#source: under night in birth

[avatarchic]

TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white. 

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes. 

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him. 

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret. 

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you. 

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is. 

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child.  “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory. 

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements. 

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss. 

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently. 

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f’me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.” 

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern. 

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. 

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum. 

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest. 

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.” 

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you. 

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You���re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you. 

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[pinkseas]

my dealer: got some straight gas, this strain is called "sovereign of elegance" you'll be zonked out of your gourd

me: yeah whatever. i dont feel shit.

15 minutes later

me: the previous sovereign of elegance, glorier, had fiery red hair and won her title while wearing a black gown. she vanished 15 years ago, her last known location in the wishing woods. the same time frame that the other missing stylists were kidnapped by the paladins and locked up underground in the wishing woods. in the diary pages of an unknown stylist, the writer refers to the wish master as nothing more than a "puppet" of the dark, and remarks that they've been cruelly experimented on, their body tortured. "even bathing in this moonlight is a rare luxury." the banshee is only ever out at night, under the moonlight, but nobody save for you has actually encountered her clearly. those who might recognize her as glorier haven't ever seen the banshee themselves. the banshee refers to those she enthralls as her puppets, and there are multiple places where her body looks cracked and damaged, more like a porcelain doll than human skin. that same diary remarks that the writer has a daughter waiting at home, and that "even in this dire situation, i will never submit. the unyielding elegance within my resolute and noble soul is my last ace." a torn note found in the room where the humans were imprisoned states that the strongest were tortured and perished or disappeared, expressing a want to go home, written in a very similar manner to the way the banshee herself speaks at the end of your duel with her. if you fail, the banshee tells you to become her puppet and suffer alongside her. an imperfect victory mentions that memories are not enough. a brilliant stylist is rumored to have opened a realm that no one else has entered before, and some say that the most exceptional stylists might even create their own personal realms. cantore's poem states that should one be a fool, their soul will fall into "that bewildering realm" to become another puppet, ensnared for all eternity. "the bitter end awaits with no return, leading you into the heart of the night's abyss, where even the stars fade away." underground, those imprisoned stylists couldn't even see the stars. the reason they were locked up was to attempt to recreate the power of the aureum vase for chigda, who had made a deal with The Dark for eternal life. from him the power of the mutated vines returned, but he was not their original source, nor did they vanish when he was defeated without need for giroda's sacred power. those mutated vines bear great resemblance to the vines, thorns, and roses surrounding the banshee within the visuals of cantore's poem. the banshee wants her puppets to suffer with her, implying that she herself is already suffering. is she, too, a puppet of the dark? back then, could creating a realm have allowed her to escape? did something go wrong? did she, like giovanni, attempt to make a deal with the paladins or chigda, only for it to backfire? did she attempt to defeat chigda herself, only to become corrupt by the vines? if she was captured and held in the wishing woods and hails from florawish, why is it that the banshee now haunts the breezy meadow and shimmer pond specifically? igrainne forbade nonoy from investigating more about her past. the banshee chants a bewildering melody, not dissimilar to that melody of the wishing one from nonoy's music box, the one left with her by her birth mother. how much does igrainne know? was she worried for nonoy solely because of the nature of glorier's disappearance, or is there more to it? could the direct power of the wishful aurosa be enough to save the banshee? how much of her past life does the banshee remember? what am i missing?

my friend nikki pacing: how do i tell nonoy i need to fuck her mom

[l0vergirls]

take the reins

you've dug too deep, but there doesn't seem to be a downside to that.

batfam x reader

wc: 1382

a/n: i started watching mr. robot (plz no spoilers im literally on the 3rd episode) and fell in love with it and .. started thinking !!!.. & this is lowkey set up like the start of a series, but i'll see how it goes considering i have nothing plannef at all. .. pls do send asks about this story and this reader since i would love love love to expand on it hehe

It was as if time had stopped for a moment.

You found out a lot of secrets. Secrets that can put people behind bars. What do you do with those? Send in an anonymous tip to the rare non corrupt cop, of course. You like to think of it as being a non-violent vigilante. Instead of running around Gotham in a costume and beating the bad guys within an inch of their life, you sit comfortably behind your computer screen and dig.

You dig for anything and everything you can find on everyone you encounter. Why? Maybe it's the unrelenting feeling of needing control, or the fear of simply not knowing.

By breaking something down to its source code, you're baring it all; the rights, the wrongs, everything that makes or breaks you. You won't get caught off guard if you just know how something— someone works.

Sometimes, you find nothing noteworthy. Your neighbor in 405, for example. The first time you had passed her, she sneered at you. That was good enough reason to hack her.

The woman at 405 is Emma Davis, aged 35, 5'7, date of birth: May 15th. Studied at NYU, worked a desk job at some company in Star City before getting relocated to Gotham. Yeah, I wouldn't be ecstatic either. Brings home a different person every week. Occasionally smokes weed. Also your occasional hook up. Don't make decisions while intoxicated.

Emma Davis is just a run of the mill office worker, with the same vices as most people. Nobody special.

But this? This could get you in serious shit, if you aren't in for it already.

Bruce Wayne, date of birth: February 19th, 6'2, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, adoptive father of multiple children, and... crime fighting vigilante at night.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

It wasn't hard to connect the dots after uncovering the man behind the cowl; you figured all his children were Robins at one point. Even the dead one. Except the dead one isn't really dead, is he?

Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne— all crime fighting vigilantes. What a family. You wonder who else you can unmask.

Fuck, you need to go home. Doing this at a coffee shop was a mistake, but damn it, their connection was fast. Too many people, too great a chance of a breakdown.

Close all the tabs, all the windows, scrub yourself clean of all evidence of intrusion. Don't leave a trace.

Shut down the laptop. Leave.

The sun is still out, they wouldn't be around yet. Everyone knows they all work at the dead of night.

You drown out the meaningless conversations around you, and you're on autopilot, heading to the apartment that you call home.

<>

The Waynes pride themselves on their secrecy. Hiding their vigilante alter egos behind carefully crafted lies. They built walls as tall as the buildings with Bruce's name plastered across the front.

It was a little too late when Alfred Pennyworth received an alert from the Batcomputer. Alfred sent all the vigilantes a message, and they came running in. After all, a security breach is detrimental to all of them.

The butler found a location, The Last Drop. A café right in the middle of the city.

Bruce looked through all of the files, recordings, reports— everything. The hacker didn't take anything, and didn't make copies. He deduced that whoever it was simply read.

That's no good either. Someone out there is aware of who they are, who the man under the mask is.

"Alfred, pull up CCTV footage at The Last Drop at the time of the hack."

On the screen were the grainy videos of the café, with at least 6 different angles. It was fairly crowded, filled with busybodies coming and going through the door. With 7 people on their laptops, they could narrow down the search for the culprit. But not by much.

Until two figures left the café at the same time, approximately a few minutes after the breach, but neither of them were sitting next to each other.

It was one or the other.

Tyler Hess, banker. Went to school in the city, stayed in the city. Clean records, comes from an upper middle class family. Nothing of note.

[Y/N] [L/N], cybersecurity engineer at LabyrinthTech, and one of the more favored employees. Born and raised in Gotham, graduated college a year early, and by all accounts, highly intelligent. Clean records, but skilled enough to be the one behind the hack.

"Well, I think we found our suspect. What're you gonna do about it?" Jason bristled, apprehensive that this person knew all about him.

"'You'? What, you've got your own plan?" Dick retorted.

"Maybe. Not like I'm gonna hurt the little thing," he spat. It was invasive enough that you'd hacked into their records, he thinks a little scare is warranted.

Bruce interrupted, "No, I'll deal with this. They accessed our data for a reason."

<>

It was inevitable that one of them was gonna pay you a visit tonight.

After locking yourself in the apartment, you figured a quick nap would be a good distraction from it. And it was, for a couple hours. Upon waking, you walked into the living room and lo and behold, vengeance himself was standing in your apartment.

"Can't say I didn't expect this, really," you spoke carefully, avoiding his gaze.

He grunted, "Then you know why I'm here. Why'd you do it? What do you gain from figuring out our identities?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow moving across your window.

"Nothing. I just got curious. All billionaires are shady, and they're all hiding something. You were, by far, the most suspicious," you let out a breath. "Don't worry, that's not what anyone else thinks, at least not anyone that can do what I do,"

You hear another voice joining the conversation.

"Do what? Invade people's privacy? You should really be careful where you stick your nose in, hacker."

If looks could kill, you'd be dead ten times over. God, this guy's intense even through that helmet.

Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, date of birth: August 16th, date of death: April 27th, 6'0, occasional smoker, former Robin. Likes pot roast.

Batman— no, Bruce Wayne interjected, "Suspicious?"

"Might just be me, but I found it hard to believe the richest man in the world would be throwing so much money into this dump of a city without an ulterior motive," you look at one of the ears on his cowl, it was almost cute, "Every other rich guy did. Whatever money they put out, it came back to them ten times bigger. Nobody really felt for this city."

That was your angle? The two men went still at your somber admittance. Sure, Gotham wasn't the best city, but that's why they did what they did, wasn't it? They had the slightest urge to show you that they really did care. And perhaps show off a bit.

Jason shifted, "You did it because of a gut feeling?"

You shrugged, "It was right, wasn't it? Something was up, just not... in the way I expected,"

It wasn't everyday you uncover a vigilante that turned out to be Gotham's beloved billionaire.

"Anyway, congratulations on not being an entirely bad guy. 'm not gonna tell anyone," you murmured, "not like anyone's gonna believe me,"

You see Red Hood look at Batman, a silent conversation was, no doubt, occurring.

The two vigilantes head for your window— do these guys ever use the front door?

Bruce turns to you, "Try not to do it again,"

"No promises," you huffed. "But your defenses could use some work. Comms, body cams, and other recorded footage— they were just there."

Red Hood's helmet glinted as he tilted his head at you. You shivered.

"Right, won't do it again," and that was that.

It was like they were never here.

What a night.

<>

You scrutinized the letter in your hands.

A job offer for a position you've never interviewed for. At Wayne Enterprises.

Batman works quick, that's for sure.

The pay was good, very good. You reckon there wasn't a single complaint about that.

Hm, they're making sure you're under their watch. If you were a threat, you'd be easier to keep an eye on. Easier to control.

You weren't one to give up control, but potentially having access to the city’s… well, everything, was something too tempting to give up.

Looks like LabyrinthTech was losing their best employee.

[realisticpregerotica]

Ripe Fruit

18+ MDNI, 5400 words +, First Person Male POV

Contains: Pregnant sex, Lactation, Orgasmic birthing, Oral sex during birth, Size difference, Aphrodisiacs

“5 silver for the camel feed. Ask again and that price is going up!”

