#notes from rain village | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gumified · 6 months ago

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PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better.

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.”

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him.

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name."

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal."

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured.

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?"

"And I'm willing to pay that price."

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded.

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice.

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you.

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him.

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept."

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth.

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you.

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you.

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants.

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.”

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting.

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy.

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.”

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit.

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.”

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.”

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused.

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks.

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision.

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?”

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive.

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face.

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag.

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you.

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.”

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely.

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure.

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body.

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive.

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory.

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

3K notes · View notes

k-hotchoisan · 4 months ago

Text

missing piece

Building legos is important business and Seonghwa knows that very well when he realises he’s missing a piece.

So who would’ve thought two people attempting to search for one Lego piece would lead to other things?

genres/warnings: smut, pwp, softdom!seonghwa, missing Lego piece (don’t worry it’ll get found later), dirty talk, it’s legit teeth rotting fluff and smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, established relationship, mild choking, clit stimulation

a/n: another fic exchange with @bro-atz 😎👊🏻 it’s a competition of who can kill each other faster and we both LOSING. love u bro <3 and also finally serving you all the softdom! Seonghwa you all deserve 😛 enjoy my loves 🩷

read bro’s one here 💘

wc: 1.9K

‘A couple activity idea’—apparently the amount of countless generic couple websites would list this idea.

Yeah, this would qualify for a couple activity idea casually, not when it seemed like a big business deal when it came to Park Seonghwa.

Seonghwa had the ambiance set, his station ready—the Animal Crossing Soundtrack Playlist with Rain playing through the speakers, his desk clean and white—only stacked with the Animal Crossing Lego sets prepared to to be unboxed, in his favourite oversized shirt, and not forgetting you, who he dragged into his room to watch him build his little building block empire—comfortably seated across him on his bed.

You didn’t mind watching your partner build the latest Animal Crossing Lego set he just easily blew a couple of hundred on hours before. You watched his inner child take form when he made you sit down with him to watch him unbox the first set he was gonna build, his eyes large and twinkling, just like his Animal Crossing character in-game.

Seonghwa hums softly, and it’s definitely his favourite soundtrack from the game. From time to time, Seonghwa would make the little critter noises his animal villagers would make while he fixes the animal villagers and you can’t help but giggle whenever he does the impressions. He’s finished a cherry tree, making sure he flailed his wrists to get your attention. Your lips pull to a smile when your eyes land on the pretty cherry tree he built, reflecting his satisfaction with his plump lips too.

Then he’s back to his workstation, and you’re absorbed back into playing your switch.

“This set is pretty easy”, you hear him comment.

“Is it?” You reply, your attention focused on trying to slay the beast.

“Yeah. I think I could finish this in another half an hour.” He sounds confident.

“Good luck with that sweetheart”, you respond, your eyes trailing back to your game.

Then midway through, Seonghwa demands your attention again, and this time you watch the way his eyes light up the whole damn room when he shows you the way the little Lego letter fits into its little Lego mailbox. Not gonna lie, it was a very adorable detail. He yaps about it for a good seven minutes before he sinks back into his building block world.

“Now here’s the million dollar question—pink or brown for the door?” He asks, loosely fitting both coloured doors after one another

“Pink, obviously”, you pick. Seonghwa seems satisfied with your answer, and you swear you see the little musical notes float out of him when he fixes the door onto the house.

A couple more minutes later, you glance over at the messy pieces of Lego strewn all over Seonghwa’s table, below his half-completed Animal Crossing cottage.

He has his cheeks puffed out, and his eyebrows knitted together while he’s carefully scanning over the table.

“Are you missing a piece?” You ask, setting your console on the bed.

“Yeah, I think I am”, Seonghwa mutters, his index finger pointing over each piece on the table, in hopes of finding it.

You take the instruction booklet from his hands, skimming through the pictures before you settle it down onto the desk, your eyes laser-focused onto the mess too.

“Do you wanna come over to my side instead? Maybe you can spot it better from this view”, you suggest, which Seonghwa takes, so he shuffles over to the bed, and moves to sit right where you are—and now you’re on his lap, with his chest pressing right against your back as he towers over you, arms hugging you from behind. He continues to search for the missing Lego piece.

You take part in the search too, the game completely forgotten by then. You realise it’s nice just having Seonghwa sitting close to you like this. Maybe this was what they meant by building Lego as “a couple activity”.

“Did you drop it or something?” You ask, shifting slightly to have a better view of the floor. You hear Seonghwa grunt behind you, but you pay no attention, focusing on finding the piece.

Seonghwa swears he’s focused on looking for the missing piece too—he really wants to complete the set, but at the same time, he’s watching and feeling you move against him on top of the way he’s able to wrap his arms around you easily, smelling his scent on you—it’s not helping his case. He bites his bottom lip, trying to manage himself.

Obviously, it does nothing, considering he’s having you in such close proximity, and every movement you’re brushing against him is starting to make him grow sensitive.

His hand snakes down to your thighs, drawing circles, his other hand sifting through the endless pieces of Lego.

He forces himself to concentrate, and it works for a split second, that is, until you absentmindedly shift his free arm on under your loose shirt, and he snaps.

“If this is your way of breaking my concentration, you’re doing a good job”, you hear his deep voice ringing in your ears. He’s letting his hands roam all over your body hidden underneath your shirt, his fingers grazing against your nipples teasingly, and it draws gasps out of you.

“Focus on finding the block, Park Seonghwa”, you tease, readjusting yourself, making sure you press against his growing erection underneath his loose shorts.

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to draw a shaky breath every time your clothed ass comes into contact with his erection.

You pretend to ignore him, but you can’t ignore the way he’s massaging your tits, and you find yourself sighing and growing hotter through each passing moment.

You think he’s finally giving you a break, but you’re proven wrong when his hands are sliding down the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re not finding the block, Angel”, Seonghwa points out, and you pout at his words. Your hand slips under the large opening of his shorts and fuck—his erection is only growing thicker.

You hear him groan behind you when you let your hands wander to stroke his cock through his underwear. So he retaliates with his finger sliding past your panties, cursing when he realises your pussy is growing wetter by the second.

“We’re supposed to be looking for the Lego piece, Hwa”, you mutter, mind growing hazy as his fingers get drenched from your slick, circling your clit gently.

“Mmhm. We are, baby. You’re just not focusing”, Seonghwa replies, his index and middle finger spreading your folds open letting his index finger find your clit more easily, and it’s driving you fucking crazy.

Your legs push open automatically, your hands pausing stroking him off, well, not that Seonghwa minded.

“That feels so good”, you sigh. Seonghwa’s other hand cups your jaw, and you turn to face him, feeling the way his hands slide down your throat while Seonghwa has your lips on his, eating up your whines and moans before letting you catch your breath.

“So fuckin wet for me, Angel. You like it that much?” He teases.

“Mmhm, your fingers feel so good Hwa”, you nod, your grip around his arm tightening as the pleasure builds in your stomach every time his finger strokes against your clit. At this point, you can’t even pretend.

His lips are pressed against your ear, his voice deep yet you sense traces of whining in his tone when he says, “Sit on my dick. I need you on my fucking dick now, Angel.”

Of course, you comply, despite your legs trembling slightly, letting Seonghwa slip out of his bottoms. His arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him, his lips making a whole garden of bites down your neck before he has both his hands lift your hips.

Seonghwa lines himself against your fluttering cunt and he pushes himself into your pussy hole, his moans of relief sending you into a spiral on top of his cock sinking into you.

Fuck, he’s filling you up so fucking good.

“Fuck. That’s it, babe. You’re so fucking good”, he groans when you squeeze against him.

“Hwa, oh my fucking god, you’re so full in me”, you sob, trying to adjust to his length.

“Do you think we can find the piece better like this?” He jokes while peppering kisses down your neck to distract himself so he doesn’t fucking just burst in you just yet.

Even in your pleasured haze, you still manage to laugh while you try to keep your eyes open.

“I think we can”, you reply with a giggle, before squealing when you feel him twitch in you. You shift forward slightly, feeling his cock shift in you, dragging along your walls, a small whine escaping past your lips.

With the last of your sanity remaining, you glance over the desk one more time, biting your lip to stay grounded, obviously to no avail, especially not with Seonghwa and his little movement behind you.

“I really think it’s-fuck-not here”, Seonghwa mutters behind you, forcing himself not to thrust into you, his fingers slithering down to your wet clit once more.

“I’m pretty sure it d-dropped. We haven’t checked the floor yet-ngh-right?” you manage to ask.

“Mmmm nope”, Seonghwa responds, mesmerised at the way your slick growing thicker on your clit and on his cock as he continues to rub your clit. “I guess we can do that later ‘cause I really need to fuck your pussy right now, Angel.”

He doesn’t give you much time to answer because you’re a complete goner when Seonghwa is making you bounce off his cock while he gets you off with his fingers.

You’re trembling from the sheer pleasure, your vision slowly growing hazy, the knot tightening in your abdomen more quickly than you thought.

“H-Hwa! Gonna cum-Oh fuckkkk”, you draw out, white clouding your vision. Your cunt flutters around his cock, dopamine shooting up your body while you completely let go on his cock as Seonghwa fucks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. “That’s it. Be a good girl and cum on my dick like that, Angel”, Seonghwa groans into your ear, his gaze traveling down at the way your thick cream streaks down his cock when he pulls out. He shuts his eyes, sighing into the nape of your neck while he listens to the way your cunt is just so loud and wet for him while he fucks your cream out of you, thrusting his hips upwards.

“God, your pussy feels so fucking perfect. Fuck. I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so good baby”, he pants before his hips thrust and press against yours, filling you up with his warm and thick cum accompanied by his low groans.

You feel Seonghwa’s hands run down your body, soothing you after emptying his fucking load into you before he slowly pulls out of your cum-filled pussy.

“I’ll get you a towel, Angel”, Seonghwa tells you, pressing his lips on your temple before leaving the bed.

He retrieves a spare towel from the bathroom and cleans you up, before releasing you to wash up in the bathroom.

When you renter his room, Seonghwa is switching gazes between his half-completed set and the instruction manual.

He looks up at you with a grin that’s making you feel uneasy.

“Babe, turns out I wasn’t missing a piece—I already had it in all along!”

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vivalabunbun · 10 months ago

Text

An Encore of Betrayal

Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.

Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!

Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.

One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships.

Would you believe that such a place exists?

Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues.

Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.

A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’.

Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine.

A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy.

Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.

But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy.

It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.

Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling.

Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers.

----------

There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.

But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.

The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.

Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown.

Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes.

‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.

Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’

Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’

So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly.

The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water.

‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored.

‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed.

But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.

So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name.

‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered.

‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked.

The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon.

Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish.

‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’

A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom.

And they lived happily ever after.

----------

Ah, so it was that tale.

Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.

Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children.

A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.

This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation��s lips to another’s ears.

However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.

Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory.

Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last.

Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.

Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.

Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t?

What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?

To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?

Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests.

From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance.

“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon.

A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum? It’d be best that he alleviates their worries.

“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf.

His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.

Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd.

“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette.

Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.

Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face.

“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict.

“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin.

It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides.

To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate.

Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.

Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.

“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I��ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.

His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest.

The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode.

Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows.

Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.

A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh.

Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.

This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh.

Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds.

Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace.

How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.

His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face.

The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness.

Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil.

They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces.

He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him.

Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago.

The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much.

Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?

His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away.

Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels.

It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale.

A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.

The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside.

Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands.

The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.

Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately.

A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago.

Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself.

A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.

The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath.

“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes.

Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand.

He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled?

“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.

Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?

The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.

This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil.

“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response.

Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words.

“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation.

Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you.

“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets.

A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips.

“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone.

“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy.

A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.

Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress.

“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.”

It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude.

“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare remained on her short form.

“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand.

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish.

Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her.

“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces.

“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him.

“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”

Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back.

Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth.

“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup.

A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return.

Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his.

“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand.

There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it.

“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips.

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth.

Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry.

Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.

Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.

With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it.

The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.

They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them.

In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.

About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like.

The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.

Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity.

Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.

What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago?

From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale.

Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for.

However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away.

He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.

Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring.

Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface?

This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight.

But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least.

Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.

The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea.

Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?

It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation.

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment.

He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation.

“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.

His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.

Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry.

“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater ruining crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out.

“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up.

The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.

“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs.

He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals.

Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.

When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above.

Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own.

Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.

Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons.

“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.

His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer.

“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low.

No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.

Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks.

As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders.

“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce.

He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation.

In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description?

“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question.

He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself.

A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans.

In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity.

Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions.

“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter.

Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale.

If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations?

After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him.

No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders.

“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing.

“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.”

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on.

“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you.

“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes.

Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.

Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within.

“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer.

He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes.

“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.

Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.

That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale.

Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful.

There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance.

No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him.

Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more.

A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.

Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces.

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence.

An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.

Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased.

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him.

Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels.

“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag.

Yes, Consomme Purete.

It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.

The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today.

Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.

The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before.

Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?

Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.

His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.

Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew.

“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly.

The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.

A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young.

Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning.

“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite.

There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate.

“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains.

A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!”

Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices.

There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.

The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors.

Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.

Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands.

While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust.

Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.

Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him.

Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.

A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it.

A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.

Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.

It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does.

“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror.

It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical.

“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.

“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens.

Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.

“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair.

Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.

Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame.

“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.

A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.

“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air.

Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.

Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate.

“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads.

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment

A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully.

“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.

His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean?

“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.

A deep breath as he formulates his response.

“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.”

“Oh, I see,” you hum.

Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.

Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises.

An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back.

The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.

Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience.

Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines.

Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat.

“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket.

A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.

The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips.

“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand.

Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too.

“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses.

Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight.

There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape.

Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.

He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him.

Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue.

“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips.

His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.

A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself.

Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips?

Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness.

“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting.

Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.

Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience.

However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.

Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations.

A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.

Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.

Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.

A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse.

This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.

He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong.

Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?

To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting.

Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted.

The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same.

Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek.

A glimmer he once believed was love.

The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did.

For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.

She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.

Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.

Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity?

Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine?

If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.

Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth.

She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.

What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.

A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear.

Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine.

Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:

‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’.

What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves.

That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.

You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty.

Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself.

So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.

Was his torment entertaining to them?

Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse.

Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions.

Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates.

To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence.

The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.

The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection.

His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.

The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire.

The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.

But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame.

The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.

The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves.

Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil.

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils.

Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star.

You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud.

A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.

Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression.

A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.

Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.

However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound.

His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder.

Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.

With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame.

A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.

Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself.

Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate.

A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.

One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.

It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides.

A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.

Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times.

The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.

It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight.

The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.

What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.

You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.

To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.

It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours.

Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?

Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him.

Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.

Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play.

“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.

Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.

How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?

Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you.

“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins.

After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer.

“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders.

“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions.

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs.

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.”

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes.

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire.

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.”

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes.

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing.

“That is what you must find for yourself.”

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end.

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead.

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor.

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you.

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath.

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up.

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon.

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly.

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight.

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his.

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him?

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws.

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?”

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions.

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire.

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs.

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation.

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen.

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl.

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over.

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel.

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup?

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness.

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat.

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises.

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space.

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something.

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders.

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride.

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return.

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation.

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips.

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something.

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup.

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Is your name Édouard?”

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows.

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics.

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name.

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…”

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear.

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams.

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say.

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer.

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands.

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment.

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host.

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.”

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands.

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him.

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair.

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture.

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table.

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences.

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth.

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long.

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself.

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body.

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them.

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure.

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support.

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands.

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude.

He hums an answer.

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows.

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question.

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences.

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool.

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns.

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here.

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat.

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals.

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out.

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him.

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?”

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him.

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept.

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber.

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea.

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse.

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper.

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears.

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.”

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale.

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal.

Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape.

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal.

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool.

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting.

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present.

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer.

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.”

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves.

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap.

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace.

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice.

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles.

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor.

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette.

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.”

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…”

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt.

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.”

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face.

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate.

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel.

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns.

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets.

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd.

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress.

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside.

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted.

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses.

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison?

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now?

“Could you be expecting?”

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation.

“Will there be a new addition to the village?”

“How long do we have to wait?”

“Are we getting a brother or sister?”

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat.

“No,” he coughs out.

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes.

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement.

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine.

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps.

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down.

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles.

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness.

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time.

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks.

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down.

“Where does a baby come from?”

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?”

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve.

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.

“Of course, Sébastien.”

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts.

“Regrettably, that is not my name.”

“Was it at least a decent attempt?”

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed.

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?”

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response.

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.”

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight.

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment.

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips.

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands.

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle.

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish.

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat.

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you.

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone.

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff.

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly.

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’.

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily.

He needs to leave now. For your sake.

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face.

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn.

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin.

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering.

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory?

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct.

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly.

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity.

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows.

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought.

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust.

“Neuvillette?”

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust.

The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart.

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure.

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment.

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets.

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer.

“Neuvillette?…”

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion.

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face.

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes.

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut.

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown.

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper.

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth.

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this.

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body.

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit.

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder.

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes.

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours.

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat.

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy.

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it?

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long.

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat.

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air.

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away.

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right?

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise.

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections.

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch.

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper.

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin.

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit.

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires.

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well.

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you.

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up.

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat.

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds. Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried.

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before?

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows.

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face.

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils.

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress.

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him.

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets.

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit.

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities.

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort.

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon.

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice.

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter.

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him.

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight.

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life.

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been.

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for.

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up?

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear.

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you.

“That’s too bad.”

His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms.

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him.

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat.

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his.

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface.

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was.

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it.

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues.

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much.

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin.

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them.

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick.

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters.

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition.

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting.

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame.

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips.

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head.

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges.

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls.

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body.

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse.

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body.

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it?

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape.

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well.

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper.

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon a burly hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his.

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind.

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart.

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession.

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles.

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown.

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged.

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile.

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was.

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls.

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing.

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe.

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same.

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you.

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality.

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure.

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes.

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy.

However, this wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance.

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin.

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers.

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness.

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel.

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you.

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom.

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand.

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism.

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue.

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind.

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him.

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice.

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support.

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface.

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone.

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall.

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues.

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears.

