for him to see. Your nipples pebble with the new exposure and all of two seconds pass before he’s surging forward, sending you tumbling back to the mattress in a breath of startled laughter he swallows down like a lifeline. 

You gasp into his mouth, back arching, as he cups one of your breasts, circling and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You’re barely kissing him back anymore, but he continues licking into your mouth as your lips part around shallow exhales. 

That’s when the phone begins to ring. Eddie sits back on his haunches despite your attempt to stop him. 

“Might be important.” His voice is rough. 

“They can leave a message.” 

He smirks, dragging a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

Lifting your leg, you run a careful foot over the swell of his boxers. He twitches at the contact. 

“You’re all I care about,” you murmur. “Need you, E.” There’s a desperate edge to your voice that draws him right back in.

“You’ve got me.” He runs a lone finger down the front of your panties. “Can I take these off?” You’re only half listening to his words, nodding to whatever. “Lift up for me.” The muscles of your thighs tremble as you do. 

Tossing your panties aside, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your belly button. Then another one just beneath it. A surprised sound rises up your throat when he gently spreads you open to kiss that swollen, sensitive part of you that’s pulsing with need.  

“Oh, gosh—” you stutter out, hands threading into his hair.

“Need me right here?” His voice is laced with a smile, and you can’t help a breathy laugh. Prideful warmth ignites in his chest. “Or do you need me somewhere else?” He trails playful, ticklish nips along your inner thighs, making you squirm. 

“Eddie, please…” 

He’s gracious enough to begin rubbing your clit in precise, measured circles, intently studying the pretty scrunch of your face.

“Firmer,” you instruct breathily, “—just like that, just like that.” Your legs spread wider instinctively, arching when he collects your slick with a slow, heavy finger. 

You’re already so on edge from his previous attention that it only takes a few moments before you ascend into bliss, muscles growing taut as your mouth falls agape. The strong, rhythmic pulses serve as your only touchpoint to reality along with Eddie’s tender caress at your slick, fluttering entrance. One he didn’t even have the chance to breach. 

“Look at you…” he says, voice thick. “Made it easy for me.” He laughs a little, more turned on than anything. 

“It’s not funny,” you halfheartedly assert, cheeks prickling. 

“No,” Eddie agrees. “Just super-duper hot.” 

As he raises up, you realize his other hand is tucked into his boxers, lazily stroking himself. A second wave of desire builds within you, overlapping the remnants of the first and any sense of embarrassment that had begun to kindle. It’s spurred by the deep flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes are soaking you in like he’s just witnessed the most beautiful unraveling. 

Under your hazy, watchful gaze, he scrambles off the bed. Without warning, he shoves his boxers down, kicking them from around his ankles. His arousal impressively springs up towards his stomach. You bite your lip at the rosy, leaking tip, the gorgeous vein snaking prominently along the underside. 

Eddie peeks over at you with a dazed quirk of his lips before retrieving his wallet from his jacket. He pulls out a square foil packet and promptly rips it open with his teeth. 

Upon crawling back into the bed, he isn’t expecting you to take his cock in a loose hold, stroking upwards from the curly hair at the base to circle your thumb around the tip. There’s a pleasant tug low in his gut as he kicks up in your palm. 

“Sweetheart…” His voice is soft, nearly a plea. You let your hand glide back down, this time venturing lower to cradle the soft weight hanging beneath. He nearly buckles forward. “What're you doing to me?” he rasps. 

“Nothing,” you murmur innocently, wetting your hand and giving him a few more easy strokes, enjoying the warm, veiny feel of him before withdrawing your touch. 

He curses under his breath as he rolls the condom down, his gaze never leaving you as you reposition yourself to take him. 

“Eager beaver,” you lilt as he crowds over you. 

“Yeah,” he exhales. “I am.” 

He lines up at your entrance, tip catching as he collects your slick with a wavering breath.  

You open your legs even wider. “Want you,” you murmur, breathy and sweet. 

The expression on his face is like something from a painting, raw and rapturous as he eases into your encompassing warmth. He takes it slow, giving you time to relax around him as you breathe through the dull ache of welcoming him in. A low, guttural sound escapes him once he’s buried all the way. 

Your chests brush. Tears prick in your eyes at the closeness, the feeling of being filled so completely. 

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs, lips clumsy against your chin. “Like I made you up in my head.” 

He begins moving, slowly drawing back only to push back in. A steady rhythm finds him as your mouth falls open, legs hooking around his thighs. The muscles of his back ripple with his effort, and you chart every tense line with your fingertips. 

With a low groan, he makes a minor adjustment to better reach that spongy spot within you. You arch into him with a whimper, breath catching in your throat. 

“There she is,” he whispers, reaching between your bodies to rub firm, steady circles against your clit. 

“Oh, god…” It sounds like you’re in pain even though you’re the furthest thing from it. When you close your eyes, tears stream down your face in twin streaks, surprising both of you. Eddie tenderly wipes them away, gaze soft. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “It’s just me, angel.”

Except, Eddie isn't just anything. You’ve never felt so close to someone, so in tune, and somehow, it’s Eddie—sweet, goofy, wild-haired Eddie—who knew exactly what you needed. He picks up the pace as you arch and writhe beneath him, body yielding without question.

“You feel so good,” you whimper, clenching around him. 

His groan reverberates against your neck as his hips jerk sloppily, “Can’t say stuff like that…” Those words only make you tighten around him again.

The dazed way he mouths at your shoulder lets you know he’s clinging onto composure. You’re too warm, too everything—snug, and soft, and beautiful. He’s not ready for this feeling to end. This heady, binding haze of pleasure.  

“Eddie,” you breathe softly. “Wanna ride you…” 

Your plea nearly finishes him off. “Yeah?” he croaks.

You nod, whimpering. He barely withstands the feeling of slipping from within you. Shifting onto his back allows him a moment of reprieve, but he nearly loses himself when you straddle him, sinking back down with a circle of your hips. 

You brace your hands on his ribcage, steadily rocking on top of him as your head tips back. Sweat glistens in the divot of his sternum as he attempts to move in time with you. When you speed up, he closes his eyes to calm himself down. 

“Hey…where’d you go?” You croon, grazing your nails from his chest to his quivering stomach, relishing the feeling of his warm, dewy skin beneath your fingertips.

The wrecked way he forces his eyes back open almost makes you fall apart. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as a greater sense of urgency awakens between you. It’s in the way you speed up, both eager, desperate, chasing. He memorizes the way your body moves over top of his, the bouncy sway of your chest. 

“You look so pretty taking me like this,” he shudders. “My pretty girl.” 

“Eddie…” you coo, high and breathy. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he chokes out. “Wanna feel you come around me so bad.” He’s babbling now, “Shit, I’m not gonna last. I can’t take it anymore, angel...I can’t—” 

The earnest crack of his voice sends you tumbling over the edge, vision spotting. Pleasure radiates throughout every fiber of your being as your walls contract around him. He stills your hips with a firm hold, bucking upwards and coming undone in surging waves. You slide your hands down his abdomen to feel him flex with each strong jolt that wracks him. 

As your body begins to relax, you blink down at him, lips parted as you catch your breath. Eddie throws an arm over his face as he sucks in air, neck and chest flushed pink. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. 

Both of you shudder as you ease off him. The pleasant ache of loss pulses between your legs as you partially lay down on top of him, hooking a leg over his waist. He traces along your thigh in light, soothing passes. You can feel his chest rising and falling. 

“You okay?” he eventually murmurs.

You nod, kissing his shoulder. “You?”

“I think so,” he chuckles weakly. 

●・○・●・○・●

The afterglow brings a quiet stillness to the air. Clean and beneath the sheets, you study Eddie’s long lashes, his nose, his plush lips. He eventually cracks a self-conscious smile.  

“What?” he questions. You shake your head because you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look like he believes you. “C’mon...” 

So, you think of something, a small truth you’re willing to give him, “I just really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

He hums, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. “What was your favorite part?” 

“Probably the food at Stillwater,” you say, though your fingertips are tracing along his jaw, then down his neck, trailing to his waistline to lightly brush between his hip bones as he squirms. “Best I’ve ever had,” you lilt. 

Eddie breaks into a flustered laugh, leaning over to sleepily kiss the coy smile from your lips. 

“But really, though,” you say afterward. “Thanks for tonight. Never met a guy quite like you.” 

Eddie realizes then that he’d better get a head start on counting his lucky stars. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

PART ONE

MORE

[raven-dor]

birds of a feather

In which gwayne's wife misses her friends, and he remedies that by visiting during their nephew's second name day

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: tension between friends, fluff, reuniting, allusions to nsfw, FLUFF

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

AN: this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

The familiar view of King’s Landing stood outside the carriage window, butterflies erupting in the young woman’s stomach. After two years, she was back in the place she’d called home for most of her life. She fidgeted with her dress, eager to leave the carriage and see her friends. As much as Y/N loved her husband, she’d missed her friends beyond belief, and when Gwayne had mentioned they’d been invited to their nephew’s second name day, she’d jumped at the chance. 

He smiled, tilting his head. “You seem eager.” 

She grinned, her husband’s teasing would not place a damper on her happiness. “I am. I’ve missed them more than I care to say.” 

He raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Do I really bore you so?” 

“Yes. You are quite boring.” She smirked. “If only I had a handsome, young husband to entertain me. Instead, I am-” His lips attacked hers, and she cackled, throwing her head back. “You know I adore you.” 

“And I you.” He grinned, nuzzling his nose against hers. “We’re here.” 

She squealed, straightening her dress. “After you, husband.” 

The carriage door opened; Gwayne walked out first, extending his hand. “My lady.” 

She smiled thankfully, walking down the steps. With him by her side, she felt like a princess. The way he looked at her made her weak, practically mush. “Thank you, my love.” 

Alicent, Viserys, and Otto stood at the opposite side of the courtyard. The young couple approached, bowing before the king and queen. 

“My lord.” Gwayne nodded.

“Your Grace.” Y/N smiled. “It is most gracious of you to have extended this invitation.” 

Viserys laughed. “Nonsense. I’ve considered you part of my family for many years now.” 

“That is very kind, thank you.” 

Alicent smiled, stepping forward and taking Y/N’s hands into hers. “I have missed you so.” 

“I’ve missed you as well, Your Grace. It has been far too long.” 

The girl's smile faltered at the title, nodding in agreement. “Please, come. We have much to celebrate.” 

“Yes, indeed.” Y/N grinned, walking with Alicent. “How is little Aegon?” 

Alicent’s smile did not reach her eyes. “Well.”

Y/N whispered. “And you? How are you?” 

“I am-” Viserys summoned her across the room. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

“Of course.” Y/N nodded. “I’ll be here.” 

“So?” Gwayne appeared beside her, hooking his arm through hers. “How goes my dear sister?” 

“She’s-” Y/N sighed. “She seems well.” 

Gwayne hummed. “Perhaps we should go fawn over the young prince.” 

She smiled. “I believe I will take a walk around the grounds.” 

He tilted his head. “Would you like me to come with you?” 

She shook her head. “Stay. I wouldn’t want to take you away from your family.” 

He laughed but nodded. “You are my family now.” 

Her cheeks flushed, and she kissed his cheek quickly. “I love you.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “I love you much more, my dear.”  

Music rang from the Godswood, a man’s voice echoing throughout the halls. Strange, she’d thought. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see who was making the noise. A young man sat by at the foot of the tree, stroking the strings of his guitar while he sang. Not far from him sat a young girl with white hair falling at her waist. Y/N grinned, approaching the princess. “Rhaenyra!” 

Her friend's head whipped, a menacing look in her eyes until she realized who had called her name. “Y/N!” She practically jumped to her feet, running to her friend. She hugged her tightly, emotion laced in her voice. “I’ve missed you.” She let her go, looking her over. “Are you well?” 

Y/N nodded, grinning so widely she thought her cheeks would explode. “Very. I feel as if it’s been decades.” 

Rhaenyra’s face looked melancholy. “It is selfish of me to say, but-” She sighed. “I wish you would have stayed.” 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “Has something happened?” 

She opened her mouth to speak but turned her head around, glaring at the man. “Did I tell you to stop playing?” 

“No, Princess.”

“Again, from the beginning.” She turned back, a faint frown on her lips. “I feel as though I am utterly alone here.” 

“I’m sure that isn’t true, Rhaenyra.” She whispered. “Have you spoken to Alicent?” 

 The princess scoffed. “I would rather fling myself off of the tallest tower.” 

Y/N glared playfully, smacking her arm. “Rhaenyra!” 

Rhaenyra giggled. “What?” 

“You mustn’t say such things.” 

“Are you going to run and tell her?” 

“You know I would never do that to you. And I know that you still hold love for Alicent." She smiled sympathetically. “You were once great friends.” 

She nodded. “Yes. Once. Before she married my father.” She turned back to the tree, retreating to her previous seat. “Come! Tell me of your adventures.” 

Y/N laughed, sitting beside her. “There’s not much to tell other than the fact that I am inexplicably happy. He’s kind to a fault and truly respects me and my opinion.” She smiled, leaning back into one of the many pillows that surrounded them. “It’s refreshing compared to the men we came to know in our youth.” Rhaenyra hummed, staring at her book, and Y/N smirked, nudging her. “And has the princess found interest in anyone as of late?” 

She laughed lightly. “The men brought before me are insulting. I want-” 

“Your Grace.” The singer stood, bowing. 

Rhaenyra didn’t bother looking up from her book. “Did I say to stop? From the beginning.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened, but she made no comment. She was severely outranked, and there was no way she could come out of this situation unscathed if she chose to speak up. The man continued yet again. 

“Rhaenyra?” 

The princess huffed. “Yes, my queen?” 

“Your presence is wanted in the outer courtyard. The royal hunt readies to depart.” 

“I’ve decided to stay here and read instead.” 

Y/N whispered, placing a hand on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. “I only accepted the invitation because I knew you would be attending.” She sighed. “Please.” 

Alicent had evidently had enough of his singing because she cut him off. “You may go, Samwell.” 

“You are to stay by order of the princess.” 

Y/N felt as if she should leave. It was uncomfortable enough being stuck in between the two when Alicent was first promised to Viserys, and the tension was practically visible between the two former friends. She began to stand, and Rhaenyra hissed, pulling her back down. “Don’t.” 

“The queen commands you to leave the Godswood at once.” Samwell nodded, leaving without another word. Y/N honestly wished to thank Alicent; his voice was quite annoying once you heard the same song three times over. “The king wishes for you to join us.” 

“The king has much to celebrate; he does not need me.” 

“He wants for us all to be together. Perhaps the hunt could be… fun.” 

Y/N nodded, looking back at Rhaenyra. “Together again.” 

The princess sighed, looking up from her book. “Is it the king’s command?” 

“Yes, but it-” 

She huffed, standing up. “Then at once, Your Grace.” 

“But it needn’t be.” Alicent looked positively miserable. “None of it needs be this way in truth, Rhaenyra.” 

The blonde girl looked at Y/N once more, nodding. “I’ll see you at the hunt.” Without sparing so much as a look at the queen, she retreated out of the Godswood, her hair swishing as she stepped. 

Y/N sighed, linking her arm through her sister-in-law’s. “Let me help you to the courtyard. I’m sure, being this far along, things have begun to hurt.” 

Alicent smiled. “It is easier the second time, but I would appreciate the company.” 

“So…” Y/N whispered. “Have you thought of any names?” 

“I must admit, I haven’t put much effort into that as I should.” 

“I’m sure you have a busy schedule.” She smiled sympathetically. “If you’d like, we can conjure some up while we attend the hunt.” 

“I’d like that.” She leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder. “I’d like that very much.” 

The royal carriage pulled into the campsite, the courtesans gathering around to greet them. Viserys exited first, followed by Alicent and Aegon. Y/N tilted her head, leaning over and whispering in her husband's ear. “Where’s Rhaenyra?” 

He simply shrugged, clapping loudly. His uncle grinned. “Hail, hail, Aegon the Conquerer Babe, second of his name! Here’s to his grace on his second name day!” 

Viserys smiled brightly, raising his son into the air. Thunderous applause echoed through the woods, but Y/N could not bring herself to be quite as enthusiastic. It seemed as if everything was off, different than how she’d left it. Minutes later, the crowd dispersed, but Y/N stayed, approaching the royal carriage. “May I come in?” 

Rhaenyra nodded, staring at the ground. “I will never understand why father has forced me to come along.” 

She placed a comforting hand over Rhaenyra’s. “Your father has always wished for his family to be happy and together.” She laughed. “Although he has a rather odd way of showing it.” 

Rhaenyra sighed, leaning her head back against the carriage wall. “Must I really go into the lion's den and entertain these lords and ladies?” 

“It is the life of being a princess, I imagine.” She smiled sympathetically. “One day, you will be queen, and you will be able to attend things at your leisure.” 

“When I am queen, we will not have hunts like these, I can assure you.” She smirked, looking out the open door. “I suppose I should leave the carriage.” 

“It would be wise, Princess.” Y/N grinned, nudging her friend. “If you need me, send word, and I will come.” 

She stood, curtsying when Rhaenyra called out. “I need you.” 

Y/N laughed. “Shall I accompany you, Your Highness?” 

“Yes,” Rhaenyra stood, linking her arm with Y/N’s. “You shall.” 

They walked down the steps together, entering the large red tent directly in front of them. Y/N leaned over, whispering in her friend's ear. “It is quite extravagant for a second name day. I doubt your brother will remember this.” 

The princess nodded, walking further into the tent. Voices could be heard gossiping, but one, predictably, stood amongst the rest. Ceira Lannister’s proud tone interrupted Lady Redwyne’s. “Lady Johanna was reported to have been abducted when one of Lord Swann’s ships sailed through the Stepstones.” 

“What will happen to Lady Johanna?” 

“She’s to be sold to a pillow house in the Free Cities if you believe the rumors.” 

A man’s voice spoke. “I fear the gods did not make me for hunting. Might I sit with you, my ladies?” 

“But of course, please join us.” Alicent smiled. She had always been kind-hearted. “Larys Strong, youngest son of our master of laws, Lord Lyonel.” 

“My lord husband says that no king has been able to tame the Stepstones for long. It’s an inhospitable place suited only for savages.” The pair rounded the lobby, peeking in through the curtains. 

“Perhaps the Princess…” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened. “Could provide us with some insight.” 

They stepped through, smiling. Rhaenyra laughed. “I’m not sure how I could; I’ve never been to the Stepstones.” 

“Your dear uncle is the great mind behind this war. Is he not?” 

Y/N smiled condescendingly. “Are we so quick to blame family members for their relative's wrongdoings? I seem to remember, Lady Lannister, not long ago, your son Lord Jason almost burned the city’s sept to the ground.” She tilted her head. “Were you the great mind behind that exhibition?” 

Rhaenyra tensed. “I have not spoken to Daemon in years.”

The Lady Lannister’s face looked sour. “Since you supplanted him as heir, I imagine.” 

Alicent’s eyebrows raised. “Daemon made his choices, Lady Ceira. The princess was more suited to the role.” 

Lady Redwyne sighed. “He’s made a mess, and the King must put an end to it. Send fleets and men and clear out the triarchy for good.” 

Y/N murmured. “I was not aware you were the master of war.” 

Rhaenyra tilted her head. “But the crown is not at war.” 

“The crown is at war, Princess. Though your father refuses to admit it, we’ve been dragged into it by your Uncle and the Sea Snake.” 

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, but Rhaenyra beat her to it. “And how have you served the realm as of late, Lady Redwyne? By eating cake?” 

Rhaenyra waited for no response, dragging her friend outside as she laughed. “Where are we going?” 

“Anywhere but here.” She rolled her eyes. “None of those ladies have any idea what it is like to rule. What makes them think they can speak as if they do?” 

“It is just what they do, Your Highness.” She laughed. “And no one is a better gossip than the ladies we just encountered.” 

They stopped by the fire, staring into it. “I wonder, Princess-” Y/N fought the urge to groan. She was already annoyed, and now completely understood why Rhaenyra acted the way she had as of late. “Was your own second name day as grand as this?” 

 “I honestly don’t recall, and neither will Aegon.” 

The man stood, bowing before her. “Lord Jason Lannister.” Rhaenyra and Y/N smiled politely. 

“I gathered that from all the lions.” 

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He snapped, ushering over his servant. What a pompous man, Y/N thought. She pitied the poor woman who would have to marry him. She began to pull her arm out of Rhaenyra’s when she tightened her grip, sending her a quick cry for help. Y/N would have laughed if their company was not present. 

“Your twin serves on my father’s council.” 

“Tyland is frightfully dull; Gods love him.” He handed the pair of them cups, smiling proudly. “The finest honeyed wine you’ll ever taste. Made in Lannisport, of course.” 

Rhaenyra smiled back sarcastically. “Of course.” 

“The Kingswood, it’s fine hunting ground. But the best spot is to be found at Casterly Rock, near my home.” 

Y/N fought the urge to laugh. “I beg pardon, my lord, but I believe you are mistaken. The woods surrounding Old Town have been known for centuries for its hunting grounds.” She smiled. “King Jaehaerys himself often visited for the very same purpose.” 

The Lannister man smiled politely, whispering to Rhaenyra. “Might we talk alone, Princess?” 

Rhaenyra shook her head. “Lady Hightower is a good friend, my lord. Anything you wish to say may be said in front of her as well.”

He sighed, going back to his obviously prepared speech. “Have you been to Casterly Rock?” 

“Once, on tour with my mother when I was young, and I honestly cannot recall much of that either.” 

“The Rock is thrice the high of the Hightower in Oldtown,” at this Y/N had rolled her eyes. “Taller still than the Wall in the North. It’s been said that if one were to stand in the tower on a perfect day, one could see clear across the Sunset Sea.” 