I groaned at the underwhelming result of my bartering as I coughed up the coins. If I wanted any transportation out in the desert I needed to feed my camel. Parting from the stand I counted my coins and calculated that between an inn and a meal, I could only afford one. And it was looking to be a cold night in the desert town. 

My stomach rumbled as I approached the camel pen outside of the inn. A wooden cart with display cases of the largest fruit I had ever seen in my life. I wasn’t sure if my eyes deceived me. It must have been months since I had seen fresh produce, but the fruit was beautiful. They could have been their weight in gold. Grapes like clusters of smooth amethyst, apples that glistened like rubies, every individual specimen in each crate made my mouth water 

“Good afternoon, traveler, has something caught your eye?” a smooth voice glided from above my head. My neck craned in order to find the source of the voice

As I looked up I caught the eyes of a woman with a dark tan hidden under the shade of the wooden cart. She casted a shadow over me. Her features were sharp. Her eyes, her lashes, her nose took to me with her undivided attention. All while she towered over my head. The window opened up space for her body, namely, a round, full stomach that rested heavily against her lap.

She rested against the counter, the dried fibers of a half eaten date between her fingers, and providing a perch for her body was the round of a greatly pregnant belly that poked through the window of her cart. I couldn’t imagine the inside of the cart to be incredibly spacious, I wondered how it was possible for such a woman to be inside of the cart

I hadn't realized how close I had gotten to her while observing her products, and right before me was her chest. Her gigantic breasts sat against either side of her belly, casually covered by loose purple fabric that drew their full teardrop shape closely.

“Um… Ah… Melons.” I spit out. A cringe crept around the corner of my lips.

The woman chuckled, amused watching the movements of my face. “Melons? I have a few” She replied without any ounce of offense taken. She set her date down, and held her belly in place as she huffed, pulling a variety in a wooden bin from behind her. Her eyes dropped as she found a crate of fruit behind her, 

“The rain's have been plentiful. These may be overripe…” Her fingers drew closer across the wooden counter towards the reptile-like skin of the cantaloupe between us. Even as she brought them out I could smell the fruit from within. They shined among every other product on display. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem. What’s wrong with overripe melons?”

“These plants bore their fruit too soon. Pollinators are scared away by the burgeoning melons that grow on the vine, hiding away the other flowers on the plant.” Her eyes drifted from the fruit. A hand subconsciously drew across the stretched fabric of her dress. She grounded herself to the touch against her unborn child.

“They grew much further than the capacity of their skin. The flesh is taut, the flesh may be juicy, but at a cost of the fruit's body. It's more than that poor skin can contain. How much  more could that fruit take… Nobody can tell for sure…”

The merchant shrugged, the gaze from her sharp eyes narrowed onto me, watching with intention. Her fingers seemed to barely hover over the loose clothes covering her heavily distended midsection. Her tone hid feelings of longing melancholy, one that felt especially unusual for an expecting mother.  Whatever her background was I knew she wasn't just talking about fruit. 

A flick of her fingernail sent a crevice snapping throughout the entire rind of the melon, loud enough to make me flinch. 

“Pop.” She cooed playfully. The flesh parted on the inside was engorged freshness, juices dripping onto the table in front of us. She gestured towards the exposed section of fruit before me. “Have a taste.”

My emaciated body could not hold back any longer. The crisp flesh yielded under the most bare pressure of my tongue. I was slurping the fruit down voraciously. The flesh was sweet and nourishing. The cart owner looked down at me with curiosity and stroked her stomach gently, watching with enough intent to make me self conscious. 

“Please forgive me. I’ve never had anything like this before.” The merchant not only. Id  ever thought twice about the concept of pregnancy, it had felt so far from me. Her fertility was right in front of me on full display. The way her clothing hugged her growing body, how she had to maneuver around her large bump only intrigued me more. Surrounded by the bounties of nature, the shop owner, carrying her own. 

“I can’t imagine I’d have anything like this again.” 

“I’m glad you’re satisfied.” She nodded. 

“How much for the melon?” I asked, attempting to hide these overwhelming emotions behind my coin shack. She waved her hand. “Take as much as you’d like. I’m not sure if I’ll find somebody with your perspective.” The space between our words was palpable. I felt regret, witnessing such an ephemeral beauty pass me by in real time.

“Thank you, miss. I hope I can repay you soon. May I know your name?” 

“Isme.” she extended a hand. It was natural for a merchant and a customer to exchange a handshake. But as mine were embraced by her especially large hands there was a line that was crossed. Our hands lingered a second longer, interrupted by another shopper that lined up behind me. 

“May we be reacquainted soon.” She pointed towards the field on the outskirts of town in their magnificent display of the entire spectrum of colors. The sun started to go down as I brought my arm full of fruit to the inn. The air was looking to be much warmer than anticipated with a subtle scent of flowers beginning to waft through the air. 

~

Night fell as I rested in front of the long day ahead of me. My stomach is as full as it could be. I rolled in my bed with the thoughts of Isme clouding my mind. The scent of cherry blossoms began to waft into my room even stronger now. I had a moment of peace before the commotion came in. The lobby filled up immediately, not one person had come in alone and their partners for the night were draped over each other’s arms. 

On the first floor the scent of sweet pollen hit me like a tsunami, the experience dazed me to lose my footing under me as the embers of desire began to ignite within me. My heart began to race, I felt needy for attention, the touch of another human being. But none of the people who had filled into the lobby could satiate the craving I had developed in the day.

The sound of pollinators buzzing through the skyline with their gentle symbiosis. Not a fig wasp nor moth moved with any aggression. The smell of nectar wafted intensely into the air. Lines wrapped around the pubs and brothels alike. The silhouette of opened windows behind curtains echoed passionate sounds of pleasure where couples were clearly making love. Strangers would seemingly pass each other in the street and disappear into the inns and alleyways only to emerge from them minutes later. 

The scent of nectar was overwhelming now. Into my sinuses and directly into my brain that felt like it was melting. My heart began to race. It was as if my peripherals were highlighted in a pink hue. There was something in the air, literally and metaphorically. In the sweet miasma there was a lust catalyzing hysteria, and I was also a victim.

“Haa… Haa…” my lust was verbal now. It was even hard to control my motor function. Even the rubbing from my underwear was overwhelming. My erection was twitching in my pants. From our short interaction she was the only thing on my mind. Nobody had ever left an impression on me as she did. I retraced my steps into the dark inn where people were attached to their lovers along the walls. The sounds of pleasure echoed further into the alleyway as I pursued the location of the fruit cart. 

The cart was gone, and in my lust driven daze I felt deep regret as I saw the fruit cart gone from its morning location. I had missed my opportunity, and I may never see a woman like Isme again. How long would it be before I devolved into a horny monkey.

“You made it, traveler.” 

The sight before me filled me with a primal sense of purpose. She dawned the same color violet fabrics, though far less draped over her bronze skin. Two pieces of clothing were held together by a  couple of thin gold bands supported by her dramatically distended stomach at the center of her torso that were at my eye level.  Her stomach distended far past her hips than my arms could ever wrap around. My head only reached the bottom of her ribs. I noted the strength of her backside to carry such a weight in preparation to birth her child. As she came to a stop her exposed skin rippled. Though heavy with a child in her womb she was still a flower in full bloom

The apt description of her ripe melons were hers alone now. The exposed skin let me marvel at the miracle of her life giving body. “Isme…” I uttered in relief, my cheeks lit aflame for her to see me in such a state, but as we got closer I realized we were under the same condition.

Her chest rose and fell, also under the spell of the night breeze. Under her translucent veil I could see the redness on her dark cheeks. One knee pointed inwards “You must be feeling it as well. You were just in time for the mass pollinator migration.” She took my hands into hers, picking up exactly where we had left off in the afternoon. 

“I… apologize for being so… Mmh… forward…” I looked her in the eyes. The desire against either of our touches answered it so clearly that the verbal agreement was only a formality. “May… May we have sex?” 

With the same haze in my eyes, Isme nodded with enthusiasm. She guided my to the hidden corner of the alleyway where her cart rested and her stalls of fruit were hidden, a little closet of space where the moonlight shined into the room.

Hinges unlocked and the bottom of the cart flew open. An entire wall had to come down in order to fit the pregnant woman who followed behind me. Her arms rested on my shoulders, guiding me to a bed that made up the majority of the cart's space. Her cart was illuminated by the moonlight. Her sheets were fuchsia under the azure moonlight. 

I felt the warmth of her breasts and belly, our bodies pressed together, as we craved touch immediately. She turned me around and set me gently against her bed to see her from underneath and recognize the scale of our size difference. 

“Was it melons that caught your eye earlier?”

She unclasped the top of her bra, freeing her heavy breasts that dropped heavily with their engorged fullness. Her amber droplets rolled readily against her dark breasts leaving behind a wet trail to her nipples. “Don’t be shy. There will be more than enough for my child. Drink.” My body desperately gave into her instruction. Her heavy breasts required physical labor from both hands to guide her into my mouth. Every touch caused her nipple to leak, down my chin beofre her heavy supple flesh filled my mouth.

Her body rocked back and fourth as she sucked air sharply to the sensations of lactation. Her milk filled my mouth with every suckle, nourishing me as she did before as I was indulged in a way only a mother can indulge me.. I was on fire. Her hands stripped me until my bare skin exposed itself to the night breeze before she explored my body. Her fingers slowly familiarized her with the shape and size of my body, it was as if she was evaluating how much I could take. Whatever she assumed, I wished that she would give it to me twofold. Last of which to be touched was my erection that had been growing against her body. 

“Keep suckling. Let me feed you.” Her large hand enveloped most of my shaft. The bottom of her thumb rolled against my most sensitive spot at the bottom of the head. She began to stroke. Firm pumps gave the stimulation that my body crazed under the humid haze of aphrodisiacal pollen in the air.

My moans were muffled into her breast as she bit her lip to my sounds. Her touch directed the fire igniting all over my body. Nursing on her leaking teat became second nature. My airways were surrounded by her breasts, her scent, and the taste of her milk. My brain was overwhelmed by Isme. My hands began to explore, finding any foothold to reach Isme closer as she continued to work me agonizingly slowly. 

My hands sunk into her flesh. The new grooves of a pregnant woman's body. The sensations of her body against my fingertips. The softness of her sides, her wide hip bones, and finally, the firmness of her belly parked up against my side as she leaned forward to nurse me. She pressed her midsection into me, allowing myself to enjoy the part of Isme’s body that truly caught my eye.