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning.

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water.

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth?

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending.

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before.

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him.

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace.

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile.

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time?

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours.

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors?

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon.

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away.

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him?

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away.

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called?

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him.

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale.

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over.

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that?

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle.

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation.

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in.

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve.

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know.

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity.

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires.

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands.

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his.

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish.

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions.

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses.

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks.

“Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now.

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could.

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches.

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks.

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here.

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil.

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks.

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue.

“How could I hate you?” he confesses.

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation.

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time.

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours.

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks.

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you?

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long?

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict.

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes.

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge.

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods.

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition.

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #vivalabunbunfics #genshin impact x you #genshin smut #neuvillette smut #neuvillette angst #neuvillette fluff #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin x you #neuvillete x reader

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iplayghoul · 3 months ago

Text

let the light in

xx: cowboys! eren & onyankopon x reader . .

9.9k words — life on a ranch, porn with plot, tension, feelings, eventual sex, fucking in.. mud & rain, reader is referred to as 'she', 'girlie' etc, use of 'daddy', lots of spit & being dirty, reader is a country bumpkin, light arguing, thumb in ass, pussy spanking, spitroasting, cunnilingus, crying, some squirting & creaming, lots of shortened words & punctuation (country dialect duhh), not proof read sorry, awkward moments.

notes: been writin dis since december 2023... enjoy u guys :] rbgs appreciated

“hiya mrs. brown!”

worn out boots of marble cake pink and brown swirls, graze the dirtied gravel near the elderly woman's cottage as you slip from the horse. mary-lou, you affectionately call her, dusting her pinked moist nose with a pat before hobbling onto the stone path. over the horizon, the pastel orange and yellows of the sun threaten to melt into your skin, kissing it golden as the morning begins and so do your deliveries.

golden-blonde, french curl braids woven into your roots fall past your lower back ending in thick, loose curls, some held together by bows and others hair clips. they bounced with every step. mrs. brown was the first on your list of deliveries today. on cool mornings like this when spring teases its approach, you often bake little treats for the other villagers. apple tarts, blueberry jellies, cherry pies with freshly picked fruits, warm buttery honey-milk breads and healthy breakfast muffins: all made with ingredients grown at home! but, we'll explore the garden later.

calling this a village was a bit of a stretch, realistically, a happy delusion at most. acres of farm property was shared by each of the residents whose homes were nearby, despite the farm areas creating distances of land behind them. tok, tok, tok! the haste below mary-lou's hooves pulled you back to your task as you rearranged the goodies and stepped onto the wooden plank. mrs. brown sat atop her rocking chair, crocheting a blanket you'd commissioned. a chuckle, “ [ ] , dearest, always in y’head, aren't yuh?” mrs. brown softly muttered, deep brown skin crumpled besides her lips, short pastel curls tickling her ears. hands busied with the neapolitan coloured yarn. her countryside twang was a pleasant aerated tone, reminding you of your own parents.

you huff and offer a smile. “mrs. brown I've—”, “must I remind you, dearest, eleonora,” the playfulness in her voice offers it a quiver. “and let me guess . . . cherry pie?” thin, quivering lips stretch to a smile, your plump ones mimic hers as you nod with a sweetened expression. “yes, eleonora, I know how much y’love cherry pies n’–”, “and my grandson does too, y'know!” you stop to stare at her as she wears nothing but a smug look on her face, her head bobbing side to side with a ‘you know damn well’ manner.

eleonora lived mostly alone. when her daughter married, giving her a sole grandson they'd moved to the city. luckily for her, and you, her grandson moved back on his own to the country. he fixed cars, motorcycles, tractors– you name it, he's got it covered. she said his name was onyankopon or, ony’. to be honest, you spied around one time to catch a glimpse of him. back when you first moved in and eleonora became immediately smitten with the idea of you and her grandson as potential lovers, you snuck around where ony's ranch was, peaking at who the man could be. you barely saw him really, the small flash of him you saw all greasy with engine oil was so far away! but infatuation always grew in you from a small bud, slowly growing before flower petals started spilling out your throat.

“are ya’ stoppin by him too, darlin’?” she pries further, “I ‘dunno els’ . . . y'know I haven't actually met ‘em right?”, “oh I know dear,'' she breathes, “ he's strong, he's tall, he surely is handy ‘round the house and- and he's not ‘onna dem toxic masculine things i hear ‘bout on the Internet! I think he's had a boyfrien’ b'fore, that must count!” she relieves your hands of the heavy treats while speaking, “eleonora . . .”, “c'mon darlin’, you've got t'get married someday, n’ imma’ be the flower gal!”

all you can do is shake your head and accept the sweet kiss to the cheek she offers you before trotting back to your horse. mary-lou grew rather impatient! settling her brown and white spotted body to the ground awaiting your return. to be completely honest, you craved love. the partying, sex and relationships of college got old and moving here right after left you high and dry with the weight of ‘unlovable’ bearing down on your shoulders. the lack of men your age was . . . a troublesome dilemma but who were you to complain? you hiked yourself back onto mary-lou and continued your journey to the next cottage home.

looking over the blueberry skies and whipped cream clouds kept you in grandiose delusions of a love so pure and sweet, like powdered sugar that you could indulge in, maybe one day.

♡

“down girl, down!”

The rough, deep voice shakes the silence near the upcoming ranch. after your deliveries, you'd end up with a few apple-cherry tarts remaining, sometimes the neighbours are vacationing in the city, or insist you keep some! by this time, the sun shone fully now, its warmth tingling your skin. “awe, shucks, man!” another voice caused your brows to furrow, peering up ahead at the ranch . . . the one in which eleonora's grandson resided. from what you could see without the sun in your eyes, two men of tall statures– roughhousing with gorgeous horses. the one in the cowboy's hat was doing a terrible job of trying to calm one of them. their manes were a beautiful silky white, shining healthily under the sun as they lifted their front legs to the air before trotting around the . . . shirtless men again. mother would scold you now if she could see you openly ogling at the two, you push that thought to the back of your mind.

mary-lou slows on your command beside their ranch gate, huffing and happily shaking out her mane as she watches the other horses play. something possesses you to hop off with the remaining tarts, awkwardly shuffling to the fence– your pink-brown boots were worn mismatched to your strapless white lace top and similar mini-skirt. “uh . . . howdy there fellas!” both men turned to your direction, blocking their eyes from the sun and beginning to stroll over.

the closer view made your breath catch in your throat. the one on the left, you assume is el's grandson, his skin was a dark mahogany brown, he glistened slightly with sweat in the sun, deeply defined muscles prelude veins below his belly button then covered by bright blue jeans and black cowboy boots to match his hat.

he had a handsome face.

thick two-toned lips spread to reveal a bright smile, a few teeth plated with gold caps as he teased the man to his right. this man had dark, black, shining curls that rested atop his shoulders, two eyebrow slits decorated with piercings, matching ones on his . . . pretty lips. his skin was a dusted tan, sunkissed tone and he wore black jeans atop his brown boots. You couldn't miss the tattoos that crept up the side of his abdominals, you were curious.

“how c'n we help ya’, miss?” the left spoke up and your cheeks felt hot, it's been a while since you heard that pet name, you chalked it up to the blazing sun. “well, uh, you're eleonora's grandson, right?” you nibble on your nails nervously, he nods, “I just . . . thought it’d be nice to give y'all these extra treats i baked.” pushing the basket in their direction and allowing the dark haired one to peep under the cloth, he had a mischievous look to him and he elbowed the other in the ribs with a slick smile, “wass ya’ name, pretty? ‘m eren, dis is ony’,” he pointed between them, “ n’ y’made these y’self, ma’?” eren pulls out a tart, staring down at you through long eyelashes, “oh! uh I‘m [ ], n’ yes! I did n' I grew all'em fruits m'self too!” you bounce on the heels of your boots, nervously.

ony’ stays mostly quiet you've noticed, taking in your outfit as well, his eyes raking over you. eren warmly feeds him a bite of the tart as their horses trot over to mingle with mary-lou. “how long ya’ been livin’ ‘round here, sugar?” ony’ speaks up soft and mellow, grabbing himself his own tart to taste. eren reaches out to pet mary-lou. “i guess it’s been a about a year now! y’see i moved out ‘round here after college.” you nibbled your shiney bottom lip, “what ‘bout y’all? your grandma talks ‘bout you all the time, but, i ain’t really seen you round here?” you turn to eren who makes a kissy face at mary-lou before turning to you. “i mostly tend to the farm ma’, as y’can tell, ‘m better with the animals than ony’ here.” he flashes you a smile and props his arms against the fence biting his lip and lowering closer to your eye level. ony’ playfully smacks his arm, flashing a gorgeous smile with his gold teeth sparkling in the sun, “shut up, man.”

you look away quickly, catching yourself staring at his lips, he certainly doesn't miss it. you totally push the basket towards eren’s arms, “y’c’n have the basket y’know i always weave more, i’ve gotta get goin, now,” you rush, “wait– take m’ number, pretty,” eren offers before reciting it a couple times so you’ve got it down. “n’ which onna’ these ranches ‘s yours, mama?”, you're mounting mary-lou once more, “it's not too far! it's the ranch with the blue fence n’ the pond out front!”

♡

the days after that remained uneventful, with no deliveries of any kind, you preferred to remain on the ranch tending to the animals and house work. you'd never texted eren, only saved his number and stalked his contact profile . . . and opened his chat section many-a-times without saying anything. taking a liking to someone new is hard. you don't forget the many times a partner toyed with you, assuming innocence and naivity of you based soley off your appearance, then doing whatever they'd wanted behind your back. you were past that now, hopefully at least; the concrete walls you used to block others out wasn't something you'd liked to be reminded of.

padding out the back door, the coldness of the stone path chills beneath your bare feet. your toes painted with the cutest design within your artistic range, accompanied by the musical arrangement of your anklet. you pick up a dirtied bucket with the many things you'd needed to complete your chores for the morning, taking a long look at the expanse of the ranch.

a deep breath of clean air, healthy green fields relieve your eyes of their stress; partly cloudy skies was the forecast! weather for hanging outside, the cumulus clouds indicated it to be the perfect day for fishing too! the pond was still, the little lambs were just waking up in their pen, the gardenias were blooming; the white dexter cattle mulled around, seemingly bored behind the fence. just as you begin to walk by with the bucket of feed, the cows behind let out soft, deep ‘mooooo’s’: a ‘good morning!’ greeting in their own way. each receiving gentle pets to their fur.

your mental list of duties was shorter today: pet the cattle, inspect the lambs & brush their fur, throw feed for the chickens & clean their coupes, feed the dogs, feed the fish.

you couldn't help but wear your best little dress to do the tasks today, a simple white thing that cupped your breasts just right. “oh, how are ya’ buttercup!” you squealed in delight as the silky white wolf dog rushed up to lick your feet, his opposite onyx counterpart, bentley offered a short bark to show her delight, sitting peacefully and obediently. she'd recently fallen pregnant with pups, confusing as you'd given both animals the proper precautionary procedures! while filling their food bowls, you couldn't help but be reminded of eren and ony’. your toes dug into the grass a bit, excited at the idea of . . . sharing your home with someone else again. both men seemed pleasant, highly attractive, but feelings always confused you. perhaps they were only being decent human beings to you, nothing more.

to be honest, you hadn't had the best history with relationships. it's part of– it's one of the main reasons you'd decided to move out to the countryside. casual sex was fine, yeah, whatever, you enjoyed it. however, when it comes to your relationships, you refuse to believe you attract shitty people. from making fun of how excited your are by things, to the way you dressed, wore your makeup, your hair, how you cry— the whole works had been used against you. there was only so much of it you could handle. moving away meant . . . fresh start, new people, new experiences. and most importantly, a place where everyone did as they pleased. as much as people think gossip goes around in small villages, the country area was mostly pleasant. neighbours traded crops for items, enjoyed each other's company and minded their own business.

sitting beside the pond, bentley and buttercup eagerly cuddled up at your side; the joy this life brought you was comparable to hot chocolate at the end of a winter day. now you think about how long its been since you could cuddle someone on a cold day. it probably hasn't been since your mother was alive. now was a good time to visit eleonora.

♡

a raspberry lemon loaf warmed your hands as the weather began to cool. the trudge to eleonora's ranch was tranquil, pleasant animals, butterflies and chirping birds kept you occupied for most of it. that is, until your boots dragged to a stop in the dirt, noticing a familiar face in el's front yard.

onyankopon's hair was short, brushed into smooth waves atop his head and faded on the sides, revealed by the lack of cowboy hat. he was shirtless, once again, knee deep in the dirt of his grandmother's yard where he dug the soil for new plants. you swallow, nibbling a plump lip that made your mouth spring from the strawberry flavoured gloss. a colder breeze blew up under your thighs, blowing your simple little dress slightly; furrowing your brows with concern as you peered at the beautiful bright sky, you force yourself to walk up to the gate and begin to unlatch it.

eren's grassy green eyes meet you first, his hands busily feeding a plump cherry into his mouth. pretty pink lips sucked them in, unwelcoming to the juicy red droplets that escaped the cherry. he licks his lips to pull them in. you take a deep breath and focus on not dropping the raspberry lemon loaf. “h-hiya everybody!” you greet, noticing eleonora seated in her usual spot on the rocking chair of her porch while observing the two men.

you hold the loaf somewhat close to you and swallow hard, walking along the stone path of which both men were at either side of. ony’ in the dirt and eren manspreading on the front steps. you held eyes with the ground. “howdy ony’, eren, nice to see you two ‘gain,” you say in a pleasant mumble as you make way up the stairs to eleonora. “brought you this raspberry lemon loaf els’!” you look at her smiling slightly, caught off guard by that signature smug look she held. what insane thoughts about your love life could she be brewing now? the silence from the two men was noticeable too, you were sure they'd turn to look at you as you presented the treat for el’, “my, my! well doesn't this just look lovely!” she claps clammy hands clad in flower themed rings and laughs jolly. “ony’, son, could you get us some tissues n’ forks? oh- n’ eren darlin’ why don't you bring out the pitcher ‘f lemonade with s'm glasses.” the two men stand as she calls upon them, uttering out their deep ‘yes ma'am's’ as they towered above you in walking by. your eyes trailed them slightly before turning back to eleonora who never (not once) misses your silent pining.

ony’ wore his jeans low on his waist, the band of his boxers showed off its maker's name. eren, on the other hand, wore a white wife-beater below unbuckled blue overalls, leaving them hanging over at his waist. “so, have ya’ found y'self a boyfren’, honey?” eleanora asks somewhat loudly as the two men shuffle around the kitchen bearby and your eye widen. “now what kinda’ question is that els’?” you sputtered, “you know I haven't got one.” eleonora giggles like a school girl. you take a cool seat onto the steps. eren and ony’ share small smiles as they return with lemonade and dishes. ony’ takes a seat in a chair opposite eleonora, elevated above you whilst eren makes himself comfortable back in his spot across from you on the steps. raspberry lemon loaf is shared around with the cool glasses of not-too-sweet lemonade to wash it down, eating brought silence besides low groans from the two men who seemed to enjoy your baking. their groans were not sensual, but pressing your thighs together was still a must as a reaction to the unexpected sounds of pleasure. fuck, you felt like a creep. eleonora complimented your skills, asking, “[ ] , did ya’ grow these in the box gardens y'made?” you nod and swallow quickly, all attention to you as eren mumbles ‘box garden?'. ``yea els’, the box gardens ar’ doin’ great, but I've got some extra wood around I think I'mma try to make a few more like the boxes I bought from the market!” eleonora smiles as if she were expecting to hear you randomly bring up your recycling duties.

“ony’, can't you n’ eren build those boxes f’[ ]? I strongly believe lil’ ol’ her shouldn't handle all dat’ wood . . .” you internally blush deeply at the innuendo and take the final bite of your slice of the loaf. eren speaks up, “y'sure right on we can, els’ . . . y'okay wit’ us helpin’ y'out ma?” he takes a quick glance up at ony, locking eyes with him who also lets his stare above you burn into your scalp. “s– sure, I don't mind!” you mutter out lightly and eleonora gives a jolly clap, “well ain't that just darlin’! the day's young, y'all can get started right now!” you have to hold your breath to avoid your last sip of lemonade going down your larynx. the two men mentioned how they're not busy the rest of the day and wouldn't mind before you can even collect yourself. somehow, coming over to eleonora always results in you being roped into another scheme of hers.

and just like that, you found yourself on a quiet . . . and awkward walk back to your ranch with the two young men following closely behind you. anxiety bubbled in your stomach, clamping your lips shut to avoid letting the insecure feeling from escaping your lips. the nerves were getting to you with every second that passed by. “s-so, uh– wassup wit y'all ‘round here?” they both walk up to match your pace. “oh, well, ony here prefers to do all the technical shit like– fixin’ cars n’ all'at.” eren shoves his palms into the pockets of his overalls, walking up ahead where he could look back at the two of you while talking, he maintains glances with onyankopon that you just don't seem to understand. “I prefer to stay on the ranch n’ watch the animals– y'got any besides that horsie?”

“oh– yea i've got m’ horse, mary-lou, two wolfies: bentley n’ buttercup.” a sweet smile stretches on your face, tummy warming a bit. “oh! and I've got names f'all my fish in the pond, my little lambs– oh they're just the cutest! a–and my fluffy cows! they're lovely,” you clasp your hands in excitement, eyes following your footsteps, sputtering happily over the animals. “gosh, n’ I'm tryin’ out a little butterfly area in my front garden, but m’ not the best at it, can’t tame butterflies y’know— they pee on ya’ too! that's fuckin’ crazy,” you reveal with a giggle. as you look up to ask the two a question, you can't help but blush, embarrassingly at that. eren and ony stared at you with pleasant smiles, deeply dimpled too. “oh my, m’ sorry for my ramblin’ how rude of me–”,”no. no, keep talkin’ pretty.” ony's deep voice encourages you and you peer curiously at him: trying to figure him out. he turns away from you licking his lips and spares eren a look before he starts walking again. it urges you both to continue onto the ranch as well, eren shakes his head with a chuckle; he thinks he’s got a handful on his hands.