“It must be quite something.” 

“I don’t have a Dragonpit, of course, but I do have the means and resources to build one.” 

Seven Hells. Y/N’s heart dropped. He was proposing to Rhaenyra. The Princess tilted her head. “Why would you need a Dragonpit?” 

“To house Dragons, of course.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d do anything for my queen or lady wife.” 

Y/N whispered. “Rhaenyra, perhaps we should-” 

Rhaenyra smiled, handing him back their cups. “Thank you for the wine.” She stalked back to the tent, practically dragging Y/N. 

“I think I’ll go find Gwayne for a moment,” Y/N called out. “I would prefer not to be stuck in the screaming match between you and your father.” 

The princess simply nodded, letting go of her friend's arm. Y/N huffed, smiling as her husband came into view. “My love.” 

He kissed the back of her hand. “Having fun?” 

“I forgot how exhausting it is to be her companion.” She frowned. “It must be horrible to be put on such a high pedestal.” 

Gwayne mumbled. “Imagine being the queen.” 

She looked over at Alicent, who looked lost in a sea of vipers. “Imagine.” 

Viserys’s voice carried above the rest, and Y/N sighed, leaning her head on her husband's arm. “It’s starting.” 

He looked puzzled. “What is, my dear?” 

She gestured over to the King and Princess, who were in a heated discussion. “The reason I came to find you. I knew they’d start yelling. I cannot tell you the amount of arguments I was stuck in the middle of.” She shivered. “Targaryens have the blood of dragons in their veins, and it is evident when they are angry.” 

The tent quieted, the whole of its inhabitants looking at the royals. Rhaenyra ran off, and Gwayne leaned down, whispering in Y/N’s ear. “Aren’t you going to go after her?” 

She shook her head, smiling sadly. “She always does best when she is by herself, given time to think.” She looked up, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.” 

“Oh?” He smirked, his eyes dark. “That is nice to know.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” She stood on her tiptoes, reaching for his lips. “I live to serve you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “We both know that’s not true. Quite the opposite, really.” 

“Gwayne.” He hummed. “Stop talking and kiss me.” 

“Yes, my lady.” He leaned down, kissing her deeply. “Shall we retire early?” 

She gasped, hitting his chest indignantly. “It is only half past two.” 

“And?” 

“Y/N.” The pair broke apart, smiling at the King. “Your Grace.” 

He grinned. “How have you been, my dear?” 

“Well, my king.” She placed a hand on Gwayne’s chest, smiling up at him. “I have been very well.” 

“Shall I be hearing news of a babe anytime soon?” 

Her cheeks flushed, losing the ability to speak. She felt nauseous. Gwayne laughed. “Hopefully, Your Grace.” 

Viserys laughed along with her husband. “Perhaps you could tell Rhaenyra how rewarding marriage has been for you.” He failed to hide his annoyance. “She is quite stubborn about the idea.” 

“I’m sure she will come around in time, Your Grace.” She smiled. “Rhaenyra understands the importance, and with a kind match, she will be more than happy to fufill her duties. I am sure of it.” 

Viserys nodded. “Enjoy the hunt.” 

“We will. Thank you, Your Grace.” The king walked away, and Gwayne whispered. “Do you really believe she will be so willing?” 

“Seven Hells, no.” Y/N laughed. “I doubt she will marry willingly.” 

He smiled. "Were you once that way?"

"I remember rejecting your first proposal." She raised an eyebrow. "I never thought I would marry."

"I'm surprised."

"And why is that?"

He pulled her closer, a loving look in his eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't have a line of suitors out of the castle."

She laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "How sweet."

Gwayne laughed at the Lords who were shoving food down their throats like it was their last meal. “I thank the gods every day that I am not Lord of Hightower.” 

“And why is that husband?” 

“I would have to go on those dreadfully long and unfair hunts.” He laughed. “You know as well as I that hunting in Old Town is just that: hunting. We do not strap the beast down; we actually track the animals.”

She smiled. “What a kind man you are.” 

He glared. “Are you jesting?” 

She scoffed, acting surprised. “What would make you state such a claim? I am simply telling you how kind you are.” 

“For some reason,” He leaned down. “I do not believe you.” 

“Well, perhaps, dear husband,” She reached for his lips. “You should.” 

“We should retire.” He whispered. “They do not need us.” 

“I would love to retire.” 

He sighed. “But?” 

“But I feel horrible, leaving your sister by herself. Her husband…” She whispered. “Seems more preoccupied with his wine than her well-being.” 

He dropped in head on her shoulder, groaning. “Must you be so considerate?” 

“Yes,” she kissed his temple. “I must. Now remove your head from my shoulder. I want to sit with your sister.” 

He sat up, glaring. “You take the fun out of everything.” 

“That’s not what you said a fortnight ago.” She whispered, a chill running down his spine. “After I spend some time with her, I will be yours. I promise.” 

He smirked. “I look forward to it.” 

She stood up, curtsying in front of Alicent. “My Queen. May I?” 

She nodded eagerly. “Please.” The cupbearer came over, pouring her a glass. “Would you like some?” 

“I believe if I have any more, I will not be able to walk."

Alicent laughed. “Is my brother treating you well?” 

“He is a gracious husband," she smiled. "I wish you could have attended the wedding.” 

“I do as well.” She sighed. “I fear I have less freedom than one would think a queen is allowed.” 

“Surely Viserys understands your need to see family.” Y/N lamented. “Perhaps we could convince him of a trip to the country.” 

“Perhaps.” Alicent did not look hopeful. “He is rather preoccupied.”

“You have the ladies at court to keep you company, I hope?” 

“Yes…” She sighed. “But I find that I have few true friends at the moment.” 

“Alicent…” Y/N held her hands. “You have me.” 

Her eyes watered. “I miss when it was the three of us. Is that wrong to say?” 

Y/N shook her head. “I feel the same. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could go back.” 

“Does Gwayne not-” 

“I love your brother, truly.” She smiled. “But friends are important, good for the soul.” 

Alicent grinned, tears falling. “Please write to me.” 

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course I will.” 

“Sister?” The girl turned around, smiling at her husband. “Are you alright?” 

The queen nodded. “I missed your wife’s company.” 

Gwayne grinned. "She is certainly something, isn't she?"

Y/N blushed, shoving him away. “I’m glad we made the trip.” 

“Shall I leave you two-” 

His sister shook her head. “I’m retiring.” She looked at Y/N once more. “I will miss you.” 

“I will miss you just as much.” Alicent stood, and Y/N walked into her husband's embrace. “You have made me a very happy wife, Gwayne.” 

“Well, I live to serve you.” He smirked. “You are my joy.” 

“You flatter me.” 

“It is true. I am not a liar, as you well know.” He slung an arm across her shoulders. “Let us go to bed.” 

"I'm not feeling tired." She grinned mischievously. "Are you?"

"Quite the opposite." Once they left the tent, he put his arm under her legs, sweeping her off her feet. Y/N giggled, leaning her head against his chest.

"I'm glad we understand each other."

He pushed through their tent's entrance, dropping her on the bed and hovering over her. "Have I told you how much I long for you?"

She shook her head, blushing.

He sighed, leaning down. "Let me show you."

“Rhaenyra!” Y/N called out, racing towards her friend. She hugged her quickly. “We were worried.” 

“We?” The princess smirked. “Or my father?” 

Y/N frowned. “I will miss you dearly.” 

"Have you not heard? I’m being sent on a tour to find a suitor of my choosing.” 

“That’s wonderful. I knew your father would come around.” 

She squinted. “My father said it was your words that made his mind.” 

“I-” Realization dawned on her. “I said that you would possibly be inclined to marry if you found a kind match you will be more than willing to fulfill your duties.” 

“Well, whatever you said, I am glad of it. One of the stops is Old Town.” She grinned. “I will see you in just a few short months.” 

“I am counting the days.” Gwayne waved her over, and Y/N curtsied. “Princess.” 

She ran over to her husband, and he caught her, laughing at her enthusiasm. “You are quite bubbly this morning.” 

She grinned, whispering in his ear. “I had a rather productive night.” 

“Productive?” He raised an eyebrow. “I would say romantic.” 

She nodded. “Yes, of course.” Walking towards the carriage, she gasped when he shut the door, his grin resembling that of a wolf. “Perhaps I should show you the meaning of the word.” 

Y/N blushed, biting her lip. “Yes." She leaned back. "Perhaps you should.” 

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (11) - First Light

Chapter summary: A much needed discussion takes place and it ends with Astarion coating his daggers with poison.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma. Mentions of oral sex. Blood drinking,

Word count: 4.3k

Author's note: I am still unable to reply to comments (I'm waiting for tumblr support to fix this... I read all of the, I promise. You can also send and ask or head to ao3 so I can reply there. Thank you!

Series masterlist

Ao3

Wyll Ravengard was the picture-perfect of integrity.

Well, if you were to exclude his past dealings with the half-devil Mizora. But even then, he had been mostly justified in his assessment of the situation.

So it came as no surprise when you weren't able to find a single trace of judgement on his face.

Only evident concern.

Shadowheart had quickly filled him in on the Waterdeep situation as well as provided him with enough context when it came to Ava.

“Well, this is a… mess,” Wyll eventually drawled out.

Astarion, who was sitting to your right, immediately snickered. “Understatement of the year.”

Shadowheart, who was sitting to you left, promptly quipped, “I wonder whose fault that is.”

He leaned forward to glance at her. “Darling, all that pent-up frustration must–”

You heaved a deep sigh as you nudged him with your elbow, not in the mood to moderate their venomous exchange. “Enough!”

Wyll took a seat across from yours as a Fist stood by his side, hand clasping the handle of his sword in a silent warning.

“You should have told me about your arrangement with Ava,” he said, locking eyes with you. “I know all too well how some propositions are just rotten from the start and doomed to fail.”

Tension and guilt settled in the pit of your stomach.

Not even half an hour ago, you had been able to momentarily push aside the chaos that had been hurled at you in such short notice.

“It seemed like a fair exchange – if her words are to be believed, that is,” you said.

Wyll tensed up. “There is nothing fair about offering your blood to bloodthirsty fiends as an exchange.” He then glanced at Astarion. “No offense.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “None taken, darling.”

But Wyll did have a point even if your arrangement with Astarion was nothing akin to the one with Ava.

Yet…

“Nothing is set in stone. I don't have to go through with any of it.”

From beside you, Shadowheart managed an irritable look. “I cannot be the only one who finds all of this rather convenient. Even if there is someone connected to Cazador after you, why would she withhold that information? Doesn't she need you safe and sound, Astarion?”

“I suppose so, but who's to say? I would need to talk to her,” he said, eyes on Wyll. “I have to talk to her.”

Wyll immediately understood the implication in his words. “Now?”

“Well, obviously not now,” he said indignantly.

The sun was still up and dusk was hours away. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” you intervened, heart racing in your chest. “We need to find out first if there's something that links all of this to Ava.”

“Regardless of that, she still needs to answer for her deranged proposition,” Astarion replied.

Shadowheart scoffed. “You were the one who endangered her in the first place with that bizarre deal.”

He was on his feet faster than you could blink, scowling. “Do not make the idiotic mistake of thinking you are the only one here who cares for her.”

She rose from the sofa, matching his defyance. “Oh, I am sure you care for her – in your own twisted way.”

“Can you two stop it?” you half-shouted, coming to stand in between them before he could retort. “This is pointless!”

They glared at each other in silence for a moment before parting ways, with Astarion sinking down on a chair whilst Shadowheart began pacing around the room, evidently distressed.

“My friends, we need to think critically here,” Wyll spoke again. “Arguing with each other is the last thing we ought to do right now.”

Silence followed as tension dispersed.

“Now, as we wait for Lae'zel and Gale to return, I must ask a few questions, Astarion.”

He crossed his arms. “Oh, this should be fun.”

Wyll ignored his snarky remark, assuming a more serious demeanour. “Why would you resort to her in the first place? Was her promise more solid than the Wish spell?”

“There were no promises made,” he said acidly, a nerve clearly having been struck. “She’s merely experimenting and the prospect seemed too good to pass.”

“So, your blood for a way to lessen your vampiric hunger? That was the deal?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine and you watched as Astarion tensed up slightly.

He had never shared with them just how deep the horrors he endured under Cazador's command truly twisted inside him.

How all of it had taken a toll on his ability to be intimate with someone without feeling tainted.

How it had ultimately driven him into striking a deal with someone like Ava as despair took root.

And it wasn't your place to reveal any of it.

So you merely sat back and observed him in silence.

“It seemed good enough back then,” he said coolly. “Besides, it could also be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”

That had Wyll arch an eyebrow. “The spawn?”

“Petras has been sending letters to report back, and – well, let's just say that dealing with 7,000 hungry vampire spawn isn't an easy feat,” he said. “I figured that if her experiment were to be successful, then it'd be beneficial for them as well.”

Oh.

Shadowheart waggled her eyebrows as her feet came to a halt. “So you weren't merely thinking about yourself?”

“Initially, yes. Of course.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“However, I was the one who doomed them to eternal hunger, so it seemed fitting I'd help.”

“They were doomed either way,” you quickly pointed out. “And it was Cazador's doing.”

His head turned to you. “Be it as it may, their hunger isn't sated for long. I know that all too well.”

Astarion wasn't exactly the epitome of selflessness, but you knew he had come to change some of his ways in the past few weeks after all the events that had unfolded.

And when it came to his own hunger, you figured old habits did die hard.

His eyes then landed on your neck for a moment before looking away.

“I reckon I already know the answer to this, but did you even plan ahead?” Shadowheart said, crossing her arms. “How would you even make this feasible for thousands of spawn with just your own blood? Or were they really just an afterthought?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes. “Ava was handling the … logistics, shall we say. My blood would be the starting point, but not a requirement.”

She scoffed in utter disbelief. “And you took her word for it… blindly. You simply trusted some monster hunter with a blood fetish? This is ridiculous even for you.”

He was definitely a passionate admirer of the ‘laugh now, cry later’ school of thought, which also meant that when the consequences hit… they would hit hard.

“It's not like progress was being made with the Wish spell, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

A chill rushed through you like a knife. “Only a few weeks had passed, Astarion. All you had to do was wait–”

And then he snapped. His seemingly calm demeanour finally cracking open and revealing the hurt underneath.

“For centuries, all I did was wait! There were times I wished he would just destroy me once and for all to rid me of the burden of being ‘alive’ under such conditions,” he snarled, rising from the chair as he faced you. “I turned away from all that power I could have – the ritual… everything! I – I just…” His voice faltered and he heaved a sigh, reining back his outrage as his face softened into that expression that just broke you. “Is it such a crime that I want better for myself?”

You shook your head, feeling for him, but… “These things take time. Despair leads to rushed actions.”

He grimaced. “So you'd have me turn to hope?”

“Yes.”

He clicked his tongue. “There's nothing quite as cruel as hope, darling.”

You heard Wyll let out an exasperated sigh from across the room. “Astarion, I will not judge you for the decision you made to mingle with Ava – you had your reasons. But the consequences seem severe enough even if she isn't involved in either of the killings.”

He remained silent.

“It's not just about you anymore. She took an interest in her blood and is now using it as a bargaining chip,” he said. “That is unacceptable.”

“I fully agree with Wyll,” Shadowheart said as she came to sit next to you once again.

“And that is why you'll let me go to her,” Astarion said.

“You're still under house arrest. The Council of Four will–”

“To Hells with them all!” Astarion said through clenched teeth, fangs peeking through. “We're your friends, are we not? And since you're so adamant about my fault in this, allow me to set things right.”

“A good call,” Shadowheart chimed in with a nod.

Wyll seemed taken aback by his words and his frown deepened. “I may have the final word as the Grand Duke, but I cannot consciously go against a collective ruling.”

“The circumstances have changed,” Astarion retorted simply. “I will go to her and you're free to have your Fists point a thousand stakes at me along the way if it eases your mind.”

You could tell Wyll felt torn between duty and reasoning, and you didn't envy him in the slightest.

“You don't understand the consequences of–”

Astarion's face darkened and a devious smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, darling. I do understand. I simply do not care.”

Wyll took a deep breath, clearly realising he was fighting a losing battle.

He turned to face the Fist by his side. “Send word to the Council.”

The tall and broad man nodded before exiting through the front door.

“You can't be serious,” Astarion scoffed. “You should have kept this between us. They don't have to know.”

But Wyll merely shook his head. “We can do things your way and my way.”

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. 

“I'm coming with you,” you said, fully determined..

Shadowheart immediately gripped your arm firmly. “No.”

Wyll rose from his seat. “He shall not go alone, but you don't need to get more involved in this than you already are.”

Astarion turned to face you and raised one hand. “Absolutely not. You stay.”

That made your blood boil almost instantly and a flash of anger crossed your face. “I can fend for myself. Just let me–”

But your words were muffled by a deafening swirling and pulsing sound that came from outside.

In no time, the door was slammed open as a visibly irritated Lae'zel stormed inside.

“Tsk'va! Mages and their nauseating portals,” she grumbled before closing the door shut and plunging the room in candlelight once again. “Almost spilled the contents of my stomach. Twice.”

Both you and Shadowheart flocked to her side and you spoke first, “Are you alright? Where’s Gale?”

She nodded dismissively, placing her esteemed greatsword on the long table. “He stayed behind to converse with a few of his acquaintances, trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Well? What happened, then?” Astarion asked as he approached the three with you with Wyll right behind him.

“The man succumbed to a multitude of slashing wounds.”

Your eyes widened as you gasped.

“Slashing wounds? Was it an animal? A monster?” Wyll immediately pressed.

“We do not know. It was a rather brutal sight even for someone like me,” Lae'zel said with a frown.

A shiver spread across your body and you felt nauseous all of a sudden.

“Was there anything odd about it?” Shadowheart asked.

“Because a man being brutally shredded to pieces isn't odd enough?” Astarion said with a scoff.

She ignored him. “Were there traces of necrotic magic?”

Lae'zel arched a brow. “No. What's with this interrogation?”

Shadowheart was definitely trying to find a common element between the two deaths… and Ava.

And it seemed that there was nothing there.

Yet.

“We are trying to figure out if Ava could have had a hand in this.”

Lae'zel didn't budge. “Who?”

“Ava.”

Lae'zel turned to Astarion. “Your hairdresser?”

This time, Shadowheart clicked her tongue impatiently, hands on her hips. “Astarion struck a deal with some monster hunter turned blood merchant and got her involved.” She extended one arm to at you. “This Ava woman now wants her blood for whatever nefarious reason and might also be the one to blame for the death that led to them getting arrest and – quite possibly – the one from today.”

Your eyes widened, quite astonished that she was able to spill all that information in one swift breath. 

If the circumstances weren't quite so dire, you would also have chuckled from how she sounded like a child who was telling her strict parent on her misbehaving sibling.

Astarion was obviously offended. “Conveniently leaving out the part where I am entitled to mingling with whomever I want, and that I was completely oblivious to Ava's finding and her proposal.”

Lae'zel glanced at you. “What proposal?”

“It's fine. Don't worry. I won't go through with any of it,” you said reassuringly, placing your hand on her wrist, knowing fully well she was itching to swing her sword on him. “This is all one big mess, but he truly didn't know.”

Shadowheart growled. “You do not have to keep defending him!”

Wyll spoke before you could. “Shadowheart. I understand your indignation, but we need to move on from the constant pointless bickering. What is done is done.”

Astarion clapped thrice. “Ah! The voice of reason!”

She threw him a death glare before crossing her arms and tapping her foot irritably on the floor, but not uttering another word.

Lae'zel, on the other hand, had her narrowed eyes set on Astarion. “You are fortunate she adores that pretty head attached to your body.”

“Was that a compliment, Lae'zel?” he taunted.

“Your ability to turn any remark into an opportunity to feed your ego is truly astounding, Astarion.”

He smirked happily in response. “I do my best – or worst, depending on your taste.”

“Enough of this,” you interjected as you stared at Lae'zel. “When is Gale returning?”

She shrugged. “Unclear. He is also trying to find another contact who might help out with the Wish spell.”

“No.”

All heads turned to Astarion.

His brows knitted together. “No. No one else is getting involved until we figure out what is happening.”

Your eyes met his in mingled surprise and confusion. 

Even Shadowheart was stunned silent as her face softened.

“I thought you wanted this more than anything,” Wyll asked.

“Well, yes. But not when people are turning up dead all around me.”

Lae'zel frowned. “So, all of this for nothing? Had a sudden change of heart about your inability to walk in the sun again?”

He rolled his eyes. “Heavens forbid I'm the one pointing the moral compass in the right direction. Don't act so surprised, darling. I still know what I want and what I need to do.”

You closed the distance between you and him, worry brewing in your heart.

“Astarion, the Wish spell isn't easy to come by. It's not easy to find someone willing to teach it and Gale is a powerful wizard and strong candidate,” you said, trying to reason with him as you placed a hand on his arm. “I understand your reluctance, but we might have to wait even longer if this opportunity is disregarded.”

He didn't even flinch. “This is ultimately my choice, and I choose to wait. I've had it with others dictating how I should feel and act. This is the sensible thing to do.”

For centuries, he had belonged to everyone – to anyone – but himself. 

Both in body and mind. 

So, if this was what he truly thought was best for him, who were you to deny him of it? Maybe you would have chosen differently, but this wasn't truly about you, was it?

He would tell you otherwise, of course. That you had been the stepping stone to his healing process since the nautiloid crash, but you couldn't and wouldn't take full credit for it.

This was a joint effort and you would empower him all the way through.

“I stand with you,” you said eventually said, breaking the silence.

He gradually relaxed under your touch.