A pound, almost like a muffled thump. I would have thought to look at the entrance if it hadn't been for Isme's reaction.I looked down to find her belly contorted to sharm angles as limbs poked through her drum tight skin. My eyes could deceive me into seeing the details of a toe through The surface of her skin. 

“Your nursing is making me have contractions.”

Her white stretch marks decorated her body like those on the burgeoning melons from before. They only looked more stunning while highlighted by the yellowish metal that draped over her maternal frame. She huffed. Her sheer size was too much to handle. Anxiety grew on her face, like she was watching a fleeting moment pass by. She took her hand off of my cock, leaving me to sigh in sexual frustration. She wore no bottom to cover her sex. 

“Will you have me, traveler?”. She arranged every massive pillow on her bed to support her body. Her heavy, milk laden breasts were parted by the massive dome of her midsection, the undercarriage spread twice the width of my shoulders. She spread each of her tree trunk thighs to invite me into her. I was drawn to her belly as proof of her stunning fertility.

Her pussy was glistening in ways that I never thought imaginable. The entrance of the especially large woman was proportional. I couldn’t forget her tangent from earlier in the day. She was every bit the ripe fruit that she spoke about, and under the spell of the night  I felt like if we didn’t have sex, I would die. 

My whole body needed to accommodate her to take form to the love we’d make. As my hips pushed into the plush padding of her crotch my body parked against her firm midsection. There was a baby in here, one that had been growing inside of Isme for 10 long months.

I had to lift her heavy malleable belly to access her sex. I felt the weight of her child shift as she was relieved from the heaviness of her womb. She sighed, satisfied and exposed while my hands carried no less than half my body’s worth of weight. 

With her child in hand, I finally thrusted. “Mnnnhhhhgggg.” came from my throat as her warm sex enveloped my body, sending a chill down my spine. Her insides were warm, nearly hot and full as they pushed against me in every direction with softness to give. Every angle of every thrust parted her walls in new exciting ways that made her moan and shutter in excitement. There was so much woman to make love to, and I only had one night to do it.

Her walls began to collapse around me. She gasped as she was forced to address the cramping that took hold of her abdomen. A contraction took hold around me and her uterus that went solid under my hands. Wetter, together, I felt every ridge around me as Isme's body tightened to ready herself to begin labor. She winced in pain as her fingers began to dig into the mountain of pillows behind her

Her pussy, pulsing and contracting. Her breaths steadied as I moved. Isme's stomach began to tighten, receding inside my arms. Her firm belly hardened around the shape of her uterus and refused to yield.

“Hooooooo…” left her lips. Her chin pointed towards the sky as she took in a deep breath and let a long exhale groan from her relaxed jaw. She stroked her stomach, quelling the movements that bobbed against her stomach between us.

“Please keep moving…” She begged to keep taking her as the contraction. Her walls pulsed and contracted with every thrust. I felt like I was interrupting her body as it labored, but I was privileged to feel Isme’s most intimate process. Every thrust was a fight as her body clung onto me as I pulled out, but hungrily took me back into her. Our moans blended together,  releasing the feeling of her contractions against our sex.

Isme’s hands held my body, stroking my back and hips with idle lust as the powerful contraction came to an end. The area  around her popped naval was red under the tension and the rest of her body grew hot. There was an intoxicated look in her eyes before she lifted her hips from between her legs.

Effortlessly she dragged into the pile of body size pillows. While she rotated her cumbersome body around me, her gold chains jingled against her stomach and before I knew it one of her soft, heavy thighs straddled my hips and swallowed me into the soft ocean of her warm body. 

The weight of her round dominated my torso and pushed my breath out of me. “Mnnha-” I sighed, a breath was forced out of me as the weight of her hips and her belly sat against my torso. In an unprecedented erotic peril I realized that the pregnant merchant was going to use me.

“Forgive me traveler. We don't have much time.” She slurred as she maneuvered my cock against her entrance. I gasped, feeling the size of her entrance that was going to swallow my throbbing member whole. Isme’s soft, wet sex was intimidating to the sheer size of the pregnant woman on top of me. I flinched at the feeling of her wet juices subconsciously dripping from her wet hole like nectar from a flower begging to be fertilized. Her lust only made the developed young she carried in her uterus only more alluring. “I understand. Your body as it is… Haa… Is the greatest privilege.” 

She took a deep sigh with a softened gaze to my comment. With the overwhelming anticipation of sex Isme plunged into me. “Mnnnnhhhh!” was forced out of my crushed lungs as my body sunk into the pile of pillows as I was swallowed into  her gravid body. She groaned with heavy satisfaction as her body buckled forward. Her baby thrashed against me. The pressure of her womb was tangible as I felt the healthy life inside of her body.

It wasn’t enough for either of us. She maneuvered her large body over me, and slammed down all of her weight against my disproportionate member again. The sounds of our bodies filled the room as we collided onto her massive mattress. The bedframe groaned under the power of her pregnant body.

She couldn't hold all of her weight, causing all of the weight of her baby laden belly directly onto my shaft. My hips were crushed by each one of her heavy pumps. Her back arched as she threw her weight into me for her pleasure. Her body rippled with the effort, her breasts leaked a trail of milk that rained over my face and stained her bump.   I could feel my body bruising and I didn't care. No price was  too great for a lover her size

I could feel the pressure building in her hips as she rode. One hand sat atop her belly, steding her and digging into my body more and more. She held my hands against her mattress as we indulged. Her stomach began to tighten from over me this time. Her stomach receded back into her body

“Annnhhh~” I groaned, feeling the weight of her womb as it descended into her birth canal. With the mother in control she continued to ride through her labor pains. Her folds contorted around my cock, her gel-like juices stained my cock and ensured I could glide against her contracting vagina.

“Hnnggh!” She cried sharply as I felt a hard, muscular lip at the tip of my penis. With a quick inhale she moved again. “I-mmnnh-can-haaaa… Feel you against the baby.” she moaned through clenched teeth  We climbed, further and further amidst her pains.

Her hips dominated me, her ass crashed into my pelvis with recoil sending vibrations to her dilating uterus. “Oh fuck…” I groaned. “Your baby is so low…” My comment drew a smile on her face. Her hands lifted and supported her belly at the height of the contraction. From below her I took control, thrusting into her heavy body as best I could as her face contorted in the characteristic features of sexual pleasure. “Nhha~ Yes-Yes!” she cried as her whole body tightened.

She felt every one of my thrusts sending vibrations to her womb as I hit her harder and faster. I prodded her dilated cervix until finally her hips gave in and sunk into my body. My cock jabbed into a thin, rubbery layer before releasing my seed into her exposed uterus. My ejaculation released a pent up sensation from within her that had been building for 10 long months. 

“GUUUUUOOOOOOOAAAAH!” Isme cried. Her hips spasmed as she grinded over me. Her pussy twitched wildly to accept every drop of semen her pussy demanded from me. Her fingers ran through her scalp as she gyrated her nude body over mine. We panted, our sensitive sexes riding the sensations. My hands drew across her engorged womb between us, worshipping her virile round  under its weight. As my palms contacted the surface of her red, taut skin the thin layer separating my penis from her baby ruptured.

Isme took a sharp gasp as the protective layer within her audibly popped from within her. Immediately a bathtub of warm waters erupted onto my waist, leaving myself and a majority of the pillows under me drenched. We took heavy breaths in disbelief against her stained sheets. 

“Your… Waters…” I said, half in observation, half in question. Isme nodded with a look of shock and disbelief on her face. 

“You… You popped me, traveler. It looks like you picked another overripe specimen” She joked. Her smile disappeared quickly with a wince of her labor pains. “A-ahhh~” she cried, the pains forcing her to keel over my body.She held onto my body, vulnerable and afraid on top of me as intense labor pains reduced her to tense, shaky breaths. 

“Stay with me, traveler?” she asked, as if leaving my lover of the night to labor alone was an option. “Of course.” I reassured her. I assisted her as best I could onto her side where she rubbed the bottom of her stomach in the new, overwhelming pain. 

“Mmmnhhhh-” she groaned, pressing our foreheads into each other once more. “Ah~ Ah~” her knee swayed side to side as the effort of childbirth and adrenaline coursed through her veins. I wanted to relieve her

I pressed my forehead against hers. Slightly, she let go of some tension she carried in her face. She took deeper breaths and allowed the contraction to do the work of sending her child downwards. We both watched as her belly changed shape at the end of the contraction. The gravity of the moment was palpable. Isme was giving birth and I was watching her. 

Between contractions we heard the moans and sounds of sex around us. Sweet pollen still lingered in the air. Our warm bodies still craved more.Her sounds blended in with the sounds of the lovers around us, filling in the air with erotic sensual background noise. The atmosphere was not lost on us

Our lips met and we began to touch. Through kisses her jaw released the tension she held. She opened her mouth, her tongue explored the inside of my mouth, leaving us longing for more. “Can you feel my baby, traveler?” She requested.

“From inside?” I asked.  She nodded. My hand followed her hot, red midsection down to between her legs. My fingers led a journey across her gigantic body before I found her outside lips from under her belly. Isme let out a sigh at the contact. She spread her legs further, making it easier to find her labia, and deeper, her entrance. 

“Mnnnhhhh~” She moaned as my fingers parted her delicate folds and pushed into her. Her chest rose as she softly thrusted against my fingers. My fingers grazed a warm, round mass. “Haaaa-nnnghhh!” Isme groaned suddenly. Her thighs began to shake as the walls of her vagina began to close around my fingers. I watched her stomach crunch itself again. From within her I moved my fingers 

The lip of her cervix hugged the head as it descended. I held my breath, watching the large, round head of her child separate the lips I had passionately thrusted into just minutes before. As she let go of her push the head receded back into her slightly. Tired, childbirth was every ounce the endeavor I understood it to be. My fingers slowly exited her body with the effort of her pushes. “You’re making such good progress.” 

Through deep breaths she smiled and nodded, her face lighting up with pride. Isme demanded more kisses by leaning her face closer to which I obliged. Between her contractions she pressed her forehead to mine and we kissed under the illumination of the moonlight. Sweat stained my forehead as she whimpered into my body. Her tender noises of sex, she ended her contraction with a smile.

Her face tightened in the middle of our kiss. “A-annghhh!!!” She groaned against my lips. She sucked air in sharply and bore down with power, My fingers were forced out of her as the head occupied her entrance and spread her labia open. “Mnnnghhhh!” Isme moaned before she moved with the contraction again. The head spread her open, the round shape stayed as she pushed but as soon as she let go the head receded back into her slightly. 