“y’got a boyfren’ ‘round here, [ ] ?” eren brushes hair over his shoulders, asking the question calmly whilst maintaining a look up the path, ony’s arm brushed yours as he walked close by. “well– no, what about you?” you melt your lips together before stuttering out,”wait, not– i mean, girlfriend . . . well– i don’t care–!” ony barks out a laugh while eren turns around to give you a bright smile, all three of you burst into giggles. “nah, no girlfren’ or boyfren’, ma’.” ony speaks up gently, “but, uh– me n’ E’ might be lookin’ for a third to make us official, i dunno.” your eyes widen but ony gives a nonchalant shrug, handsome face glowing with a smug smile like he didn't just drop #thebomb on you. it reminded you of his grandmother, you look to eren who’s looking back at you and onyankopon with just a slight grin and your breath catches in your throat. “oh! there’s the ranch just up ahead,” you blurt out and skip past eren, scurrying over to unlatch the gate to your front garden as the two followed you in.

now your heart felt like it could melt. like– like a huge strawberry ready to burst! what did ony’ mean by that? oh, how you felt like a dizzy little dove. luckily the dogs rushed up to you, excitable and ready to meet the new visitors who they eagerly sniffed. ony’ and eren were happy to roughhouse on sight laughing with the dogs and complimenting the patch of primula's you were trying to grow, the pretty pinki-ish flowers were just beautiful. you lead them through your home, overly conscious about each step you took while they surely eyed every nook and cranny of your decor. “um- y'guys need anything? I've got some snacks . . .”, “nah, we're good,” eren mumbled, sounding obviously distracted by their nosey observations of your living space. you hear the tone of your dryer going off just as you unlatch the netted back door that served as another layer next to the already opened wooden one.

“holy shit,” ony’ whispered, your organization of the backyard was impeccable. clean and solid fencing around the cows, plants on the left with storage on the other. you left the two to walk out into the cold breeze that passed by as they observe the surroundings and the pile of wood waiting for them; all while you quickly rushed to the laundry room nearby to dislodge your clothing and stuff them into a basket. you hurry back out to join them.

“so, here's one of the other boxes i made,” you gesture to the dirty box filled with planted Spanish thyme, “i know it looks kinda wonky but, hopefully you guys can do better,” you offer an awkward laugh and sit on the back steps, legs crossed.

eren and onyankopon share a look, then grab some planks bringing them more into your line of view with some of the tools nearby and sitting in the grass. even in your own home, you felt a little out of place. in silence, eren and ony’ shared alot of chemistry you didn't understand. despite this, what ony’ said on the way here never left your mind. “y'guys got alot ‘f experience . . . relationship-wise?” you scratch behind your ear. they worked separately lining up wood and nailing them into place, muscles working diligently. “mm, yea. ‘guess y'can say that ma',” eren glances at ony who hums low and offers you a small smile.

“it's jus’ that– ‘m thinkin’ ‘bout watchu said earlier . . .” you blink, fumbling, “unless that was like a joke ‘r somethin’—”

“i wasn't joking.” onyankopon confirms calmly, his jaw tight. you allow the silence to continue for a few beats, eyes flickering back and forth between the two and your hands petting the dogs that came to lay beside you. “we don't expect ya’ to jus’ trust us like that, missy,” eren offers gently, shoving his curls into a small bun and you nibble your bottom lip.

ony's brows furrow and he's hammering the last few nails into his box before he speaks up. “how c'n we get to know you ma’? me n’ E’ been . . . chillin’ for over a year. since college, actually, n’ we been watchin’ y'too. w’dont expect you to feel the way we do in 10 minutes or even in a day. let us get t'know you.” you squint a little.

“y'serious?” your chest feels a little hot and you're praying to the gods you don't fuck this up. “c's i don't intend on gettin played wit’ ‘specially not out here, y’hear me?” and you don't mean to raise your voice a little, the sounds just flow out. “hey, hey now,” eren pushes his finished work aside and stands, tugging his overalls up, hands resting on his hips. “we don't got no bad intentions, sugar, chill wit’ us,” and you blink up at him, unmoved.

“m'kay, let's just say i decided to ‘chill’ wit’ y'guys,” you stand up, fold your arms and start, “what exactly are we g'nna do, hm?” you look back and forth between them, not missing the way your buttercup whines on the steps where she lay, evidently fed up with all the chatter. “y'got 3 seconds n’ don't say sex. one,”

“who said anythin’ ‘bout sex?” ony’ joins you two as he puts the tools down, “two,” “yea, y'better shut that shit up. let's bake sumn together, show us around y'day, hang wit’ us at our ranch, talk about shit. fuck y’mean sex?” you stubbornly stay silent and stare. eren’s jaw bone pokes out with the way he clenches it. “we're not lookin’ for sex. if we wanted sex from you we coulda seduced you a long time ago, sugar,” he shrugs with a smile and you lick your lips, sighing. “okay, ‘m sorry. I’–I'm such a bad host,” you mutter out, “y'all want anything to eat? or some water.” you hear a low ‘okay’ from ony’ so you shuffle away to the kitchen to grab some bottles for them.

you tried to focus on the coldness of the bottles on the way back as a way to cool your temperament. “i moved out here wit’ intention ‘f startin’ fresh n’ shit.” you start, tossing them bottles before plopping yourself beside buttercup who nuzzled her cold nose into your thigh. the two men were sitting once again, evidently having spoken to each other in your absence.

your voice was shaky as you took a deep breath, garnering the courage to speak up for how you felt, “i'm tired of gettin’ dogged out, n’ played wit’ n’ allat bullshit.” you pout.

“‘m not exactly sure how gettin’ involved wit’ two handsom’ fellas is gonna help me figure out to– to i dunno, regulate m’ emotions.” you frown and shove some braids back behind your ear, “s’ like i damn near avoided it– i moved back t’the country damnit.” a sigh, “i cant just figure out how to adore n’ love– people again or if i'mma be able t'dish it out as much as before.”

“you get what i mean?” your ramble ceased as you finally look up from your focus on your knees and look back and forth between ony and eren. ony chuckles softly while eren offers you a smile and speaks up.

“we'll take it slow, you'n gotta ‘love’ anybody yet, mama,” ony nods at his words, “gotta build a friendship wit'chu first, we not playin’ ‘round.”

♡

a week or so passes in which life goes by as normal. you spend your days busying yourself with gardening and grooming your animals, baking treats and new concoctions. the only exception is eren and onyankopon have somehow easily squeezed themselves into your life.

on your deliveries you hear, “howdy, ma',” they chase across their lawn and hop across the fence to drag you inside and sit you down in the warm house where the two eagerly pester you to try the . . . ‘shrimp alfredo’ they whipped up.

thus, the two would end up in your kitchen, breathing over your hair whilst you instructed them on the proper technique. “naw, i don’ told E to do all'at,” onyankopon protests. so too do they pester mary-lou and your dogs, roughhousing and giving them baths much to their dismay.

through many experiences you learn, onyankopon isn't particularly fond of being tickled, or of wearing shirts. he stays shirtless almost all twenty-four hours of the day and you can only avert your eyes. eren is obsessed with overalls and has an array of them: gray ones, distressed ones, short ones, and he never buckles them properly.. on the ranch, the two gorgeous white haired horses were named armin and reiner, two friends they shared from college. sparkling like diamonds as you're given the opportunity to ride them each around the boys’ ranch in the golden sun. you'd also learned that the two were sexually . . . fluid, they'd called it. vaguely, they'd mentioned their sex lives and based on what they said you couldn't help but assume they were talking about each other. who else was there out here except you?

“yeeehaw! can't catch up, can'ya’?” eren howls and shouts as he trots across the ranch on his horse, ony lagging behind in the chase. here you sat on a wooden little bench near the steps of ony' and eren's ranch; clad in a simple white cropped tank and blue jeans with a chunky belt, your cream coloured cowboy hat sit pretty atop your head. a pretty calico cat licked at your bare feet and nudged you for pets.

at this point, you felt yourself slipping. it was obvious by now you'd grown to enjoy each other's company and serious conversations were imminent.

what were we, how will the dynamics work, what would they expect from you? just then you felt a tap to your forehead.

“heya, girlie,” eren squats down before you to grab your attention, “watchu, thinkin’ ‘bout,” ony’ mumbled, toying with a toothpick between his teeth.

you smack glossy lips together, “jus’. . . ‘bout us three y'know? how- like, where do we go fr'm here huh?” your eyes flutter, cheeks warming. you feel the silence actually, eren and ony’ are doing that stupid thing where they talk to each other with their eyes.

butterflies flap their wings about, joyous as ever. it makes you smile a little, as you're beginning to grow nervous. “let's talk inside ma’,” onyankopon suggests, stepping past you into the house where eren follows.

“me n’ ‘ren c'n take care ‘f each other n’ you, know that?”

you all shuffle onto the dark gray couch in the living space. ony’ and eren's ranch had a deep modern aesthetic. dark oak accents adorned both the outside and inside, complimented by gray and brown shades of furniture.

“i know that . . . ,” you pout,

“so wassup,” eren stares you down, the emerald swirl of his eyes warmed your belly yet you couldn't maintain eye contact with him for long, eren just had that kind of stare without realizing it himself.

“‘m g'nna be frank, ion wanna impose on nothin’ y'folks got . . . n’ my past relationships ain't been the best.” you huff and continue, “‘m jus’ puttin’ that out there. i feel like we've been talkin’ for a while n' I'm fond of y'all.”

“i jus’ don't wanna be the one to mess things up,” you finish in a whisper.

onyankopon hums low and eren plays with his lip ring, “n’ das’ all, girlie?” he asks and pursed his lips, dimple deepening at that. you give a nod and a small ‘yup’ while intertwining your hands onto your knees that were pressed together. “y’ talk to us, we talk to you, got that? if it's an issue y'got: don't hesitate to let us know,” ony’ iterates.

eren makes a noise of agreement, “y’communicate everythin’ wit us, sugar, we're serious,” and you nod slowly. “‘kay . . . i get that,” your eyes feel a little wet with emotion, ones you're not too sure of yourself.

you were happy to hear them affirming their commitment yet still anxious for the future. regardless, you couldn't help but lurch forward, you grab the back of eren's neck to press a sweet strawberry jelly flavoured kiss to his cheek, leaving a baby pink glossy print on his cheek along with a loud ‘mwah’ as you smiled. similarly, you crawl over his lap to do the same to ony’ who only bit back a grin, gold capped teeth glistening in the light much like the glossed smudge on his face.

♡

inevitably came the days you'd call the ‘honeymoon’ phase in a relationship, except it lasted what felt like forever.

these days you preferred to be cuddled up in your bedroom, legs being warmed by a black, gray and white blanket you were committed to crocheting. with a couple dark, gloomy days where the usual creamy clouds frowned down on you, the animals often retreated to their pens and little beds of hay to seek warmed from stormy weather. buttercup and bently invaded each others personal space in their dog beds down at the living room, you smile a little at the thought.

“yeen gotta be like that, ony’,” you hear eren groan in a mischievous pout as the two men exit your bathroom smelling of your bath soap. onyankopon mumbles something of ‘’s a stupid idea’. you giggle under your breath, hands hard at work weaving and looping the thick yarn for the blanket.

“ [ ] , watchu’ think, sugar?” eren plops himself onto the bed, “hm?” still fixated on your progress, ony’ huffs from his seat on the ottoman, lotioning his chest and arms then turning back to rub some excess onto eren's foot. “i told ony’, let's take the horses f’ a ride, ma’, he talkin’ bout ‘oh it's rainy’, i think it'll be chill,” he smiles big and winks expecting something of an applause for his great idea of fun.

“ion mind whateva’ y'guys wanna do, jus’ once we shower ‘gain after, ‘fore we get sick,” you shake your head at the thought. ony’ smacks his teeth, “c'mon, don't support him.”

“what, playin’ in the rain is fun, baby!” you chuckle, eren simply props his head on his palm, enthralled by your meticulous work. regardless, he nods mindlessly in agreement at the discussion.

just like that, cowboy hats and boots were thrown on and you head down to the stables to round up the horses. ony’ and eren raced each other down to them before you could even get a word in. the thought reminded you of buttercup and bently who currently settled and slept with one's head atop the other.

the fresh rain smell hits your nostrils quickly, smelling of the humidity off the grass and pitch of the street. you could audibly hear the wind bristling about the bushes as it cooled your skin. all you wore was a thin white tank top, jeans along with your classic pink-brown boots to match your hat. eren and ony’ warmed up the horses, encouraging mary-lou to shake out her mane and trot a little. onyankopon was seated by reiner, rubbing at his legs to warm him a bit and doing the same to armin. of course, you stare unabashedly, his muscles (unclothed) bulged with each motion, waistline visible amid his jeans.

you stare so much so, that you don't even notice eren come up to your side to press a wet kiss to your neck, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives your ear a kiss too, “starin’ at my man, girlie?” he laughs boyishly and you swat him, “dat’s m’ man too, freak,” he gasps falsely at the insult and you speed off to grab the harness for mary-lou; ony’ pretends he didn't hear the bickering and mounts his horse.

“s’ not rainin’ all too much now, see?” eren comments, scooping his hair back into a low bun under his hat. the three of you clicked and clocked through the damp grass and onto the street, letting the drizzle of rain moisten your skin with each speckle. you gnaw at your bottom lip, lost in thought as you trail behind the two men. at the same time, another cold gust would brush past you three, drying your skin again. yet, as you flinch when a particularly large droplet mands on your cheek, the rain picks up again and you smile.

sometimes moments like these felt so good, connecting with nature and taking in the beauty of the weather. it didn't stop you from being distracted, eren's white wife-beater was getting soaked. the tattoos creeping up his side peaked through the material and stared right back at you. you bitr back a groan and cover your warming face with your palms, wiping it clean of rain, while eren and onyankopon fall back on their horses. the peaceful silence with nothing but the ‘tock’ of the horses’ hooves kept your mind wandering.

now drenched, you could only imagine peeling off these clothes, a strap of your flimsy little tank top blew off your shoulder, and you felt the material sticking to the bulge of your breasts nestled in your black bra that now stood out ten times as much. god, you felt like a fuckin’ pervert. you couldn't even bring yourself to look down at your own chest, feeling scandalized enough. something about thinking of yourself in . . . near erotic situations such as this made your clit thump like a sweet little rabbit's nose.

nonetheless, you ignore it and allow the rocking atop mary-lou as she walks to distract you. onyankopon rides his horse nearer to yours and eren does the same, you gasp under your breath when ony’ nudges you. “wassup,” he murmured, “nothin’ ‘m jus’ distracted.” you comment plainly and eren huffs out a laugh beside you.

all you do is stare down at mary-lou and pet her mane, the pulse between your legs pushed to the back of your mind. “y'so bad at lyin’, know that?” eren laughs, you blush and groan, “no ‘m not, shut up,”

“chill, chill,” ony’ whispers, in his stupid, sexy, amazing, deep voice and you let out a big shuddering breath. as you're riding you feel ony's wet bicep brushing against yours. this had to be the end of you.

ony’ reaches an arm behind you, stretching to meanly pinch eren's shoulder. you're not sure what that meant but you didn't care to know. “where we ridin’ to?” you ask, rubbing glossy lips together. “mm, let's jus’ head to me n’ ony's ranch,”

“kay,” you settle with that, sweet n’ soft.

“wanna race, jaeger?” ony’ slips in lowly, pulling ahead and looking back at you two with his. . . stupid handsome smile, “h- hey now, let's not–” and you're interrupted by shouts, “let's go!” eren pulls off.

you groan softly, hiking up mary-lou’s harness a bit as you begin to gallop behind the two men. the raindrops stung against your skin and you whined trying to catch up to the two and your breaths harsh. with each hard breath you let out you couldn't help but let it bubble up into laughter, you just felt so good.

you felt giddy, blinking away raindrops that attacked at your eyes and racing past the two men, who yelled and called out to you, “yo, ma’ we gon' catch up,” ony's cowboy hat flies back behind his head, held up by the string beneath his string as he pulls the white horse forward chasing after you.

the three of you speed past grunge fencings and rosey bushes all bowing their heads now from the deluge. your tank top was completely soaked, and you imagine so was eren's when you pulled in the gates of their ranch and headed around back where you could free mary-lou to run around in the fenced horse enclosure.

you sit on the ground and linger near the side of the house by some plants, boots kicking about scattered hay and picking up sticky mud. eren and ony’ pull in the same time, wet chests heaving and eyeing you as they quickly hop off and lead their horses to the enclosure. “you win, watchu want?” eren huffs out, swinging his hat off and tossing it to the side, letting the rain seep into his curls. “hm?” you moan while rain kisses you, “i get a prize?”

he nods and slumping down against the wall next to you and propping his arm on a plant. you take the time to stare at his pecs . . . light brown nipples peaking through at you. eren catches you staring, it forces you to look away quick and brush a wet braid out of your face just as ony’ arrives.

“yall chillin’?”

“yea . . . mama's chillin’ alright,” eren smiles up at ony who lays in the grass beside you. “she baskin’ in her– win,” eren laments, reaching forward to tickle you and you bark out laughter lurching at him. his fingers pet your ribcage and you grab eren's shoulders, “what the– fuck! eren!” you squeal and wrangle with him. ony’ sits in the wet dirt beside you guys with his hands resting behind his head, basking in the rain and ignoring the shoves and pushes nudging him.

“i swear t’ god ‘ren, you– ack!” eren flips you on your back and you land hard with your head on ony's thigh while he wrangles your hands above your head. digging your feet in the ground for leverage couldn't help with the mud slipping beneath you. onyankopon only hums in amusement, watching you stop struggling beneath eren, your chests bouncing with gasps of air.

“you . . . y'know that's not fair, eren,” “i know what's not fair, sugar?” he stares you down, grip on your wrists tight with his chest pressing against yours. the swell of your breasts popped out of your tank top, glistening and sticky when it touched his skin. “mmm, you want somethin’?” he sucks his lip rings into his mouth teasing you, eyes wide and glossed over, throat drying. you lick your lips and slip from his grasp, sitting up and leaning your back onto ony's chest. just as you make that decision you swallow hard feeling his wet chest through your thin top. you wipe some wetness off your forehead evidently applying some mud that was on your arm to the spot.

you catch your breath, rubbing dirtied arms onto your shirt to clean them as best you could. you felt filthy but god, your fat little cunt ached laying in the dirt.

“onyan'” you call out to the man behind you with your eyes trained on eren who simply sits back smiling impishly at you, “yea, sugar?”

“wan’ m’ prize,” it comes out in a whine.