Shadowheart spoke next, “I respect your decision, Astarion. We need to see if there is a link between the two deaths. I can go ahead through the portal and ask Gale to return.”

He nodded. 

“Very well,” she said with a curt smile.

Wyll approached the door. “I will inform the guards to accompany you once dusk hits, Astarion.”

He nodded again. “Thank you.”

Lae'zel then cursed and left the room with a loud bang behind her as the door closed shut.

Your hand came to his shoulder and his crimson eyes were on you again. “Let me come with you.”

“No.”

You scowled. “I'm not some frail sorcerer. I can stand by your side and help.”

This time, he chuckled. “Sweetheart, you are more capable than most of us combined here. My reluctance doesn't stem from my lack of faith in your abilities,” he said, voice firm and collected. “If anything were to happen to you because of me, I'd never forgive myself. Allow me to handle this.”

Your heart was hammering fast in your chest from his words, and even though you wanted to argue with his decision, you held your tongue back.

In truth, you were mostly scared Ava would have something up her sleeve and hurt him. That was what was eating at your nerves.

But still, you nodded

It was settled then.

You made your way down the corridor, coming to a halt as the faint glow spilled from inside his room.

The door was open for a change.

A comforting smile curled your lips, knowing you'd find him inside.

As you approached the doorway, you spotted Astarion across the room, flicking through a few pieces of cloth placed on the round table.

You knocked twice on the wood “May I?”

He nodded. “It's your house.”

“Well, it's your room,” you retorted. “For now, at least,” you quickly added, not wanting to seem overbearing. After all, he wasn't ultimately here on his own volition.

“You don't have to keep asking,” he said with a faint smile.

Your eyes landed on his bed as you walked in, causing your heart to skip a beat.

A few hours ago, the two of you had been lost in each other's pleasure on that very same spot. Now, the bedclothes had been laid sprawled across it, no creases or any remaining proof of your earlier endeavour.

The two of you had been robbed of after care and a much needed talk about what had happened.

Even if he had seemed quite content during and after all of it, you found yourself always hung on the fear that you had rushed through it all.

So, you needed the affirmation. You needed to hear his thoughts on it and to ensure no boundaries had been crossed.

You approached the table and your gaze roamed cross the clear vials that he had placed by his twin daggers. 

Odourless.

Colourless.

Poison.

“Lethal?”

He dabbed a selected piece of cloth on the clear liquid. “No.”

An uneasy feeling began to take root. “Do you think she'll try to hurt you?”

“It would be rather foolish of her,” he mused, dragging the damp fabric along each blade, coating them in a fine layer of poison. “But I've been wrong before about people, so – as they say – better safe than sorry.”

It wasn’t the reassurance you were seeking, but Astarion was more than capable when it came to self-defence.

“Besides, she needs me more than I need her,” he concluded, inspecting the glinting blade close to his eyes. “And if she fails to provide satisfactory answers, the Fists will deal with her.”

You nodded, but still failing to push your fear aside. “What if there is really someone after us? What if she's not connected to any of this?”

You had purposefully let out the faint implication that maybe there was a connection to Cazador. He didn't need to be troubled with that in case Ava was bluffing. 

Astarion sheathed both daggers on either side of his waist before his eyes landed on you. “If that is the case, then she will tell me who it is. And she better have a godsdamned good justification for why she thought I would allow you to be involved.”

You absentmindedly bit your lip and he smiled warmly, coming to stand in front of you, wiping his hands clean from any trace of poison.

Silently, he leaned to press a lingering kiss on your forehead, his cool lips making you flinch slightly.

It was as if a surge of lightning had been cast throughout your body, setting you alight.

“About earlier…” you said, swallowing your nervousness.

He traced your jawline with his thumb before tipping your head back so you could properly meet his gaze.

“Darling, already back for another round?”

You broke into laughter. “No! No… that wasn't what I trying to say.”

He tapped your nose lovingly and it was as if the two of you were long-time lovers, used to each other's teases and mannerisms.

Your heart skipped yet another beat.

“I know. Just couldn't miss the opportunity to have you all flustered for me again,” he said with a devious grin. “But do go on.”

“I just want to make sure… it was alright… what we did, I mean,” you said in a whisper.

Astarion's brows furrowed together. “I thought that was pretty much evident…”

A lump swelled in your throat.

You truly didn't want to overstep any lines.

But you had to know. You had to hear it.

“I am talking about… up here,” you said, pressing a finger softly to his temple. “I… just want to make sure you're truly fine. That we're truly fine.”

You held your breath for a moment, dreading a worrisome reply.

He caught hold of your hand and pressed your finger to his lips. “I will always tell you if it's too much.”

A wave of relief washed over you and you allowed yourself to breathe normally.

Still…

You swallowed again. “Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he said, using your own finger to tap the tip of your nose, earning a heartfelt giggle from you. 

“So… it wasn't too much?”

“No,” he said truthfully.

You nodded as he gripped your chin. “How did it feel?”

He paused for a while, pondering. “It felt… right.”

Your stomach turned and your heart sped up from how close he was to you.

How close he felt to you.

“I want to kiss you,” he said all of a sudden. “May I?”

You felt as though you would melt into a puddle from how desperate he sounded.

“You don't have to always ask,” you said truthfully.

He then pressed his cool lips to the corner of your mouth and you instinctively gasped. “I just adore the sound of your voice when you let me in.”

His lips moved to the opposite side, lingering there, and a rush of heat pooled in your cheeks.

“May I kiss you, darling?” he asked once more, pulling back just enough for his lips to barely touch yours. “May I taste you?”

Gods…

“Please do.”

He didn't need to be told twice.

The kiss started off slow at first as his lips molded into yours. But as soon as you made way for his tongue to slide inside, Astarion became the image of hunger.

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed both thumbs on your chin, so you'd open up wider for him.

A flash of memory filled your mind and you recalled how he used to do the same whenever you were on your knees, struggling to fit his thick cock in your mouth.

“You can take more of me, can't you, my sweet?” he'd say, voice dripping with lust.

You'd always struggle at first. Always. But he was such a caring lover and he would always ensure you took your time.

You quickly shuddered as your clit began throbbing evenly. 

His tongue was as relentless against yours as his cock had once been, but his eagerness and hunger had his razor-like fang nip at your lower lip, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you groaned from the sharp sting.

Astarion immediately pulled back and you stared at him in confusion.

You felt a few drops dribbling down your chin.

Why wasn't he tasting you?

His eyes were fixed on your lips and his eyes narrowed with bloodlust.

“You're letting it go to waste?” you asked, swiping your finger across the bleeding wound.

He swallowed with a strained smile. 

Oh, he was struggling to hold back…

“Well, darling… I don't intend on leaving the house with my cock hard with your blood.”

You clenched so hard you felt a gush of wetness being squeezed out.

But there was only so much Astarion could withstand, so you couldn't fight the moan that tore through your throat as he placed the softest kiss to your lip.

“Just before I go,” he whispered. “So I can take you with me.”

You clenched again and you could feel your clit swell up with each throb.

He eventually parted from you, licking his blood-stained lips as his eyes held that lustful gaze you adored.

“I'll be back soon.”

You were left petrified in place as he swiftly made his way out.

It wasn’t fair how soaked you were.

How soaked he had left you.

You glanced over your shoulder and realised the door had been left open all along and you rushed to the window, tugging on the curtain.

The sun had set as he appeared down below, followed closely by two Fists.

And the single mage slayer.

The three of them trailed after his steps and darted off into the distance.

And you realised that without a mage slayer around to keep your magic at bay, you could simply vanish.

You glanced at the vials of poison on the nearby table and smiled.

TBC

Series masterlist

Ao3

[awearywritersworld]

i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend

sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist

"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.

"i'll pass."

sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.

"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"

"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."

"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."

"it's gotten me this far."

you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.

making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."

he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus

you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.

"what's it about?"

"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."

"your subtly never ceases to amaze."

"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."

he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"

you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"

"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."

he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.

clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.

he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.

"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.

your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."

"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"

"not if you're cheating, now let me see."

"no."

you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.

swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.

with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"

you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."

"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"

you gasp. "so you admit it?"

"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.

"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"

he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."

"please?" you lean forward, jutting out your bottom lip.

he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.

sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.

leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).

"please?" you repeat.

he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.

sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?

no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"

grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.

when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.

"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."

"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."

you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.

"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."

he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"

sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."

yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"

"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."

"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"

"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.

"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."

"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."

"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.

"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"

yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.

sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."

his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.

but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.

you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.

you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.

"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.

"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.

"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.

yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.

once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"

"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."

when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.

he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.

around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.

he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."

you finally turn to face him. "really?"

"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."

"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off."

you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"

"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."

you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"

"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.

"wait. please don't go."

just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.

when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.

"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."

are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.

moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.

he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.

you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.

well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.

"then why are you upset with me?"

his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."

"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"

"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."

he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?

he probably deserves it anyway.

why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?

oh, right. because you care about him.

you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.

once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.

with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.

so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.

it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.

and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.

it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.

he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.

his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.

your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.

he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.

when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."

he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"

his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."

ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.

upon finishing, he stares at the page after taking in the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."

he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.

you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.

"sukuna?"

he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"

you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i suppose i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"

"no reason."

"did you enjoy it?"

"yes."

"why?"

he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"

you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."

"and the creature?"

"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."

you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."

and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit beside him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:

"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”

his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.

you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.

"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"

"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."

he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."

"and you didn't care for it?"

"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."

your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"

"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."

your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"

he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.

"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."

"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.

he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."

you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.

he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.

"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"

sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.

"no," he answers decidedly.

looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.

he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.

is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.

"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his temple.

his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.

for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.

he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?

his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"

you tilt your head to the side. "why?"

"because even if it's made me into a monster..."

for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—

"all of my actions have led me to you."

your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.

you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.

as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."

a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[girlgenius1111]

one of your girls part 2

part 1 alexia x jenni x leila x reader. jenni and alexia try to share smut, 18+. part of the rush verse @vixwritesagain ... for context: Read Part One here Read Part Two here Read Part Three here Read Part Four here Read Part Five here Read Part Six here Read Part Seven here Read Part Eight here

----- “And I want you to be loud.” She stated, shifting her hips forward so the tip of the strap pressed against you. The heat of her thighs nudged up against your own. “Shouldn't be hard for you. Let Leila hear how well I fuck her whore.” 

You bit your lip, trying to stop the involuntary grind of your lower body. You and Alexia both turned your heads to look at the armchair across the room. Leila just grinned back at you. 

“Seems like she is your whore right now, Ale.” Leila said happily. 

Alexia took a moment to stare incredulously at your girlfriend. You dragged your nails over her abdomen, freezing when Alexia turned her attention back towards you. She caught your hand and pressed it down into the bed. 

“You are feeling like a brat today?” Alexia asked rhetorically. “Brats do not get to come.” 

Almost unconsciously, you looked in Jenni’s direction, taking in the slim lines of her while she perched on the spare bed. Alexia’s hand instantly gripped your jaw, forcing your focus back on her. Her expression had hardened and you felt a shiver run through you at the steel in her eyes. “You are not in charge. I am.” 

Jenni hummed, a small smile creeping into her expression. “Are you?” 

You were echoing Jenni before you could stop yourself.  “Are you, Ale?” 

You realised your mistake as soon as the words left your mouth. As soon as Alexia smirked down at you sadistically. “Puta.” 

“Fucking- Ale,” You gasped, feeling her hips push her cock into you all at once. You were sensitive, though still wet from before. Alexia set off at an unrelenting pace. 

“¿Qué fue eso?” Alexia grunted. “You have something to say?” 

She gripped your hips in her hands, holding you still as she fucked into you. The feeling had your fingers tangling in the bedsheets. You could feel every inch of her, never pulling out all the way before she pushed right back in. Alexia kept her thrusts sharp, forcing filthy sounds from your lungs with every jab. 

“¿Nada?” She taunted as your eyes squeezed shut. 

Your legs curved around her waist, tangling behind her bucking hips for just a second before Alexia pushed them off. 

There was no fight to be had when she pressed your knees back to your chest. “Hold.”

The part of her lips when you moved your hands to do as she asked made Jenni’s chuckle less embarrassing. 

Alexia’s eyes trailed downwards, slowing her hips until she could fully appreciate how you spread yourself for her. “Mira, Lei.” 

You didn’t have to look to know that you had Leila’s full attention already. Still, her voice was soothing. “Sí. She’s perfect for you, no? Give it to her harder, she can take it.” 

Alexia leaned down, digging both hands into the sheets by your head. She kept that distance when her eyes bore into your own. 

Your back arched at the fierceness of her first thrust, then the second and third in quick succession. With her weight rocking down, pushing your hips into the mattress with every pass, there was nowhere else to go. 

“Fuck!” You gasped as she filled you over and over. “Yes, Ale-”

You were distracted by Jenni kneeing her way onto the bed. Alexia held no such qualms, pounding inside until Jenni stroked over her shoulder. “Share.”

No warning when Alexia pushed back, pulling herself from your body and turning her focus to her girlfriend immediately. 

“Por detrás, pues.” She requested. Jenni didn’t remind her to speak English, and you wondered if it was because the comment was entirely for her and not you. The blonde waited until Jenni had easily flipped you over, onto your hands and knees, before she slid onto the bed near the headboard. It was difficult to resist the urge to drop down until your face hit the mattress, or at least onto your elbows, but you managed to stay upright even when Jenni yanked your hips back into hers. 

“Ojos aquí.” Alexia instructed suddenly. Rough hands cupped your jaw, tilting your face upwards. And while Alexia wanted your eyes on her, her attention was fixed on Leila. “¿Puedo follarle su garganta mientras Jenni se folle su coño?” 

Something about the question being directed at Leila, even as you were only a few inches from her, had your head leaning further into Alexia’s hands. Jenni chose that moment to enter you, pushing in at a much slower pace. Alexia’s thumbs rubbed small circles over your cheekbone as you let out a deep groan, your body pressing backwards for more.

Leila replied, sounding simply delighted. “Por supuesto. She likes to have things in her mouth. Don’t you, bebé?” 

Any reply you could have managed was cut off when Alexia guided her strap towards your open mouth. The sight in front of you was overwhelming, with Alexia’s muscular thighs tense as she kneeled on the bed. 

More gently than you were expecting, Alexia began to work her cock into your mouth. She and Jenni set a mind numbing rhythm. The striker behind you was going almost agonisingly slow, barely thrusting. She stuck to more of a deep grind, hardly pulling out l before her hips met your ass again. And while Jenni hit every spot inside of you that made your brain lose its ability to form words, Alexia demanded them.

“You like my cock in your mouth?” She asked, clearly expecting a response even as she inched herself further inside. 

“Uh huh,” you grunted, gazing up at her with wide, watery eyes. 

“Whose do you like better? Mine? Or Leila’s?” 

You would have smirked around her cock if you could have. As it were, you had to mumble around it. “Leila’s.” 

Alexia frowned, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging. She pushed her strap further into your mouth, grinding her hips to make the spit run down your chin. She fucked herself into you further until you couldn’t help but gag. 

“Try again.” She warned, pulling back so that the tip pressed to your lips every time Jenni filled you. The increase in speed from the striker, paired with the gentle pinch to your thigh, told you exactly what to say. 

“Jenni’s.” You coughed out to cover up the needy moan. Behind you, Jenni barked out a laugh. Leila tried to muffle her amusement, but Alexia’s tight fist in your hair told you that she’d been wholly unsuccessful. 

“Basta.” The midfielder pulled her strap from your mouth, before sliding off the bed. “My turn.” She said firmly. She only had eyes for you as her girlfriend slowed her delicious thrusts, giving you a smack on the ass before she pulled out. Alexia wasn’t being demanding in an attempt to wrestle control from her girlfriend. Her eagerness was fueled entirely by a desperate need for you. Now. 

“Puedes caminar?” Alexia asked roughly, wrapping an arm around your midsection and pulling you away from Jenni. You whined at the movement, clinging embarrassingly tightly to your captain. 

“English.” Jenni reminded her breathlessly, falling onto her back on the bed.

Alexia took you in for a moment before her upper lip twitched. “No importa.” 

With that, she half carried you over to the desk, wrenching the chair out of the way, and turning you around till you were sandwiched between the cool wood and her hot body. She leaned down to nip at your ear lobe, before she pressed one hand on your spine. 

“Bend over.” Alexia instructed, so quietly you were sure you were the only one in the room to hear it. You let the blonde push you down until you were laying flat on your stomach on the desk in front of you. The shock of the cold on your bare skin made you wince. 

Alexia palmed at your ass, squeezing hard. She landed a few spanks there in quick succession to draw sharp gasps. 

With your face pressed to the surface, you could see Leila. She was only a few feet away now, curled up on the chair. Being bent over the desk gave her a much better view. This, you were sure, was not accidental on Alexia’s part. 

Leila grinned when your gaze met hers, face scrunching adorably. You broke first, squeezing your eyes shut as Alexia ran her hand between your legs. Her fingers wet themselves before pressing inside. 

Leila hummed appreciatively at the sight so near to her. “Tell Ale how much you love her fingers, bebé.” 

The gentle kiss that was pressed in between your shoulder blades challenged the less than gentle crook of Alexia’s fingers inside your cunt, but you were growing used to the puzzle that Alexia became when she fucked you. 

“I love your fingers, Ale,” You repeated, brain too scrambled to do anything other than say exactly what Leila told you to. 

The blonde’s upper body pressed down until her mouth was practically touching your ear. “Then I’ll give you another.” 

With no further warning, she leaned up off you and withdrew her fingers enough to ease in a third. It wasn’t so much the stretch that had you moaning, but more so the knowledge that Alexia could feel how wet you were, how your pussy clenched and pulsed. Her fingers were large, but they were nowhere near the size of the strap you’d had inside of you before, and you were aching for more almost as soon as Alexia had added the third. 

“Ale,” you whined. “More, please.”

“More? You want more?” Alexia sneered. “Mi zorrita wants more?” 

“Sí,” you begged. If you were hoping that your use of Spanish would soften Alexia up, you were wrong. Her fingers slowed until every noise they made sliding into your centre was long, drawn out, and filthy. 

“Tell me.” 

“I want more!” Alexia landed a smack on your ass, one that had you gasping in surprise and lurching forwards. Squeezing your eyes shut, you managed the words you knew she was looking for.  “Your little slut wants more.” 

“Tan bueno,” the midfielder cooed. Alexia pulled out, her strap sliding in almost instantly, filling the void left by three of her fingers. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as dripping fingers dragged themselves along your back. 

The midfielder was only allowed a few minutes of peace to fuck you how she wanted with no interruptions. It was as if she knew the time was limited, and she made the most of it. She fucked you slow and deep at first, before her hips moved more shallowly. 

You weren’t sure of much, sprawled limply across the desk as Alexia manhandled you any way she wanted. All you knew was that you wanted this to last, and it wouldn’t if you didn’t last. Tightening every muscle in your body, from your legs to your shoulders, you gripped onto the edges of the desk until your knuckles turned white. Even still, you pushed your hips back into the warm body behind you as best you could. 

All three women were entranced by the sight of you taking it however your captain gave it to you. Leila must have decided, though, that she hadn’t bothered Alexia nearly enough. 

“She looks good on your cock, Ale. Does she feel good?” 

“Sí.” Alexia grunted. “Tu novia es una puta para mí, Lei. ” 

“She is, isn’t she?” Leila said dreamily. Your body reacted to your girlfriend’s comment, a shiver running down your spine. 

Alexia let out a frustrated noise this time, but she wasn’t giving up. Slowing her thrusts just enough for you to sigh in frustration, she slid her hand lower, tracing a finger lightly over the rim of your second hole before she paused. 

“Y ahora? What if I fuck her here?” 

“If you want.” Leila replied immediately. 

“No.” You reached back to nudge her hand away. “Only Leila there.” 

“Only Leila?” Alexia repeated, tugging you back onto her cock until she was as deep as could be. Her hand wound in your hair, pulling you to arch against her chest. You planted your palms against the desk, holding yourself up while her other hand groped at your chest. “Will you beg us to fill you up again?” 

This time you grinned. You could feel Jenni and Leila watching. While Alexia was new, they were familiar, and that familiarity made you bolder. “You want me to beg?” You murmured, stretching your neck back to eye her. 

Alexia thumbed over your nipple, pinching it to a hard peak until your brow furrowed and your hips ground back against her. “Sí. Beg for me.” 

“Make me. Before your girlfriend tells you it’s her turn. ” 

The disbelieving sound that left Alexia’s mouth told you just how much trouble you were in, but it didn’t matter. The curl of her lips was dangerous. It was the last thing you saw before she pressed you back against the wood. 

No sooner had your cheek pressed down that Alexia snapped her hips hard. The force of it shocked a gasp from you, but there was no time to catch another breath. With her hands holding you down, Alexia used her full strength to take you apart. 

The desk banged against the wall again and again, drowning out some of the needy sounds you were making.

“Leila, ¿la dejas hablarte como una mocosa?” Alexia forced out between thrusts. She could pretend to be unaffected all she wanted; the small inhale in between her words, a hair too quiet to be considered whimpers, gave her away. Gone was the precision from before. Her rhythm had lost its fluidity. Instead, Alexia rutted into you like an animal. 

“She is not talking to me like a brat. She is talking to you like one.” 

“No-”

“Ale,” Jenni interrupted. “It is my turn.” 

“No.” Alexia grunted, moving her hands from your hips to your shoulders. With her new grip, she pulled you back on her cock, letting you feel the full length with every stroke. 

It was easy to ignore the way the desk dug uncomfortably into your skin when her hips bucked against your ass. The way her cock pressed in and out gave nothing else. No tingling brushes against your clit to get you there. Yet the speed, the fierceness of her thrusts, the sheer dominance in how she held you, all of it made your knees quiver. 