“Oh goodness, it burns.” She groaned. “That must be what the head feels like.” I communicated. The update seemed to stun Isme who looked at me with a glint in her eyes.

“Would you like to feel?” I offered. She nodded and I slowly guided her hand across her large body. Isme gasped, her hand patted the little head between her legs with relief. We felt the delicate little orb that was slowly being born through Isme’s grueling effort. Her crotch was still sensitive as we felt her body accommodating her baby’s head. Slowly, I drew circles around her stretched skin.

“Touch me, I’m having another contraction-ohhhhhhh.” There was a head engaged between her legs. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as I drew my fingers in a circle around the head. 

“Unnnnghhhhhh!” Her pushes came directly from her base. Every graze against her sensitive clit got Isme to take a deep breath and relax to feel all of the sensations of the crowning head, the pleasure and the pain. “Nnnnghhhh!” Through the steady stimulation her breasts began to leak again. The droplets were whiter now. Her body must have known that her baby was almost here. The head stretched her vulva even more. I could feel the head underneath my fingers as it passed through their mother’s opening. 

Between isme’s legs was the size of a cantaloupe. Her clit poked above that head. With one finger placed upon her sensitive nub I massaged her outer lips as they stretched around the orb. Her eyelids fluttered  as she moaned, exposing more of the child's head. “You're making me so wet…” 

The crown was a beautiful sight, a provocative, indulgent sight that I needed to savor every moment of. Isme’s laboring pussy was every bit the flower that attracted her mate. She gasped as she saw that I was headed between her legs as she readied herself for the next intense feeling to claim her partially born head and her trembling clit teased me to pleasure her more. 

To indulge every one of my ambitions I buried my face between her gigantic legs. “Mnnnnhaaaa~” she gasped as her pitch raised. Her folds were saturated in juices, making my tongue slick against her most sensitive areas. 

The sensations made her tremble as her sharp moan elevated into a high pitch squeal. “I didn’t know a laboring mother, mnnhhfff, could feel so much pleasure!” Isme cried. Her hands found the back of my head and held me in place against her pussy as she labored.

“Ohhhhh… Fuuuuuuckkkk!” She chortled as she suffocated into the throws of cunnilingus and labor. “I’m going to cum, you’re going to make me cum while giving birth to my child.” Isme squealed as her toes curled against the sheets of her bed. 

“Push, Isme.” I instructed. “Deliver your baby.”

“Mnnhhh.” My attention towards her erogenous point lightened for her to build the energy for a decisive push. “Nhhhh-haaaaa-hooo-hooo-hooooo.” 

Isme's fingers dug into the sheets. Her calf began to rise over my head, its size blocked the moonlight above me. The leverage focussed more energy on the mother. The cavern created by her massive thighs tremble around me. She hummed, low and powerful, her voice peaked, growing as her body’s tremors climbed into an earthquake of pleasure. She held her thighs open for her child and my tongue. The weight of her belly sat directly on my forehead, and the mass was only going down 

“MnnnnnhhhaaAAAAA!!!!”

She lifted her hips and thrusted against my face. A shoulder popped free from her first violent jerk. “GUAAAAAAAOOOOOHHH!!” The second shoulder followed. 

But the heavy child still sat in her birth canal. The rest of the body needed their mother’s effort to be born. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! Her vocal chords rang until they grew hoarse as she exploded into a shrill scream that silenced the entire block as her orgasm shot the rest of her child's body onto the bed. Isme’s body spasmed as they returned to her laid down position. Her child was heavy as I took the slippery, squirming newborn into my arms and onto the mother’s chest for her to witness the first breaths of her child. 

With relief she embraced her young with her arms as I got to witness a new milestone of life, the very moment a woman became a mother. In a pool of her own fluids, covered in sweat, with her child still attached to her body, Isme was beautiful.

The first moment Isme could let her head rest against her pillow she did. She looked at me. “I never asked you for your name, traveler. I want to know the name of the man who gave me this pleasure.”

“Rayn…” I answered. She panted, cradling her newborn son in her arms. “What a wonderful name. Perhaps next season we will make a child that has that name.”

I blushed. “They may have that name as long as I have the privilege to watch their mother as she bears that fruit.” 

[salemrph]

Wine, Lies and Longing

Summary: You win a romantic vineyard getaway, a dream escape you never expected. Unsure of who to take, you impulsively invite Sylus. What starts as playful pretending, soon becomes something far more real. In the heart of the vineyard, surrounded by the sweetness of wine and the glow of moonlight, you begin to wonder: is this just an act, or the start of something you’ve always longed for?

Based on the new banner Night Rendezvous!

Character: MC x Sylus // Genre: romantic, soft, explicit sexual content // Pet names: Kitten, Sweetie // Word count: 8,827 | Reading Time: 35 min | AO3 |

A/N: This was written before Night Rendezvous officially dropped, inspired by the clips we’ve seen over the past two days. Please note there might be some errors—I was absolutely frantic about the banner while writing this! I just couldn’t get Sylus out of my head.

WARNINGS: mdni, biting, penetration, cum. Remember, fanfics are not a reliable source of sexual education. For questions about protection and birth control, talk to your doctor.

A weeks ago, after visiting your regular supermarket to pick up your usual after-mission dinner set, the kind cashier, while taking your point card, reminded you about the ongoing special raffle.

"Miss, do you want to participate in the lottery?" You looked at the display banner on the counter. The image of serene mountains under a captivating sunset, the sparkle of a drop of water on a bunch of grapes, and the faces of people happily enjoying an unforgettable moment. “Two days in a mountainous region with beautiful views” it read— a getaway promising wine, relaxation, and a fleeting escape from your daily chaos. You paused for a moment, thinking that a vacation wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially since you’d been continuously working on missions, paperwork, and grueling training sessions. You let out a soft sight, the exhaustion creeping into your thoughts. What could happen? In worst case, you would not win the prize, and at the moment, simply filling out the digital form will maybe bring you closer to a small break. Without overthinking it, you nodded, typed in your details, and submitted your entry.

Not even sure, when that happens, you blink a couple of times while checking your email. You can hardly believe your eyes. You won, you actually won that stupid getaway for two! The excitement bubbles up in you like champagne, because you never win anything. You can already imagine the fresh air, the rolling hills, the luxury of it all. You want to scream. You do a little dance in your living room. This is how it should be. Without thinking twice, you call Tara to share the news. After a few rings, she picks up.

"Hey, my favorite person!" she say cheerful like always.

"Tara, guess what?" you ask enthusiastic, you don't wait for her to answer "I won a trip for two to a vineyard! Wanna go on a girls' trip?"

"Say what?! Really? That's amazing!"

"I know! I'm really excited." you explain to Tara briefly what kind of trip it is. “Oh, we could have a lot of fun. Are you in?”

"Oh, I would love to, but… isn’t this kind of trip for couples?" You freeze, your smile faltering.

"Couple? Let me check..."

A shadow of doubt creeps in, heavy and unwelcome. Frowning, you swipe back to the email announcing your prize, it took you a moment to go trough the conditions. Your stomach tightening as your eyes land on the fine print: Only couples allowed. Your mind races, a mix of disappointment and worry swirling inside you. You stare at the screen, torn between laughing at the absurdity and groaning at your oversight.

"What should I do?" you ask, feeling a little lost.

"We could just say we’re a couple" says Tara laughing a bit.

You lean back against the couch, chewing on the idea. Pretending wouldn’t be that hard, would it? It’s not like the vineyard is going to demand proof of your relationship. Still, the idea feels... complicated. Then Tera continues with a playful tone.

"Or..." she teases, "...you could ask Mr. Skye to go with you? He has a crush on you. Maybe this is the perfect chance to level up your relationship with him."

The thought alone makes your cheeks heat up. Sylus? Taking him with you? Your heart flutters. It wouldn't be the first time with him on a trip but... on a exclusive couple trip? You remember the time you were with him in that castle, telling you that weird story to help you fall asleep, but you strangely ended up being bitten by him on the neck. Your cheeks are starting to burn, the feeling of his teeth on your skin was intense. You put a hand on your neck, it feels like it was yesterday.

“Are you there?” You shake you head, trying to come back to the conversation.

“Really? Are you serious?” feeling a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot, and it’s a romantic vineyard trip. It practically screams opportunity!” Her words make you feel more nervous and you go silent again. She only wants to ship you with him. Her personal real time K-drama. "I think you should ask him,” she presses, a bit insistently. “It could be fun. Worst case? You survive the trip. Best case? You come back as a couple. Just saying"

“Tara...” you sigh. “I don't like him—"

“Bullshit!” she cuts you off, her voice cheerful and confident. “You have a thing for him, admit it! Be happy with him. You know what? I’m not going with you.” She laughs. “Ask him and have fun! And call me for the little dirty details. Byee”

“Wait! Tara?!” And with that, the call is over, leaving you staring at your phone.

You groan. The room feels too quiet, too charged with the sudden possibility. Sylus—always confident, always composed—would undoubtedly say yes. You could already imagine his reaction: that cocky tilt of his head, his dark eyes narrowing with amusement. You bite your lip. Tara is right, he is hot. Terribly hot.

You glaze on your phone, fingers hovering over the screen. Should I, shouldn't I text him? Your heart is racing. How could you wrap this up to make it less... weird? The last time you came up with a plan, it wasn’t that difficult, was it? The couple photo shoot... well, OTTO was very insistent that you take part in it. In the end, it was fun... and you had a kind of romantic moment with Sylus. Maybe you can see this as a payback of all the time he help you with stuff.

But why Sylus? You could just ask the other friend you have, right? You go through the scenario in your head, imagining how it might go if you asked Zayne, Xavier or Rafayel. I mean, the boys are cool, but bringing your co-worker/neighbour could be very relaxing. Xavier wouldn’t be interested in the wine, but he’d enjoy the fresh mountain air. Zayne... you sighed. He was always too busy to go anywhere. Rafayel could be fun, but the idea of playing bodyguard while travelling didn’t appeal to you. You're starting to feel sleepy from all this thinking, and feel like to take a nap is the right solution to not deal with this. It's early in the morning. Or should you maybe have a coffee and go for a run. You sigh. This can't be so complicated.

After what feels like an eternity of hesitation, you finally decide to at least ask Sylus first. Just as you gather the courage to type something, your phone buzzes. A call from him.

“What are you doing?” he says without even saying hello.

“Working” you lie.

“You sound tired, kitten.” he says, a hint of concern threading through his voice. „I thought you were going to take a break after all that missions”

You feel the warmth in his ton, it make you feel... good. “I'm planning too.” Thinking how to bring up the trip. “I just need to finish a few things.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again, the softness of his words taking you by surprise. “If you ever feel overwhelmed, you're always welcome at my place”. You smile like an idiot without notices it. If Tera were there she would have teased you about that.