“yeah? ‘n what's that gon’ be,” he murmurs low in your ear, eren still hears him. you let out a ‘hmph!’ deep in your throat. then, you drag dirty hands against your tank top before peeling it off you and above your head, tossing it into some grass elsewhere.

crawling on your knees, ass arching in ony's direction, you gesture to eren with a finger, “come here, c'mon,” and you grab the back of his neck, kissing up his sweaty wet throat licking and sucking up anything your mouth touched. you press your lips to eren's, cold wet metal between you two when you let his tongue into your mouth, sucking it up when your lips lock hot.

eren groans into your mouth, hand gripping at your ass concealed by your jeans and he falls back into the mud. you reveled in the slick sound of your lips separating from each other, tuning out how soaked your jeans were getting in the rain. the ambient pelting sound on the rooftops only edged you on further, sitting in eren's lap.

“fuck, you're nasty,” eren mumbles against your lips when you pull away for a second, fingers toggling with the buttons on his jeans. he resists a big smile, elbows resting in the muddied dirt to hold himself up while you roughly tug his jeans down a bit. just enough room for you to reach his dick.

“see how she treatin’ me, ony'?” eren wipes rain off his nose, locking heavy-lidded eyes with onyankopon then down at you, “she roughin’ me up ‘cause she won,” he grumbles and you pull his cock out.

eren flinches when his dick is exposed to the rain, tan-brown tip oozing pre mixed with droplets. your knees dug into the mud beneath you, ass arching up. you stare shamelessly at eren's dick, letting the saliva build up about your tongue while you press a few kisses to the tip. his breath shudders above you, leaning his head back for the rain to fall on his face. “c'mon, pretty, do watchu want,” you grip him tight, feeling like your palm could memorize the girth and veins that popped out. then, tugging him up slightly, you slot your mouth in the gap between the bottom of his dick to his balls. sucking on the skin, you let you built up salivation drip down his balls, slurping the heavy sack onto your tongue.

you suck eren's balls into your mouth, swirling your tongue around mounds and his mouth drops open revealing his tongue ring. he grins, giving you a loud shameless groan, he was certainly showing off for ony’ who sit behind you watching. “suck it like dat, yea,” eren mumbles to you, licking the rainwater off his lips. he lets you have your way a bit more, focused on your features: the way the rain made your eyelashes clump together, the droplets sliding down your nose, to the spitty goop around your mouth all over his balls.

“c'mon, c'mon,” he pulls your mouth off him with a hand gripping the base of your hair, licking the splittle off your chin then kissing it into your mouth and swallowing your whines. “y' fuckin’ nasty, jaeger,” onyankopon mutters lowly behind you and eren bites back a smile. “filthy ass, take that shit off,” you up off your knees, flopping back on your ass where you fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

your cheeks burned, both eren and ony's eyes grilled into you and everywhere you touched got streaks of mud in it after having your hands dig into the sopping ground. on your arms, your boobs, eren's shirt. slowly, you shucked your jeans down, slipping them past your ankles along with your boots. your panties were stuck up your ass when you sit in some wet patches of dirty hay, tossing the jeans aside realizing you wore significantly less than the other two men with rain beating all over you.

eren and ony’ share a look then eren's the first to lurch forward gripping your legs with his muddied hands, pushing you back to lay in the dirt and kissing about the clear parts of your belly. he nips at the swell of your breasts in your bra, sucking and kissing wherever he saw fit. “er– eren,” he's prying your legs apart, pushing them ‘till your knees were besides your ears. “eren, stop–,” then he's plucking your panties out your ass and sliding them up your thighs, he stretches the thin little things beyond repair to sling them off your ankles. “what the fuck,” you whisper, eren's fucking unreachable n’ you're both staring at your fat puffy cunt. he takes a second to look to the side at ony’ before returning his attention to your pussy, sprinkles of water sliding down, yet the blubber of slick collected between your lips was noticeable.

the pretty thing was so fat your hardened clit could barely peak through. eren dips his tongue deep, digging at your hole then dragging his tongue through your folds illiciting a low gasp. the cold metal bar in his tongue nudged at your clit. he curled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, giving it a few flicks before spitting and licking another strop up your cunt. “feels– fuckin’ good, eren, oh,” you whimper, his gentle motions paired with the ambient beating of rain against your skin had you on a high. he shakes his head side in your cunt, arousal making sticky strings beside his cheeks as his nose nudges the fat of your pussy. “holy shit,” you press your head into the soft ground beneath you, eyelids fluttering shut when eren suckles softly on your clit. you hum and moan, licking your lips and feeling your head spin, “‘ren . . . oh my god,” he slurps noisily suctioning his mouth over your pussy, sucking hard over and over and over again relishing in the throb of your clit against his tongue.

“he knows, baby,” ony’ murmurs and your mouth drops open with a loud moan, his voice just did something for you. you felt the muscles in your legs twitch, itching to close them with each swipe of eren's tongue and swirling pleasure in your tummy. your hands dig into the dirt behind you, legs quivering.

“tastes fuckin’ good don't it?” he's mumbling and eren's groans into your pussy sends shockwaves against your clit, he nods vigorously. “ohh– shit,” you sit up on your elbows digging in the mud, hair soaked and heavy and your legs only spread wider; your eyes trained on eren's tongue making sloppy circles around the fat mound in your pussy.

eager, you slip your hands into eren's wet curls, stuffing his face into your cunt, “eren, eren– yea-ah!” his groans rumble in his throat and here came the fucking waterworks. your climax comes hard along with several slick kisses to your clit, beads of sweat and rain slipping down between a furrowed brow and a guttural moan ripping from your throat.

eren's mouth releases its latch onto you, your legs flopping into puddles of dirt beneath you. “prepped her f'you,” eren licks his lips and looks to onyankopon who sits there with a fat bulge beneath his jeans although unbuttoned.

“mm yeah?,” you both shuffle over to the wet patch of hay ony’ sat in, slightly less soaked albeit equally as muddy.

onyankopon gestures to eren with two fingers as he lifts himself up, brushing water from his face and allowing eren to take a seat against the wall. your eyes flicker between them, sitting with your butt resting on the heels of your feet feeling exposed. it doesn't help that eren reaches behind you to unhook your bra, your cheeks feel hot. nevertheless, you slip them off your arms.

onyankopon shucks down his jeans just below his ass, “ [ ], come right here,” walking on your knees you shuffle forward to ony’ who puts a hand above the swell of your ass, pressing his bare chest to yours. ony's gaze is something serious, he bends his neck and clasps his lips to yours. it's slow, methodical and hot. onyankopon breathes deep and groans into your mouth. your body goes limp a little: drooping in his grasp and relaxing against his body as his tongue gently guided yours against his own. “mhm, okay . . . okay,” he presses a few kisses to your lips with a squeeze around your throat as he weans you off his mouth.

“turn ‘round,”

you whine, “w'nna look at'chu,”

ony's unmoved, he swallows, “look at ‘ren, baby,” and he guides you as you turn in the slippery mud to arch your ass up to him, his palm glides down the small of your back deepening that arch while your head rests on your folded arms before you. the position makes it hard for you to focus properly on eren, you peep at him through your eyelashes.

your cunt is sticky, swollen lips bound together by the white film of your arousal after the orgasm eren gave you, and you feel ony's hands kneading your ass. he spreads them, watching your pussy lightly spread open with it. you hear his belt buckle jingle slightly as his hands continue to massage your back right along with the downpour. ony’ grips his cock in his hands, tugging the thick thing lightly a couple times. he catches eren staring as he pumps it harshly before pressing the fat tip against you.

“fuuuck,” ony’ slaps his cockhead at your entrance letting it get coated by your arousal before slipping the first inch in slowly and already you're speechless. “holy– shit,” your cunt stretched to accommodate the girth and ony’ grips the curve of your back for leverage, letting out a guttural groan while slowly inching into you.

he sits in it for a moment, allowing you just a moment to familiarize yourself with the fat pipe he just lay in you; then, he's pulling out slowly and pushing in again and you whine. “what the fuck,” you feel ony’ lean his weight over you, and you gasp as he starts smacking his hips to your ass.

paired with the wetness of the rain, his hips leave a stinging slap against you and you're faltering with your tits mushed against the mud. eren left your pussy sloppy, your cunt whipping up loads of cream slick around ony's cock and your mouth is just ajar. jaw tightening with shallow, whiny moans cascading past your lips, ‘ah's and ‘oh's are all the men hear. “mm, ony’,” you try to murmur, body giving way fully to the mud beneath and ony's grip on your tightens,”watchu’ want, hm',” he grumbles.

oh how he knows nothing of the way your clit throbs everytime his heavy balls slap against your cunt.

“wan'— wan’ it deeper, please,” and you gasp hard when ony’s hand comes up to your ass, digging his thumb into the curled rim of your butt before bringing a foot to the ground for leverage; his ankle beside your ear, you eagerly grab onto it. “got fuckin’ good manners, don't she?” he grunts out, and the other man nods.

onyankopon gives you two warning strokes, pressing his cock to the hilt and curling his thumb inside your ass and you feel overwhelmed. then, you gasp in a loud sob as ony’ starts drilling his cock deeper into you, his hips smack you hard and his weight presses you everytime he drives his cock in. “fuck, fuck–,” you're squealing, hands draw digs into the mud as you can't help but writhe against the mud. “feel good?” you all but whine in response, “feel fuckin' good?” “ye- yes!” you mewl out. ony’s muscles contract and you can see it in his leg, intent on keeping you from sliding away from him under the soaked muddy slop.

the noises are . . . obscene. pornographic bursts of air shooting out amidst the stirring up of your melting cunt and your cheeks burn with embarrassment along with fresh tears streaming but you're breathless. “so fuckin’ loud,” ony’ mumurs, his lips curling into a smile when he hears the noises you make.

“m’– fuck, m’ sorry,” you weep and your walls squeeze ony’ tight. you feel a glob of slick collect at the tippy top of your cunt, the fat bulge of your clit and stickily drip down onto the ground with each rock of your bodies. “takin’ m'shit fuckin’ good, sugar,” onyankopon drawls low and you sob.

you hear him whistle above you and with a quickness eren's pants come into view. he sits, legs spread with his groin in line with your face against the ground. he scoots forward enough so he can lift your head and replace the mud beneath your nose with the musk of his balls. “‘ren, ‘ren, ren,” you're chanting, itching for your orgasm approaching with each quick and sloppy drag of cock in you. “m” right here, girlie,” ony's pummeling you from behind and your drooly mouth now has eren's pretty tanned cock slapping against it. “holy– fuck, hng- shit,” you mutter out before you're latching your lips onto eren's tip, inviting him into your mouth. he controls it, gripping your braids and rocking your head onto his dick.

“c'mon, c'mon, takin’ that shit s'fuckin’ good,” eren praises when he starts to snap his hips into your mouth, matching ony's strokes. he strokes your soaked hair gently, juxtaposing the nasty aggression each rock of his hips brought. you gagged, muffled, globs of spit streaking down your chin as you relaxed your throat for eren's dick. in the same way, you're making a mess on ony's cock, coating his length in hot creamy release that trickled down your own cunt. “she's fuckin’ creamin' on it, E',” and you moan when eren laughs cruelly above you, “cream on y’fuckin’ cock, ma’,” he grunts.

each drag of cock against the ridges of your cunt, the slosh of your mouth had you moaning in a frenzy. “was’ ya’ problem, huh?” eren groans out, and onyankopon knows exactly what your problem is.

“mama's bout to fuckin’ nut, huh?” he can feel the extra squeeze around his cock and rolls his neck to let some rain coat his face and distract him from his own ache. they listen to how you squeal around eren's cock, hands grabbing at his jeans and ony’ pumps his thumb into your ass consistency.

“mmm, fuck,” onyankopon hums, angling himself so the curve of his cock digs at you just right, and he smiles: satisfied when you start to squirm and fuss beneath him. eren pulls you off and you sob, coughing a little to clear your larynx. you whimper as eren all but ruts against your face. “keep her right fuckin’ there,” ony’ groans and you grasp onto eren's jeans, cunt twitching with each movement yet eren forces your shoulders back to keep your body where ony’ wants you: daggering his cock into you with a forcefull quickness that eren's rutting mimics.

“ohmygod, oh!” you blubber out, chanting ‘shit, shit, shit's

“gon’ leave you fuckin’ gapin’, quit playin’,” and you weep.

your hips twitch and you feel the knot in your stomach stiffening, “wan’ you're cum, want y'all's c–cum, fuckkk,” wail into eren's skin and take his cock back into your mouth just as your cunt spurts and your ears feel clogged from the rush of blood to your abdomen. “take it, take it, take that cum, baby,” eren groans. you felt light-headed, stars twinkling at you around the edges of your vision as your eyes rolled and soon you were forced to blink away the brain fog to swallow the thick loads eren gushes into your mouth.

he whines, unabashedly and onyankopon gives you a couple more strokes before his cock is digging into you to bury his surge of cum into you with a hiss.

eren falls back, letting you catch your breath and stroking rain away from your face. ony’ pulls out quick before you start to get sore, giving your cunt a few wet slaps before eren's pulling your limp aching body onto him to give you some relief. “gotchu’, gotchu’.” he consoles.

“c'mon, E,” ony’ rushes, “huh?”

“gotta’ get out the fuckin’ rain,” he puffs out a laugh before he's lifting you off eren. they both try not to slip in the mud, hurrying off into the ranch for long hot showers.

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reasonsforhope · 7 months ago

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Scientists have developed a new solar-powered system to convert saltwater into fresh drinking water which they say could help reduce dangerous the risk of waterborne diseases like cholera.

Via tests in rural communities, they showed that the process is more than 20% cheaper than traditional methods and can be deployed in rural locations around the globe.

Building on existing processes that convert saline groundwater to freshwater, the researchers from King’s College London, in collaboration with MIT and the Helmholtz Institute for Renewable Energy Systems, created a new system that produced consistent levels of water using solar power, and reported it in a paper published recently in Nature Water.

It works through a process called electrodialysis which separates the salt using a set of specialized membranes that channel salt ions into a stream of brine, leaving the water fresh and drinkable. By flexibly adjusting the voltage and the rate at which salt water flowed through the system, the researchers developed a system that adjusts to variable sunshine while not compromising on the amount of fresh drinking water produced.

Using data first gathered in the village of Chelleru near Hyderabad in India, and then recreating these conditions of the village in New Mexico, the team successfully converted up to 10 cubic meters, or several bathtubs worth of fresh drinking water. This was enough for 3,000 people a day with the process continuing to run regardless of variable solar power caused by cloud coverage and rain.

[Note: Not sure what metric they're using to calculate daily water needs here. Presumably this is drinking water only.]

Dr. Wei He from the Department of Engineering at King’s College London believes the new technology could bring massive benefits to rural communities, not only increasing the supply of drinking water but also bringing health benefits.

“By offering a cheap, eco-friendly alternative that can be operated off the grid, our technology enables communities to tap into alternative water sources (such as deep aquifers or saline water) to address water scarcity and contamination in traditional water supplies,” said He.

“This technology can expand water sources available to communities beyond traditional ones and by providing water from uncontaminated saline sources, may help combat water scarcity or unexpected emergencies when conventional water supplies are disrupted, for example like the recent cholera outbreaks in Zambia.”

In the global rural population, 1.6 billion people face water scarcity, many of whom are reliant on stressed reserves of groundwater lying beneath the Earth’s surface.

However, worldwide 56% of groundwater is saline and unsuitable for consumption. This issue is particularly prevalent in India, where 60% of the land harbors undrinkable saline water. Consequently, there is a pressing need for efficient desalination methods to create fresh drinking water cheaply, and at scale.

Traditional desalination technology has relied either on costly batteries in off-grid systems or a grid system to supply the energy necessary to remove salt from the water. In developing countries’ rural areas, however, grid infrastructure can be unreliable and is largely reliant on fossil fuels...

“By removing the need for a grid system entirely and cutting reliance on battery tech by 92%, our system can provide reliable access to safe drinking water, entirely emission-free, onsite, and at a discount of roughly 22% to the people who need it compared to traditional methods,” He said.

The system also has the potential to be used outside of developing areas, particularly in agriculture where climate change is leading to unstable reserves of fresh water for irrigation.

The team plans to scale up the availability of the technology across India through collaboration with local partners. Beyond this, a team from MIT also plans to create a start-up to commercialize and fund the technology.

“While the US and UK have more stable, diversified grids than most countries, they still rely on fossil fuels. By removing fossil fuels from the equation for energy-hungry sectors like agriculture, we can help accelerate the transition to Net Zero,” He said.

-via Good News Network, April 2, 2024

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helpesslywriting · 3 months ago

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I can't get over the one sided love of a deity trapped in stone with a newcomer to their land.

Fields of Misteria has a dragon statue that seemes to be romanceable later on named Caldarus. They are immortal and trapped in stone because they have grown weak and their memory fuzzy.

You nurse then back into power by collecting nature essence by doing things around your farm. Cutting grass, tending crops. Cutting trees, clearing rocks etc.

I can't get over this idea of one sided longing or enamorment now. A mostly silent being who watches from afar as you wake up everyday just before the sun comes over the mountains in the distance and begin your work.

Diligently clearing land, planting and lovingly caring for your crops. The strength you built as an adventurer coming in handy with cutting down large trees and smashing large rocks with ease. The gentle way you handle your farm animals and the bonds you build with the community.

The beam of pride you have when you complete a days worth of work. Tired, sweaty, dirty---but happy and content.

They watch you get frustrated when you get tired and you're so close to being done, when your backpack gets too full too soon, watching you take breaks to restore your stamina and how you treat animals, even bugs, with kindness by shooing them away before clearing the next plot of land.

They see the gentle smile of your face as you water and weed your plants and hear you regale the silent stone with stories of your adventuring days. They see you run past into the village with gifts to give and materials to offer, help to aid those that need it.

They feel sad when you sleep in, noting how unusual it is for you to sleep in late and plead for you to take care of yourself and not push so hard. The mines are dangerous and their power is limited.

The find themselves worrying for you. Did you remember to make food? Are you eating a proper diet? Are you remembering to rest? You can be so stubborn sometimes.

They despise being so weak, they wish to speak to you more, to see your eyes light up with new information and to keep you company. To aid you in your self appointed quest of a manageable farm and happy life.

They find themselves excited for dawn, when you come out and stand in front of their statue--coffee in hand while you plan your day, knowing they can't respond but still treating them kindly, gently.