“Ale!” You cried, reaching back to palm at her thigh. It took less than two seconds for Alexia to catch your hand and pin it behind your back. “Holy fuck.” 

With every pass forcing pleasure, the noises Alexia pulled from you were filthy. It became harder and harder to watch Leila as your eyes rolled and fluttered shut. “Ale-”

“She’s going to come.” Your girlfriend practically sang from the corner. 

“Is she?” Alexia snapped before she folded your other arm behind your back too.  “You’re close?” 

“Yes!” You groaned. It was impossible to move much with your legs spread and your weight off balance. 

“You want to come on my cock?” 

A harsh sting across your ass cheek told you that whining into the desk wasn’t enough. “Yes. Fuck, Alexia!” 

Her hips stuttered a little as she shifted her weight. “Who?” 

“Ale!” You shuddered, dangerously close to the edge. “Alexia! Oh my god.”

A squeeze to your ass before she slowed to a gentle rock. 

Your stomach dropped, wrists twisting in her large hand to grab at her. “No. No, Ale please. I’m so close.”

“Begging now?” Jenni called from far behind. 

“Yes!” You hissed, trying to catch Alexia with your frantic gaze. With your body held down, you could only make out her figure in your peripheral vision. “Please don’t stop?” 

“But I’m tired.” Her Spanish lilt did little to cover the delight in her tone.

“No you’re not.” You squirmed desperately, feeling the pressure built up start to ebb away. “Alexia please.” 

“Please,” she mocked. The reprimand you expected to hear from Jenni to be nice never came, and you were sure it was because the striker was enjoying the show too much to complain on your behalf. “Please what?”

“Ale,” you whimpered, aware that you were only playing into what she was teasing you for, but unable to do anything else. “I need you.” 

“Mmm.” Alexia hummed. “Who do you need? Tell me again.” 

“You, Alexia, ple-” 

She picked up her pace, not as fast as before but just enough for your orgasm to begin to build again. She snapped her hips into you steadily, using her grip on your wrists as leverage to yank your body back in rhythm with her thrusts. 

“Does your girlfriend feel this good?” She probed after a few seconds, her words slightly breathless as she worked in and out of you. 

You couldn’t think through what the correct response would be. “Alexia, I-” 

“Do you wish it was her right now?” She growled as her hips rocked steadily. 

“No!”  

“Por qué?”

Groaning, you pressed your hips back to silently ask for more. With each thrust her cock hit every spot you needed it too, forcing tiny, involuntary whines. “Because you feel so good. You fuck me so good Ale.” 

“Tell her.” Alexia lilted close to your ear.

It took a second for your eyes to focus on Leila. She was close enough that you could see her tongue when she licked her lips before breaking out her sunshine smile. Leila held your gaze for just a second before tilting her chin up a fraction. 

“Lei, I’m gonna–” You panted out, shivering at the twisting pleasure of it all.  “She feels so fucking good, Lei. Her–” Alexia’s sharp thrust cut your thought in half. Suddenly there was only one thing on your mind.  “I-I wanna come, please let me come.” 

Leila shifted, tucking a leg underneath herself. The rapid dart of her eyes gave you another clue. 

“Alexia, please can I come?” Your words were muffled and pathetic against the wood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when her hips bounced against your ass. 

One hand pressed soothingly into your hair, surprisingly tender given the beat of her fucking. “Ah,” Alexia grunted, “You sound pretty when you beg for me.” 

Like a battery fizzling out, her thrusts lost all speed and power in an instant. Her grip tightened on your wrists.

“No! Alexia, please!” You gasped, wriggling your hips desperately. 

“Shh, zorrita.” You could feel the captain press all the way in, leaning over to drape the heat of herself along your back. 

“No! Please, god, I’m so close!” 

With her weight against you and her feet keeping yours spread, there was little you could do to hold on to the orgasm. Instead, you had to whine through the slow bleed as tingling pleasure gave way to aching arousal. 

Though her lips were kind on your shoulder blade, her victorious smile was anything but. Alexia spoke lowly, a quiet thing only aimed at you. “Since you like your girlfriend’s cock so much more, you can come on hers later.”

-----

🙂

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Silent Treatment

SUMMARY: How would they react to you giving them the Silent Treatment?

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers (Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub & Belphegor)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WORD COUNT: An average of 540 words per character.

COMMENTS: I remember I had this idea after reading that Mammon had stolen and sold something from MC. MC used STAY on him, but if he did that to me I would be so upset that I would want him to suffer more than that. And I thought about the silent treatment, which would certainly be his worst nightmare. And that's why I thought of making this post. Beel's part is the shortest, but you'll see why.

I hope you enjoy 🤫

CONTEXT: This takes place in the Original timeline and not Nightbringer. So, to make matters worse for them/him, you live with them in the House of Lamentation.

Your argument was probably about Lucifer working too much and you wanting to give him a break. But his stress mixed with pride made him deny this offer in a rather mean and perhaps even disrespectful way.

Does he not want you to bother him? Very well then. What if you never bother him again?

At home, you ignore him. He tries to talk to you, but seeing how stubborn you are he ends up giving up. But this is already bothering him a lot.

At school, if necessary, you will talk to him about importante matters related to RAD as if he were any other student at school. And that's it. Anything else outside of that, you will continue to ignore it.

And that just makes everything worse for him. To have YOU of all people talk to him like he was just any student?! Not only does this hurt his pride, but this small sample of conversation with you makes him miss you more and more. But he will continue to hide it.

The last straw will be at home, when he asks you something directly and you ask one of his brothers to answer for you. Bonus if it's someone from the Anti-Lucifer League. But he must have lasted two or three days without talking to you.

He will lure you to his office, where it all started. Maybe he'll tell you to go get some important papers. You won't see him inside, but as soon as you're close to the desk you'll hear the door closing and locking. And that's when you see him calmly walking down the office stairs to meet you.

“So you decided to give me the silent treatment.” Lucifer says as he walks down the stairs.

“Didn't you want me to leave you alone?” You say, still not looking at him.

“I never said that and you are perfectly aware of that.” He finishes down the stairs and walks over to you. “I just didn't want to rest because I needed to finish that.” You don't answer him again. He already knows what you think about that. Your back is to him and he stops right behind you. “*Sigh* I'm sorry. I know you only want me well. I was just... I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I promise that next time I will consider the break.”

His voice is sad, so you know he was being sincere. But you wanted to see how much he missed you, so you remained silent and with your back turned to him. And he knows you. He knows what you want. He sighs again, more deeply, as if you're making him admit something that hurts his pride.

“Please... I miss you...” You haven't turned around yet. That wasn't enough and it bothers him. You had his desk in front of you.

He rests his hand on the table, leaning on it, and leans in to bring his face closer to yours. “Now you're just teasing me, aren't you?” He was now with that smug on his face. And he sees you give a little smile, which was the sign he understood to move forward. He holds your chin and makes you face him. “You missed me too, didn't you?” he whispers near your lips “You little tease.” And he kisses you passionately and provocatively.

Mammon probably sold something of yours. Or maybe another things of yours. Of course, you hate it when he does that. So you decide to give him the silent treatment, because you know, you know perfectly well that he won't handle it. There is nothing else you can be so sure about as this.

The moment he realizes what you are doing, he collapses. The day wasn't even over yet. In fact, you were on break from classes.

He even gets kicked out of class for constantly trying to talk to you.

You know how much he hates being ignored and being ignored by you breaks his heart into pieces.

He wants to resolve this as quickly as possible, but not in front of his brothers. He waits for you to be alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your door and you ask who it is.

“It's me, the Great Mammon. I got your stuff back. All of them. Open the door and see.”

You decide to open the door, even if it was just out of curiosity and you see Mammon holding so many things that you can barely see his face. You can see your stuff that he sold and some gifts like a teddy bear, chocolates, clothes, accessories, your favourite nerd/geek/otako related stuff, etc... You let him in and put all that on top of your bed.

“I got it all back! But, um, you don't mind if some of them are new right? I also bought you more things. These are your favourite chocolates, right? And you really wanted this plush, didn't you?”

You remain silent, looking at him with your arms crossed. This already happened once and he sold your things again.

“I won't sell your stuff again, I promise. You can hit me with your stay if I ever do it again.”

You turn your back on him and go do something, like homework for example. You went back to ignoring him because he used that excuse before.

“Please hang me upside down like Lucifer, use your stay on me at full power, but please stop ignoring me.” he sounds desperate.

You sit at the table you have in the room behind the bed. Continuing to ignore him. The next scene you see is him kneeling next to you, his head at the same level as your thighs, and looking at you like a puppy with tears starting to come out of his eyes.

“Please. I never thought this was so bad. I can't stand not having you anymore. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. Damn it, I miss you yelling at me.” He places his chin on your thigh, looking at you. “Please, talk to me again~”

You can't take so much cuteness anymore. “Don't sell my stuff again! You hear me, you idiot?!”

His face lights up. "Am I forgiven?"

“Yes, for now you are.”

He gets up and hugs you, showering you with kisses. He won't leave you alone for the rest of the day.

Levi would hardly do anything that deserved the silent treatment. He practically idolizes you, he would never do anything to hurt you. So, something like this would definitely have been an accident.

He had arranged a date with you. But then an Ruri-chan's event came up and he ended up going to it instead of going to you. He got the dates wrong and thought the date with you was the next day.

And he only realized this mistake when the next day he sent you a message asking where you were and if you had forgotten about the date, and you replied that he was the one who forgot that the date had been the day before.

After that, you are bombarded with messages apologizing and saying how much of a complete idiot he is and doesn't deserve you. You don't respond anymore, which leaves him in a dilemma to decide whether to go to you or never see you again because you don't deserve to hear the excuses of someone as pathetic as him.

But he has to do it! He has to apologize to you in person! Even if it means you telling him to his face that you never want to see him again. He would deserve it anyway.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. The moment you open the door, Levi kneels down and places his forehead on the floor.

“I am so sorry! I'm an embarrassment of a partner. I don't even deserve your forgiveness. But I needed to show you my regret.”

Maybe you were already feeling a little bad for him, but you were also curious to know how far your silence could take him. You turned away from the door, gesturing for him to enter your room.

He enters with mixed feelings, on the one hand he was afraid of what you could do if you wanted to punish him. On the other hand... wasn't he kinda into those things?

But no, you just sit on the bed and use your cell phone to send a message to Levi, asking why he missed the date the day before. You still needed to talk to him, but not yet with your voice that he loves so much. When he happily tells you that it was because of Ruri-chan's event, you look even more upset.

“N-N-N-N-NO WAIT! I'm so sorry! Exchanging you for anyone else, even Ruri-chan is unforgivable! I should have warned you. I wanted to tell you, but it was all so short notice.”

You still didn't say anything and even crossed your arms with a sulky expression. He kneels at your feet and gets so close to your legs that he could even hug them.

“I know that what I did was a complete betrayal, and a wretch like me doesn't deserve another opportunity, but please, just let me hear your voice one last time, even if it's to say that you hate me.”

And you finally break. You know he didn't do it out of spite and you've already punished him enough. You know you're practically torturing him at this point.

Regardless of how you say or show that you forgive him, he will praise you, maybe even cry and if you let him hug you, he will cling to you desperately.

Satan was probably on a bad day. A really bad day. That kind of day where anything irritates him, even you trying to calm him down. And he ended up saying what he would regret the moment you left his side: He told you to shut up.

And that's what you did, but for longer than he was expecting. He realized you were giving him the silent treatment when he came up to you to ask if the two of you could talk alone, so he could apologize to you, and you acted like he wasn't there. He was upset at first, but soon after he realized that that was exactly what led to this situation.

He won't try to talk to you in public again. He's prideful too. He'll wait until you two get home, and you are alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. When you open it, you see Satan with a big bouquet of flowers in his hands. Either they're your favourite flowers, or your favourite colour or anything he knows you would like.

“Would you allow me to speak to you, please?” He wasn't angry, he was sorry and you could see it in his eyes.

You don't answer, but you let him into your room. If you pick up the flowers, he'll be a little more relieved. But if not, he'll put them on the table and get a little more worried.

“I'm so sorry. I should never talk to you like that. I regretted my words the moment you walked out the door. I realize what you are doing, you are doing what I asked you to do, and it tears me apart. I'm not mad at what you're doing to me, I deserve it and worse.” He kneels in front of you and bows his head. “But please tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me. Because no words can mend the ones I used.”

If those words weren't enough for you and you're feeling like he deserves to "suffer" a little more for the way he treated you, you send him a message (he still doesn't deserve to hear your voice) saying that if he's really sorry about that, he could be your cat butler for a day.

He lifts his head and looks at you, blushing slightly. “With a condition: It will be for your eyes and your eyes alone! No making me go to the kitchen or something while any of my brothers is there!”

And if you agree, he will do it. Any request he will fulfill. If you tell him to end his sentences with "Nya" he will do it, partially embarrassed but partially enjoying it.

And at the end of the day, when you finally let him hear your voice again saying that you forgive him, but that you hope it doesn't happen again, he smiles, kiss your hands like a gentleman and asks permission to hug and kiss you again, after so long.

There's a good chance you decided to do this because you started seeing Asmo with more and more succubuses and incubuses.

Well, if he likes being with them so much instead of you, let's see what happens if you prefer to talk to the other brothers instead of him.

He starts the day with no idea what you've decided to do, so he compliments everyone, especially you. And the moment you don't greet him back he knows something is very wrong.

He cannot, nor does he want to, hide how devastated he already is. Of all the demon brothers he is the one who loves attention the most and not getting it from YOU is the worst thing that could happen to him.

In return, you will have ALL his attention. He won't leave you for a second. He needs to know what happened, even if he has to make a dramatic spectacle at your feet.

He will speak to you in the sweetest of voices, calling you all the affectionate names he knows of, even if he has to do so in other languages. Hon, honey, love, darling, Mon cher, mon amour, mi amor, amore mio...

If you just want to talk to him at the House of Lamentation, you'll have to ask the other brothers to basically be your bodyguards. Which will only make the situation worse for Asmo. And more fun for his brothers.

When you get home you tell one of the brothers to tell Asmo that when you are available to talk to him you will send him a message.

You were alone in your room when you sent the message to Asmo saying that you could "talk" in your room. Not a second had passed when he knocked on your door, almost as if he had been waiting in the hallway that entire time.

He’ll walk in like a happy puppy whose owner has finally opened the door for him. He will try to hug you, but you can't give in. You stray, cross your arms and looks in any direction other than at him.

“Why are you being so mean to me?” he asks in that cute, sad voice. “What could someone as cute as me have done to deserve this?”

To continue guarding your voice until he deserves to hear it, you write and send him a message. In it you talk about the succubuses and incubuses with whom he took a ton of photos and posted a bunch of stories, and it started to be much more than normal.

“Aww, my little sheep is jealous, that's so cute!” You turn your back to him. “HA! NO! Wait! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! I thought you knew that you are the one I love the most in all three worlds. I love you almost as much as I love myself. I couldn't say no to my fans. Oh, I know! What if we spend a whole day together? What if we went on a special date? I can prepare everything! I'll reserve a table at your favorite restaurant. I can even buy you new clothes if you want.” You turned back to him, but still didn't say anything. “Pwease, talk to me again~ I'm sowwy~”

If you accept his apology and tell him so with your voice, he will hug you and kiss you al over your face. “Ahhh! I missed you so much~!”

Honestly, I can't imagine a single scenario where Beel would do something that would deserve the silent treatment. He's the type to apologize even if it's not his fault. Even if he ate something of yours, he would apologize in the next second.

So, most likely, you and Belphie were just curious to know how Beel would react. And this would probably happen after you had done this to everyone else but him and his brothers wanted to know how he would react.

At breakfast he greets everyone, but you're the only one who doesn't greet him back. And you already feel horrible because you can feel his sad gaze on you.

"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" he asks in an already apologetic voice. You still don't answer him, and that hurts so much, poor thing.

The other brothers tell Beel to start eating otherwise everyone will be late. But he says he doesn't want to. And everyone looks at him in amazement, except you. He is looking at you and only you, no one else matters, not even the food.

“Are you angry with me? I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I did this time, but I'm sorry. Did I eat something that was yours?” You still don't respond but you're almost at your breaking point. “(Y/N)?” He says your name in the cutest regretful voice that only he could do and you break down.

You turn to him and hug him, apologizing. You explain that he didn't do anything and explain that everything is fine. If you offer him the rest of your breakfast he will be very happy.

But he will be much closer to you for the rest of the day. It hurt him a lot and he just wants to make sure that everything was really okay. He will really like it if you two cuddle a little when your back home.

What could he do to make you mad at him? *cough* Lesson 16 *cough*. Anyway. There's a good chance he's been a little more selfish lately. Always wanting your free time to be spent with him, and try to convince you to fall into the temptation of laziness and exchange your responsibilities for him.

He needed to learn a lesson. He needed to value you more and realize that you are not a guarantee. Let's see what happens if he no longer has you.

He realizes something is wrong when you don't respond to him.

He tries to convince you to talk to him by being cute. That younger brother cuteness that he always uses against his brothers.

When he realizes that this isn't going to work, he isn't exactly going to give up. He will stop trying to convince you with words, yes. But he won't leave your side. He will be almost like a ghost behind you. At least until you all get home.

You'll have to lose him or convince his brothers to help you if you don't want him to follow you to your room the moment you get to the House of Lamentation.

If you manage to do this, you will be bombarded with messages until you finally respond saying he can come talk to you in your room.

He knocks on your bedroom door like he normally does. As soon as you let him in and close the door he will get extremely close to you, but he won't hug you no matter how much he wants to. He knows that could make the situation worse.

“So, what happened?” he asks close to your ear and in his calm voice. “Why are you upset with me?”

You poke your head in a gesture.

“Do you want me to think? To guess? *Sigh* Fine...” he says pouting sadly. “Um... I know you get upset because I make you late with your work. Sorry. I promise I'll stop being so pushy about that. But, you know I want to be with you.”

That was a good start, but it still wasn't enough for you. You had your back turned to him without speaking.

“You know, it really hurts to see you mad at me like this. I miss you.” and then it hits him. “Oh... that’s it, I miss you. I don’t think anyone likes to be seen as a guarantee, right? I'm sorry, for being so selfish with you. You always try to make me happy by giving in to my whims, I should do the same for you more often... I mean, I will do the same for you more often. I promise.” You turn to him, but still don't say anything. “um... What if... tomorrow, I have to give in to whatever whims you have? But go easy on me, okay?”

You accept the deal, and tell him so. He laughs, saying that he already missed hearing your voice so much. And if you let him, he'll hug you.

“We still have a lot of time until dinner, and I miss your cuddles. You're not going to say you didn't miss me too, right? Come on, just a few minutes. I promise I'll spoil you more than you spoil me, he he.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[underdark-dreams]

It's finally here, all 7k words of it 👀 Thank you for everyone who read chapter 1, and waited so patiently!

[ch1]

Birds and Bees - Ch.2

Rolan isn't usually the type to accept help. In his defense, Tav is very persuasive—and he is very, very desperate.

Tags: Tailplay, Oral Sex, Biting, NSFW | Word Count: 7.7k [Read on AO3]

Rolan didn’t appear again for the rest of the day.

After their awkward exchange this morning, Tav felt she might be somewhat to blame. She tried to recall the bits of Tiefling etiquette she’d picked up from the Elturians; perhaps touching his tail had crossed some sort of line? Either way, the gesture seemed unthinkably forward to her now. 

Then again…Rolan was the one who’d coiled his tail across her desk like that, its tip nearly brushing her hand as she wrote. She’d never seen him do anything like it before. If she didn't know him so well, she’d have found the move almost flirtatious.

At shop’s close, Cal took charge of locking up the front. Tav caught sight of the large iron keyring he carried and realized that it must be Rolan’s. So his brother had checked in on him today, at least—that gave her a modicum of relief.

Lia pitched in to help wipe down all her equipment and carefully fill the many waiting bottles with her cooled elixir. Tav held her tongue from repeating any of the worries she’d made after Rolan during the day—but it seemed her silence was just as damning.

“Stop fussing,” Lia repeated firmly. “Rolan’s just overdue for a rest. I mean, you saw his face.”

“I did.” Rolan had never been the type to slow down or show weakness easily. To Tav, the fact that he’d willingly taken himself to bed worried her more than anything. “Just promise you won't let him turn down a healer if he needs one?”

“If it comes to that, which it won't,” Lia said down to her work. “I promise we’ll find someone, okay?”

Tav kept her tone teasing as she packed away the sealed bottles in their crate. “Hmm, yes…if only you already knew someone with some knowledge of healing.”

Lia let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, you’re the last person Rolan wants to see right now.”

The sting of those words took Tav by surprise herself. Lia caught their edge too; she pulled up with a grimace, letting a few drops of antidote dribble onto the desk. “Shit, Tav, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Tav replied, making a fuss of sealing up the filled crate. The thought made her feel rather less than okay, which she didn't want Lia to see. “I think—I don’t know. I feel like I did something rude today, anyway.”

“Oh?” Lia’s tone was light, but she allowed a conspicuous pause to stretch between them. Tav pushed through a twinge of embarrassment to turn to face her.

“Lia, what would you think if I touched your tail?”

Lia glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “What, right now?”

“No, just—say I did by accident.”

Lia straightened to take a thoughtful inhale. “I mean…it depends on the context. You and I are friends, I wouldn’t think much of it. Unless you grabbed it up by my backside or something,” she added with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. If I’m walking somewhere crowded, lots of people might brush against it unless I’m careful.”

Tav had moved around to reset the rest of her clean glassware as she listened, feeling marginally relieved by the explanation.