“I will...” you try to compose yourself. “Why are you calling me now? Isn't this you bed time hour?

He laugh softly, a sound that always seems to melt your heart if you're not careful “I like to hear your voice before I go to bed. That's way I call”.

“I see...” you murmur.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Well...” you hesitate, the words feeling awkward in your throat. “I won this trip for two to a vineyard. I was talking to Tara, she doesn't have the time to come with me. And I... I know it’s a couple’s thing, but I would be a shame—”.

“Go to the point, kitten” he interrupts with a laugh.

“I wanted to ask you, if...” you close you eyes, as if that would save you the embarrassment in case he says no. “...you could come with me? I owe you for few things.”

There’s a moment of silence before he answers, his voice calm, yet with an undertone of amusement. “Sure, I’ll go. Wouldn’t want you to miss out.“ The relief washes over you, but there’s a strange flutter in your chest too. You try to ignore it. “Send me the details.”

“Alright. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, kitten.”

...

When you finally arrive with him at the vineyard, the atmosphere is perfect. The air is crisp, the vineyards stretch out beneath a sky painted in soft pastels, and the scent of fresh earth and ripe grapes lingers. The estate’s stone pathways crunch softly beneath your feet as you make your way to the guest rooms.

The room is picturesque and charming, with rustic wooden beams and a window overlooking the sprawling vineyard. But your eyes are drawn immediately to the bed. One bed. A king-sized one, with crisp white sheets and pillows that seem to mock you with their perfect arrangement. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, the reality of it sinking in. Calm down! You have slept with him in one bed, more then you want to count.

Sylus steps inside behind you, he sets your and his bag down, his usual confidence radiating from him like a second skin.

“Looks cozy” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk just shy of teasing.

You manage a laugh, though it comes out shaky. “Cozy is one way to put it.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall with an ease that makes your stomach flip. “You nervous already? We haven’t even opened the wine yet.”

You roll your eyes, desperate to mask the heat creeping up your neck. “As if. Just… surprised, that’s all.” He chuckles, the sound low and velvety, sending a shiver through you.

“Surprised, huh?” Then, with a playful tilt of his head. “Relax, my love” You get goosebumps hearing him say those words. The pet name drips with mockery, but the way he says it makes your breath hitch.

“You don´t have to call me that”

“Why not? This is a couples trip, doesn't it?” His smile is maddeningly confident, his tone bordering on a challenge. You let out a long sigh, trying to steady the flustered mess inside you.

“You’re really leaning into this, aren’t you?”

He straightens, stepping closer—too close. His voice drops just enough to make your pulse quicken. “We want to make it convincing. Or do you have a better plan?”

It’s not the first time you’ve had to pretend to be couple or lover, or whatever, but somehow, this feels different. You’re not on a mission with him, not playing a part for someone else's benefit. This is personal—too personal.

Sylus strides over to the bed, his movements deliberate. He sits down with the kind of ease that suggests he owns the space, leaning back on one arm as if the room was made for him. You perch on the edge of the bed, trying to relax, but every part of you is hyper-aware of his presence—the faint spice of his cologne, the quiet rustle of his shirt as he shifts, the heat radiating from him even at a distance.

“No, I don't.” you say annoyed “I... just hope we can enjoy this.” Your words trail off as you glance out the window, desperate for a distraction. It’s definitely a super romantic place, the kind of setting you’d see in a movie. You cling to the view, hoping its beauty will steady your swirling thoughts.

Sylus looks over at you, a faint smirk on his lips.

"I’m sure it’ll be enjoyable, either way. We’re in the right place for it" he says, his voice low and confident, as if he already knows how the weekend will unfold. You swallow hard, forcing a smile.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his smirk deepening. “I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

You turn your gaze back to the vineyard, trying to steady your racing thoughts. This is just a weekend, you remind yourself. It’s just Sylus.

...

The agenda for the day is simple—nothing too complicated. Just a tour of the property, along with the other couple staying at the vineyard. Then, a wine tasting session to enjoy the local flavours, followed by a leisurely dinner under the stars. Afterwards, you’re meant to relax, enjoy the evening, and retire to bed. Easy, right?

But despite how simple it sounds. As you make your way through the vineyard with Sylus by your side, everything feels heightened, even the sound of your footsteps crunching on the gravel path. The soft laughter of the other couple fills the background, but it feels distant. In your distraction, you trip slightly over your feet. Why are you even wearing heals? You catch yourself, but before you can fully regain balance, Sylus is there—his hand firm on your arm, pulling you closer. He steadies you effortlessly, his proximity sending a rush of warmth through you.

“Give me your hand,” he murmurs, his voice low, smooth. You blink, still a little off-balance, and look up at him, confused “What?” He smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You surely don’t want to break you ankle or ruin your dress, do you?” His words are wrapped in a teasing edge. You eye him suspiciously, your pulse racing.

“Besides,” he continues in a soft whisper, his breath warm against your ear, “that’s what couples do. Care for each other.”

The heat of his hand in yours makes your heart race, his touch unexpectedly gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. You try to focus, try to shake off the unexpected flutter in your chest. But his proximity, his warmth, makes it hard to think clearly. Maybe…

The tour guide’s voice weaves through the warm air, narrating the history of the vineyard with practiced ease. But you barely register the words.

The wine tasting that follows feels like an eternity. Each sip is a kaleidoscope of flavours, yet none hold your focus for long. The richness of the reds, the crispness of the whites—they all blur together as you try to ground yourself, but it’s impossible with Sylus nearby. His gaze lingers too long, his teasing comments too precise, cutting through your resolve with the ease of a knife through silk.

“Not bad,” he says, his voice low and smooth as he swirls the wine in his glass. His dark eyes glint with amusement. “But I’ve tasted better.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “Oh, I didn’t realice you were such a wine connoisseur.”

He leans in slightly, his tone dropping just enough to make your breath catch. “I have a talent for recognising quality.”

A smile tugs at your lips, genuine this time. You can't help it. Each exchange feels like a dance, his confidence pressing against your composure in a way that leaves you breathless. Actually, you want to bite back with some sharp words, but there it is. That soft smile, the same one he had after the boxing match, under the falling snow... Your lips part, but instead of speaking, you just look back at him. Everything seems to slow down. Is the wine affecting you? For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he feels it too. You eyes darts on this lips, how would they taste?

And then, just before the moment slips away, he does something unexpected. He sets his glass down, his movements fluid, and without breaking eye contact, he reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is light, but it lingers just long enough to make your skin tingle.

Before you can even process it, a soft tap on your shoulder pulls you from the moment. Two women approach, giggling like schoolgirls, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

They interrupt the bubble you’ve found yourself in, and the weight of Sylus’s touch vanishes as if it was never there. But the heat in your chest lingers, a faint trace of the connection that just passed between you.

“Excuse me” one of them says, her voice light and playful as she glances between you and Sylus. The other nudges her, stifling a giggle, and you can already feel the familiar mix of curiosity and dread bubbling up.

“We couldn’t help but notice” the first woman continues, her smile widening, “you two are just the cutest couple. You’ve got this… spark. It’s like you stepped out of a romance novel!”

You blink, caught off guard, the glass of wine freezing halfway to your lips. A flush rises to your cheeks, and you can feel Sylus shift beside you, his presence suddenly more commanding.

“Oh, really?” he says smoothly, his tone carrying that trademark confidence. He slides an arm casually around your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse quicken. “Well, I’m glad we’re keeping the vineyard’s reputation for romance alive.

His words, so effortlessly delivered, make the women swoon audibly. “The way you two look at each other—it’s just magical!”

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as strained as it feels. “Thanks” you manage, your voice tight as Sylus’s hand lingers on your hip, warm and steady.

“Are you two married?”

“No” you say quickly, your voice a little too sharp, too defensive.

Sylus, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He looks at you, then smiles smoothly at the women. “No but...” he says as he looks back at you. “Our soul are already bound, so is better then marriage.”

The women gasp, eyes widening in surprise. “Such a poetic man...” the first woman exclaims. “You two are perfect together!”

You blink, momentarily stunned, unsure of how to react. Sylus doesn’t seem at all phased by the lie, his calm demeanor making it feel like a perfectly natural thing to say.

“Thanks” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “We’re very happy.”

You smile politely, trying to shake off the warmth creeping up your neck. The words linger in your mind as you finish your wine, but you can’t help but feel a little more self-conscious now. They really think you’re with him. You can’t help but wonder if the lines between roll playing and reality are already starting to blur.

The women chat a little longer, their compliments spilling over like the wine in their glasses. Finally, they flit away, their laughter trailing behind them as they disappear into the crowd.

You exhale sharply, stepping out of Sylus’s hold and turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Really? Our soul are bound? Better then marriage?”

He grins, unfazed, leaning closer until his voice drops low enough that only you can hear. “What?” His gaze locks onto yours, his smirk softening into something almost tender. “Saying the true is sometime easier then coming up with some lie, sweetie”

Maybe he’s enjoying this a little too much. But if he’s enjoying it, why don’t you enjoy it too? You think to yourself, a strange thought whispering at the back of your mind. Even if it’s just for this trip, just for the moment.

The wine has already begun to work its magic, loosening your inhibitions and making everything feel just a little more carefree. Before you can fully think it through, you find yourself clinging to Sylus’s arm, your fingers lightly gripping the sleeve of his jacket. The warmth of his presence settles against you, his steady pulse beneath your touch a reminder of just how close he is. You feel the tension in your chest ease, replaced by something else, something much more complicated.

Sylus’s smile stretches wide as he looks down at you, the corner of his lips curling in that smug, almost predatory way he always does when he knows he’s got your attention.

The quiet hum of the evening settles back in. It’s as if a small door has been opened, and you’re not entirely sure what’s on the other side, but for now, you’re curious enough to stay a little longer.

Sylus doesn’t move, his arm still locked with yours, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low and teasing. “Enjoying yourself so far, sweetheart?”

You glance up at him, maybe... just maybe... it won’t be as simple as you expected.

…

Dinner arrives just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the sky in soft, dusky hues. The air feels cooler now, but the warmth of the intimate atmosphere wraps around you, drawing you closer to the cozy setting. The flickering candlelight dances across the stone walls, casting playful shadows that seem to shift with every movement. It’s romantic, the kind of dinner scene you only see in movies, and for a moment, it feels like you’re part of a story you’re not sure you want to end.