You make sure to scrub them clean when the rain comes to avoid mildew and moss growing on them. It can't be comfortable and somehow you think of it like a virus for them. They're your friend and you want them to be taken care of, since, as a statue it's not like they can clean themselves.

They think you are devoted to kindness to those around you.

And they wish to reward such devotion.

By returning it in kind.

#beauty and the beast #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #fields of mistria #Caldarus #caldarus the dragon #dragon statue #Fields of Mistria Caldarus headcannon #headcannon #one sided love

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bldhrry · 4 months ago

Text

gold rush

Cassian x Fem!Reader Summary: After stopping your father from clipping your wings, Rhysand offers you refuge in Velaris at the House of Wind. Living with Cassian isn't terrible but he is loud and annoying and overly interested in you. Despite his overbearing nature, you can't help but start to fall for him. Masterlist

warnings: cursing, abuse, suggestive language, kissing

word count: 9.2k

author's note: lil cass slow burn! hope you like it n lmk what you think!

When you woke that morning with blood soaking your sheets and legs you knew you stood no chance against the expectations of females in the village. You hid your ruined bed sheets and night clothes in your closet and despite an hour in the bath, your scent was simply too strong and your father pieced it together quickly.

The start of an Illyrian female’s cycle was the death of her wings and you were desperate to save them. You loved your wings; they were unlike any of the other villagers. Unlike their dark brown, yours were a reddish pink and the sun shone through them easily revealing all the intricate veins that hid beneath the skin.

Your father chased you around the house and despite efforts to dodge his attacks, he cornered you in the kitchen and before you knew it he had your hair in his fist, dragging you to the village square. You were to be made an example to the other females in the camp that this was inevitable and although you were the daughter of a camp lord you were not an exception to the culture. Your wings were not meant to be used; they were simply decorations and nothing more.

You had put up a fight, kicking and screaming and scratching your father and when you had managed to escape his grasps, the other lords were quick to tackle and pin you down. A few received bites and threats, but this wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. This was an almost everyday occurrence.

Your father threw you on to the stone pavement and you rose to your hands and knees and tried to scramble away but he grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and flipping you around.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled at him, kicking his stomach.

It was raining so bad you could barely see what was going on but you felt him release his grip on you but it was quickly replaced by another set of hands and your father made his way behind you. He grabbed the talon on your left wing and pulled you up so you were on your knees and through the rain you could see the glint of the knife he held in his hand.

You started to cry, your tears mixing with the rain that was pouring down your face. “Please,” you begged, twisting in his grasp.

You tried keeping your wings tucked in so he wouldn’t be able to destroy them, but it was to no avail as he forced them open and pierced it with his knife.

You screamed and fell forward on to your chest. Whoever had been grabbing you was gone and you crawled away from your father, the knife still lodged in your wing. He maintained his grip and the more you moved, the more the knife ran down the muscles, tearing them apart.

The rain was so loud you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching or the voice that demanded your father to stop. But you felt it. The knife was ejected and you felt the weight of your father off your back. You didn’t stop to see what had happened. You pushed yourself up to your knees and stumbled; your left wing couldn’t move, throwing you off balance so you staggered forward, trying to find some place to hide but the rain made your visibility almost nonexistent.

A hand, large and firm, grabbed your wrist and without thinking you whirled around, your fist connecting with a nose. The movement threw you off balance again and you stumbled backwards into someone else, this time their chest. They tried to straighten you, but again, you raised your fist and swung, but whoever it was had a quicker reflex than the previous person and grabbed your wrist mid air.

“I’m here to help.” The voice was deep, but elegant.

You tried to pull back, but their grip was too strong. “Get the fuck away from me,” you growled.

They stepped closer to you and you squinted and as their face came into view you let out a small gasp.

It was Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court.

Rhysand, with his arm around you to support your weight, and his male companion took you to the healer and there you sat as the healer promised you that the wing would heal and you would still be able to fly.

The male companion, who you had recognized in the faelight was Cassian, the Court’s General.

“You pack one hell of a punch, sweetheart.” He laughed and pushed more tissue into his nostrils.

You had fractured his nose and his face was already starting to bruise. You should’ve felt bad and apologized, but you didn’t. You weren’t sorry and in fact you were proud of yourself for leaving marks on every single person who had attacked and put their hands on you today.

And maybe, just maybe, Cassian should have not grabbed you so aggressively given the situation.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Rhysand said from across the room. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was pissed and he made no attempt to hide it. Despite the law forbidding wing clipping, the practice was still widespread amongst the villages. You were lucky he was visiting that day and that your father was stupid enough to do it while he was there.

You didn’t say anything and you weren’t going to thank him either. He needed to do a better job at preventing this.

So, you let out a breath of annoyance through your nose and straightened yourself, looking into his violet eyes. “Thank you for doing what is expected of you, my Lord.” You drawled out his title, narrowing your eyes at him. This was the one thing he said he would do and yet almost every female in the village had their wings clipped.

Rhysand’s face flushed and he looked down in shame.

Cassian let out a laugh of surprise earning a glare from Rhysand. But Cassian didn’t care. He was in pure awe of you; in awe of the fight you put up, the strength of your punch, and your confidence of chastising the High Lord. You showed no fear, just rage.

The healer gave you an ointment to put on your wing nightly and sent you home, but as you left you stopped, looking around. Your father was receiving his punishment along with the other lords and you knew if you went home it would be chaos. Your mother was gone and you had no other family. You had no home left.

“I take it you have no other family in Windhaven?” Rhysand stood next to you, his hands in his pockets. His gaze was soft, sympathetic, and incredibly apologetic.

You didn’t want to let him see your fear and sadness so you scowled up at him. “No.”

“I have more than enough room at the House of Wind in Velaris. You are welcome to have a home there.” Seeing your apprehension, he quickly continued. “If you wish of course. It is the least I can do.”

You grunted. It was, actually. And you really did need a place to stay. You accepted his outstretched hand and he winnowed you away to your new home and your new life.

You lived with Cassian and Azriel in the House of Wind. They were incredibly kind and good roommates even if they both left their dishes out and never cleaned up after themselves and put their feet up on the coffee table. Okay, maybe they weren’t the best or the cleanest, but at least they were kind and you enjoyed their company.

Your room was on the opposite side of the House from where their rooms were. You claimed it was because you wanted your own space, but really it was to avoid another awkward run in with an almost naked Illyrian.

Azriel was your favorite. He was quiet, kept to himself, and cleaner than Cassian. Every time he spoke it was with a purpose and you appreciated that. You hated nonsensical conversations and that’s the one thing you hated about Cassian.

He had a lot to say about nothing. He asked stupid questions and never stopped talking; you didn’t think you had ever seen him sit in silence. He asked you what you did with your day and when you responded with a one word answer he’d ask you for details; he asked about the books you were reading and what they were about and you wouldn’t have minded this had it not been when you were actively reading.

“How was your day today, sweetheart?” He bounded into the kitchen and you could’ve sworn the walls shook. He always called you that and it was obnoxious but you could tell in the tone of his voice it meant nothing more than a friendly pet name.

“Nothing.”

“Just nothing?” He sat across from you.

You were reading yet another novel and was attempting to have a peaceful, quiet lunch.

“Yes,” you huffed your response hoping he would get the hint you wanted to be left alone.

But Cassian was stupidly oblivious. “What exactly does ‘nothing’ entail?”

“It means I did nothing.” You looked up and gave him a deadpan stare. “I read and went to the library.”

He smirked. “That’s not nothing.” He chuckled at your frown. “I love when you make that face.”

“I’m glad I amuse you.” You looked back down at your book, sighing.

“You do.”

There was something about his tone and the way he said it that made you look up and he was looking at you with an unreadable expression. Something like sadness, and maybe longing, flashed in his eyes and for the brief second you tried to decipher it you were struck at how beautiful his eyes were. They were hazel with more green than brown and if you looked closely enough they had a sheen about them that made them seem alive with mischief.

He quickly composed himself and flashed her a lopsided grin. “I actually think you’re very funny.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “How interesting.”

He eventually left, claiming he was tired and wanted to take a nap but as you read your mind drifted to that look in his eyes. It cut you inside and you felt an unfamiliar feeling spread in your chest.

Rhysand offered you a place in his Court and his Inner Circle after six months of living there. He would have asked sooner, but wanted to give you time to settle in and look at him with something other than distaste.

You didn’t hate Rhysand. You just wished he did a better job at protecting his people. Wing clipping was cruel and stripped away all autonomy that Illyrian females had, forcing them to rely on the males in their life. It kept them trapped in an endless cycle of oppression.

You knew it had to be difficult, hell maybe even impossible, to regulate all camps and enforce the law. You were rational in that thought process and you couldn’t fault him for that; he was trying his best. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be angry for yourself and for every female across Illyria.

He made you Cassian’s “Second” despite the fact that you had no formal battle training or knew nothing about how the camps worked outside of the domestic duties of a home. You hadn’t even been born during the war with Hybern. You were essentially a glorified assistant with a seemingly important title. Your job was to accompany Cassian during his visits, or rather inspection, of the camps and check for compliance and the status of the training and would be warriors, and hopefully soon, the integration of females into the training ring.

This, you scoffed at. If Rhysand couldn’t stop wing clipping then how the hell did he think he would be able to force the camp lords to allow females to train?

You didn't care to ask questions, you were just grateful for a job and something to do. There was only so much to do at the House and in the city and you were bored. You had essentially become a librarian with how well you knew the library.

After saying your goodbyes after dinner you were about to fly back to the House when movement to your right caught your eye and Cassian was running after you, a boyish smile lighting up his face.

“Are you excited to be working together?” He breathlessly asked when he came up to you.

You gave him a sarcastic look and smiled. “Enthusiastic.”

His smile faltered and for a brief moment you felt bad, but his face lit back up and he grinned at you. “Well, I think if we’re going to be working together at the camps then you need to learn how to fight. What do you think?”

You mulled this over for a few seconds and shrugged. “I was never allowed to, so I’m not going to be any good at it.”

He waved dismissively. “That’s fine.” Then he leaned towards you, that stupid grin on his face, and much to your disbelief you found yourself tilting your head up, your faces inches apart. “I like a challenge.”

His tone was playful but at the same time it wasn’t. Hidden beneath those four words was a promise. A promise of what, you couldn’t pinpoint, but the way he said it, his voice raspy and dropping an octave made your heart skip a beat and your breath catch in your throat, a familiar heat rushing through your veins. He seemed to notice this, his eyes glancing ever so quickly, but slow enough you noticed, between your eyes and lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early at six.”

Training was fucking awful for both you and Cassian. You thought too much about your movements, double guessing yourself which resulted in your stumbling and falling or a strike from Cassian. Wielding a sword and dagger was uncomfortable and felt so unnatural that you had thrown down the ones Cassian gave you a half hour into training. You preferred hand to hand combat much to Cassian’s dismay. The more you trained and the stronger you got, so did your punches and kicks and while he tried to hide the bruises, he couldn’t hide the limping to his room after your sessions.

“You need to stop thinking so hard and just trust your gut.” Cassian told you.

It was a hot Summer day and the sun was relentless as you sweated under its hot rays. Cassian had repeated himself at least six times by now and you were getting so frustrated. He kept coming at you so fast and hard that you didn’t have time to register his movements. And when he did slow down and gave you some space you spent too much time considering his next move that by the time you decided on how to counter, he had already knocked you down.

“If I trust my gut then I would just throw you off the fucking balcony.”

He laughed loudly and shook his head. You were brash and quick witted and sometimes he would press your buttons just to hear what insult and remark you'd come up with. You were incredibly creative with them.

You two had been training for three months at this point and you actually weren’t that bad considering how awful you were in the beginning. He didn’t mind teaching you how to fight and in fact he knew you enjoyed the routine. You were always on time and if he looked hard enough he could see a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. He liked that you always had questions that even followed him out of the ring and he particularly enjoyed the way you sought him when you found something interesting in the countless books he had given you on the art of war and fighting.

You two hadn’t gotten closer so to speak, but you were tolerating his presence a little better than before. As of recently you didn’t mind his pointless talking and incessant questions. He had a loud personality but it suited him well; a big personality for a big male.

He was conventionally attractive and on the first day of training when you had entered the training ring, he was already there finishing his warm up shirtless and sweaty. It had taken your breath away; he wasn’t just good looking, but he was downright sexy. He was beautifully built with broad shoulders and extremely prominent muscles. His hair, jet black, touched his shoulders in waves and his skin was a flawless brown that seemed to glow no matter the lighting. His face was chiseled, resembling a god, and you found yourself admiring it while he was busying himself with preparing whatever he had planned for the day.

You hated that you started to notice all of this and the way it made you feel. Sometimes he would catch you looking at him, your eyes fierce and aflame with something he couldn’t name. You didn’t mean to look at him with such discontent, but you were discontented. He was gorgeous and you liked him. You liked him a lot. You liked his childish and crude sense of humor and his contagious laugh. You liked the way his brow came together when he was concentrating and the way he shifted on his feet when he was thinking.

Cassian liked you too. You were gorgeous with thick hair that reached your mid back with cheekbones that were high and round and a slightly pointed chin; your face resembled the shape of a heart. Your body was unlike anything he had seen before; you had gained a lot of muscle since you had started training and it filled you out in places that he was ashamed to look at. You had a naturally round body with wide hips and thighs and a slightly slim waist; your chest was big and your shoulders wide. But his favorite feature were your eyes; they constantly had an analytical look to them like you could see through everything and everyone. You regarded him with a mixture of interest and indifference and while he couldn’t figure out exactly how you felt about him, he took what he could get and tried his hardest to get and keep your attention.

It was a bit pathetic how hard he tried with you. He followed you around like a lost, starving dog, and the only time he was fed was when you looked and talked to him. The conversations were always short and you never cared to entertain him with a discussion that had no end goal or a discussion that wasn’t started by you. You were selfish in that way but he would take what he could get. Which really wasn’t a lot but he didn’t mind.

You both never forgot that night on the front lawn of Rhysand’s townhouse. Cassian thought of the way your eyes widened and you leaned into him ever so slightly when he did the same and the way your lips, full and slightly pink, parted when he spoke. You also thought of the way Cassian had smiled at you, a mix of joy and seduction, and his eyes, usually a light hazel, were a dark amber that seemed to see your soul in ways that made you want to hide. In your darkest moments you thought of his voice and his breath fanning your face and the way he said those four words made your knees wobbly and you gut tightened.

Cassian didn’t just mean it in the sense that it would be difficult to train you given your inexperience but also in the sense that he knew you would be difficult to get to know. He also knew it would be a challenge to get you to like him, both platonically and romantically. Whether you consciously knew it, you were guarded and armed to the teeth with walls so thick nobody had yet to learn anything about you. You chose your words carefully, but not your facial expressions. You were quick to let Cassian know in little and polite words that you didn’t care about what he was talking about, but your face said you would rather bang your head on the table than hear him speak about the bird that took a shit on his wing as he flew to meet Rhysand and Azriel.

“No training tomorrow,” Cassian told you as you walked out of the ring.

You had a better session today ending with you only falling once and Cassian dodging all of your jabs.

“Oh.”

Cassian could’ve sworn you sounded disappointed.

“Why?” You finally asked halfway up the steps to the House.

“I have an assignment in Windhaven.”

You stopped on the steps and he turned to look at you. Your eyes were sharp as they narrowed on him and he suddenly felt very naked under your stare. He could see the gears turning in your head as you took in the information.

“Shouldn’t I be going with you?” You finally asked after a few seconds.

It was his turn to give you a look, cocking his head to the side. “If you want to, I guess.”

You resumed your walk up the steps, brushing past his arm and he sucked in a breath at the contact. “Well, I think I have the right to go given we are supposed to be working together. Right?”

“That is very true, sweetheart.”

“Yes I know. That’s why I said it.” A few moments passed before you spoke again. “Why didn’t you ask me?” Your voice was soft as you two walked into the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway and watched as you grabbed two cups from the cupboard and filled them with water.

“I didn’t think you’d want to go. It wasn’t anything personal, I promise.”

You hummed and leaned against the counter. “I know it wasn’t; you’re not that kind of person. But,” you raise your eyes to him, “it would have been nice to be asked. I have a job here too.”

You’re not that kind of person. The statement took his breath away and you tried to figure out why he was looking at you so bewildered.

“I’m sorry,” he gave you a soft smile and lowered his head. His face shifted and his eyes grew mischievous and his smile turned into a grin. His stance relaxed and he crossed one foot over the other. “If I didn’t know any better, sweetheart, I would think you wanted to spend time with me.”

You scowled and he reveled in the way your face contorted when he annoyed you. And you did it often.

“Well, it’s a good thing you do.”

You two left early in the morning before the sun had risen and flew in silence to the camp. You loved flying, especially so early in the morning; the world was so quiet and peaceful and the only life around were the birds who let you fly so close to them you could see your reflection in their eyes.

You never truly felt at peace for some reason. Your body was always wounded up with stress and anxiety and the anticipation of whatever the day was going to bring, but when you were in the sky nothing mattered but the sun on your face and the wind whispering in your ears.

Cassian could see how relaxed you were. A smile ghosted your features and it was probably one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. He was looking at you so intensely that he didn’t notice he was leaning towards you until he bumped your wing with his.

You snapped out of your trance and side eyed him and he chuckled. “Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes. “First time flying?”

He blushed and bit his lip. No, he wanted to say, just looking at the most beautiful thing in the world. But he didn’t. Instead, he just straightened himself and led the way.

After another two hours of flying you two landed on the doorstep of Rhysand mother’s house.

“After you,” Cassian held the door open and you walked in.

It was an appropriate size with a living room and two rooms to the left and a kitchen to the right and a set of worn stairs in front of you. A fire was already going in the hearth and it left a warm glow on the furniture and walls.

The size of the house suddenly shrunk as Cassian walked in. His hair grazed the ceiling and he had to turn sideways to get through the door frame. It was a comical scene and to his surprise you laughed, your head tilting back and your eyes squeezing shut. He stilled, his hand still on the doorknob. You looked stunning.

“What is so funny?” Cassian shut the door and leaned against it.

“You look ridiculous. You are too big for this house.” You bit your lip and clasped your hands together, trying but failing to suppress another laugh.

“And that’s funny to you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No,” your face stilled and you grew serious, standing straighter and brushing your hair over your shoulder. But it quickly dissolved as you let out a snort and covered your mouth, turning away.