Then Lia paused her work again. “Are you saying you touched Rolan’s tail?

“You what now?”

With impeccable timing, Cal skidded to a stop at the edge of the conversation, a heavy lockbox under one arm.

Tav glanced between the two of them. “Yes?” The word came out as a question somehow; her mouth went dry as they stared at her. “Like you said, I didn't think it was a big deal. He laid it on my desk while I was working, so I just kind of—” She mimed a little picking-up motion with her hand.

The siblings exchanged a significant look with each other. 

“What?” Tav felt her face burning and knew the color must be noticeable to either of them. “How does it being Rolan’s tail make it different?”

Cal turned back to her with a frown. “What do you mean he laid it on your desk?”

“I don't know, damn—clearly I’m no expert!” She flailed her arms out a bit. “I just turned around and it was sitting there by my hand, all right?”

Another shared glance.

“That explains it,” Cal decided. It earned him a swift pinch on the arm from his sister. “Ow, hey—”

Tav looked between them again, trying to translate. “Explains what? Seriously, if I offended Rolan somehow, I want to kn—”

“You didn’t,” Lia cut in firmly. “This one here's just an idiot. It’s harder to control your tail when you're sick or tired, and Rolan’s been both, that’s all. I'm sure it was a mistake. And he shouldn't have minded you moving it,” she finished with a decisive nod.

With that, Lia snatched up the filled crate from her with one arm and grabbed her brother’s sleeve with the other. Cal stumbled slightly as she pulled him along, but he wisely held his tongue as they headed for the back stockroom. The hinges creaked shut behind them both.

Tav was left standing alone in the cavernous interior of Sorcerous Sundries, beside the desks that she and Rolan used to comfortably share—not sure if she should feel better or worse.

—

The next morning, Rolan was once again nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t even conjured his projection the way he usually did when occupied with research in the Tower. It was a shame; the shop was unusually busy by midday, and Cal and Lia worked without pause. When she could, Tav left her alchemy just to lend a hand with customers or make runs to the supply room.

She found herself worried to the point of irritation. Was Rolan really so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a potion? Or accept healing from someone he’d claimed was a trusted friend and colleague? She tried and failed not to be hurt by it.

Then again, Rolan had always been the type to shoulder his way through awful things alone while firmly turning down help—particularly from her. His apprenticeship, most recently. The memory made her radiantly angry on his behalf even now.

“Shit—” 

Tav jerked away from the flask and sucked on her freshly scalded thumb. She must have the ratios off again; this recipe wasn’t new to her, but the nuances had escaped her all morning. These sublimates shouldn’t get nearly so hot when mixed.

Might as well admit defeat and review the recipe before she wasted yet another bunch of black oleander. Surely there was a reference text somewhere in Rolan’s library?

Tav glanced around to the front of the shop. Cal was recording a sale at the front desk; Lia was chatting with a very large half-orc over near the conjurement runes. Things seemed well enough in hand. Tav damped the flame at her station and quietly took the stairs for the portal.

For lack of a better word: the library of Ramazith’s Tower was absolutely magical. 

Tav stood breathing in the quiet afternoon sunlight, taking an appreciative look up around her. The collection must be the best one this side of Candlekeep, with all sorts of books on spellcraft, Weave theory, alchemy, religion, the history of Toril—just to scratch the surface. She could think of no hands more deserving than the ones its ownership had fallen into.

Just as Lia mentioned the other day, Rolan had clearly been hard at work reorganizing the place. She ran her fingertips over the books’ spines as she walked around the perimeter of the main floor.

She imagined Rolan with his robe sleeves pushed to his elbows, enthusiastically at work in his book stacks, and bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his passion for taming disorder. As she walked, she found her gaze drifting to the delicate staircase at the far end of the main floor. It spiraled upward invitingly. 

She’d never been to the upper floors of Ramazith’s Tower—nothing past the library. Certainly she hadn’t stepped foot in any of the private quarters of Rolan or his siblings. She wouldn’t even know which door led to whose.

But her mind wandered readily at the thought of Rolan’s bedroom. What it might look like…smell like. 

No doubt it was packed with shelves of books and scrolls, filled with the scent of fresh parchment and leather-bound volumes. That warm, bookish smell that seemed to be woven into his robes. The fresh hint of cedar from the way he kept his clothes meticulously cleaned and stored. And that other faint spice that she could never identify, but always picked up when he stood close to her.

The same scent that had filled her lungs with dizzy pleasure when he’d hovered close to her yesterday, chin brushing her shoulder and arm circled possessively around her waist— 

She bit her lip as heat pooled between her legs at the memory. She couldn't help it—how very fucking nice it had been to feel Rolan’s elegant hands on her, casually and effortlessly touching, as if he was accustomed to touching her much more often and much more intimately.

It would do no good to dwell on that moment. If anything, the uncharacteristic gesture was just proof of how out-of-sorts Rolan must be feeling. He was her friend, and by all accounts, he’d been too sick to leave his room for days. 

With a sudden burst of determination and a disregard for the consequences, she strode for the stairs.

Taking the curving ascent so rapidly left her dizzy. Tav planted her boots on the landing for a moment, holding onto the railing while she took in her surroundings.

This upper hall was also quietly sunlit, filled with fine carpeting and oak paneled walls; but the atmosphere was somehow less grand than the cavernous library below. More intimate. 

Two doors stood on both ends of the hall. Hazarding a guess, she stepped to the closest one on her left. Its heavy oak panels swung forward with the slightest touch.

Not a bedroom at all, but a bath—and a tremendously fine one at that. All the fixtures seemed to be wrought from polished gold. Underneath a towering stained glass window stood the deepest, widest clawfoot tub she’d ever seen.

As she gazed around, Tav caught sight of her reflection in a large glass above the sinks. Her hair was all frizzy flyaways from a day over her potion work. Indulging a bit of vanity, she paused to tame it with her fingers.

One of Rolan’s many endearing habits was his dedication to fastidiousness. Never a hair out of place, horns polished and shining, robes immaculately pressed—knowing him, with a bit of the Weave.

She must look like some sort of wild hedge witch by comparison. Tav had never minded life in the wilds as a wayward adventurer, even after the Elder Brain was felled to the Chionthar. It was part of what drew her to the career of a traveling alchemist. 

But there were moments…most of them in this Tower, with Rolan and his siblings. Sharing a meandering dinner at a real table with actual chairs. Sitting with Rolan out on the starlit balcony, discussing blood alchemy over a glass of wine as they watched the harbor.  

Tav forced her hands still and stared back at her reflection. 

“What do you want?” She muttered to herself. The Tav in the mirror had no answer. But in her mind, one softly bloomed.

Over the past months, her feelings had tumbled forward faster than she could keep up with them. Seeing Rolan, talking with him about anything and everything, working beside him in quiet moments—she found those were the moments she looked forward to most.

His offer to turn one of the Tower’s empty vaults into a greenhouse for her. Essentially giving her a permanent place in his home, if she wanted it. Was it stupid to hope that he wanted more, too?

As she stood frozen silent in the confines of her lavish surroundings, a muffled sound came from her right.

She hadn't noticed the second door past the bathtub; presumably connecting to one of the bedrooms. She realized it most likely led to Rolan’s.

She stepped toward the heavy oak paneling and raised a hand to knock. As she did, more muffled noises came from within. Tav hesitated, questioning whether she should—then leaned in to press one ear to the wood.

There were the sounds of labored breathing, as if from pain or exertion. She strained her ear harder. There was something almost…rhythmic in it.

And then—she could swear—she heard Rolan's voice groan her name aloud.

A shock of heat ran through her chest, prickling up her neck and diving between the cleft of her legs. The rapid, hot ache at her core made her gasp out in surprise, then clap a hand to her mouth lest he heard. She felt her cheeks burning with realization.

Whatever she had expected to find by wandering up here…this had never been on the list. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Rolan, sweating and panting and desperate. And that thought filled her with overwhelming want in response.

Tav pushed herself back from the door with a jolt. She turned and ran, not knowing or caring whether the ring of her footsteps on tile carried past the door. Her pulse pounded against her ears as she rushed out of the room and back for the staircase. 

Even before Tav’s foot hit the third stair, she knew she was headed for the Elfsong. And a very stiff fucking drink.

—

Day passed to night and back to day again in a feverish jumble. Like a vessel adrift in a vast ocean, Rolan was passed along wave after wave of searing impulse.

Had his ruts always been this overwhelming, and he’d just forgotten? Or was there something different about the drives this time around? 

Even the little dignities were stripped away, one by one. He began by conjuring mage hands at first, but his concentration faltered too many times at the cusp. He finally just settled for his own grip. Desperate sounds rose in his chest each time he neared his next finish, the likes of which he’d never utter voluntarily.

And he quickly gave up on clothes altogether. He lay naked and spread-eagle on his sheets and tried to sleep when he could, before his demanding cock inevitably twitched back to life again. The fever turned his dreams shockingly lewd whenever he did manage to drift off.

By sunset, another strong wave of need was pulsing through his core, demanding his attention. Rolan lay back against his pillows and groaned open-mouthed as he stroked himself.

Even slick with oil, the friction between his hand and the raw, overstimulated ridges of his cock bordered on painful. His finish danced out of reach to the back of his mind.

With an impatient growl, he flipped over to his knees and snatched up a feather pillow, folding it into a sleeve for his cock. A crude solution—but with his first few thrusts, the cool softness of the silk caused a moan of relief to rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fucked his own pillow in a desperate chase for relief.

And behind his eyelids, there she was again.

Tav appeared there so easily now. He’d tried to fight it at first—ashamed to be using her like this, without her knowledge or consent—but he found that nothing satisfied his urges so well as when he pictured her on his cock.

So he closed his eyes and imagined Tav…pliant, eager, hungry. Legs spread and center dripping with desire for him. The shameful depth of his need faded away as he fantasized her own. How her eyes might shine as she panted and gasped under him, calling him by name and begging him to fuck her and fill her and mark her as his—

What would she sound like as he took her? He conjured the timbre of her voice, always warm and musical, now canting to a whine as the ridges at his base slammed against her with each thrust.

Pressure coiled rapid and hot at his loins. Rolan slid off the mattress with legs braced, the pillow cast aside, and tugged frantically at his stiff length again. His tail arched and flicked behind him.

Through clenched eyelids he saw Tav laid at the foot of his bed, hair splayed in a messy crown against his sheets as she cried out his name. Her legs crossed behind his flanks to hold him deep inside her tight wet heat—

‘Rolan—’ She moaned louder, her heels digging into his lower back as he took her. Tav gripped two handfuls of the bedding underneath as he thrust relentlessly, chasing more of her heat around his cock, more of the delicious scent at her throat and between her legs—

“Rolan!”

“Fuck—” With a strangled gasp, Rolan’s hips stuttered one last time as his come spilled in ropes to the floor. Panting and shaking, he caught hold of the bed post with one hand as he frantically worked out the rest of his finish with the other. His head spun with the force of it.

But as he opened his eyes and his vision cleared, so did that cottony feeling in his ears. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to his room.

“Rolan, we need to talk—” Even muffled by the heavy wood, Tav’s voice was unmistakable.

“Fuck,” Rolan hissed again, this time with enough wits about him to panic. How much of that last performance could she hear through the door? He snatched up the nearest towel to wipe himself, then tripped away toward the pile of clothes on the floor that had lain untouched since yesterday.

“Go away,” he called tersely, nevertheless yanking the trousers up over his hips. Thank hells that last round had left him soft enough he could do up the laces for now.

On the other side of the door, she was undeterred. “I’m not leaving till I’ve seen you.”

Rolan cursed as one of his horns snagged the ties at the neck of his shirt. Once the fabric dropped over his torso, he whirled around to take in the state of his room. 

Bedsheets pulled sideways from the mattress; pillows strewn across the floorboards; air thick with the smell of him. Absolute filthy shambles.

Using a rush of energy he couldn't afford, he cast a mass prestidigitation spell on the space. The improvement in the air was immediate. But the resulting light-headedness caused him to stumble forward; he caught himself with a hand braced on the door frame.

“I'm not joking,” Tav called loudly, unaware he was now much closer.

He could have yelled at her to wait outside for another week, then, if he wasn't so sure she was stubborn enough to actually do so. After all, this was the person who’d defeated an Elder Brain and taken on several gods in the process.

That…and he found he badly wanted to see Tav in the flesh. Hearing her voice from just beyond his bedroom door only increased that desire. Rolan’s tail lashed behind him in helpless frustration.

“What do you want?” He asked instead, lowering his voice. No use broadcasting any more of this conversation to the whole Tower.

There was a pause on the other side of the oak paneling. “I’ve barely seen you since I got here,” Tav’s voice replied, matching his volume.

“And?” 

“And I'm worried about you…obviously,” she added. “Cal and Lia said you’re sick. But I’d feel better if we could talk face to face.” Even through the barrier between them, he could hear a strain in her voice. She wasn't lying. 

Rolan rested his horns against his braced forearm with a sigh. “Tav, I swear I'm perfectly fine.”

“Then just open the door a moment. Please, Rolan?”

It was far too pleasant to hear her say his name outside of his own imaginings. Rolan glanced down at himself. Barefoot, shirt untucked, but technically presentable. And not pitching a tent for once in the past twenty-four hours. 

“If I do, will you leave?” 

There was another pause. “If you want me to,” came the reply. He unbolted the latch and drew it open to shoulder width.

The wave of Tav’s scent hit him almost before he registered her face in front of him. The sweetness of it overwhelmed his other senses for a moment. It tested all Rolan’s limited reserves of sanity not to grab her by the waist and pull her body against him.

Unaware of the silent struggle raging in his chest, Tav stood with face tilted up toward his. Her eyes had traveled over his figure immediately, checking him over with a worried little crease between her brows. Something at the side of his head caught her eye; Rolan realized his hair hung loose and rather sweaty, exposing the slender tips of his ears.

Her demeanor changed at the sight. Tav sighed, leaning her head against the flat of the door.

“You’re even handsome with a fever,” she told him softly.

Rolan blinked at her. Perhaps exhaustion and hormones were driving him to hallucinations. “What are you—”

Faster than he could react, her palms landed on either side of his face, and Tav pulled his mouth down to hers.

A burst of colors exploded behind his eyes; the sensation of her lips moving on his kindled the dormant heat in his body to wild blaze. She notched her hands upward as she kissed him, and her fingers slid up along the sensitive tapers of both his ears.

Rolan let out a hungry, animal sound against her mouth. Both hands landed on her back and crushed the line of her body forward into his, leaving no space between them. He could feel the soft hills of her breasts pressing against his chest through clothing. The warm scent rolling off her skin and hair surrounded him with dizzying force.

The higher part of his mind was screaming at him. Rolan desperately tried to focus on what it was saying; as he did, he caught the tang of wine on her lips. The discovery gave him just enough will to pull back from her.

And he did, with one jerking step back into his chambers. “You can’t be here.”

Tav stood panting through parted lips, eyes half-lidded as they traveled over him. Rolan felt flames lick his skin everywhere they moved.

“Why not?” She breathed. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her. He rather felt that way himself, still reeling from the electricity of kissing her.

Tav pouted at that, and Rolan wished to bite that lower lip firmly between his teeth. “I’m not drunk,” she corrected. “I’ve had a drink. There’s a difference.”

“You wouldn’t be here if—”

“If what?” Tav watched him as she took a step closer. Rolan stepped back in tandem, reflexive. She was well over the threshold now. “If I knew what was really happening to you?”

Those words sounded much more knowing than he liked. Rolan stared at her, trying to read into her face. He swallowed against the dry lump of his tongue and went out on a limb. “Which one of them told you?”

Tav shook her head. “Cal and Lia have been nothing but discreet.” 

“Then how could you possibly understand?” He demanded. The very recent discovery of how soft Tav’s lips were was making it very difficult to maintain this conversation. He could still feel the way her body had pressed into him.

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Rolan, I’d like to think I’m not completely oblivious. There have been…signs. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about them. I’ve been at the Elfsong all afternoon, just—thinking.”

At that, Rolan felt his tail twitching nervously behind him. “I see,” he replied. Pivoting, like an idiot, trying to pretend this was a perfectly acceptable conversation to have with the woman who occupied most of his thoughts when he was pleasuring himself. “And you think that I—that my—”

Tav made a quick twisting motion to get around the door. She latched it and drew the bolt closed behind them, then turned back to him.

“A lot of humans have heard rumors about Tieflings,” she confessed. “Some stupid, but some credible. I’m saying this is maybe not the secret that you think it is.” As he watched, a much deeper blush spread over Tav’s cheeks. She glanced away to the side. 

“Rolan…I grew up in the Dales, remember? Around rabbits, and cattle, and oxen. Half my friends lived on farms.”

Her analogy couldn’t be clearer. To hear her lay it out so plainly—Rolan felt the last dregs of his pride shrivel up and die. He gripped two palms over his eyes and let out a groan of abject humiliation, turning away to the middle of the room. 

How early had she connected the dots? The moment she felt him brazenly place a hand around her? Had she known all along that he was locked up here, rutting into every one of his pillows?

“Look, Rolan, I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to say it—” 

Completely overwhelmed by his embarrassment, he hadn’t heard her follow. When Rolan finally dropped his hands from his face, he turned to find Tav standing very close to his chest.

“And I’m sorry for kissing you before,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m not sorry for it…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, to be honest. But it wasn’t fair. I just…wanted to know how you’d react.”

Rolan watched as her chest rose and fell heavily where she stood. The look in her eyes made his blood pound through his veins. He felt an urge to reach out and smooth back her hair to bring her in for another kiss, one he resisted.

“I care about you,” Rolan told her, before he could lose his nerve. “Our friendship. I respect you, Tav, it’s not worth—muddying things with this.” 

He felt fingers lacing through the ones that hung at his side, and despite his words Rolan tightened his grip automatically. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against the heat of his skin.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tav answered earnestly. “I care about you, too. If I can help, I want to. Please—”

She was so close to him; Rolan breathed shallowly, but the warm scent rolling off her skin and hair nevertheless swept past him with dizzying force.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he managed hoarsely.

She didn’t falter. “Then tell me what else you think I should know.”

His senses were growing clouded with her; the offer that had tumbled so easily from her rang in his ears. It made the thread of Rolan’s control stretch dangerously taut.

“I won’t be gentle,” he warned. 

His inadvertent shift in tone changed something in the air between them. There was a crackling energy that hadn't been there a second before.

Tav licked her lips as she watched him. “Good.”

Rolan thought he might melt from the heat that spread across his skin. His tail snapped against the mattress behind him. If she moved a step closer, she’d feel how hard he was in his pants.

“Mating bites,” he went on hoarsely. “I’ll mark you. Quite a lot. I’ll try not to draw blood, but…I can’t promise it.”

Tav nodded. “What else?” She asked, encouraging him to go on. 

Rolan swallowed against the embarrassment. But this was important for her to know. “This time for us, it’s all about…reproduction. We become quite virile.” He nearly choked, but there was simply no other way to put it. “For the urges to pass quicker, I need to come in you.”

Tav let out a throaty hum of approval. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound. “That’s fine, I take preventatives—it’s safe.”

They stood looking at each other for another moment. That shivery, electric feeling buzzed in the air around them. Rolan wondered if she could hear the way his heart drummed against his ribs.

Tav leaned in slightly. “Well…” She said, and her wet tongue passed nervously between her lips again.

That taut thread in his chest snapped in two. Rolan crushed her up against him with a whimper. Arms circling around her waist, he nudged a thigh between her legs and firmly ground their hips together.

Tav matched his eagerness. Their lips crashed together; at the back of his mind, he felt her grip cradling under each of his ears. Her fingertips licked like flame against his scalp.

Even through layers of clothing, he could feel the heat of her. Rolan jerked her hips forward harder against his thigh; the swelling length of his cock pressed against her soft, yielding center. Tav dipped her head back from the kiss, arching into him with a moan, and her fingertips laced at the nape of his neck. 

It offered an irresistible angle at the column of her throat. Rolan’s claws raked back in her hair, pulling it to a tight ponytail. Then he tugged firmly, holding her open as his mouth descended on her neck.

He kissed and sucked along the band of muscle from her ear to the curve of her shoulder, then parted his lips to bite down firmly on her soft flesh. 

“Yes,” Tav moaned in approval above him. Her hips rolled into his, grinding herself against the hard cock straining in his pants. Rolan felt her pulse skip against his mouth. Only when he tasted sweet copper did he pull away, laving his tongue over the crimson pin-pricks of his teeth into her skin.

He took only a moment to admire the trail of marks blooming along her neck. Tav was already pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with bruising force; her tongue explored, tasting, searching for proof of her blood against his tongue and moaning against him when she found it.

Her scent filled his mind. Without breaking from her mouth, he plucked open the laces of her pants. Rolan slipped his hand under the waistband, beneath her smalls, and slid two fingers to dip down between her legs. Her folds were shining-slick; as he nudged her in circles, a trickle of her arousal rolled down his fingers. She shivered prettily under his touch.

“You’re soaked,” Rolan groaned against her neck. 

“All because of you,” she breathed without hesitation. “Been wanting this, gods, wanting you for months. Your hands on me—cock in me—”

At the words he withdrew his fingers from her impatiently, then sucked them clean. Her sweet taste on his tongue made his cock ache. She scarcely had time to curse at the sight before Rolan gripped both arms around her waist to lift her into him.

With one quick pivot, he landed her down on the bed with his frame pressed into her. Her legs hung off the edge from the hip down, and he used the position to grind the stiff length in his pants against her cleft.

Even fully clothed, it was maddening. He could feel the wet patch between her legs, and when she arched further into him, a primal growl rumbled in his chest. 

Tav’s fingers were brushing at his sides, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she panted impatiently.