Sylus is seated next to you, his tall frame glowing softly in the dim light. He’s quieter than usual, but his presence is undeniable. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to yours, and there’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you want to jump from your chair and lose yourself in him right there.

During the dinner, you find yourself addressing him a few times as “my love” or “honey”, while taking in the large group at the table. The words slip from your lips without thinking, and each time they do, a little thrill runs through you. You’re playing the part, but in some strange way, you realize you’re not pretending anymore. You’re enjoying it, living it.

You let your fingers brushed against his hand, and before you know, you’re subtly holding his hand beneath the table. The simple touch sends warmth up your arm. The intimacy of the gesture, hidden from the others, feels like a secret shared between just the two of you. You pass him food, feeding each other bites of your meals, exchanging tastes like lovers. Each touch, each glance, each shared moment feels more natural than it should.

You’re lost in the closeness, in the warmth of the evening, in the role you’re playing so effortlessly. It feels easy, too easy, to slip into this new dynamic with him. And for the first time since you arrived, you stop questioning it. For tonight, you’re his beloved. And maybe, just maybe, you can stay like this forever.

The evening winds down, and you’re a bit tipsy, your cheeks flushed with a soft pink. You decide to step outside for some fresh air, leaving Sylus talking to the owner of the vineyard. The nice warm sun is long gone, and the coldness of the mountains is a refreshing contrast to it. The vineyard stretches out before you, bathed in moonlight, and the quiet of the night feels peaceful. You feet are hurting, you've been walking with high heels all day.

You take a deep breath, feeling good, light, and free. For the first time in a while, you realize something you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider: You’re in love with him. There’s no denying it anymore. It’s there, right at the center of your heart, a truth you can’t shake. The way he looks at you, touches you—Every glance, every subtle move he makes, has stirred something deep inside you.

You stop for a moment, letting the breeze tousle your hair, and close your eyes. You’re here. You’re alive. And for this moment, you’re letting yourself feel what you feel, without worrying about what comes next. There’s something beautiful in the simplicity of it, in allowing yourself to just be in love with him. Tonight, you are free to love him, even if you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

As you walk over the veranda, along wooden floor, you heels clicking, feeling the silence around you, lost in your thoughts, you hear his voice cut through the stillness.

"My beautiful beloved, where are you going?" Sylus’s voice is smooth, playful.

You turn around and give him the most sincere smile you've ever shown him. If someone else had seen the look on your face at that moment, they might have thought you'd given him your whole heart in that single expression. And if someone had told you what Sylus felt when he saw you smile like that, you might not have believed them.

You’re startled to find him so close, just a few steps behind you, his figure illuminated by the silvery glow of the moonlight. His eyes are fixed on you, that familiar, confident smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your heart race. "Just needed a moment," you reply softly.

He steps closer, his presence magnetic, his gaze never leaving yours. "I see."

The heat of the wine bubbles up in your chest, but it’s the way he stands there, close, that makes the moment feel heavier than it should. He watches you as if he’s trying to decode something, a quiet challenge in his eyes. Then, without another word, he removes his jacket, the fabric brushing against your arms as he drapes it over your shoulders.

“Thank you” you say a bit shy.

“No need.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s glaring at you. You step closer to the railing, perching on it with half your body leaning out, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. Your mind drifts, flitting from thought to thought, nowhere in particular yet everywhere all at once. You’re enjoying it more than you expected. You hate to admit it, but Tera was right. You’ll need to thank her for pushing you to this.

“You’re staring” you say softly, trying to sound playful but failing to hide the nervous edge in your voice.

“Am I?” he counters smoothly, the smirk growing as he tilts his head slightly. “Maybe I just like what I see.” Your cheeks flush, but you don't look at him. Your eyes are still locked on the scenery.

“Mm-hmm” you hum.

“You’re quiet.” He remarks after a moment, his voice softer now, almost contemplative. “Something on your mind?”

You take a steadying breath, eyes still on the horizon. “Just... enjoying the view.”

He chuckles low. “Good to know I’m not the only one. Though, as beautiful as this is, we should head back—I’ve got something prepared for us.”

You tilt your head in curiosity, trying to read his expression, but before you can ask he gently takes you hand. You suppress a sigh as he guide you to stand up from the railing. You follow him, but the moment your feet hit the ground, the discomfort you’d been ignoring flares up. The cooling evening air has made the snug fit of your pretty shoes unbearable. You let out a soft whine as you take a couple of steps, causing Sylus to stop immediately. He turns, his brows furrowing with concern.

“What wrong?” You shake your head quickly, not wanting to make a fuss.

“It’s nothing... just my feet hurt a little”.

His gaze drops to your shoes, assessing the situation in an instant. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Sylus lets out a sigh, but the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “You’re hopeless sometimes, kitten.” Without another word, he scans the area, his gaze landing on a nearby chair on the veranda. He strides over to it, picks it up, and places it gently in front of you.

“Sit” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. You do as he said then he kneels in front of you.

“What are you—?” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a knowing look.

“Taking them off. Lift your leg.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intimacy of the moment not lost on you. You hesitate for a moment, but his steady gaze convinces you, and you lift your leg. The touch of his fingers on your ankle is electrifying. The dress you're wearing is riding up a bit. Concerned that he might catch a glimpse under the skirt, you discreetly try to lower it. Sylus doesn’t seem to notice or care, his focus entirely on your feet as he gently works to ease the discomfort you’re feeling. Still, you’re glad you're wearing cute panties, just in case something... happens? A few moments later your feet have been released from their prison, you feel relieved.

“This feels better, thanks” you say softly.

“Look at that, a second thanks I get today” he chuckles. Sylus stands up a little and leans over you. He's too close. "Hold on tight."

You feel his hands slide under your thighs and the other hand behind your back. In an instant, you find yourself lifted into his arms. You curl up instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, your body seeking the warmth and security he offers. His eyes flicker to your shoes, the red and black mist picks them up, placing them in one of his hand, not breaking stride as he carries you effortlessly.

“Put me down, Sylus” you say, a hint of laughter in your voice despite the situation.

“Do you want to walk barefoot?” he replies, his tone teasing but unwavering as he holds you close, his grip firm and steady. “Stay still, fussy kitten.”

With a pout you stop squirming in his arms, the smell of his perfume mixed with wine is incredible. You feel almost drunk, not from the wine itself but from the sweet and earthy mix that fills your senses, an alluring combination that invades your nose and makes your head spin just a little. You want to bit his neck.

He walks with you in his arms through the mansion, past couples lingering in the dining room. You catch a few glances from them, including the two women from earlier, who sigh at such an adorable image. A sense of pride swells inside you, and you feel almost lucky, as if you’re the center of attention in the best way possible. As you continue down the hallway toward your room, you look up, and your eyes meet his. That look again. Soft and tender.

As the door opens, you blink in surprise. The room is lit by soft candlelight and the chimney, the air sweet with the scent of fresh flowers, and a bottle of wine chilling in ice sits on the table. It feels like something straight out of a romance movie.

"Sylus, you don’t need to pretend in here" you say low, the question hanging in the air.

He meets your gaze, unfazed. "I’m not pretending." his tone very calm. You raise an eyebrow. He gently lowers you onto the bed, his hands steady and careful. He places your shoes on the floor beside the bed.

"Were you pretending before, being touchy and calling me pet names?" His question hits you like a spark.

You blush, stumbling over your words. "I..."

"It’s alright," he cuts in. “Lay down if you tried. It has been a long day” he look down, while unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest. The sight is fascinating and you can’t help but feel the absurd urge to lick every inch.

“I'm not” you feel your restraint cracking inside you, the longing for him is taking over.

“If you don't want to lie down” he continues, his voice smooth but with a hint of challenge “we can make the most of our time before dawn.” He step back, turning to the sofa for a moment. “Do you want some wine?”

This feels insane. You feel insane, but how long can you hold back? Isn’t this the perfect setup—wine, candlelight, fresh flowers, and a whole weekend for two? It’s a scene straight out of a dream. You stand up from the bed, your bare feet soft against the floor. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, desire surging within you, irresistible and raw. You walk toward him, feeling both bold and vulnerable, wanting something more.

“Forget the wine” you say, almost offended by the suggestion. Without the heels, you feel smaller in front of him, but the fire inside you pushes that discomfort aside. You place one hand on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers.

Sylus looks down at your hand, his gaze flickering to yours with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “I thought you were done with touching” he teases. You don’t answer, your pulse quickening. Damn him, it feels so good. Your fingers trace the opening of his black shirt, and you notice the slight change in his breathing. It’s subtle at first, but you can feel it—the way his chest rises and falls more sharply.

Sylus takes a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes locking with yours. You can tell he's holding back, but just barely. You smile, a little smug, pushing him down onto the sofa. He falls with a loud thud, but before he can settle, you quickly sit on his lap, both legs draped at his sides. Your dress shifts up with the movement, but this time, it doesn’t matter. You want to provoke him more than ever. Your hand returns to his chest, tracing irregular lines with your finger, the soft skin beneath your touch sending a pang of pleasure through your body. You can’t stop yourself from drawing closer, feeling the magnetism between you pull tighter with each passing second. He watches you intently, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You feel alive, every nerve on edge.

Your eyes flicker between his chest, his lips, and his eyes—his smoldering, unreadable eyes. You want to kiss him. The desire to feel his lips on yours is overwhelming, and you can’t fight it any longer.

Without thinking, you place your hand on his neck, your fingers trailing up to his cheek, the warmth of his skin... why did you take so long to get closer to him? At this point, that cute black underwear you wearing is wet, soak even. The heat between your thighs almost unbearable. Does he know what you want to do next? His playful, almost knowing look in his eyes would definitely say yes. You feel his control slipping, and it makes you ache for him even more.

You close the distance, moving your hand at the back of his neck, as you pull him closer. The moment your lips meet, everything else fades away. The warmth of his lips, the intensity of his touch, it's everything you've been feeling building up to this. You melt into the kiss, your body pressing closer to his, a wave of desire crashing over you. His hands move instinctively, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, and you respond just as fiercely, your heart pounding in your chest. You pull away breathless, your chest rising and falling with each quickened breath in the silence that follows. You look into his eyes, wide with disbelief at what just happened, your mind still trying to catch up with your body. Again, again, again, please.

Sylus moves forward, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You sigh in both pleasure and relief, feeling every inch of the tension melt away as his kiss deepens, as if it’s the only thing that matters in this moment. You feel his hand gently but firmly cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver through you.