He did look insane in this house and you weren’t sure why you found it so funny. You were aware he was freakishly tall and built like a bull, but the House of Wind was so big it made him look an average size. But here, in this normal sized cottage for normal sized people, he looked so out of place and his indifference to it all was hilarious.

“I’m glad my vertical condition amuses you, sweetheart.” He brushed past you taking your bag to your room and to your shock he took his bag to the room next to yours.

“Our rooms are next to each other?”

And without looking at you, Cassian said, “yeah so be careful bringing anyone over; the walls are so thin.”

You hadn’t seen your father since you had moved to Velaris and you were glad for it. You never liked him; he was mean and cruel and had driven your mother to madness and eventually her death. You had never forgiven him for that or any of his misdeeds for that matter. Sometimes you fantasized about his death and how much relief you would feel knowing he was burning in hell, paying for his sins.

You sat across from him during the meeting with the camp lords. You wore traditional fighting leathers and like Cassian you had a sword strapped to your back. In reality you didn’t know how to use it or how to fight, really, but appearances mattered with males who thought they were better than everyone and it mattered to you for them to know just how good you were doing.

Your father’s stare was overbearing as he took in your clothes and weapons and the hard set look in your eyes. You looked just like your mother and he hated that.

“We are just here to oversee the training of the warriors and your preparations for the Blood Rite.” Cassian had an easy going, but threatening smile.

He knew these people hated him. They hated that he was a bastard; they hated how powerful he was; and they hated that he was above them, giving them orders and commands.

Devlon frowned at Cassian. “We have 200 warriors. They train from dawn to dusk. And nearly all of them have qualified for the Rite. What else is there to see?”

Cassian shrugged, rubbing his siphons. The red glow was enchanting and intimidating. “The specifics of our visit are on a need to know basis; I hope you understand.” His smile was sent a chill up her spine.

Devlon’s frown grew but he knew better than to argue. “Fine,” he sighed and waved his hand in a dismissive nature. “Just don’t bother them while they train.”

And with that the group disbanded. You got up along with Cassian and nodded to everyone. They didn’t bother to look you in the eye or say goodbye as they left, but you kept your head high and your hands folded in front of you. This made you appear strong, but in reality you were hiding your shaking hands.

When they all left you let out a shaky breath and cleared your throat, sitting back down in your chair. You wrapped your wings around your shoulders, cocooning yourself within them.

“You okay?” Cassian’s voice was soft and he placed a hand in between your shoulder blades.

His touch was warm and soft despite the calluses on his hands and you found yourself wanting to lean into it and maybe even ask for more. Instead you moved away from it and cleared your throat, tucking your wings in and standing up.

Facing him, you gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded. “Of course.”

You two strolled through the camp after the meeting. You weren’t really here to oversee the training, but to see about properly implementing the law banning wing clipping. Since you had left, nobody else had been subjected to that abuse but it was only a matter of time that someone did it, causing a domino effect and it would come back in full swing.

You had only been here a day and you already wanted to leave. It was dull and sad here and looking up at the sky you couldn’t help but let out a groan. You missed the sun in Velaris; in Windhaven the sky was always gray and dark like this place was destined to be constantly punished by the gods.

“That bad huh?” Cassian had noticed that you had not smiled once or chastised him for being annoying since arriving. You weren’t sure which one concerned him the most.

“It just sucks here.” The response was juvenile and it made him smile.

“I hate it too.”

You knew of Cassian the warrior, but nothing else except for what you saw at the House. And it hit you in that moment you had never thought to ask and it made you stop in your tracks and you pushed out your bottom lip and squinted up at him. “Why?”

The question threw Cassian off. You had never asked him anything about his personal life.

“Bad memories.” He shrugged. “I lost my mother young and was tossed here having to beg for scraps.” He had a far away look in his eyes and your heart lurched in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” and you meant it.

By the fifth day of the “mission,” you two had come to the conclusion that trusting the camp lords to enforce the ban was futile and that a permanent position in overseeing it was necessary. You had known that from the start and reminded Cassian of such with a sarcastic, “I told you so.”

Cassian was writing out his report for Rhysand and you were laid out on the couch, a book in your hands. He had made little to no progress on completing it; he kept getting distracted by you.

You were laying on your stomach with your head propped up with one hand and the other cradling the book and your leg hiked up, making your backside more prominent than it already was. It was a crazy sight and his head was dizzy every time he beheld you. You were completely enthralled in your book that you did not notice how tightly he was gripping the papers in his hand or the way his knee bounced furiously and the way he shifted ever so slightly in his seat.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how soft your skin would be beneath his hands or the way you would react to his touch, your back arching slightly and your breath coming out in soft pants. You were playing with your lip as you read and he admired their color and fullness and then he pondered how they would feel against his and how you would taste as he swallowed your moans. He could picture it clear as day and it scared him slightly how vivid and real you existed in his mind. Cassian was so trapped in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you calling out to him or hear you walk up to him.

He jerked when you touched his shoulders and you saw how crazed his eyes looked, wide and his pupils blown, drowning out the green and leaving gold in its wake.

“You okay?” You asked, your brow furrowed together in concern.

He had been so quiet all night and it worried you. He was usually talkative and aggravating but he hadn’t said a word since you two settled in the living room. He was staring at the papers but it was like he was seeing through them and his leg was bouncing a mile a minute. You worried you had upset him by asking about his past and you thought of apologizing but you didn’t want to bring it up again and upset him even more.

So instead you opted to leave it to him to tell you if something was wrong.

Your hand was still on Cassian’s shoulder and your face was so close that your hair tickled his arm and he sucked in a deep breath and your scent filled his senses, making his nostrils flare. You smelled like lavender mixed with pine.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, placing the papers on his lap and prayed that it concealed his erection.

He leaned away slightly, hoping that some distance would calm his nerves and you noticed it, feeling your heart sink.

You jutted your bottom lip out slightly and exhaled through your nose, straightening but keeping your hand on his shoulder. “Okay. I was just checking.”

Your eyes locked with his and he still had a look that was a mixture of disbelief and fear and it made you look at him even harder and you found yourself leaning, invading his space again.

Cassian stilled so much he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore. His skin felt so tight and his pants even more so. He could feel his blood pump through his veins and his heart was shuddering with every beat. You were so, so close that it sent an irrational fear through him; anything could happen right now and a million scenarios ran through his mind, all of them including you and him kissing and what happened after that varied.

Leave him be. Back up. Go to bed. The thoughts were so loud but you didn’t move. You were entirely entranced by his gaze and you were rooted in place. He smelled like the aftermath of a forest fire, the air thick with smoke clouding your vision and making its home in your lungs. You felt like you were in a haze of him and you couldn’t find your way out and honestly, you didn’t want to. It was comfortable and warm and oddly safe.

You barely heard yourself over the roar in your ears as you asked Cassian once again if he was okay, but you definitely heard the way he rasped out his response. It was a stangled “yes” and your entire body grew hot, so much so your vision tunneled and you could only see him.

His response wasn’t just a direct answer to your question. It was a response to the unspoken questions floating between you two and he hoped you had understood that. It was also a plea, a one word beg for you to close the distance and let him lose himself in you. He didn’t just want it, but he needed it. He had this ache in his chest since the day he met you that no amount of times he thought about you while he pumped himself into oblivion could quell it. He begged Rhysand to give you a position that would keep you close to him and you didn’t need to train in order to work with him but he made up that excuse so he could spend even more time with you. And it was worth it even if you gave him a blank stare when he said something ridiculous or when you snapped at him for bothering you.

And this closeness was only making it worse. You were so close but so far and he didn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable and shatter whatever you felt for him, if you did at all. So he stayed where he was, letting you make the decision, praying it was the one where you kissed him.

But to his utter disappointment, you released the grip on his shoulder and pulled away, giving him a pained smile.

“Okay.” You exhaled, expelling the thoughts and feelings and his scent from your body and mind. “Goodnight, Cassian.” And as you walked to your room, leaving him reeling from this three minute encounter, you turned and gave him another smile. “If you need to talk just let me know.”

He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and felt like he was being stabbed. “Of course. You too.”

Neither of you slept that night.

He spent an hour in the bathroom, making himself finish three times and even then he couldn’t get his erection to go away. You had stood so close to him that he could see the brown that flickered in your eyes and every pore on your face and even now he could smell you on him, like it was clinging to his skin, taunting him.

You didn’t rest either. The bed was uncomfortable and the room was too hot and the blankets made you itch. You couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes and the way his lips were parted just enough you could imagine your tongue snaking its way in, claiming it. If you allowed the thought to fester, which you did, you could see yourself moving against and feel his arms around your waist helping you reach your climax and you could also see his eyes, with their pupils blown, staring into yours, encouraging you.

You made the fantasy stop there. This was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. You couldn’t say why or rationally curse yourself for these thoughts and feelings, but this was wrong and just couldn’t happen.

It was unrealistic anyway, really. Cassian had lived a life you couldn’t even begin to fathom and though he could act like he knew nothing, he actually knew a lot. He always had an answer to your questions and could go on and on about the endless strategic tactics used when fighting. You could listen to him all day if you could.

You were a camp lord’s daughter from a village that hated the existence of your gender. Your education had been cut short and you were forced to teach yourself basic arithmetic and reading beyond a grade school level. Your dreams were crushed beneath your father’s boot and any flame of ambition was snuffed out and replaced with patriarchal propaganda. You were a nobody wanting a somebody.

You two were complete opposites but were the same in your insecurity: thinking you weren’t enough for each other.

The tension between you and Cassian was so thick that Azriel started to sleep at Rhysand’s townhouse.

You and Cassian still had your morning training sessions but you both pulled your punches and kept your distance which ruined the point of training.

You were avoiding him, too. He still looked for you during breakfast and lunch and made unformatable small talk. You couldn’t bear it and after a few days you started taking your food in your room.

You did want to be around him and hear whatever nonsense came out of his mouth and his pointless questions because you had a gripe with how you felt about him. You felt stupid with the way your mind became foggy when he was near and how you stared at him when he wasn’t looking and most of all how your body came alive when you saw him. It was embarrassing and you hoped by spending less time with him it would go away.

You hated crushes. They were childish and pointless especially when pining after someone like Cassian. You knew so many people wanted him and it was evident the few times you had gone to the city with him. Females and even some males were shameless in the way their eyes trailed his body and the way they openly flirted with him when they stopped him in the streets. You never felt jealous about this because you completely understood the appeal but you knew with how many people he could choose to be with, you wouldn’t be the one he wanted.

Cassian noticed the way you would scurry away when he came into the room and stiffened when he spoke to you and it broke his heart. It aggravated him to degrees he didn’t think was possible. You had no reason to avoid him unless you were put off by the night in the cottage and you didn’t like him anymore, if you ever did. Maybe you were tired of being around him and the way you seemed to detest his presence prior was real and you finally got sick of it. He wasn’t sure but he missed you in a way that was foreign to him; he missed your scowl and raised eyebrow that said ‘are you fucking serious?’ He also missed the way you would curl up on the couch, with your feet tucked in underneath you, and smile at whatever you were reading, holding your lip between your fingers. But he especially missed your eyes and how they saw him. You saw him in a way that was entirely too personal despite you never asking him a question; it was like you could see every single thing about him and sometimes he could see a glimmer of acceptance dancing in them.

He thought about that night in Windhaven and the way you looked at him with concern and a hint of need. The scent of your arousal that night mixed in with your natural scent followed him wherever he went. He would smell it at the most random moments and he was ashamed to admit that it caused a physical reaction that left him biting his lip and stifling his moans and no matter how often came, your name falling from his lips, the craving for you never ceased. It was driving him crazy. He had never felt like this before and he knew that even if he had you, it still wouldn’t be enough. He had the idea that he would never not need and want you.

You had been eating a snack in the kitchen when Cassian sauntered in. He had seen you when he had walked past and decided to essentially trap you so he could get just a few minutes of conversation. He missed your voice.

You didn’t hear him come in but you felt his presence immediately. It was powerful and filled the room and seeped into your pores, making you flush with heat. Your body tensed at it and you glanced up and he was already looking at you, that stupid grin on his face.

“Hey.” It was a greeting but a dismissive one as you looked back down at your book.

“Hello.”

You could hear the smile and joy in your voice and you just knew he was going to bother you despite seeing you preoccupied. You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose waiting for the avalanche of bullshit that was going to spew from his mouth.

From the corner of your eyes you could see him brace against the counter and scan you. Your body tensed even more.

After a few seconds Cassian sucked in a breath and bit the bullet. “Why are you avoiding me?”

The question was unexpected and you looked up at him and frowned. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes you are.”

“No. I am not.” You punctuated each word hoping he would understand those simple, yet clear, four words.

“You are,” and before the scowl could take root in your face he added, “we don’t hang out anymore.”

“We never did to begin with.”

“Fine, you don’t let me hang out with you.” Now that was more accurate.

You shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what? Walking the house and the city and reading?” His words were dripping with annoyance and sarcasm.

“What I do is none of your concern, Cassian.”

He made a noncommittal noise and sighed through his nose. You noticed the way his shoulders sagged slightly and he took his cheek in between his teeth. “You don’t want to be around me anymore.”

You scoffed. What the fuck? “You’re being absurd.”

“Fine, then let’s hang out. We can go to the city.”

You gave him a blank stare and looked back down at your book. “I’m busy.”

“You’re eating crackers and reading.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. This was stupid. He was being stupid. “This is being busy for me.” You gestured to your book and before he could counter you added, “and frankly, Cassian, if you’re taking this personally that’s just not my problem. If you think I’m avoiding you, then maybe, you should take the fucking hint.” Your eyes were hard as they stared into him with such conviction he stepped back even further into the kitchen counter.

He made a small noise that you could only discern as shock and a little bit of anguish, but it was quickly replaced with narrowing eyes and a set jaw. “You’re a fucking bitch.”

This made you roar with laughter and you got up, pushing your chair back behind you. “Excuse me? What the fuck is your problem?”

“I try to be nice and do you a favor and be your friend and you act like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world!” He didn’t mean to get loud with you but he was so tired of being rejected.

“Do me a favor?” You took a step forward. “I never asked. You did that on your own. And have you considered that maybe I don’t care to be more than your roommate? Have you considered that maybe it’s not all about you?”

He matched the distance you took towards him. “And why is that, sweetheart?”

Because I like you. Because whenever I’m with you I feel like I can’t breathe. Because I want you so much I feel like my body is going to explode.

But you didn’t say that. It was too beneath you to be that pathetic over a male. “Because I don’t care about you.”

This stung Cassian, bad. And Azriel and Rhysand, who had been eavesdropping, grimaced at the blow.

Cassian cleared his throat and he felt tears starting to sting his eyes. “Well, sweetheart, that is not very nice is it?”

It wasn’t and it wasn’t the truth but the actual truth would make it too real. You had been pining for him for months and if you said it, confronted it, spoke it into existence, and he rejected you then…you didn’t even want to consider the aftermath. You hated the feeling of falling because you knew sooner or later you knew you would crash and hit the ground.

“I’m sorry the truth hurts, Cassian.”

Cassian took another step towards you and he was so close your chests were touching and you had to tilt your head up to look at him.

“You don’t mean that.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “I just said it, so yeah, I mean it.”

“You don’t.”

“By the cauldron, Cassian,” you hissed and his eyes widened slightly. “I don’t owe you shit. So, do me a favor and fuck off.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist.

He scowled and sucked his teeth. “You’re a fucking coward, you know that?”

You made a face, a ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ face, and it made Cassian smirk. He loved it when you did that.

“Look me in the eyes and say that shit.”

The demand startled you. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it. Full of anger and rage and a slight twinge of despair. His eyes were hard and dark as they bore into your soul and you sucked in a breath. You knew he was seeing right through you and through the lies that were falling from your lips.

And it was true. You hadn’t looked at him every time you took a jab at him. Instead you opted to look around his face or close your eyes in feign annoyance. This would be your downfall because the longer you looked into his eyes the more you felt like you were drowning, being pulled under and covered in the green and gold and brown that swirled in them.

“I said what I said so deal with it and leave me alone.”

He tightened his grip on you and took another step towards you and you were acutely aware of how close you two were. One move and he would consume you.

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Why? Because you don’t mean it?”

Yes.

“No, because I’ve already said it and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

He snorted. “You’re impossible.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and you followed the movement.

You two stood in silence for a few seconds and he saw your expression shift from one of annoyance to longing as you said, barely above a whisper, “if I did,” you cleared your throat and straightened yourself, “it wouldn’t even matter.” You meant for your voice to sound strong and defiant but instead it came out broken and hopeless.

He matched your volume and his eyes turned soft, the brown taking over. “It would.”

You popped your hip out and made a face that said ‘you’re joking, please be serious, and leave me alone.’ He smiled and took his lip in between his teeth. Gods, he loved the faces you made. So real, and transparent, and comical, and expressive. You could say nothing but it all would be said in the ways your eyes narrowed, your eyebrows raised, and the downturn of your lips.

“It would matter a lot because unlike you I wouldn’t lie about how I feel about you.”

You didn’t say anything but you squinted your eyes and tilted your head, once again silently asking, what the fuck are you talking about?

“So, tell me the truth.”

You narrowed your eyes and huffed, stomping your foot. “You know Cassian you are the most obnoxious and annoying person I have ever-” you weren’t able to finish your sentence because Cassian cupped your face and crashed his lips into yours.

It was the most exhilarating feeling in the entire world. His hands, so big and warm and confident in their hold of you, made you melt and the sensation of his mouth working against yours made you see stars. You stumbled with the force and failed your arms slightly to steady yourself, but Cassian removed one hand and grabbed your wrist again, placing it on your chest and you gripped his shirt and threw your other arm around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

You pushed yourself on to your toes in an attempt to get closer to him and with a small groan he arched his body down against yours and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. You matched the way his mouth feverishly overtook yours and it wasn’t long after that he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip asking, no begging, for entrance and you allowed it, moaning as he explored and tasted you.

This was exactly how he imagined you would feel, sound, and taste. This was even better than what his imagination had conjured up these past few months. You were soft beneath his grasp and you moved your body as his hands trailed down your back and under your shirt, gripping your waist. The sounds you made were small and quiet but they vibrated his body and his pants grew tighter and tighter and he feared that if you pressed yourself into him more he would come undone.

You had thought about this moment for so long, too and the reality was so much better. His stubble scratched your chin and his hands engulfed your frame and his tongue dominated your mouth. You wanted to be entirely consumed by him and he was doing just that and it was like the heavens had come to you. Your hands roamed around his chest and shoulders and hair; he was firm and his skin tight as you explored his body and you ached to know every muscle and crevice, every scar and expanse of skin. You yearned to know him and you didn’t think this level of need was possible but here you were, silently, mentally begging for him to take you and reach for the stars.