Rolan tilted back to rip the garment up over his horns, immediately reaching for her own once his was free. He stripped her frantically, ripping her smallclothes in two before he could work them down her thighs.

When she lay bare beneath him, moaning and arching into everywhere he touched, he was overcome with hunger for more of her taste. 

Rolan gripped her hips, dragging her with a jerk to the edge of the bed. With her glistening folds displayed before him, all he could do was drop to his knees and bury his tongue between them.

The sounds she made were like sweet music as he explored her. He sucked and massaged her slit with his tongue, then plunged it as deep within her walls as he could. His eyes rolled back in his head. Her taste surrounded him; his nose brushed her clit as he ate her, further overwhelming his senses with the scent of her arousal.

“Gods, yes, Rolan—” Tav moaned above him as her hands flew to grip each of his horns. She alternately tugged them and arched into his mouth, grinding her clit against his face.

He wanted to hear her say his name like that another thousand times. Rolan curled his tongue against her walls, determined to taste her even deeper, but to no avail. Without his sharp nails, he would have sunk two fingers into her.

Instead, as his mouth left her, the ridged end of his tail looped around to brush over her slit.

“Ah—” Tav gasped from the bed. One of her hands left him to prop up on an elbow to look. 

He watched her face in adoration as his tail slid between her soaked lips, coating itself in a mixture of her arousal and his saliva. Once it was thoroughly wet, he let the heart-shaped tip push experimentally into her.

Whatever hesitation he had evaporated at the way she arched and keened. He pushed in further, inch by inch, hissing in breath at how tight and wet her walls squeezed around him. Rolan felt his cock leaking between his legs at the sight of his tail disappearing into her plush cunt.

“Taking my tail so well,” Rolan praised without thinking, then groaned. “Fuck, Tav, you’re so tight—”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded, breathless.

When he felt the tip brush the limits of her insides, he held it steady as she panted down at him. Her mouth hung open in anticipation as she watched him lean in again for her center.

But instead of landing on her clit, his mouth met with the soft skin of her inner thigh and sucked it firmly between his teeth.

Tav gave a little yelp of pain, but her walls constricted around his tail so hard he moaned against her flesh. He left two more lovely red marks against her thigh before withdrawing his tail from her, leaving only the tip inside her silk.

Then he thrust back into her and took up a forceful rhythm of stretching her open on his tail.

“Fucking gods,” she gasped, gripping both his horns again. He felt her use them as leverage as she bounced her hips down to meet him. 

“Like this, don’t you?” Rolan urged her on, drunk off her desire. “Fucking yourself on my tail—” He leaned down to take another taste of her clit, swirling and sucking as the ridges on his tail dragged more wetness out of her with each thrust.

“Yes,” Tav moaned, shaking under him as his tongue worked over her clit. “Feels so perfect in me, so—ngh—!”

When he flicked the tip of it up inside her, Tav’s words stuttered to incoherence. He felt her inner walls clench and flutter, and repeated the motion over and over with each thrust.

“I’m—oh, oh ohohoh—”

She dissolved into soft cries. The muscles at her core tensed and shuddered as she climaxed against his tongue. Rolan withdrew his tail from her with a slick release, instead clasping his mouth over her to lap down the sweet taste that poured from her. His pants were so wet he was nearly convinced he’d already come, but he felt his cock straining against the fabric just as firmly.

When her thighs collapsed limp to either side, Rolan pushed himself to his feet for a look at her. Tav’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with arousal, her hair coiled out in wild tendrils that framed her like a crown. Their eyes met; with both hands on his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss.

Rolan landed braced on his forearms. Their tongues slid and pushed together, trading the taste of her release. When he felt her reaching between them to undo his laces, he pulled away to loose them and strip off the rest of his clothes. 

Tav reached for his erection, and before he’d steadied himself, she gripped his length to drag the generous droplets of precum around his tip with her thumb. His hips bucked into her.

“Eager, aren’t you?” She teased softly.

“Yes,” Rolan groaned. Tav’s soft hand was around his cock for the first time; it was all he could do to locate words. He knew his face was flushed and tense with arousal, but Tav only looked up at him with appreciation from where she lay back on his bed. 

When she guided his length across the wet of her core, he rocked his hips to drag his ridges across her. She shivered slightly, still sensitive, but rolled into him.

“Need you,” Rolan panted, not sure whether he was asking her or begging. “Tav—please—”

Tav’s hand lined him up with her entrance. When his leaking tip nudged inside her, Rolan pushed forward with one slow, determined cant of his hips.

The cool slick of her walls clutched each inch of him so perfectly. A low groan rose in Rolan’s throat—this was the closest thing to real satisfaction that he’d gotten in days, and he hadn't even started moving yet.

“So good,” Tav said under him, voice sweet and husky. “Keep going—”

Rolan braced his hands against her hips. He pulled out slowly, legs shaking beneath him, then pushed back into the tight plush of her. 

His hips took up a firm pace, and Rolan couldn't bite back his whines as he plunged his cock inside her. Whatever his fevered imagination had conjured, it was nothing compared to this—he fell over her again, fangs skating against her breast as her body rocked under him with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, fuck—” Tav was just as breathless as her fingers gripped the infernal ridges on his shoulder blades. She tugged, egging him on.

Rolan took the invitation with enthusiasm. He nipped and sucked around the swell of her breast, breathing in lungfuls of the sweetness rolling off her skin.

“Harder,” Tav begged, the words vibrating against his lips. The hunger inside him surged in agreement.

Rolan’s lips fastened over one nipple. He sucked, hard, letting his tongue roll her against his teeth. Tav let out a whimper, but he felt her legs crossing around his hips as he continued to bury himself in her.

Rolan pulled away to look at her face. A mist of sweat dusted her brow; Tav’s lips were parted and twitching with silent words. 

“Look at me,” Rolan ordered, still filling her with his cock in a steady rhythm.

Tav obeyed, her eyes shining and pupils blown wide. He straightened away from her, never breaking, and laid a hand each on her calves. Then he pushed up, folding her legs to her chest and opening up her cunt even deeper for him.

“You look so beautiful like this, Tav,” he told her, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his pace slow and steady. “Folded in half in my bed. Stretched around my cock so perfectly.”

In response, Tav’s hands grabbed her knees, pulling herself open even further to each side. “Is this how you imagined it?” She asked wickedly. “All alone—wishing it was me and not your own hand—”

Heat prickled across his neck and shoulders, but Rolan was too far gone to feel shame. He couldn't resist breaking eye contact, however, watching the way his cock stretched open her dripping cunt.

“Just like this,” he panted in answer. She took in breath to respond, but he was already slamming back into her at a reckless pace.

The lewd, wet sounds of his thrusts filled the room, layered with their chorus of whines and moans. Rolan shuddered at how slick and tight she was around him, perfectly gripping each inch of his needy length. His cock throbbed in anticipation of a satisfying release, finally, after all these times of not quite enough—

“I’m close,” he panted, gripping her hips to pull her down deeper onto his cock. The tip of him nudged against the limits of her walls. “Where should—”

“Inside,” Tav insisted, still holding herself wide for him. “Only inside, Rolan, want you to fill me up—fuck—”

The imagery pushed him over the edge, and he did just that. With a throb of release, he felt his cock pulsing and filling her deepest walls with his seed. His hips stuttered into her as he pushed his spend as far into her as he could reach.

Tav clutched his shoulders as he came, humming and moaning out praises for him. Their hips rocked together, nudging his coated length back against her deep center. 

Tav went tense under him. He forced his eyes open and saw her lips parted in surprise.

“I’m—oh—!” 

She gasped in shock as her own climax gripped her. Rolan hissed in breath at the way she clenched and fluttered so suddenly around him. His length was still hard, and his ridges pulsed against her.

As she drifted back down, Tav’s eyes finally lit on him in a daze. “What…what was that?”

Rolan was abruptly reminded of how many ruts he’d spent without a partner. “I'm sorry, I should've warned you,” he confessed. It was hard to form his thoughts while still inside her. “During the cycle…infernal traits get stronger. Like incubi. Helps attract a partner.” Somehow this explanation was more embarrassing than any of the other filth he’d just spoken to her.

Tav stared up at him. “You're saying your come is going to make me come?”

“Essentially.” Rolan shifted inside her slightly, still not confident he was done. “I apologize—I didn't think to tell you. Is that a problem?”

“Rolan—” Tav let out a breathless laugh, and the sound went straight to his chest. “This is the exact opposite of a problem. Just a bit of a shock, that's all.”

The lovely sight of her happy and satisfied under him was too much to resist. Rolan leaned forward on his arms to kiss her, trapping her legs between their chests.

As her hand stroked softly under his jaw, Rolan felt a second ache settling in his loins. He released her lips for just long enough to push her legs out over his hips, then ducked back down for her mouth.

He rolled his hips into her slower this time, but it was somehow more intense. Their lips stayed connected as he drove into her deep. Her walls were slippery with arousal and his own seed, and they gripped like pure silk around his cock. Her opening slid over the sensitive ridges at his base with each thrust.

When he dipped a thumb between their bodies to rub circles over her clit, Tav broke away with a little gasp.

“I can’t again,” she said, panting.

“You can,” he told her simply. “Hold on to me—” 

She did, wrapping both arms and legs firmly around him as if he was her anchor. Rolan dipped his head to her neck as he doubled his pace, their hips slotting together with each brisk slide into her. He breathed deep against the curve of her shoulder.

Still so hungry for release, it wasn't long before he came again hard. This time he just barely pumped his spend into her before he pulled out to look down.

Sticky white seed dribbled out of her slit, running down toward her hole. He dipped the thumb circling her clit down to swipe it back up across her cunt, painting his come across the bundle of nerves at her peak.

Tav’s thighs twitched under him, and she gripped his arm tight with one hand. She swore as he continued flicking across her clit with the wet pad of his thumb, then whined out his name.

While her next orgasm nearly doubled her in half, Rolan tilted his head to watch the sight between her legs. She was soaked, twitching, utterly intoxicating. Her contracting walls pushed more of his spend out of her; it flowed generously from her slit and soaked down into the bedding below.

Finding himself now utterly spent, Rolan collapsed on his back next to her. As he did, he realized his legs had grown fatigued to the point of buckling from the exertions. He let his body sink heavy into the mattress. 

“I made a mess on your sheets,” Tav panted from beside him. 

Rolan groaned at her descriptive language. The fact that his length continued softening was a sign his urges were finally giving him a reprieve, however. “It was mostly my fault.”

She only let out a weak breath of laughter.

Too tired to trust his shaking legs, he reached an arm blind over the side of the bed and snatched up the first fabric it touched. His discarded shirt.

Pushing himself seated, he gently reached to dry between Tav’s legs. One of her hands traced the ridges on his back as he quietly tended to her.

“How long before the next?” She asked him.

“An hour or two.” Rolan didn't look at her. “Tav, you've done more than enough for m—”

The mattress shifted as she sat up and turned his face into a waiting kiss. It was soft, just a chorus of little presses across his lips.

When Tav pulled away, she tucked the damp curtain of his hair behind one ear. “Rolan, unless you want me to go, I'm staying until it’s over.”

Rolan cast a glance over her. Despite the fact that she was naked in his bed and covered in blooming bruises from his mouth, she was very much the same Tav as ever. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.

She pushed him onto his back with a sudden laugh, landing with her chest pressed to his. “What an utterly Rolan thing to say,” she mused. “Need I remind you I just came three times?”

Tav was teasing him, and was of a mind to put her in her place—only he found that none of his limbs wanted to move at the moment. Instead, his only response was a deep hum as his eyelids drooped shut.

He felt the mattress shift as she rose and wished he could reach out to stop her. But a moment later she curled up next to him again, dragging a soft quilt over their bodies. 

Rolan turned inward to rest his head on Tav’s chest—and fell into his first real slumber in days.

[sugurufic]

Shopping Carts and Conversations (Geto x Reader)

Summary: You're out shopping with the twins and Geto, when an eldery couple mistakes you for a young couple and the twins as your kids, a comment you're too happy to ignore.

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warnings: Fluff, for context it's related to Co-Parenting with Suguru, but there's no need to read that for this.

masterlist

At the supermarket, Mimiko clings to your leg as you walk down the cleaning supplies aisle. You grab a bottle of the fabric conditioner and give it to the four year old to smell. Her little nose scrunched up, and you hand her another fragrance of the fabric conditioner. She approves that one and you throw it in your cart.

“Are you tired Mimiko?” You ask the little girl, she shakes her head in dissent but you can tell she is tired. You have been in the store for too long. “Come here,” you tell her before picking her up in your arms, and she quickly wraps her little arms and legs around you. She is very thin and light for a four year old, all thanks to those cruel villagers. 

With Mimiko at your hip, you push the cart forward and grab your favourite brand of laundry detergent and stain remover. You can't remember if Geto has extra dishwash, you quickly text him asking about it.

Geto Suguru: No Geto Suguru: Are you by the cleaning supplies? You: Yes You: Where are you? Geto Suguru: I'll be there in a moment

You're startled with a fake cough near your ear, but you smile on realising it's Geto and Nanako. The sight in front of you makes you and Mimiko giggle - Nanako is sitting on Geto's shoulder, using his bun as her makeshift support. You quickly snap pictures and show it to Mimiko, who nods in approval.

“What's so funny to you?” Geto asks. “Nanako here was helping me search. You rushed away so quickly.”

“We did not rush away, I told you I'm gonna get some detergent. You're out of it back home.” You counter. “Right, Mimiko?”

Mimiko nods in support and adds, “And you said ‘hmm’, Geto Sama,”

Geto blushes for a moment, embarrassed. “Well, all that matters is that we've found you now.”

“Sure,” you tease, giggling. “What did you get?”

“We have to get rice, lentils and vegetables.” Geto says, holding Nanako’s knees on either side of his head. He brings her to his arms and sits her down on the baby carrier in your cart and pushes it out the cleaning supplies aisle after you throw the dishwash in it.

“We’re out of carrots and cucumbers,” you note. “We have enough tomatoes to last the week. Oh, potatoes - stock up on them. That seems about right.” You turn to the child on your hip and then to the one in the cart. “What do you guys think of apples and bananas?”

“Nooo…” they both whine in unison.

“But you have to eat it, or you won’t get big or strong like Geto-kun,” You tease. The girls think hard at that, always admiring Geto as their father figure. “All of us can have fruits together, then ice cream after?”

The twins look like they want to say no, but they’re big fans of ice cream like most children, so they don’t protest much. You and Geto sneaked in some more fruits to the cart and different vegetables that most kids were known to not like. You wait for your cart to be unloaded into bags by the entrance with Mimiko, while Nanako continues to cling to Geto. You reach out for her when Geto is at the exit to get the bill scanned, holding the two of them on either side. Once free of the guard, he quickly snaps a picture and holds the bags in one hand and Mimiko with the other.

“What lovely kids you have got,” An elderly woman entering the store comments. She is with her husband and presumably their grandchild. Your face heats up, but you don’t bother correcting her, and neither does Geto. “Such a lovely young couple with a family,”

“Thank you,” Geto says, smiling at the old couple. “Is that your grandchild? He looks adorable.”

“He is spending the weekend with us,” The old man says with a nod. “May the gods be kind to you,”

“Thank you,” You say this time. “We hope the same for you,”

Your face burns as you sit Nanako and Mimiko down in the back of the car as Geto loads the bags into the trunk. Your girls have little smiles on their face, and you ask them what they’re smiling about.

“You didn’t say anything when they called us a family,” Nanako says.

“And you thanked them for the prayers,” Mimiko adds.

“Well, that’s because we are a family, aren’t we?” You say, caressing both their baby cheeks with either hand. “It’s nice to be polite to polite people.”

On the way back, you’re both quiet, enjoying listening to the twins talk among themselves. Their delight at your silent acceptance has your heart soaring, and you cannot keep that stupid smile off your face. You are barely holding back your giggles, not wanting Geto to think that you have gone crazy. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” Geto quietly asks you, his hand settling on your knee after changing gears.

“They’re so happy to be considered our family,” you admit, unable to keep the giddiness out of your voice. “I love them so much,”

Geto glances at you from the mirror, admiring the way you glow with joy. He half hopes you’ll remark on that comment of the old lady of you being a lovely couple, but you don’t - too happy to be considered the girls’ mother. He supposes it’s fine, wondering if he will ever gather the courage to ask you out.

“You know, you’ve been helping me out so much, why don’t you start calling me Suguru?” He says instead. “It’s a little strange to hear our girls see you as a mother figure but you still calling me Geto,”

You giggle once again, admiring his pretty face from the side. His eyes flicker to the mirror, but he is mostly focused on the road. It’s nice to hear him ask this so casually, and somehow you hope he’ll say something else, something more - but you’ll happily take what he offers. “Okay, Suguru,” you test, loving the way his name rolls off your tongue. He looks positively delighted too. “You should start addressing me by my first name too, then.”

“Of course,” he says, the sound of your name sounding angelic in his soft voice. You get why he has always been popular among the girls, his pretty face and voice and gentle manners are easy to impress almost anyone. Your face only brightens when he hums out your name, a chuckle escaping you.

Geto cannot stop thinking about the elderly couple addressing you and his girls as a lovely young couple with a family - he hasn’t felt that delighted in a long while, praying to the gods who listen to give him courage, courage to finally ask you out for a date. You’re so kind, helping him with the girls and reassuring him that he is doing a great job with the girls, spending your time with him and your girls, acting like the unassigned-assigned head of the household. 

In his rose coloured dream, he can freely hold you and kiss your pretty face as he pleases, the girls call him papa and call you mama - it’s a fantasy so close to reality that he can almost taste it, but like Tantalus’ fruit, it’s just a bit too far away.

A/N: Can you tell that i'm in love with this dynamic?

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow? Part 2: Diagrams

This is the second part of a couple of posts about Dataflow, particularly why it's important for the world going forward and relating to the Crowd Strike IT disaster.

Read the first part here.

Before I get into this one today, I wanted to address a couple of things.

Firstly, Dataflow is something that nearly every single person can understand. You do NOT:

Need to have a degree in Computing Science

Need to work in IT

Need to be a data analyst / Spreadsheet master

If any of you see the word 'Data' and feel your eyes glazing over, try and snap out of it because, if you're anything like me, Dataflow is much more approachable as a concept.

Secondly, what do I mean by IT?

Traditionally in most of our media the all-encompassing 'IT department' handles everything to do with technology. But every business works differently and there are many job titles with lots of crossover.

For example, you can be an infrastructure engineer where your focus is on building and maintaining the IT infrastructure that connects your organisation internally and externally. This is a completely different role from an Application Portfolio Manager who is tasked with looking after the Applications used in business processes.

Both are technical people and come under the banner of 'IT' - but their roles are focused in different areas. So just bear that in mind!

Now that's out of the way, let's begin! This one will be a little bit deeper, and questions welcome!

An Intro to Diagrams

You probably do not need a history of why pictures are important to the human race but to cover our bases, ever since we put traced our hands on a cave wall we have been using pictures to communicate.

Jump forward in time and you have engineers like Leonardo Da Vinci drafting engineering schematics.

You get the idea, humans have been creating diagrams (Pictures) for thousands of years. Centuries of refinement and we have much more modern variations.

And there's one main reason why diagrams are important: They are a Common Language.

In this context, a Common Language helps bridge a language gap between disciplines as well as a linguistic gap. A Spanish electrician and a German electrician should be able to refer to the same diagram and understand each other, even if they don't know each other's language.

The reason they can do this is because they're are international standards which govern how electrical diagrams are created.

A Common Language for Digital?

Here's an image I've shown to clients from governments and institutions to global organisations.

Everything around us, from the products we use to the bridges we drive over and the buildings we live, work, enjoy and shop in had diagrams backing them.

You would not build a skyscraper without a structural engineering diagram, you would not build an extension on your house if an architect couldn't produce a blueprint.

Why is there not an equivalent for the Digital World and for Dataflow?

Where is the Digital Common Language?

This is the bit where the lightbulb goes on in a lot of people's heads. Because, as I mentioned in Part 1, the flow of data is the flow of information and knowledge. And the common mistake is that people think of dataflow, and only ever think about the technology.

Dataflow is the flow of information between People, Business Processes *and* Technology Assets.

It is not reserved to Technology specialists. When you look at the flow of data, you need to understand the People (Stakeholders) at the top, the processes that they perform (and the processes which use the data) and the technology assets that support that data.

The reason why this is important is because it puts the entire organisation in context.

It is something that modern businesses fail to do. They might have flow charts and network diagrams, and these are 'alright' in specific contexts, but they fall to pieces when they lack the context of the full organisation.

For example, here is a Network Diagram. It is probably of *some* value to technical personnel who work in infrastructure. Worth bearing in mind, some organisations don't even have something like this.

To be absolutely clear, this diagram will hold some value for some people within the organisation. I'm not saying it's completely useless. But for almost everyone else, it is entirely out of context, especially for any non-technical people.

So it doesn't help non-technical people understand why all of these assets are important, and it doesn't help infrastructure teams articulate the importance of any of these assets.

What happens if one of those switches or routers fails? What's the impact on the organisation? Who is affected? The diagram above does not answer those questions.

On the other side of the business we have process diagrams (aka workflow diagrams) which look like this.

Again we run into the same problem - This is maybe useful for some people working up at the process layer, but even then it doesn't provide context for the stakeholders involved (Are there multiple people/departments involved throughout) and it doesn't provide any context for technical personnel who are responsible for maintaining the technology that supports this process.

In short, nobody has the big picture because there is not a common language between Business & IT.

Conclusion

So what do we do? Well we need to have a Common Language between Business & IT. While we need people with cross-functional knowledge, we also need a common language (or common framework) for both sides of the organisation to actually understand each other.