The kiss is fierce and consuming, his urgency matching your own as his other hand slides between your shoulder blades, pulling you against his chest. His body presses into yours, as if he can’t bear to be apart for even a moment. His tongue tangles with yours, a messy, erotic dance that sends shivers down your spine, down to your core. It’s chaotic, passionate, and you can’t help but surrender to it. All you can feel, all you can think about, is him—his warmth, his touch, the raw desire radiating from him, and the storm building between you both. You’re lost in the sensation, in the wildness of the kiss, the taste of him.

Sylus adjusts his position slightly, moving you with him as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. He needs to be able to focus—focus on you, on your lips, on his throbbing desire in his pants that's driving him crazy. The tightness in his pants is almost unbearable. The soft material of your dress became a frustrating barrier to his touch, his hands hover over you, desperate to feel more.

„S- sylus...“ you manage to say between kisses, your voice filled with need. “Bed...“ His grip tightens around you hips. You can feel his hard dick between your legs since a while. He gives you a slow, deliberate kiss.

"Alright" he murmurs, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips, your body pressing against him as he moves swiftly toward the bed. The kiss never breaks as he places a knee on the bed, shifting you to the center, and gently lowers you onto the soft sheets. Your body tingles with the need for him, every inch of your skin alive, and the way he hovers just above you makes you feel like you're teetering on the edge of something you've both been craving since the being.

His nose brushing along the curve of you neck, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin. Then, the slow, intentional sweep of his tongue follows, sending a wave of electric shivers down your spine. You let out a soft whimper. Sylus hums against your neck.

He moves back, kneeling between your legs, and gently places one hand at the back of your thigh, moving down to lift you leg. His touch is careful, his eyes never leaving yours. Your dress moves up, covering barley your panties. He kiss you inner thigh, and move down to your knee.

Sylus's gaze darkens, and a small, almost smug smile plays at the corners of his mouth. His voice is low, raw with need. He pauses, lips brushing lightly over your knee before pulling back slightly, meeting your eyes again. "You haven't changed your mind, have you? Because... I just can't hold back anymore."

“No, but...”you pause, unsure where the insecurity is coming from. Sylus lifts an eyebrow, sensing the shift.

“Speak, my love” You sit up slightly, reaching for his face, your fingers gently tracing the spot where you had cut him the first time you met. Sylus gasps at your touch, the surprise in his reaction softening your own doubts.

“Am I being too greedy... if I ask you to keep your eyes only on me? He takes your hand, his grip firm yet tender.

“You always had that right.” He presses a soft kiss to your wrist. "Which means... you can be even greedier. Do you want it, kitten?"

“Yes” you smile, the tension easing slightly.

He leans in slowly “Good“ his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss, first teasing with a slow lick before diving deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hungry urgency. You fall back on the bed with him, he assaults your neck, with bites marking your skin as he has always wanted. His breath near your ear is driving you wild.

You gasp against him, your hands gripping his shoulder as you pull him closer. You find yourself not wanting to stop, not wanting to break away. The overwhelming sensation burns like fire. You elevate you hips to met his. Why is he taking so long?

"Looks like we're on the same page when it comes to not waste time." Sylus caress you cheek. You pout, turning your head away to avoid his gaze, but he’s quicker. He tilts your chin back toward him with a gentle but firm touch. "Stay focused, kitten" he murmurs playful.

Before you can respond, he moves his hand to cover your eyes "Don't look" he begins to kiss you again, his breath coming out in sharp gaps. What does he mean? You want to see him—to witness his composure faltering, to know you’re the one making him feel this way.

Sylus seems to savour the moment, his quiet sounds of pleasure against your lips filling the air like a melody only the two of you can hear. To you, it’s music—raw, intoxicating, and divine—a symphony of the gods, stirring a desire so pure and all-consuming it leaves you breathless. The weight of his body presses against yours, his movements slow as he grinds against you. The pressures of his hardness between your legs.

His long fingers trail down your arm, stopping at your wrist before moving to your palm. He laces his fingers with yours, squeezing hard, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. You melt to his touch. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and he chuckles faintly, the sound vibrating against your skin. The heat coursing through your body is dizzying, your thoughts hazy as the fabric of your fucking clothing feels increasingly stifling, an annoying barrier to his touch.

“You're not allowed to stop me until I'm finished.” he whisper, you nod. You starting to get desperate. You pull at his shirt with your other hand. Sylus smirks as he lets you remove his shirt a bit clumsy. The shirt falls finally to the floor in a careless heap, forgotten. His hands move to your thigh, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingers pressing into your skin as if staking a claim.

Sylus shifts slightly as his lips trail a path down your jaw. His other hands move with purpose, finding the hidden zipper of your dress on your back. You lean into him, your hands getting behind the waistband of his pants. Sylus smirks at your impatience, his fingers pausing briefly. The sound of it lowering fills the quiet space, mingling with the soft hum of your unsteady breaths. The fabric loosens, slipping off your shoulders.

Your hands moving to his belt, fumbling slightly as your nerves spark with adrenaline. He catches your wrist, stilling you for a moment. “You're truthly restless” he says with a teasing smirk, leaning down to kiss you again, as if savouring every second. He moves slightly to help you lift your dress over your head, the soft fabric slipping away easily and pooling on the floor beside his discarded shirt. You’re glad now that you picked out your favourite set—black with little red details you thought he might notice. From the way his eyes linger on you, it’s clear he does.

Your hands slide back to his waist. You glance up at him, and he gives you a small nod, his smirk never fading. Slowly, you undo the button and tug the fabric down over his hips. Sylus moves just enough to help you, kicking them off before settling back against you. Black boxer. Sexy. You bite your lips when your eyes fall on the the bulge you've been wanting to see for so long. Is pressing hard against the fabric, you can see the size and then the wet stain off precum.

Even is Sylus love to see you in you beautiful set, and would love to contemplate you more. His cock is starting to hurt, and your lascivious gaze on his good piece isn't making it any better. He puts his hand on your back again, without realising it your breasts are exposed. The bra...it doesn't matter.

He exhales loudly, he can't remember how many times he's wanted to undress you since he met you. His beloved, his heart, his curse, his everything. Make you his. Bite, lick, kiss, sweating together, feeling your pussy wet around his cock. Hearing his name while coming because of him. His mind races, each thought more urgent than the last. This is it. Finally. You’ve said yes, you’ve chosen him. You love him back, and it's everything he’s ever dreamed of. That thought ignites his desire even more, the last bit of restraint crumbling away in his mind.

His body presses against yours with a new intensity, and he can barely think past the feeling of you beneath him, in his arms.

His tongue licking over your nipple before enclosing his mouth around your breast. You whine softly, his heat radiating off you. One hand come over to your other nipple. His finger brush softly over it before squeezing it. You arch your back and whine again. The feeling of both nipple begin stimulated is making your pussy pulse in anticipation. You want him inside, now, fuck the foreplay. You're wet enough to take him in.

“Sy...” you want to say tell him, but bites down making you gasp, trailing off. You could come in any moment, you started to moan. Finally he lets one nipple free.

“So ready...” he whispers, fingers reaching your panties drenched. Sylus coos, his thumb pressing against your clothed clit to rub firm circles into the throbbing bud. You glare at him. His finger slipping beneath the fabric. Playing around you entrance, then one finger finds your warmth, you gasp loud at the sensation. At this point, your body is burning with need, every nerve begging for him. The motion of his finger, trying to find you sweet spot is driving you inside. You move you hips against his hand, trying to get more contact. He only laugh and lick again over you nipple.

A second finger is added, stretching you, you moan harder. His finger curls inside you and then...

“Sylus” you whimper, he hit you g-spot. A sharp wave of pleasure courses trough you again.

“That's it” he kiss you with hunger, while thrusting his finger inside you. You hold on his shoulder, opening wider you legs to give him more access. You don´t want to come, no yet, but if he continues like this. Sylus feels you tightness around his finger. Like he said, you not allowed to stop him. You moan and whine against his lips.

“I'm close...“ your words are a pleading gasp, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge. He smirks, his pace unwavering.

“Don't hold back“ he growls, low and commanding. You feel the pressure building inside you, the tension prolong. His kisses paired with the feeling of his other hand on your hard nipple with the frenetic rhythm of the finger is way to much.

“Sy..” you voice breaks as the tension snaps and you come uncontrollably. You body shaking in waves of pleasure. Sylus's finger still inside dragging out the last bit of release. When your breathing begins to steady, he withdraws them. His face is buried in you neck, his breath hot on your skin.

“I want to hear more of that.” Before you can even think of a reply, Sylus removes you panties and then his boxers. You gasp when you see his cock standing hard, long and thick. You bite your lips, you want to have it... Sylus stroke his cock his eyes not leaving yours. “Is time for the main course.”

He positions himself between your legs again, running his fingers over your entrance again before placing his cock. You moan as he thrusts his cock between your folds, slowly. He is so big. Your eyes flutter close, taking all the sensation in. Is overwhelming. Sylus gasp too when his cock is half way inside.

„Breath for me“ Sylus whispers, his breathing is growing heavier by the second, forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting his cock into you too hard. You try to relax your walls, you breathe out.

"Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good. His thumb stroke your cheek, and place a soft kiss on your lips. He started to move, softly to adjust in the new sensations, of being inside of you. For the first time in lifetimes. Sylus breath is uneven, hips rocking into you. Nails clawing down his back as you try to steady yourself, his face against your neck, growling, no, moaning lowly. Harder.

“Sy..Sylus” you moan. “More...”

“As you wish." He shifts and his cock hits you deeper, setting fireworks on in your brain while you moan so loud, that you swear the other in the dinning room could have hear you.

“Right... there.” Sylus smiles, capturing your lips once more in a hungry, passionate and deep kiss. Your tongues play, licking each other. The desire you feel is far beyond what you've ever felt with anyone. You feel like you could devour him, a violent thought that might even make you want to shoot him again. Tear out his heart of his chest. You discard the violent idea of hurting him.

You hug him closer with you legs, his cock slamming in a delicious rhythm. The lascivious sound that emanates through the silence of the room, the rustle of the sheet under your skin, the slight creaking of the bed as Sylus thrust his cock inside you, a symphony that you wish would not stop.

Each movement, each shift of his body against yours, sends a wave of heat through him, making it harder to stay composed. His muscles tighten with every gasp and every whimper that comes from you. Your fingers pulling at his silver hair, it's like adding fuel to the fire. And when you react, when you respond to him, it sends a surge of satisfaction and longing that almost overwhelms him. Sylus knows he’s on the edge, his cock twitch inside you, becoming even harder.