He pulled away and you followed him with your mouth, a small whimper leaving your lips. Your eyes were still closed, reeling from his touch. Cassian’s eyes were still closed too as he brushed his lips over yours and brushed his nose on the tip of yours. You two were panting, your breaths heavy and moving in synchrony.

A small smirk spread across his face as he brushed his lips against yours again and you tilted your head, trying to capture them in another searing kiss.

“Tell me again,” he kissed you. “Tell me you don’t like me.” Another kiss. “Tell me you don’t care about me.” Another kiss. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You wouldn’t because it wasn’t true. It was never true. Yes he was annoying and sometimes you detested his presence but at the end of the day he was fun and kind and made it a point to include you in everything he or the Inner Court did. You secretly did like when you asked about your day or what you liked to do. Nobody had ever been interested in you back home; how you felt and what you wanted was of no concern to anybody. All that mattered to your father was that the house was picked up, the laundry was done, and the dishes were clean. It felt amazing to be noticed even if Cassian was overbearing with his interest in you.

“I can’t,” was all you said. It was true. You couldn’t lie anymore. You liked him, you cared about him, and you wanted him.

“Good.” Another kiss; this one was hot and long, making you both moan, leaving you dizzy and throbbing with desire.

“Because I don’t just want you, sweetheart. I need you.”

#cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian x fem reader #cassian x female!reader #cassian x female reader #acotar #acosf #acofas #acomaf #acowar #c writes!#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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vase-of-lilies · 11 months ago

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❀ Pairing: Medusa!Wanda Maximoff x Blind!Reader (F)

❀ Warnings: Reader is “sacrificed” and “saved by Wanda”, so much fluff, really quick acceptance, sexual content, Wandas snakes have their own personalities and love to mess with the reader when she is just snuggling with Wanda or when she is just chilling (lol), fingering, oral (r receiving), Wanda just flicking our bean while out on the beach, the snakes calm reader down IDK OK,

❀Disclaimer The pictures only represent aesthetic and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. Credit to who made the pictures in the banner as well.

❀ Authors Note: I have started reading the story called “Stone Blind” and it is a re-telling of the story of Medusa and telling the “true” story of how she became the “monster” she turned into. I feel like that even though Medusa was assaulted, she deserves love and I think that having a blind reader would help her feel like she was loved based off of her personality, not of fear. This story is a little lighter than the others, but it still is dark with hints of kidnapping and captivity. I will also be keeping Stheno and Euryale, Medusa’s original sisters, just for the organization of plot purposes! There are quotes in here that are loosely based on “Stone Blind”! All credit to Natalie Haynes for the style of Medusa I use!!

It’s a cooler summer day in Greece, rain feeding the dry crops with much-needed food. The drought that Zeus brought to the mainland was devastating, causing crops, veggies, and fruits to cripple before they were ripe enough to pick. This was a punishment for the greediness the people were showing, thriving a little too much to the god's liking.

It wasn’t uncommon for the god to be selfish like this. He would often flood the fields with too much water, making them die equally fast. Your village was one of the many affected by this cruel situation. You later learn that Zeus had a bad day and wanted to take it out on someone other than his poor wife in the clouds.

These games he played were difficult to navigate, as the world through your eyes was sightless. Just like tinnitus in the ear, your eyes seemed to feel the same way; clouded and blurred figures with every movement of your eyes. You were born this way, and no amount of begging could have changed what you encounter daily.

However, with this blindness, your other senses are heightened. Your hearing was better than most, and you did everything possible to protect it as it was your most powerful sense. Every chirp of a cricket, creek of a door, a voice outside your home. You could hear it all.

It was a blessing and a curse at the same time. “She won’t even know we are gone, she can’t see us. Out of sight, out of mind.” This was the last thing you heard from your parents before they abandoned you. Your heart broke when you heard those words, never feeling such betrayal from someone you loved before. It was that moment that caused you to shut off your emotions to other people.

At the age you are now, it was difficult to find really anyone who would accept your blindness, and love who you were on the inside. What never occurred to you was the fact that you needed someone who felt the same. Someone who felt an insecurity that needed to be validated by someone similar.

This was exactly how Wanda felt. She was the youngest of the Gorgon Sisters, born a mortal human but was punished by a goddess out of jealousy and spite.

The goddess Athena was spoiled by her father, getting everything and anything she wanted with a snap of her fingers. When she was betrayed, she didn’t punish Poseidon, who in fact was the person who caused this problem in the first place. She punished the poor girl who was hurt by Poseidon, all because the situation unfolded in Athena's own temple.

Why did she choose Wanda to punish? Because she was mortal and did not have to suffer through centuries of war and turmoil. The night she went to Wanda's cave, her sisters were out hunting; gathering for their mortal sister so she could eat. Athena took this opportunity of Wanda's solitude to torture her, ripping every piece of hair from her head, forcing red, writhing snakes to take their place.

She was in pain for days, her scalp burning with every movement the snakes made. Her nights were spent screaming and sobbing into the darkness of her cave, her sisters trying everything they could to soothe her. They were only met with silence until the day she finally spoke up about who hurt her. Her sisters were angry with the sea god for even looking at their loved one. They had their own way of punishing Poseidon, but of course, the god couldn't care less. He was powerful and could do whatever he wanted, just like his niece Athena.

Some could say that Athena took pity on Wanda for what her uncle did. And to keep the other gods away from her, the powerful goddess turned the girl's beautiful locks of hair into a head of writhing snakes. This was for protection from her uncle and any of the other greedy and overpowered gods that rule the world.

No matter the tale that one has heard, what is true is that Wanda is now considered a monster just like her sisters. But who determined what a monster was? Was a monster someone merely different from you? Or was it men that made everything monsters? Men seem to be afraid of powerful women, or women with sharp teeth, wings, and tusks.

Monsters are misunderstood.

The two sisters are some of the most gentle creatures to adorn the earth's surface. Sure, they hunt animals and look a little scary, but they keep a flock of sheep, learn how to cook bread, and take care of their mortal baby sister.

The first time they met Wanda, Stheno’s talon gently brushed along her cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen when she arrived on the sand. Now that Wanda is a grown woman, her immortal sisters adapted to her needs. She spent most of her time on the beach, but now spends her time in the depths of her cave, too scared to come out of fear that Poseidon will hurt her again.

Stheno and Euryale vowed to never let anyone hurt their beloved sister ever again. They hoped that one day she would find a lover who would be willing to love her for who she was. Someone she could grow old with, and love with every fiber (and snake) of her being.

The snakes… they each have their own personality. There are thirteen (13) in all. Wanda or anyone for that matter has named them or really knows the difference. However, the two snakes at the very front of her head, close to her temples are easily told apart. On the left, there is Fang. She has a visible attitude and can hardly believe her fate was to be on top of someone's head. On the right, there is Lucky. Just like her name, Wanda could tell that she felt lucky to be a part of her host. Fang was sassy and defiant while Lucky was just happy to be there.

Though the rest of the snakes are just as present as Fang and Lucky, they each have a mind of their own and tend to make Wanda laugh despite her fate. Their hisses of protest when Stheno says that it’s getting dark and to come back into the cave, or when Euryale asks Wanda for her help with something while the snakes are sunbathing. My god, do they love the sun!

You did too. It was for a much different reason than what a seeing person might believe. You loved the sun for its two main purposes; to light up and warm the earth. Now, that may be what everyone thinks of Helios, the god of the sun. But to you, it meant so much more. With no sight and just a blurry field of vision in front of you, the sun kept the colorful blobs of people and obstacles slightly more viewable.

Selene, the moon goddess was not your favorite. Although she lights the night, most occasions it is only a sliver of light. Once a month do you really get to enjoy the darkness with some light guiding you from place to place. On the nights of the new moon, you stayed in the comfort of your home for the night. Although you could not see the phase of which Selene was in, you knew the darker the next night got, the closer it was to a new moon.

On one particular evening, you were unaware that it was a black moon. Meaning it was the second new moon in a months time. It was getting dark, but you had the thought that it would be bright enough to make it home, only to make a wrong turn when a man pushed past you.

Villagers helped you put your fallen fruit back into your basket, and a kind woman gives gently places your bamboo guiding stick back in your hand. You thank them, but you missed the opportunity to ask them the direction of your home. Physically you knew where you were, but again, it was getting dark and you were all turned around.

Hoping for the best in a difficult situation, you chose to turn right. Usually at this cross road, you would be facing North and your home was East, so you would turn right. Unfortunately, this rocky path led you right to Poseidons’ sea itself. And the god was ever so pleased to have a clueless woman enter his domain. Coming up from the oceans depths, he approaches you in your wandering state.

“Can I help you find your way, miss?” The god asks. Your head follows the voice to the right, unaware of who asked the question.

“I may be a bit lost,” You say with honesty. “I was on my way back from the market, but stumbled and lost the direction I was going.” Explaining yourself to the stranger felt like the logical explanation, but Poseidon used your confusion against you.

“No, I think you’re in the right place…” He smirks, gently putting his hand on your shoulder. Your head snaps to the sudden touch, clutching your baskets handle a little tighter. Poseidon isn’t aware of your blindness, all you are to him is a means to an end. He is in debt to his father, Kronos.

Poseidon knew the moment you stepped foot on to his cool sand, he knew you were perfect. As a god, you think he would know everything about you, but you were very wrong.

“Here, let me help you find your way back to the road.” He says, removing one of your hands from the basket handle. You allow him, but you are confused as you continue to feel sand beneath the sole of your sandals. The moon was not there, and you were helpless.

Kronos, the god of time, was betrayed by his son. Poseidon decided to ask his father for time. All the time in the world, when he got ahold of Wanda. He wanted to spend every waking minute with her, fucking her and holding her when she is begging to see her sisters again only to drag her under the oceans surface when he is bored of her. Poseidon gets bored very easily, but Wanda’s pussy was different. Although his father did not question what he was going to use this time for, automatically a debt was owed.

Poseidon decided against using this time with Wanda, as her whining and begging becoming increasingly annoying. So he sent her back to her sisters to live in peace. That is, until Athena came along of course. He was adamant that he shouldn’t have to pay his father back since he did not use the time. Kronos lended him this time willingly without question. He was determined to get it back. And Poseidon had his sacrifice right in front of him.

His hand pulled you in the direction of a large rock by the edge of the water, a place that Poseidon remembers greatly. Andromeda was supposed to be sacrificed there, but Perseus swept in and came to the rescue, stopping a large sea monster with the help of Athenas spear and Artemis’s winged sandals. It was a shame to see such a beautiful sea creature leave the world in such a damaging way.

“Here we are, back on the road again, just a little further,” Poseidon says, his other hand taking the basket from your hands.

“Hey w-wait, I need tha-” You are cut off by a calloused hand clasping over your mouth.

“Just stay still and it will all be over soon.” The god whispered in your ear. Your breaths were staggered as you heard his words, confused by what he meant. Soon his hands were untying the soft rope from around your waist holding your silk toga to your body. The fabric fell to the ground, leaving you only in your under garments. You whimpered, trying to understand what is happening.

“Please, whoever you are, let me go. H-have my fruit, t-take the gold!” You fought hard against the gods rock hard torso, fearing for your life.

“I told you to be still!” He shouted. His arms wrapped your body and he threw you over his shoulder. Damp hair rubbed against your skin as you struggled and a chiseled arm wraps their way around your legs to keep them still. A hard hit to your barely covered ass made you yelp, and you tried scratching at Poseidons back. The immortal couldn’t feel pain, so he took no thought of it.

With little to no trouble at all, he put your squirming body on the sand and held his hand over your neck to keep your back against the rock. The power he had was nothing compared to your mortal strength. So he held you still by straddling your legs, while his hands expertly tie your wrists together with the very rope keeping your toga on.

“Please sir, please I’ll do anything.” You whimper as tears fall from your grey eyes. The god ignores you and takes the chain set under the rock by Zeus himself and begins to connect your now-restrained wrists to it. You were trapped, and you could only pray to the gods, any of them, to show you any mercy.

“There. No need to cry, little one. You are a divine sacrifice for a god that has a lot of power. Don’t struggle, it makes him angry.” Poseidon said, and he tightened his already perfected knot in the rope.

He stepped back from your crying form and looked up to the sky. “I come to give the debt I owe! Isn’t she enough, father??” He shouts his arms opening. The sea is uneasy, his emotions controlling the tide.

Thunder claps and you know Zeus is present. “No, brother. Not now.” Poseidon growls, the intention of this sacrifice going to his father, not his sibling.

The rain soaks into your skin and clothes causing the thin band holding your breasts and underwear to become sheer and see-through. Poseidon took notice of your exposed body and paused his message to his father. Making his way to you, he smirks as he sees you trying to move your wrists from the sturdy, iron padlock connecting them to the chain. “It’s no use, ομορφιά μου (my beauty).”

You don’t look at him, your futile attempts at escaping only end in failure. He growls when you ignore him, not acknowledging his clear compliment at calling you “his beauty.” Approaching you, he knelt down in front of you and roughly pulled you to face him by your chin. The moment his eyes met yours, an epiphany hit.

“You’re blind?” He asks, pulling his hand away from you like you were a leper. He knew his father would never take such a broken sacrifice. “Disgusting.” He spat while he stood up. He begins to walk away, your ears barely picking up on his steps thumping in the sand.

“W-wait! Wait please let me go! I wan-want to go home!” You shout his way, but the god only ignores you walking into the sea and leaving you exposed for anything.

In a sense, you were grateful that you were no longer Poseidon's sacrifice. But you were still stuck in your current situation, so you went to your last resort. You started to call out, shout, scream, to anyone who you thought could save you. An hour had passed and your voice was nothing more than a croak.

You were starting to believe that you were going to die on a God's beach with no one in sight to help you. However, someone was watching from afar. A woman who fears to look at you without the knowledge that you are blind. But she was in the same position as you, and she wanted to help you. Yet, she hasn’t had anyone to keep for herself.

So she considered. Would she be just as evil and selfish as Poseidon for taking you? Could she make you believe that she rescued you and instead not let you leave her cave? Stheno and Euryale would most likely not approve, Wandas sisters love her and only want what is best for her. The snakes on Wanda’s head hissed in question, Lucky gently rubbing her scaly head against her cheek.

“I know, I really shouldn’t. But she was a victim of that retched god too. Maybe I can finally feel in control… when I am in control of her? I- I don’t want to turn her to stone…” Fang hissed in response, her tongue tickling her opposite cheek. “I could blind fold her, and you’re right, she needs someone to take care of her. She looks like she’s about to die right there. That bastard…” Wanda says to Fang, starting her journey from the beach's small cliffs to the rock you were restrained to.

Before she makes it to you, she gathers the fruit that fell when the god took you and sets them back into the basket. Then she reaches for your discarded dress and picks it up as well. Finally, she reaches you. Her heart breaks when she sees you. Your wrists are rubbed raw, blood soaking the brown rope surrounding them, tears are stained on your cheeks and your eyes are closed.

Wanda rips a piece of cloth from your toga and kneels down next to you. Peacefully asleep, you are still as she ties the cloth around your eyes. With the blindfold on, Wanda leans her head down to the rope encasing your injured wrists, one of her snakes near the back of her head — the one with much sharper fangs — begins to chew on the rope. The rope broke free and your arms fell loosely to your lap.

The smallest whimper left your mouth, exhaustion keeping you fast asleep. Wanda admired your stoic look, your exposed chest moving up and down slowly with each breath you took. She sighs softly, knowing how it felt to be left exposed, for anyone to come across. Her empathy grew as she looked at you, your nipples were seen through the sheer fabric of your strophic (greek bra) and the wind nipped at your skin causing goosebumps to pebble.

Shaking her head and mentally cursing the sea god, she wraps the fabric of your dress around your body; Adding a length of seaweed to keep it secured to your waist. Oh so gently, she lifted your unconscious body into her arms smiling as your head rolled against her chest. Lucky and Fang were eager to meet you, both of their heads trying to get as close to you as possible.

“Hey, you’ll get to meet her when we go back home, ok? I promise,” Wanda chuckles, and the snakes pull their bodies back to their place closer to her scalp.

The journey to her cave was not very far, just around the bend of the cliff. North of where you were destined to be sacrificed. She took care with each step taken, making sure that her prized possession was still asleep, and comfortable. Lucky and Fang looked over you as you slept, keeping their distance until Wanda let them say hi. As scary as they may look, they are all puppies at heart.

Chills crept up your spine as Wanda entered the cave with you in her arms, and goosebumps began to pebble on your skin. She takes notice, gently laying you down on her straw bed in the dim fire-lit cave. Your head lulled to the side, causing Wanda to jump slightly, forgetting that you had the blindfold on to protect you.

Stheno and Euryale were surprised to see another woman besides their little sister inhabiting the cave, and they curiously looked over your unconscious body.

“Wanda? Who is this sleeping woman?” Said Stheno, creeping quietly behind her sister.

“I don’t know her name yet, but I saved her from an untimely death. Poseidon had gotten ahold of her, hoping for a sacrifice, but was unsatisfied by her,” Wanda explains, sighing as she drags her knuckle down your lightly textured cheek. “That bastard is nothing but trouble.” She sighs, trying her hardest to not look at her sisters, understanding that even immortals can turn to stone with one gaze at her eyes.

Euryale eyed Stheno, worried that Wanda may be turning into someone she swore to never become.

“Did she come willingly?” Euryale asked, settling her wings against her feathered back.

“She hasn’t woken up yet, but I am sure that she will understand, right?” Wanda was anxious about your awakening, your acceptance of your stay was appreciated and not feared. “Should we wait outside until she wakes up?”

Wanda's older sisters nod their heads. “I don’t want to frighten her when she opens her eyes. I believe we would be some of the last monsters she would want to see.” Of course, they don’t know that you are unable to see…

“I will go tend to the sheep,” Euryale said.

“I will go set up a fire on the beach and start cooking your meal,” Stheno said, both creatures leaving to do their tasks.