Otherwise you get massively siloed departments completely winging their disaster recovery strategies when things like Crowd Strike goes down.

Senior Management will be asked questions about what needs to be prioritised and they won't have answers because they aren't thinking in terms of Dataflow.

It's not just 'We need to turn on everything again' - It's a question of priorities.

Thing is, there's a relatively simple way to do it, in a way that looking at any engineering diagram feels simple but actually has had decades/centuries of thought behind it. It almost feels like complete common sense.

I'll save it for Part 3 if you're interested in me continuing and I'll make a diagram of my blog.

The important thing is mapping out all the connections and dependencies, and there's not some magic button you press that does it all.

But rigorous engineering work is exactly that, you can't fudge it with a half-arsed attempt. You need to be proactive, instead of reacting whenever disaster strikes.

[stupidphototricks]

Death as Bill Door, getting a life.

"Are you decent, Bill Door?" said Miss Flitworth's voice in the darkness. Bill Door analyzed the sentence for meaning within context. YES? he ventured. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Bill Door was no good at reading faces. It was a skill he'd never needed. He stared at Miss Flitworth's frozen, worried, pleading smile like a baboon looking for meaning in the Rosetta Stone. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Was that what it was really like to be alive? The feeling of darkness dragging you forward? How could they live with it? And yet they did, and even seemed to find enjoyment in it, when surely the only sensible course would be to despair. Amazing. To feel you were a tiny living thing, sandwiched between two cliffs of darkness. How could they stand to be alive? -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

The child stared distantly at the landscape for a while and then said, "I've got new socks." YES? "You can look, if you like." A grubby foot was extended for inspection. WELL, WELL. FANCY THAT. NEW SOCKS. "My mum knitted them out of sheep." MY WORD. The horizon was given another inspection. "D'you know," she said, "d'you know... it's Friday." YES. "I found a spoon." Bill Door found that he was waiting expectantly. He was not familiar with people who had an attention span of less than three seconds. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Death knew that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world. He knew this. The knowledge was built into him. To Bill Door, he realized, it was so much horse elbows. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

SOMETIMES PEOPLE CHALLENGE ME TO A GAME. FOR THEIR LIVES, YOU KNOW. "Do they ever win?" NO. LAST YEAR SOMEONE GOT THREE STREETS AND ALL THE UTILITIES. "What? What sort of game is that?" I DON"T RECALL. "EXCLUSION POSSESSION," I THINK. I WAS THE BOOT. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

Bill Door felt very old. In fact he was very old. But he'd never felt it as much as this. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

"What the hell have you been doing, Mr. So-Called Bill Door?" I AM TIRED AND IT WON'T STOP. Bill Door clutched at his skull. ALSO SPIGOT GAVE ME A HUMOROUS APPLE JUICE FERMENTED DRINK BECAUSE OF THE HEAT AND NOW I FEEL ILL. "I ain't surprised. He makes it up in the woods. Apples isn't the half of it." I HAVE NEVER FELT ILL BEFORE. OR TIRED. "It's all part of being alive." HOW DO HUMANS STAND IT? "Well, fermented apple juice can help." -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

JUST BECAUSE SOMETHING IS A METAPHOR DOESN'T MEAN IT CAN'T BE REAL. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

I'VE NEVER BEEN VERY SURE ABOUT WHAT IS RIGHT, said Bill Door. I AM NOT SURE THERE IS SUCH A THING AS RIGHT. OR WRONG. JUST PLACES TO STAND. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

IF PEOPLE KNEW WHEN THEY WERE GOING TO DIE, I THINK THEY PROBABLY WOULDN'T LIVE AT ALL. "Oh, very gnomic. And what do you know about it, Bill Door?" EVERYTHING. -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

"Have you got any last words?" YES. I DON'T WANT TO GO. "Well. Succinct, anyway." -- Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

(Now I'm honestly wondering if Russell T. Davies read Terry Pratchett??)

[zepskies]

OMG I KEED A PART 2 TO SAM HAVING A CRUSH ON DEANS GF

Like idk maybe say Sam didn't listen to Dean and tried making a move on reader? Like ofc he wouldn't ever do that *I don't think* but in this hypothetical scenerio it happens

Hey hun!

Oooof, that's hard. You guys really like this angsty love triangle stuff, huh? 😂 I genuinely think Sam would rather saw off his own hand than hurt Dean that way. But this is like, the only thing I could think of on this one. 😅

See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,100

Imagine: Sam crosses the line.

Goddamn witches.

That's the last coherent thought Sam has, before his mind is no longer completely his to control.

Well, it's still his mind. His body. But the careful door in his mind and in his heart, reinforced with steel and chained shut with titanium, combo-coded, locked and loaded, now has broken hinges.

Thoughts he hasn't allowed himself to think for months are pried open, with a sick kind of enjoyment in pain.

You're his brother's girl. Sam can't help but love you. He wants you. And now, he might be able to have you.

The witch is dead, but the spell she just hit Sam with remains. He's not dead, so that's a plus.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, slightly breathless. You're the closest to where he's sprawled on the ground, so you go to him. You touch his arm, and he can't help but clamp down on your hand. He looks at you with the thinly veiled eyes of a hunter as he smiles. Because your concern reaches the deepest parts of him.

"I'm fine," he says.

But Dean reads the hunger in his brother's eyes. He's subtle in the way he grasps your shoulder and Sam's (noticeably tighter).

"But what happened? How do you feel?" you ask, trying to take stock of what you're all dealing with here.

"I uh...feel fine, actually," Sam says. He rolls his shoulders. His gaze focuses on you. Dean holds him back from getting off the ground.

"Get the book. See if there's a way to fix this," Dean tells you without taking his eyes off Sam.

Sam tilts his head at Dean, the beginning of an angry frown on his lip as you rush away to find the witch's spell book.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice. (He literally doesn't have a filter anymore.) "Afraid of what might happen when she actually has the chance to choose?"

Dean's lips purse as his eyes darken. "This isn't you. And when you wake up from this, you're either gonna hate yourself for even thinkin' what you're thinkin', or you're gonna have one hell of a headache."

Sam stares back incredulously. He scoffs. "What're you gonna do, kill me?" They both know that's not happening.

But that's also when Dean knocks him the hell out.

When Sam wakes, it's to you stuffing tissues in his bloody nose. He groans a bit. He looks at you and still wants. But when he looks down at himself, he's in the bunker, handcuffed to the war room table.

You look worried for him as you go back to your side of the table with the book. Dean is oddly nowhere in sight. Sam thought he'd be watching you (and Sam) like a hawk.

"Dean'll be back in a sec. He's trying to get ahold of Rowena," you supply. "But how're you feeling? What's the spell doing to you exactly?"

Sam rolls the kinks out of his neck and removes the tissues, even though his entire face radiates with pain. His brother once promised to break his nose, and he did just that.

"Basically? I think it took away my inhibitions," he replies. More like threw them in a blender and put his deepest, headiest desires into overdrive.

You frown. "Like a really bad bender, or a truth serum kind of thing? But why would he punch you out for that?"

Your gears are turning rapidly, weighing out all the options. You always were smart. Sam leans forward slowly. Noting your thread of wariness, his face softens. He doesn't want to scare you...

He sighs. "Listen...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

He reaches out a hand. You're looking at him in frozen surprise. His curled fingers brush your cheek. He leans in toward your face.

But you flinch and pull away.

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask.

Sam should've known, but it still hurts him. His jaw clenches. The spell takes away his self-preservation, however.

Just as he might've tried with words to finally confess the depths of his heart, the door creaks open.

The sound of Dean's heavy boots approaching makes him flinch. But Sam looks over with an unrepentant stare.

Dean glances at Rowena, nostrils flaring. "Fix him." He gestures at Sam before he joins you on your side of the table, resting a protective hand on your back.

Rowena shoots him a droll look. "Only because you asked so nicely."

"I don't need fixing!" Sam argues, glaring at Dean. His voice echoes on the bunker's walls. "You're just afraid of what happens if she knows the truth!"

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest. Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat. Dean turns back to Sam.

"Don't do this, Sammy. It don't end well for you," Dean says.

"Like hell," Sam retorts.

"Okay, sleep now, dear," Rowena says. And with a wave of her hand and a haze of violet, Sam's world once again blackens.

When he next wakes, he's in his own bed. Not restrained. He indeed has a massive headache, and it's hard to breathe through his still broken nose. He groans and turns, and his brother is there.

When the overwhelming guilt sets in, Sam knows he's himself again, with all the careful walls around his heart put back in place. Rowena must've broken the spell when he was unconscious. Dean can see the truth in Sam's eyes.

"There he is," Dean remarks dryly. "Our giant Jekyll and Hyde."

Sam inhales deeply. "Dean..." I'm sorry doesn't quite cut it.

"She knows," Dean says, after a moment. "Obviously."

Sam nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He hesitates to ask the next burning question, because part of him knows the answer.

"It doesn't change anything."

Sam's head turns at the sound of your voice. You stand in the doorway, with your arms crossed despite the disheartened look on your face. Your eyes meet his, steady and sad, but firm.

"I know," Sam says, with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry...for all this."

"It's not your fault," you reply. Spell or no spell, the way he feels is not his fault.

You step into the bedroom and go to Sam's bedside, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. That hand smoothes up his neck, and your fingers briefly thread into his hair. Another silent conversation passes between you and Dean, the way only lovers that close can accomplish.

After a beat, Dean nods and gets up out of his chair. He thumbs at your cheek; it's both an answer to your unspoken request and an endearment. Then he pats Sam's shoulder before he leaves you and Sam alone in the room.

Trust. That's what that is. Dean trusts you, and now that the spell has worn off, he trusts Sam again.

Sam meets your gaze. As awful as he feels, he still loves you. He knows you know by the way your gaze meets his.

All he wants to do is touch you.

To apologize, and to touch you.

He hates himself.

You shake your head. "I love you, Sam. As my friend. My brother."

"I know," he nods. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," you reply. "You just have to respect that."

"'Course, I do," Sam nods again. You would've never known, if not for the damn spell.

You surprise him by taking his hand. Yours is soft and warm and kind.

Always kind...

But never truly his to hold.

AN: GAH! The Angst. You could bottle it. 😩

Want to know what that conversation was like between Dean and the reader after she "found out?"

Read It Here: You and Dean talk about Sam's feelings.

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[thollandneedy]

Don't you know- Peter Parker

A/n: Nah 'cause that fucking happened to me last week and i HAD TO write about it (Ofc with very different context and description). Btw, i listened to "Don't you know" by James Young while writing it, in case someone likes to listen to music while reading

Warnings: Swearing and smut

Summary: Peter and Y/n get stuck on traffic, but that doesn't mean that it have to be boring...

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

"Shut up" Y/n exclaims, smiling at her boyfriend.

"I told you May, would get me one," Peter comments, crossing his arms and looking sideways at the girl next to him, who seems to be enchanted by the small black car the boy had gotten for his eighteenth birthday.

"It's so cute! I love it." The girl laughs, walking a few steps forward and leaning her weight on the open window, so that she can see the details of the car her boyfriend had won.

"Say goodbye to meters and borrowed cars. Now I'm a new man." Peter walked to the front door, opened it and sat down in the driver's seat. His body slouches forward, reaching out and pulling the door open so that his girlfriend can get into the car too. "And I'm going to take my dear lady for a ride in this little beauty here" The brunette put both hands on the steering wheel.

May had always been a hard-working woman, and supporting her nephew when the boy's parents died had become a kind of livelihood so that she could have the energy to work. Due to financial difficulties, Peter didn't have anything above his aunt's budget, but after a promotion, she had finally managed to scrape together enough to give her nephew a car. Stark had also helped with some of the finances and to make the car more powerful than it already was, so it was a gift from both of them to the hero.

Y/n put on her seatbelt, pulling one of its sides until she could feel the pressure against her body. The girl slipped one of her free hands over Peter's hand, which was on the automatic gearshift, allowing him to give it to her after shifting into gear and continuing his journey. Late evening in New York was slowly falling, as the orange light from the buildings reflected off the crowded streets during rush hour. A few bars and restaurants were starting to open, and Peter had his plan to take his girlfriend out for a bite to eat and then park their conversations in an empty parking lot so that they could also get some alone time. The girl took off her two shoes, crossed her legs covered by jeans, and opened Spotify on her transparent cell phone with a Polaroid photo of the two of them.

"Can I put on a song?" The girl asks.

"Sure, love." Peter updates the car's multimedia while his girlfriend searches for something to listen to. 

"So, tell me. Who chose the car? Did you know you'd win?" The girl rests her hands on her lap.

"May had commented that one day she would give me everything I asked for, but it was never something I cared much about. She got a promotion at the hospital, and consequently her salary increased. Ever since I turned 16, she was raking it in." Peter comments without taking his eyes off the street.

"So you're going to be my private driver?" Y/n asked jokingly, causing the brunette to check his eyes in response.

"As far as I know, you have a driver's license." The hero laughs.

"Why would I drive if now you can take me wherever I want? I thought that was the definition of a passanger princess." The girl put her hand to her chest in an attempt to express surprise.

"Oh yes! Of course." Peter laughs.

(...)

"I'm literally going to explode," Peter says, opening the restaurant door so that his girlfriend can get out first. 

"Tell me about it." The girl says, putting her hand on her stomach and then looking at the time on her cell phone. "Fuck, we've got to get going. My parents will kill me if I'm late on a weekday."

"I thought they'd take it easy on you after eighteen." Peter takes the car key out of his pocket.

"They trust me, but still, we live in New York and they're worried." The girl shrugged, unable to contradict her parents.

"I'll take care of you, kitten. You're safe from the dangers of the night when you walk with me." Peter says proudly, causing a low chuckle from his girlfriend who was walking with her arms crossed.

"Of course! Let's pull you out of the superhero closet and tell my parents that I'm dating a guy who could have an accident at any moment in a fight with evil, technological villains." Y/n opens the car door, then sits down again.

"I think it's a great idea. We can let them know that you'll be moving in with me when I pass MIT, and we'll live in a house in the country with two kids and a dog." Peter comments, closing the car door and continuing his journey.

The white lights of the streets, together with the moon, gave the teenagers an unreal feeling. That feeling that the world isn't real, and their existence is just another speck in the middle of several grains of sand on a beach called the universe. The car drove slowly, on purpose, as Peter didn't want his girlfriend to leave. A slow song was playing on Y/n's Bluetooth, which responded to the music by diverting its eyes from the multimedia system implanted in the center of the car's dashboard. 

Peter laughed out loud when he read the name of the playlist the song was part of

"Really? Sexy guilty pleasure? That's the name of your sex playlist?" Peter makes fun of his girlfriend, who stares at him while holding in her laughter.

"In my defense, I started it when I was 16 and I haven't changed it because I find the name comical." The girl smiles as she says it, remembering when she had started exploring the literary universe of hot scenes in books that seemed innocent.

"Your sex life is comical, Y/n." Peter laughs, but then realizes what he's just said, and also jokes about himself without realizing it.

Y/n laughs out loud

"You're terrible at insults." The girl nods, looking at the passing streets like a drawing blurred by the speed of the car.

"Why haven't I ever heard that playlist?" The brunette lowered his eyes again to the name of the playlist playing in his car.

"I use it from time to time to read, or even when I... well... you know." Peter feels the blush rising to his cheeks.

His sex life with Y/n was almost restricted, and could even be considered for those over 14 if they were to classify it. Peter and Y/n hadn't had sex yet, let alone talked about it openly since their time together was considerably short. Even when they were friends, the subject of sex had never come up, unless they were in a circle of older friends and both were drunk. But even in this state, it seemed like a great sin to talk about sex. 

"Really?" Peter swallows dryly, stopping at a red light and running both hands down his dark-wash jeans.  "And what's that like?"

Y/n sucks in a breath when she hears her boyfriend's question. Their eyes meet, then dart away again in an attempt to make the conversation as awkward as possible. Y/n never had a problem talking about sex, but when it came to Peter, even his presence made her nervous.

"When I..." The girl tries to finish the sentence, really being precise in asking if he was asking about what she does in the long hours alone at night while Peter is asleep.

The boy can hear his girlfriend's heartbeat increasing and her throat swallowing. 

"That's it." He cuts her off.

The light turns green, and the blaring horn of a car cuts through the tension created between the two. Peter turns his eyes to the busy streets, while Y/n searches for confidence in herself. 

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye.

Gray shirt clinging to her toned muscles

Tight pants drawing her ass in perfectly

Puffed-out chest

Perfectly wavy hair

Her legs cross over each other, shrinking her body.

“Holy fuck” Peter thinks when he saw his girlfriend crossing her legs 

"It's nice. I like listening to music and closing my eyes, because I seem to get lost in time and sensation." The girl says, still silently watching hers boyfriend's reaction. "I like being without anything on my body. Just the cold sheets because of the air conditioning I turn on, so I don't sweat so much."

Peter pressed the steering wheel against his hands

"And what do you think about?" The boy asks as if his words were sailing over brittle ice.

Y/n takes a deep breath, turning half her torso towards her boyfriend.

What was she thinking?

Perhaps the times her parents went out on business, and the couple found themselves on the sofa taking off only their blouses. Or when she first felt Peter hard while she was on his lap kissing him

When he came out of the shower with just a towel tied around his waist, and his hair dripping with cold water. 

When he used his index finger to touch her chin, and pull her into a kiss

Those same fingers that could touch you so deeply that your legs would collapse without the strength to stand up, and he would pick you up to use you once again as whatever he wanted you to be. Only he could make you feel so wet that you didn't want his touch so close for fear of losing the track.

"You"

Peter feels his cock against the factory of his underpants.

"Tell me about what." His voice comes out sultry, as if for a few seconds, he had put his shame aside. "I want to hear you, love," the brunette asked, taking one of his hands off the gearshift and slowly reaching for Y/n's hand, which was resting on his thigh with the cell phone.

Peter had never acted or spoken like that, but he couldn't deny to himself that he wanted more. He always wanted more, not even if he had to imagine tasting his girlfriend's sweetness. His cock was throbbing against his pants, and he could feel it twitching inside them, while his breathing made a point of being nervous. Feeling Y/n on his fingers, wrinkling them with the groove of his cum, or even thinking about the sensation of his walls meeting his cock, made him lose his shame in seconds. 

When he thought about it, it was something extremely out of touch with reality, but everything he wanted to do, fortunately the initiative had to come from him. Hearing from his own girlfriend that she masturbated thinking about what he was doing was like raising the hackles of a king

The car seemed to get smaller and smaller, and not even the wind in the air could stop them both wanting to take off their clothes. The leather seat seemed to cling to their sweaty skins, searching for something to hold them inside the car. For Y/n, she couldn't describe whether the situation was good or bad, as her sexual experiences had not been very positive during her teenage years.

"I think of your touch. That time we kissed, and I could feel you brushing past my thigh and slowly trying to find my clit." The girl adjusted her posture in the chair, letting her legs relax as well as her posture.

Peter, for his part, could feel everything she was feeling. His powers allowed him to see that she was getting more and more comfortable in the seat because her hard-on was increasing with every double entendre word that was directed at her, and it was a very interesting game to play in the car during a post-work commute in New York. The cars moved slowly, and even if the clock asked them to go faster, they didn't want to. 

"Did you like it?" One of Peter's fingers slid down, tracing a straight line between the upper part of Y/n's thigh.

"Uh-huh." The girl commented, seeing that her hand had now lost the warmth of his touch, so that her body could feel it. 

"Me too." Peter comments, allowing his whole hand to touch Y/n's thigh, squeezing it briefly as a silent sign of confirmation that everything was okay. Then, his middle finger traced a line down the middle of her legs, causing a low moan to escape Y/n's mouth, who, still embarrassed, allowed her legs to spread further apart. The hero's cock was begging to be touched, but this wasn't the first time he'd thought of doing it. His plan had always been to let things happen naturally, but he was also smart enough to know that now with a car, he had more freedom.

"Peter." Y/n's hand finds his fist. "And if anyone sees. There are traffic cameras that can...

"The windows are tinted." Parker comments, looking directly at his girlfriend's breasts which were becoming more and more exposed against her clingy blouse. " Are you okay?"

"Please." Y/n begs in a sly request, drawing a naughty smile from the brunette. 

His index finger fingered his girlfriend's wet spot against the factory of her pants, putting pressure on the girl who relaxed her body against the seat. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other between his girlfriend's legs, Peter grunts to himself.

"Fuck, Y/n. You... you have no idea how much I've wanted to touch you for months." Peter confesses, biting his lip as he feels the girl roll against his fingers and lay her head back on the bench. 

"You have?" The girl gasps.

"We've never been able to spend much time alone, and I've always refused to do anything because... fuck... I can't want to fuck you," Parker confesses, trying to balance the car, his hard-on and his girlfriend at the same time.

Y/n feels her feet fall from the stereotypical virgin pedestal she has built for herself. Peter had never been a saint, and as hard as it was to believe because of his cute face and lack of girl-talking skills, he was still a male teenager who had desires and wishes repressed by shame. 

"Peter." Y/n groans lowly, gripping the hero's wrist tightly as he manages to find her weak spot.

A satisfied smile came from his lips as he began to make circular movements, causing the girl to moan a little louder. Y/n lowered her eyes to the pants that suddenly seemed to be tighter than usual on hers boyfriend. His decency as a person had gone, and all she could think about was tasting him and making him feel so good that he spoke his name out loud without caring if anyone heard.

"Yes. Speak my name, Y/n." The brunette asked, continuing his movements, but increasing the speed.

The friction was intense, and it would have been easy for her to finish right where she started, but her sense of justice and pity tried to speak louder.

"I wanted to touch you." Y/n exposed, staring shamelessly at the bulge in Peter's pants. 

"You talk so innocently as if you didn't want me to be fucking you with my fingers on this very bench." Peter lets out a sarcastic laugh, denying it to himself, and casting a longing glance at him.

Y/n's walls contract as he speaks, as if his body had a will of its own and felt empty when he had nothing to satisfy his carnal desires. 

"I can hear your heart racing, darling." Peter takes his hand off the wheel for a moment, squeezing his hard cock as a form of relief.

Removing the hand that was between his girlfriend's legs, he adjusts the rearview mirror and looks both ways down the avenue. 

"Why did you stop?" The girl straightens her posture in concern.

"I need you now."

"What?" Y/n swallows dryly.

"I want to have sex with you now. Do you?" Parker asks angrily.

Without thinking, Y/n replies:

"I want to" 

"Okay." The boy shifts into gear so that he can change lanes and find another road that leads further away. In a moment of anxiety, the car dies. "Fuck!" Peter curses, drawing a nervous smile from his girlfriend.

"Let's get out of here, Parker. I'm dying to get a taste of you."

[bookofbonbon]

Pairings: Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader.

Warnings: There's no Aegon in the prologue. It's just world/context building, I suppose you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to lmao. Spelling/grammar errors. Inconsitent tenses.

Summary: As a heavy blown is dealt to Lord Corlys Velaryon leaving him incapacitated, you realise you will have to return to King's Landing for the first time in five years when your nephew's position as heir to Driftmark is called into question.

Word Count: 2.8k+.

Masterlist.

The ground beneath your feet sways gently, a rhythmic to and fro accompanying your every step as you boarded the legendary Sea Snake with three of your own commanders - Eadric, Selyse and Trystane. 

The walk to the captain’s quarters of the Sea Snake is short; Velaryon guards standing at attention as you pass them, led by Velaryon captain and acting admiral, Luceon. 

You wrinkle your nose in distaste at him, Luceon whom you frequently butted heads with. The thought, however, is quickly banished when you enter the room- breath catching in your throat. 

The sight unsettles you, hands flexing and releasing as you looked upon the comatose Lord Corlys Velaryon - if you didn’t know better, you would've thought him dead. 

The room is suspended in silence, tension thick in the air as they all wait with bated breath for you to cut it but, instead, out of habit, your gaze passes quickly over the occupants of the room.

The ship maester, four Velaryon knights, Luceon and one other you don’t know but had heard about - all present in the room and several more Velaryon men aboard the ship and out of your sight. 

Your shoulders pull tensely, hand inconspicuously coming to rest on the pommel of your longsword with a practiced ease that alerts no one. 

You may have been allied and fought side-by-side with these very men for over two years but, it was with Lord Corlys at the helm, who at present was incapacitated and you were severely outnumbered - something your commanders had picked up on as well as they too shifted their stances discreetly, ready to draw at the slightest threat. 

“How did this come to pass?” you question, gaze drawing back to Luceon. “I will have answers.” 

While it was true that you were forced to leave the Stepstones earlier than you would have liked, it did not change the fact that the Stepstones had already been won when you did. 

“A final ambush by the Triarchy, Princess,” the solemn man tells you. “A ship made to look as if it were abandoned.” 

You almost laugh in disbelief, head shaking as the information renders you more confused than you previously were that the Sea Snake would find himself in such a predicament.

“Six years of what has felt like an interminable war and finally, Lord Corlys secures victory only to be felled by what should have been an obvious trap laid by our enemies.” 

A rebuttal is on the tip of Luceon’s tongue but, you’re quicker than he is. 

“I do not wish to hear of what incompetencies led Lord Corlys to pursue such a folly. Not when there are more urgent matters at hand now, such is the current state of him,” you dismiss Luceon and turn to the maester.

“What of Lord Corlys’s health?”

The maester steps forward with a deep bow before he answers.

“Lord Corlys was severely wounded by the dagger of a Corsair before being thrown overboard. He has lost much blood and now battles a blood fever that burns from within.” 

Your stomach drops at the mention of blood fever. You had heard of the dreaded fever before. How it had made victims of even the strongest of men, delivering them swiftly to the Stranger’s door.

“And what of his prognosis?” you ask, fearful. 

The maester hesitates, his head dropping and you’re not sure you want to hear what he has to say. 

“I… cannot say, Princess. We have done all that we can. We can only pray now to the Seven, that the fever breaks before the Stranger comes.”

Uneasiness consumes your being as you cast an anxious glance at your uncle through marriage; his life now hanging in the balance as he teetered the fine line between life and death. 

The thought does not dwell for long however, as a new uneasiness settles within you in the form of Vaemond Velaryon should the Stranger come for Corlys.

Skin pulling impossibly tight around your knuckles, you had no doubt that he would set his sights on Driftmark, likely petitioning the succession if he had reason to believe his brother was on death’s door. 

A petition you had no doubt would be entertained by the Queen Consort and her Lord- Hand father who now sat the Iron Throne more often than that of your own King-father from what you had heard.

You would need to buy yourself time, try to stop the news from reaching Vaemond if word hadn’t already been sent. 

“Who else knows of Lord Corlys’s current state?” 

“I dispatched a raven to Driftmark on the morrow. Princess Rhaenys will expect our arrival in three, at most four days.” 

You let out a frustrated breath. Vaemond would no doubt hear of the news, the leech opting to remain on Driftmark while the rest of his house warred.

“And what of the Triarchy following their ambush?”

Luceon steps forward. 

“The ambush was but a last ditch effort from the Triarchy to win one last victory, it, however, amounted to nothing.”

“Amounted to nothing?” you bark a hysterical laugh. “Lord Corlys lays comatose before you and you speak of this attack amounting to nothing? We will be cut at our knees if he does not wake.” 

Luceon’s eye twitches and you note the way the acting admiral’s nose flares as you insult him but he reigns his temper.

“I meant no offense, Princess. While I deeply regret the suffering Lord Corlys must now endure, it does not change that we have ensured the Triarchy have been put down. If you will, Princess-” he gestures to the maps haphazardly laid across a table on the opposite end of the room.

“Once we had routed the Triarchy - shortly after your departure but, prior to the ambush - my Lord Corlys had sent word for more ships and men to ensure complete control of the Stepstones. In a week or so, the territory will be fully garrisoned and a total blockade on the shipping lanes will be in place.” 

Your gaze meets the young admiral with a nod. 

“Very good,” you acknowledge with an apologetic smile. “We must ensure the fortification of the Stepstones. If Lord Corlys falls, it cannot be in vain. I will also send for more of mine own men and ships to join the blockade. They are stationed far closer than that of the Velaryon fleet and can be there in the next two days, maybe less. They will ensure the territory is garrisoned until the Velaryon fleet arrives.” 

“Thank you, Princess,” he offers a genuine smile. “We shall all sleep better for it. For now, however, we shall make haste for Driftmark and set sail at dawn.”

Still pouring over the maps, you offer him a curt, “no.”

“No?” 

“No,” you straighten your back, both hands now resting on the pommel. “Lord Corlys must remain here until his fever breaks.”

“But, Princess-”

“Our own voyage to Evenfall was a treacherous one,” you explain. “The journey is far too dangerous and the Sea Snake has taken considerable damage. A journey such as the one you suggest will be too long in Lord Corlys’s current state, lest we wish to hasten his meeting with the Stranger.”

“Not to mention,” you continue with a shaky breath. “If Lord Corlys’s current state were to turn while at sea, the ship maester may not have what is needed to tend to him. Should the Sea Snake set sail for Driftmark, it should be only after either Lord Corlys’s fever has broken or after his death. I pray it is not the latter.”

Luceon holds your gaze for a moment as he contemplates your words before agreeing with your position.  

“Very well,” you nod to all in the room. “We will see ourselves out.”

You pause however, turning to the unknown man seated in the corner. 

“I hear you are the hero who pulled Lord Corlys from the sea,” you address him. “Your name sailor?” 

“I am called Alyn, Princess,” he bows his head. “I am, however, no hero.” 

You breathe a small laugh and step closer to him, curious hand touching at the familiar silvery locks of his hair as you smile at him with a knowing look. 

“How very modest of you but, I assure, if Lord Corlys was not indebted to you before, he is now.”

 -

You were right. 

Vaemond Velaryon was petitioning the succession of Driftmark. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You predicted it. Yet there was still a small part of you that was. More so, because of how quick the news came- just shy of a day to be exact.

Aboard your own capital ship, you sit around the table with your commanders. The four of you going back and forth, planning your next moves and altering plans accordingly until you're satisfied. 

“So, that’s settled then,” you run over the plan a final time. “Trystane you will remain here with fifty men and keep eyes on the Sea Snake and for any movements they might make.”

“Aye,” the curly-maned man nods.

“Selyse, you will move forward with joining Sybelle to lead the bulk of the fleet to the stepstones,” you address the raven-haired beauty. “A raven had already been sent to her to set sail at the earliest convenience and only under Velaryon colours as we have been this entire time.”

You tap your finger on a point of the map.

“Remember, patrol only until the rest of the Velaryon fleet arrives. Once they do, you will sail to Driftmark and anchor there until I send word. Let the men rest, let them recuperate and ensure what damages can be, are fixed but, remember we must not bring unwanted attention to ourselves. The rest of the fleet will remain where they are with Ajax.”

“Understood, Princess.”

“Very well,” you smile grimly. “Trystane, Selyse, set the patrols and get some rest. You in particular, Selyse, you hoist sail soon and have a long few days ahead of you.” 

Both commanders stand and bow their heads as you bid them farewell. Once the door closes behind them, you slump in your chair. Your comfort however, does not last long when a knock soon sounds at your door. 

“Enter,” you call with a sigh. 

It is your own maester, Olyvar, who peers around the now ajar door and you beckon him in with a welcome hand. 

“Apologies, Princess,” the graying man shuffles in with two parchments in hand. “I know the hour is busy but I bear news that I thought you would prefer soon rather than late.”

“There is no need for an apology, Olyvar, I intended to come see you shortly. Please sit,” you gesture at the chair beside you. “What news do you bring?”

He holds out the first parchment, it’s thick, several pages sealed together.

“From Winterfell.”

You straighten your back, excitement coursing through you as you eagerly reach for it. 

“News from Lord Cregan?” 

“Aye.”

You hastily break the seal, eagerly reading the familiar scroll of your old friend and letting out a small laugh at the news he sent, Olyvar and Eadric sharing a smile at your joy.

“You must read this,” you hand one of the papers to Eadric. “You as well, Olyvar.”

A gruff laugh is shortly followed and Eadric passes it to Olyvar whose own belly laugh soon fills your quarters. 

The smile on your face soon falters however, as a mournful feeling spreads through you and dampens your mood. Olyvar and Eadric feel the shift immediately as silence blankets the room; Olyvar placing a comforting hand atop yours, your other hand rubbing at your chest as you try not to think of your absence. 

You offer a weak smile and change the subject, “what other news do you bring?”

Olyvar hesitates as he hands the other folded piece of parchment to you, the broken seal sloppily stamped with your family’s sigil stares back at you.

“It appears to have been sent at least three moons past and has since passed through several hands before it reached here. The seal was unbroken of course on arrival but, I did as you instructed.”

Your heart skips a beat, hands and cheeks suddenly feeling warm as a different type of ache settles in your chest.

“He still writes?”

“Yes, Princess. Still not very well, I must confess. The ink still runs with water stains and the words are not always legible but he still writes.”

You inhale sharply. 

You were sure that his previous letter would be the last. Although, you thought every previous letter would be the last and yet, it never was. 

You turn the parchment over in your hands but don’t open it. 

“What of its contents?”

“The same as always. Wondering of your whereabouts, when you will come back home and… that he still wai-”

“Thank you, Maester Olyvar,” you cut him off before he finishes and hand the parchment back to him unread. “Now, I have other business I need you to attend to.”

Doling out the several messages you need him to send as soon as possible, you quickly dismiss him with a grateful but tense smile. Slumping once again when the door closes behind him. 

“I suppose he will not need to wonder much longer of your absence,” Eadric comments across from you.  

“I suppose not,” you agree. 

“You do not have to go to King’s Landing if you do not wish to. Princess Rhaenys and Princess Rhaenyra will both be there to vouch for Prince Lucerys.”

“Yes…” you stand and pour yourself a cup of wine. “But, Rhaenyra and Rhaenys have both been far away from court for as long- longer, than I have and you know just as well as I do that it might not be my King-father who will preside over this petition.” 

“Princess, you have just said so yourself that you have been away from court for almost as long as they have.”

“Yes but, we have spent the past two years side-by-side with Lord Corlys. Something only my King-father knows. For Lucerys, I must appeal to him, to the court and let it be known that Lord Corlys reaffirmed several times that Lucerys is to be his heir…” you absentmindedly toy with the thin brass whistle hanging from your neck as you gulp down the red liquid. “What good is a Lord’s word over his own keep if it is so easily disregarded by disgruntled and greedy family members?”

“Apologies, Princess, I spoke out of turn.” 

Hand tightening around the whistle, you wave the apology off and tell him there's no need for it.

“If it is of any comfort, Deimos is well, Princess. He was sighted nesting on an island not far from here.”

“Hm?”

Eadric nods at the whistle you anxiously pull at- the whistle you had trained Deimos to respond to given your frequent movings.

“It is not Deimos who worries me,” you place the goblet down and take a shaky breath. “It's returning home, returning to my family… it will disarm me in a way that I have not been in five years...”

You pause for a moment, trying to find your words as you toy anxiously now with your fingers. Eadric looks at you sympathetically, all too aware of your struggles with them.

“In truth, I am afraid, Ser Eadric. I do not know what has become of my family, especially my half-siblings and step-mother. None know that I am coming and given the… nature of how I left, I do not know how they will receive me. In the Free Cities, I could build a wall of protection, quite literally, around me but, in King’s Landing? I am vulnerable.”

Not just to your family but, to matters of the heart but, you don’t tell Ser Eadric that. You don’t need to. He already knows. 

Ser Eadric and Deimos were all that you left your home with and both still remained at your side five years later. And not only did Ser Eadric fulfill his role as your appointed Kingsguard and sworn sword but he had also filled the parent-shaped hole that was left in your life when you left Westeros. 

“And that is why I am there for you, Princess,” the aging man reassures you with a warm smile that settles your nerves. 

Putting the subject to rest, you instruct Eadric to ready his ship, “Ensure you have all that you need for the Dragon’s Trident to sail for King’s Landing at first light.”

“You do not wish to take your own ship? I do believe the journey would be of more comfort to you if you did.”

“It would but, I suspect my King-father will not appreciate The King’s Deceit anchoring at his port,” you snort a laugh. “And besides, the owings of comfort are of no consequence to me. I will fly to King’s Landing. I do believe it’s time I also took Deimos home. He has not been around other dragons since we left all those years ago.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[project-sekai-facts]

Hey I've been wondering, could you explain Akito and his death symbolism? It's been constantly mentioned or implied in his recent focus songs and VBS covers (getting lines about "death" or "dying" and the likes)

It's just because the fandom is using that to mischaracterize him as an overly depressed and suicidal guy (another Mafuyu copy; pls save him and Tsukasa) and I just don't think that's what the writers mean to say and the point of his whole character!!!

(prefacing this: I'm aware there was a thread about this going round twitter a while ago, I haven't read it specifically because of this ask and if anything is the same that wasn't intentional and I apologise)

A large part of Akito's character arc is his difficulty with improvement and his sheer determination and passion that goes alongside it. He had always viewed his lack of natural talent and unrefined skills as something that made him inferior, which only led to him pushing himself to his extremes, and trying to face things independently and head-on. This is something that's touched on heavily in the STRAY BAD DOG event, where we get to see him learn to rely on his teammates more and realise that he isn't alone. Find A Way Out continues his arc of personal development, with him realising he's actually not so different to the people he looks up to, and finally learning to accept and feel confident with his improvement instead of just pushing forward almost desperately. It's that idea of him finally realising that he won't always be a step behind everyone else and good things are actually coming with his hard work.

Building off that idea, it's like a sort of rebirth. And that's where the links to Kashika come in. Kashika is a song about death and longing which gets horribly misinterpreted and has led people to believe Akito is suicidal which is simply untrue. The thing that's dying in this context is Akito's old self. The child who had no talent and was falling so far behind everyone. The child who worked so, so, so hard to be perfect is dying. And that sounds like a negative thing but it's really not. It's a metaphor for Akito reflecting on himself and moving on from the past and breaking new ground.

The 2DMV adds another layer to this with its marigolds, which not only symbolise death, but also can symbolise a renewal. And in this case, renewal refers to Akito's growth following the events of FAWO. He finally faced up to his past mistakes and overcame them, but even then he won't let himself feel relief. It's only with the help of Taiga's story about Ken that he's finally able to be more satisfied with himself and how far he's managed to come. He's finally able to break out from that belief that he's forever going to be stuck behind, and he's able to have faith in himself. Realising that Ken was just like him and managed to get to such a high level of skill and be so respected by those around him finally lets Akito believe that he too can reach that same light.

The butterflies in the background again symbolise renewal or transformation. It's not about death as per se, it's about change. Change and growth and transformation are recurring themes in prsk's character writing, and Akito is no exception. While on a surface level, Kashika is about death, if you put it next to the story, it's about regeneration. Akito is moving forward and leaving the old him behind, he says as much in the FAWO story.

If you actually read the lyrics to Kashika, it's genuinely kinda shocking to me how much people misinterpret its connection to Akito as a character. Like I get the song talks about death a lot and wanting to die, but particularly in these extracts you can see some of the key points of the FAWO event - Akito's determination, passion and self-acceptance. It's a song about Akito growing up, physically and emotionally, and saying goodbye to his past self.

Now as anon pointed out, the marigolds previously appeared in his card from Light Up The Fire. And while in the case of this event, it was most likely drawn to connect with the story surrounding Nagi's death, but it's worth mentioning that every character had their own flower, so the marigolds are specific to him.

As I mentioned in today's fact, aside from being associated with death, grief, and mourning, marigolds can also have positive connotations of optimism and passion based on their warm and vibrant colors. One of the key elements of LUTF was despair and grief, shown through more ways than one. Whilst the truth of Nagi's death came as a shock to the VBS and the others, the following battle with Taiga crushed their hope to the point that everyone except VBS gave up. VBS decides to keep trying for Nagi, and again there's that idea of a renewal. They know the truth now, and are going to come back and get better. Now while this is more general about VBS, the marigolds are still specific to Akito, considering how he's always been the most determined one who has taught himself that the only way he can succeed is through sheer perseverance. Whilst it applies to all of VBS in this instance, it applies even moreso to him.

Also it leads very nicely into his fes card story, which follows after the events of LUTF from his point of view. Something notable about his fragment sekai is that it's a completely barren wasteland. It's dead. And to top it all off, he gets amnesia. However the whole point of his sekai is to remind him of his determination, remind him that he has never once given up on this dream, how he's fought and fought to hold onto it and shouldn't let what happened with Taiga and the truth behind RW strike him down. Despite the area being dead and barren, and despite the fact he can't even remember who he is at all, he still pushes forwards and keeps walking through the dangerous environment because he knows he can't just sit around, he knows he has to do something. He knows it's not a choice, it's a necessity for him to persevere, even if he can't remember why. In the end he does remember, and finds a single flower that is managing to flourish despite the harsh conditions, and he even compares himself to it because truthfully they're one in the same. Even in a hopeless situation, Akito manages to pull through. In a metaphorical sense, he can't truly die, he still finds a way to thrive even if the world is against him. His determination truly is the core of his character.

And that leads us nicely to BURN MY SOUL, which I would consider to be the end of his first character arc. Despite having learnt a lesson about his true strength and potential in FAWO, he still hasn't reached that full potential, and he still believes that he needs to keep pushing and keep working. Through Ken's advice, he's able to realise that he's been so focused on perfection that he's bottling up all the passion inside of him. Because he's so passionate about music and it's this passion that fuels his resolve that is ultimately his core, his soul. And especially after everything that's happened, the fact that there's still a lingering sense of despair after the incident with Taiga, he needs to truly let that passion burn and realise that his true potential has been inside of him all along. His role as assigned by Ken is to light up a fire amongst the people again, so he let's the fire within him burn freely for the first time, and it works exactly as needed and is able to rekindle hope throughout the town and in one of his teammates.

Back to that idea about how metaphorically Akito cannot die, I really like the symbolism of fire within VBS and Akito in particular because it's framed in such a way that the fire lit by RW is a flame that can't burn out. Even with things such as CRaZY's "I'm so ready to die" and the "I'm going to pry it open like I'm going to die" voiceline that plays when you pull his WL card, it's not meant in such a way that he wants to die, but in a way that he's going to put his all into it as if it is the last thing he'll ever do. Akito doesn't want to die, he wants to live to see things through to the end. He's too determined to let anything snuff out his flame, and even then that makes me think of the original usage of snuffing out a flame, which was actually to trim the wick so the flame could burn brighter. If you care enough about that dumb candle analogy, you could say that Taiga/the events of LUTF tried to extinguish Akito's flame, only for him to come back from the dead (and quite literally considering the wasteland in his fes card), and now he's only burning brighter and stronger.

Akito's death symbolism isn't a negative thing. Akito isn't someone who wants to die, he's too determined to die. No matter how much the universe tells him to give up he'll never stop pushing and never stop breaking down the walls around him until he sees his dreams through. All his death symbolism is equally tied to the idea of rebirth or even just living. Kashika is about him leaving his past behind and moving forward, his fes card is about his passion counteracting despair, and Burn my soul/CRaZY/Break down the wall are all about him being so fired up that he's going to act as if it's his final day. He's learning to be satisfied with his life and where he is. He's ready to live and to say he wants to die is a great injustice to his character arc.