“And I will go help, and wait for my sleeping beauty to awaken.” Wanda says with a smile, softly swiping her thumb over your cheek.

~~~~~~~

The same as every other day, your eyes open to a blur of shapes and colors. However, this time is different- you are met with complete darkness, the atmosphere is cold and almost damp, and the scent of salt water fills your nose. There is cloth over your eyes, something you don’t take mind to. Trying to find where you are, you feel around your surroundings to retrieve your guiding stick only to be met with sand, small rocks, and straw. These sensations were familiar but not something you would regularly wake up to.

Standing up, you struggle to navigate through the cave you concluded you were in, reaching for a wall or something to stabilize yourself with. You let out a sigh of relief as your hand reached a rocky wall. Now you were stuck, you didn’t know what way led out of the cave.

“Hello?” You call out, your voice echoing through the cave. Your head turns in the opposite direction as you hear padded footprints against the sand. Your worries heightened, unknowing of the person approaching you.

“Hello dear, I’m so glad to see that you are awake, how do you feel?” The smooth voice of a woman is heard. Gentle, yet assertive. Confusion melts across your face and you take an unintentional step back, causing a slight hissing from the woman in front of you.

“I- I feel fine, wh- where am I?” You ask, distressed and scared. Being unable to see every day was fine with you, as long as you knew where you were. That fear skyrocketed the moment you woke up in a new environment.

“No need to worry about that, sweetheart. Come with me,” The woman said, and with a soft hand, she grabbed yours. The unexpected contact started you, but you followed nonetheless.

“Who are you, a-and why am I here? I want to go back to my home, please.” Cracks in your voice made Wanda turn to face you, only to be met with tears rolling down your cheeks.

She sighs and stops just at the entrance of the cave. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry, you are safe here now. That god won’t get you here.”

“God?” You don’t remember what had happened the night before, your memory fogging up after falling at the crossroads. “What do you mean, “safe now?” I just want to get back home, the fruit was so expensive.”

Pulling away from Wanda, you grab at the cloth around your eyes. The fabric falls from your head and hits the ground faster than Wanda can stop you. Panic fills her system, and she quickly turns her head away from you, her head of red snakes following.

A soft red tendril of energy hits your temple, and you fall unconscious. Before your body hits the ground, Wanda turns and catches you just in time. Guilt takes over her as she looks at your sleeping form, Lucky and Fang are equally as concerned for you as their host.

The scaled head of Fang nudges against Wanda's cheek, a small hiss emitting from her mouth. “Yes, she’s ok. She was nervous and wanted to see where she was, I know that. Im just going to put her by the fire until she wakes up.” She responds to Fang, her little eyes rolling as she gently taps his head from getting any closer to you.

As gently as she can, Wanda lifts you into her arms and brings you out to the fire that Stheno lit. She sits down and lays your head in her lap, softly brushing a few grains of sand from your cheek. A groan emits from your closed lips and you subconsciously roll your body closer to the warm fire. It brings you a sense of safety a blanket could never do justice.

But the feeling of being so close to Wanda felt just as safe, even though you did not know where you were or who you were even with. Her presence gave you a comfort that you hadn’t felt before. Her soft toga rubbed against your cheek, and you nuzzled into it subconsciously. Wanda’s lips turned up into a smile, petting your hair with a gentle hand. The sensation begins to wake you up, pulling you from your forced slumber. Slowly your eyes open, the dull shade of yellow filling your blurred and confined field of vision.

The blindfold was still on, however, you didn’t mind this time. Whoever’s hold you are in made it clear that they do not want to be seen. Although you are unable to see, you keep your eyes glued to the fire in front of you, the light slightly dimmed by the blindfold.

“Are you awake, dear?” Wanda’s voice sounds from above you, and you nod your head that lays in her lap.

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice filled with curiosity but not fear.

“My name is Wanda, and you are here with my sisters Stheno and Euryale. You are safe, sweetheart.” Wanda responds, her knuckle softly dragging down your cheek. She smiles as you begin to sit up, allowing you to fully sit next to her.

Your next question was quick to exit, “Where are we? I was on my way home but was turned around,” You explained your situation, leaving out the part where the god almost sacrificed you to his father but left you for the dead when he decided you were not good enough. “I hear water,” You point out.

“Yes, we are on the beach a ways North from Athens. You needed help, as when I found you, you were chained to a rock,” Wanda said bluntly. “But you’re safe now,” Her snakes hissed at the thought of the woman in front of them being used as a sacrifice, but Wanda was quick to hush them. “And what is your name, sweetheart?”

The feelings of the rope around your wrists caused you to cringe in disgust, your arms wrapping around yourself.

“R-right…” You respond, trying to get the thought of death from your mind. Shaking your head, you sigh softly and lean back on one hand, answering Wanda's question, “My name is Y/n.”

“What a beautiful name, but I think I’ll stick to calling you sweetheart. Is that alright?” Wanda asks, her finger softly brushing over the exposed skin of your arm. A small smile grows on your lips and you nod.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be,” You say, a small giggle leaving your mouth. “I- um, I do have to ask. Why am I blindfolded?” The question was burning at the back of your skull for what seemed to be hours. From the first time you woke up to now, you had been aching for an answer.

Wanda hesitates. When she was turned by Athena, she never looked at her sisters. Even though they were immortal, they could still turn to stone if they met her gaze with their own. You hear a soft sigh and her soft voice tainted with sadness answer, “There is a dangerous creature around here that has the ability to turn any entity into stone once you look into her eyes. I cover your eyes for the purpose of protection.”

“But I can’t see,” You protest, reaching for the fabric. Wanda's hand wraps around your wrist as she stops you. “No, you don’t understand, I can’t see, even with the blindfold off. I was born blind," you explain, trying to help the woman in front of you understand that you were not in danger.

“Blind?” Wanda asks, your hands falling into hers as you move to your knees. “Meaning, you are unable to see anything?”

You nod, hoping she can see you. “Yes. There are only blobs of color here and there, but other than that, I can’t see a thing.” It was always difficult to explain what you could see. There was no reason it should be this hard as you could always say: ‘I can’t see anything,’ but you always go to the ‘blob of color’ explanation first.

“I don’t want to risk it, sweetheart. Blind or not, we don’t know who is not affected by her power,” She pauses, “Ive only just begun to get to know you, I don’t want to talk to a statue of such a beautiful woman.”

You feel heat rise from your neck, to your cheeks, all the way up to your ears. Her compliment makes you smile brightly. “O-oh, thank you…” You say, shyly looking away from her. “I understand, but, I really don’t think I will be affected, honestly!” You attempt to grab the blindfold again, this time successfully ripping it from your head. The fabric falls to the ground and you blink to allow your eyes to settle back to normal. “If I can’t see the creature, I don’t think it will be a bother,” You smile.

Wanda sighs and closes her eyes, pulling her gaze away from your beautiful figure. She hums as she feels your hand against her shoulder, your thumb softly rubbing over her skin. “May I feel your face? I would love to have an idea of what you look like to others,” You ask her, not wanting to seem too forward with your request. “Only if you allow it…”

Wanda keeps her head down, her snakes moving down to your hand to move their little tongues over your skin to learn more about you.

“Oh, oh? What are these?” She hears you say. She is taken aback by the giggling she hears next. “They’re tickling me,” You say, your sweet laughter filling the air. “Is this your hair?” Your finger hovers in the air just above her shoulder and the rest of the snakes lick it as well.

Wanda’s silence is enough to answer your question.

“I wish I could see them, they all seem so gent- ow! Except this little one,” Fang, still a little nervous to be around a new face, bites down on your finger. It was not as painful as you thought it would have been. Wanda jumped at your pain and immediately tapped Fang’s head to discipline her.

“No biting! She is a friend, not an enemy!” Wanda whisper-shouts at her, and you giggle quietly to yourself. “I apologize for her behavior, she knows better.” The snake hisses in return and she sighs as she moves her gaze up just a little bit. Her eyes land on your beautiful breasts, your nipples showing through the thin fabric of your toga. Wanda knows she should not be lusting, but she can’t help it.

You tilt your head at her scolding her head of red snakes, and your hand falls. “I don’t want to intrude on your home. Thank you for saving me, Wanda, but I best be on my way,” You say, standing up. Carefully, you try to reach around for a stick of some sort, nothing close to you. All you can do is stand awkwardly, trying to keep calm as you listen to the waves crashing against the sand.

“No, you need to rest, sweetheart. You’ve had a long day, so why don’t you sit down and we can eat? Stheno has made some bread, and the chicken is just about done.” Wanda tries everything in her power to make you stay, not wanting to force you just yet. In her mind, she knows she will make you stay.

Your stomach rumbles, and Wanda chuckles. “It seems like your hunger has spoken for itself, so lets sit you down again.”

Before Wanda is able to help you sit down, or protest about anything for that matter, you reach up to feel her face, your eyes meeting hers. Although you were unable to see her beautiful green and red mixed eyes, she saw your grey ones. Your irises held no color, and a scar-like line of [your original eye color] strikes through your right eye.

You didn’t turn to stone…

“Wanda… Wanda look!” Stheno exclaims. The woman you are looking up at tilts her head, her power not working on you.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” You ask, retracting your hands from her cheeks. Instantly, she pulls them back.

“No, no you didn’t hurt me, sweetheart. I- I am just surprised… my power, it didn’t work,” She says, churning confusion inside of your head.

“Power?” You pause, putting two and two together. “The creature you mentioned… the one that can turn people to stone, you are her… aren’t you?”

Wanda nods, your hands moving with her head. “Yes, and, I was trying to protect you, but-”

Your thumb gently brushes over her lips, the rest of your fingers ghosting over her facial structure, sculpting a picture in your mind. “I’ve only heard legends of a so called “monster” in these parts. But I have yet to meet a monster… Besides that god that tried to sacrifice me of course, but you? You are no monster.”

Your words made Wanda's heart melt. She has me wrapped around her finger already… there was no way I was letting her go. Her inner thoughts were loud, and she smiled softly as your fingers grazed her lips again.

“I’m very. Much aware of my inability to see what most people can with their eyes. But…” You pause, your hand cupping her jaw. “I do see your heart, and I think you’re absolutely beautiful. You took me in when I was vulnerable and scared, and I can’t thank you enough… You are no monster, Wanda.” You whisper, smiling as you feel Wanda’s arms curl around your waist, pulling you against her body.

“We’ve only just met, sweetheart…are you already falling for me?” Wanda teases, making you giggle as you lay your hand on her shoulder and drop your head to her chest.

“I might be… or I might just be hungry,” You prod back, your stomach doing somersaults as her lips press to your forehead in a soft kiss. “I hope its the former…”

~~~~~~~

As the night went on, you, Wanda, and her sisters enjoyed the food. You were happy you got to know Wanda a bit more while you talked amongst yourselves. She told you about her troubles with Poseidon, and how she became the 'monster' everybody claims her to be. She mentioned how she is still mortal and will die a death as any other mortal would.

It saddened you that she considered herself a ‘monster’, but you comforted her every time. She was not a monster in your mind. She was a victim who was punished for someone else’s doing, as were you. Although it was Poseidon who made his father angry, he punished you by trying to sacrifice you. You found common ground with Wanda.

“I think we will head into the cave for the night,” Said Stheno, nudging Euryale. “Just be sure to put the fire out when you both are done.”

Wanda nodded at her older sisters, shooing them away as she turned back to you. “It is such a beautiful night… I wish you could experience it the way I am,” She said to you, her fingernails tickling your arm as you lay in her lap. Her heart flutters at the feeling of your body weight in her lap, it grounded her.

“I can see how beautiful it is by feeling it,” You turn your body so you are looking up at Wanda, her snakes curiously looking back down at you. “I feel a small breeze against my skin, and I can hear the waves crashing against the sand. I can smell the salt coming from the sea, and I can hear your breaths. All of these things are such a beautiful image to me.”

Wanda’s lips pull up into a smile, a real, genuine smile. It had been so long since she felt as happy as this. It had been so long since she felt so carefree. As you spoke about your experience with your other senses, Wanda softly caressed your cheek. She hums quietly as she notices goosebumps form on your arms. “I have taken my sight for granted,” She says suddenly, taking in everything you said about feeling everything surrounding you.

“To a deaf person, I have taken my hearing for granted as well, but I am grateful that I can hear your voice,” You counter her thoughts, wanting to make her not feel so guilty about her advantage of sight.

“Your thoughts are just as beautiful as you are, sweetheart,” Wanda pauses, her fingers moving from your cheek to your neck. Slowly she moves closer to the dip in your dress, your breasts now free from their undergarments, and lying loosely behind the fabric of your toga. “You have the body of a goddess, the mind of a sage, and such a sweet personality.”

Her hand gently cups your breast, nimble fingers rubbing over your hardened nipple, peaking through the white dress. Your hand goes to hers, holding it still. She freezes, “Can I see you, sweetheart? All of you?” She asks, knowing exactly how it felt being forced to submit to someone much more powerful than her.

As you sit upright, you untie the piece of seaweed holding your dress around your body, the sleeves sliding down past your shoulders finally revealing your round, perfectly shaped breasts. Wanda sucks in a soft breath, an aching in her belly starting to form. She needed you, badly.

From her crossed-legged position on the ground, Wanda moves to her knees. You can sense her shifting, and you look around to follow the noises. Wanda's smooth hands softly guide you to your back, laying you gently against the sand below you. She then slowly pulls the rest of your dress off, exposing the rest of your beautiful body. “You are even more than I imagined…” She whispers, leaning down close to your chest.

She presses a kiss to the valley of your bosom, moving her lips up your sternum and to your neck, hovering just over your jugular. You can feel her smile against your neck and you turn your head to expose more skin to her.

The goddess above you couldn’t hold herself back any longer. Looking at your perfect body from her perspective was riveting, and it drove her mad. Her breath fanned against your lips, your body frozen and waiting for her to kiss you. That dull aching in Wanda's core grew, and she leaned down to kiss you deeply. Your arms wrapped around her neck, and you giggled as some of her snakes licked your hands. But Wanda wanted something else.

Her eyes began to glow a bright red, her head of snakes wrapping around your wrists. You gasped but allowed it to happen. As she leaned down lower, her snakes held your arms to the ground, holding you open and exposed to Wanda. As she continued to kiss you, her hand crept down your belly and to the soft hairs of your mound. She rubbed your petals, smirking against your lips as she could feel how wet you already were.

“Mmm, are you all wet just for me, sweet girl?” She whispers against your lips, chuckling softly as you nod desperately. “Such a good girl,” Her fingers finally dip between your wet folds, perfectly rubbing your button of nerves. A moan leaves your mouth, your legs spreading to give her more access.

“Feels s-so good, W-wanda,” You whimper, never feeling such great pleasure before. Your back arched against the cool sand, your arms still pinned to the sides of your head. Squeezing your eyes shut, you saw starts as the tight coil in your core began to form.

“I can feel that you’re close, sweet heart,” Wanda mumbles darkly against your cheek. Your mind clouded with a lustful mist, your legs shaking as your orgasm came crashing down upon you just as the waves did the sand. A loud moan leaves your mouth, Wanda's name being cried out by the woman underneath her.

Your breaths come out in soft pants, gulping in as much air as you can as your orgasm calms down. But Wanda is far from done. Her snakes uncoil from your wrists and she moves her lips down your body, her mouth meeting your dripping folds. You let out a whimper, your clit sensitive from her previous ministrations. “Relax, sweet girl…” She whispers, “I need to taste you,”

Her lips close on your engorged clit, swirling her tongue in just the right way to make you moan her name. She spreads open your pussy with one hand, her fingers prodding at your tight hole with the other, and you jolt in surprise at the sudden intrusion. Wanda's snakes are quick to calm you down, their heads rubbing against your thighs in gentle circles.

“Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well,” Wanda says, two of her long fingers sliding into your soaking hole, a whimper leaving your mouth at the same time. “Keep making those cute little sounds, love,” She eggs you on and you give in to every command.

Your moans are music to her ears, the frequent movement of her fingers pulling each mewl from your throat. A ‘pop’ is sounded as her lips suctioned off of your clit, but returning soon after.

Her fingers move faster, and her tongue moving around your clit pushes you over the edge, causing your second orgasm to flow through you. Your juices squirt out of your quivering hole, soaking Wanda’s face along with some of her snakes.

“Oh… how beautiful, and delicious you taste, sweetheart.” Wanda smiles against your pussy, pressing her lips to the top of your mound softly and kissing up your body. Her lips wrap around one of your nipples, and your hand reaches to find her pussy.

“Wanna feel you…” You say, rubbing your hand over her belly and lower, finally reaching her pussy as you push your hand under her dress.

“By all means. You are mine and I am yours,” Wanda says, resuming the pleasure of your nipple.

You feel her clit, rubbing her in slow circles at first. Slowly, your fingers move to her hole as well, gently easing into her and smiling as you hear a moan from her mouth. The vibrations from her throat send more pleasure through your nipples, pulling more moans from your own mouth.

As you move your fingers in and out of her wet cunt, the palm of your hand rubs against her clit. You can feel her body shake, her breath quiver, and her breasts against your own body. All sensations you never thought you would love so dearly.

Wanda is close, and she leans up from your nipples to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, her hole clenching around your fingers as she cums. You swallow her moans, your free hand coming up to cup her cheek as you return the kiss.

“Wands,” You whisper, not moving away just yet. Gently, you slide your fingers from her pussy, bringing them to your mouth and seductively sucking her juices off of your digits. “Such a ravishing taste, my love,”

Hearing those last two words made Wanda's stomach do backflips. Belonging to someone was all she wanted, and she wanted you to belong only to her. “Your love?” She asks, pulling away just to see your lips move.

“My love, Wanda,” You confirm, smiling as you lean up to kiss her again.

~~~~~~~

It is long past midnight, and Wanda has you in her arms, both of your naked bodies pressed against each other. With your head on her chest, you can hear her heartbeat, the soft thumping calming and lulling you to sleep.

“Thank you for saving me, Wanda. I- I don’t know what how I can express to you how grateful I am,”

That sparks an idea in Wanda’s head. You were a kind and loving soul, most likely willing to do anything to repay someone for their own kindness. So, she makes her plan fall right into place.

“Stay with me? Live here with me and my sisters? We all can tend to you, help you navigate, and we can even go to the village just East of here. But stay, please?” Wanda asks you, her lips gently pressing against your head as you think.

“I have no one back where I am from. They all shunned me because I couldn’t see. I can’t say no to such an amazing and thoughtful proposal as this,” You sit up, maneuvering your body to straddle her lap as she leans against the rock that was settled closer to the water. You nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck, Lucky gently laying her head on yours as well, and you close your eyes. “I would love to stay with you, only you. Forever.”

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