“Sy- Sylus,” you moan, pulling his head up to kiss him. He returns the kiss just as hungrily as you are. “Gonna cum...ah, pl..please”

“Come- come for me” he says brokenly. He pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck obediently, eyes closed to feel the comfort of his skin, losing yourself in it. Sylus groans. You squeeze him. You feel the orgasm bubbling inside you, the tension before the sweet fall. You want to hold on to it. “Come with me...” You open your eyes. What did he said? You meet his glowing red eyes. He pick up the pace, intensity growing inside him. Hammering into you g-spot at every thrust. You hold onto him and the sheets even tighter. A little more, just a little more.

“Can I...?” he started, driving into you more and more, near to explode in any second.

“Yes... please...” you nod eagerly. “I...” As if you had uncorked a shaken bottle of champagne, the orgasm reaches you in a bliss. Your body shakes and trembles. A few seconds later, Sylus follows you with a long growl, pressing his lips against yours, sharing that sweetly overwhelming moment. His hot cum spreads inside you, Sylus doesn't stop, he continues to move inside of you slowly. His lips pull away and he leans his forehead against yours,

When you open your eyes, the adoration in your stare was so palpable. He intertwining his fingers with yours, guiding your hand towards him, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You two stay silent, breathing still ragged and coming out in bursts. For some reason, you still feel heat, desire in your body. It hasn't been enough. You want more. As if he could read your mind, Sylus smiled.

“We can do this as long as you like, kitten,” he says, his voice a gentle, warm promise. His eyes sparkle with amusement as he kisses your cheek. You smile at his words.

The night stretches on, the two of you lost in each other, pausing only briefly to share sips of the forgotten wine on the table. One by one, the candles burn out and with that a new day begins.

Your mind drifts, basking in the warmth of the memories from the passionate night. For a moment, you forget that you never told him how you truly feel—but that’s alright. There’s time, you remind yourself with a small, hopeful smile. This is just the beginning, and you know deep down that there are countless moments ahead to share your heart with him.

Exhausted but content, you fall into a peaceful sleep in Sylus’s arms. He stays awake a little longer, watching you with a soft, almost reverent gaze, his heart full. Only when the first light of morning filters into the room does he finally close his eyes, holding you close as sleep overtakes him.

[tooturtly]

Need to go on a rant about the feudal system (more specifically manorialism) and Gideon the Ninth (spoilers through Harrow the Ninth ahead)

Gideon is very specifically described as living in a feudal system in the Ninth house. She is a Serf. She lives and serves under a ruler, she has specific legal, social, and economic obligations to the House and its ruler as a result of this system.

Feudalism exists within a specific sociopolitical context. It’s not equivalent to slavery, though it can appear that way to a modern audience. Muir wouldn’t have picked the term “serf” to describe Gideon if she didn’t mean it, or if she meant something else (such as slavery or indentured servitude)

Serfdom is not ownership of an individual, like in slavery. It’s more like an intense landlord/employee relationship, if we’re looking for a modern touch point. A serf is bound to the land they live and work on because they are a valuable source of labor. They owe labor, goods, or a payment in equivalency to, the lord who runs the lands they are bound to. If they want to go elsewhere, they have to pay back the lord for what labor/goods they won’t be providing anymore, and the lord could refuse them.

Because this is also a reciprocal relationship, the lord also has certain responsibilities to the serfs, including protection, the maintenance of the law, and maintenance of the lands. The lord runs their holdings as ruler, but also can’t just do whatever they want. This is a social, economic, and political system, if people didn’t like it or benefit from it and had the capability to do so, they would rebel.

(Sorry for this long tangent. It’s important to set context and also discuss this history. Feudalism/Manorialism looked different in different places and times, and originally came from Roman villa systems, but this post is already long enough)

So what does this have to do with the locked tomb?

Gideon is a serf, very explicitly. She is also a ward, which puts her into an interesting spot when it comes to legal and financial responsibilities. This means she owes labor and fealty to the Ninth, essentially in repayment for raising her.

When she tries to head to the Cohort, she would otherwise be allowed to do that as a free citizen of the Ninth House. But, she has prior responsibilities to the House as a serf, so she would need the Lord’s (Harrow’s) permission to do so. Despite these obligations, she is not required to do any particular jobs in the Ninth. She is not forced to be a nun, or to do labor. From what is described, it seems like she’s relatively left to her own devices.

In a system of slavery, Gideon would be forced to enact specific labor, to learn a specific trade, and to generally do whatever the fuck Harrow or the Reverend family wanted. But she’s not.

Again, Gideon can train to join the cohort as much as she wants. She can lock herself in her room and avoid people as much as she wants. She can avoid prayers or choose to go to them. She can do what she wants, but she is not allowed to leave to take her labor elsewhere without authorization, because of her legal and financial obligations in this sociopolitical system.

Ortus puts it very well in Harrow: he must follow her orders and fulfill the responsibilities he socially is obligated to fulfill, but when he lays his head down at night he is allowed to feel however he wants about himself and his actions, he is still a free person. Ortus is in a slightly different situation as his position at birth obligates him to be Harrow’s Cavalier, as opposed to Gideon who is in a lower social position and is the only option left, but he still owes a large amount of loyalty and labor to the Ninth House.

(Sorry again this is so long. I repeat myself quite a bit. But I saw someone say that Gideon is Harrows slave and that is a misconception that brushes over a lot of the complexities of the books. The relationship is complicated and full of social dynamics that we don’t see as modern readers because there are so many layers that require historical context. This is also not a defense of the feudal system or to say that their relationship isn’t toxic. It is. But that’s a different post)

[goodolreliablejake]

I think part of the reason that Evrart Claire is able to outmanuever everyone else is that he sees the world in strict, materialist terms. I previously argued that beneath his sleezy and corrupt exterior, Evrart is a true believer in Communism, so now I'd like to add on to that a bit about his methods. Basically, Evrart has very clearly defined, material goals and a plan to achieve them that prioritizes results over process, and this is in stark contrast to Harry's highly conceptual and abstract understanding of politics.

Let me make my point by first making a detour; why does Evrart employ Rene as his night watchman? It's charity, right? Rene isn't really that useful, but he wants to feel useful, and he needs a source of income to survive, and he needs it in a way that protects his pride. But isn't Rene Evrart's ideological enemy? He is, according to Harry's political schema, the avatar of fascism, and a vocal hater of communism.

Well, no, because to Evrart, class isn't a matter of what you believe in your heart, it's a matter of your material conditions. Rene is a poor and vulnerable man, a working class fellow abandoned by the people who once exploited him, even as he romanticizes that past exploitation. And in that way, he is (in Evrart's eyes at least) no different whatsoever from Dros the Deserter.

I think this materialism is also what allows Evrart to lie so easily. He'll gladly call Harry a comrade, because words are wind. Words don't change the fact that Harry is a cop and the violent agent of the state.

Under this framework, I think there are really only two political positions that people can meaningfully take; they are what Harry would call Communism or Moralism. As a citizen of Martinaise, you can either accept the status quo of those in power, or you can work towards independence from your corporate overlords. Fascism is a delusion: drinking yourself to death while griping about women and immigrants, never changing your political reality. Ultraliberalism is ALSO a delusion: fantasizing about net worth and becoming the boot, meanwhile your overlords will never allow you to escape the economic status you were assigned at birth.

Now, it might sound like I'm being overly complimentary to Claire, but this framework is also what enables his worst crimes. Evrart defrauds the union, skirting its democratic process to install himself (and his brother) as permanent dictator/mafioso. His focus on results turns him into something of a perverse reversal of his own ideals. He exploits the people of the fishing village, conning and stealing their land because he believes it will be worth it in the end. He profits off a drug trade that leeches off of the hopelessness of the very working class people he claims to be working to better the lives of.

Yet at the end of the day... Harry's "political vision quests" are stories he tells himself in his head. They change the UI that the player sees but nothing about how it works. His conception of Communism is most defined by its impossibility and failure. Meanwhile, Evrart ACTUALLY seizes the means of production.

[witchyafterdark]

Consolidated HL Character Profile #2:

— Sebastian Sallow —

Note: Finally, here is Sebastian's version of the complete profile analysis I've done before! I actually started doing his profile before Ominis' but his character information and background became more difficult for me to understand. Nevertheless, I'm happy to post this one for all the Sebastian girlies — and fans in general! 💕

As always, tags and shoutouts are at the very end of this post.

This is a very, very long post. Pace yourself and take your time.

—---—---—---—---—

I. Possible Birth Place

NOTE: These are all speculated places backed with cross-referenced research, and other people’s headcanons. This was the most difficult part of this post, and I am open to other suggestions and ideas.

Before we begin to even tackle all the possible birthplaces of Sebastian (and Anne), there are a couple of important things that needed to be discussed. At the end of this segment, there will be options to choose from based on narrowed down (and specified) locations.

Firstly, we know that Sebastian’s parents were professors who unfortunately passed away before he and Anne developed their magical abilities. Therefore, majority of people in the HL community have an unspoken agreement that the Sallow family (except Solomon) used to live near Hogwarts—if Mr. and Mrs. Sallow were to fulfill their work as professors during the day, and come home to their children at night every single day. They had to live near their place of work because it was indicated that they spent nearly every waking moment in the cellar attending to their academic pursuits.

But wait… where exactly is Hogwarts located?

Scotland is a massive place with lots of towns and cities. In order to narrow down the possible locations of where Hogwarts is situated, I have referred to this source that had studied this whole topic with as much precision as possible that simultaneously pieced together book-canon mentions of the castle itself.

This map shown below is the route that the Hogwarts Express travels from London (at King’s Cross Station) to the castle that oversees Hogsmeade as well. According to the website linked above, standard Victorian steam-powered trains run for 80mph (or 128kph). But under route calculation and terrain consideration, the train would have had the speed of around 65mph if it is to comply with the fact that the students reach Hogwarts by nighttime. And since the entire magical community of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade (and the entire magical Scottish Highlands) are hidden from muggle view, the estimation of Hogwarts’ location is either the Galloway Hills or the West Highlands.

For the sake of congruency between book-canon information and the landscape of the game’s map, this post will settle on the West Highlands instead.

Fun Fact: It was said that Hogsmeade was founded by an Englishman named Hengist of Woodcroft. I noticed that places with the word “-croft” is predominant in Hogwarts Legacy. There’s the Undercroft and Feldcroft, and I think it wraps up nicely alongside the origins of the founder of Hogsmeade himself.

—

Now that Hogwarts’ location has been established, let’s move on with Sebastian’s possible birthplaces.

1. Aranshire

It has been such a long while ago, but I have asked permission from @hogwartslegacypics to reference the post she did before. (Thank you for allowing me to use your work for mine. All pictures used in this segment are credited to you).

There have been deleted voice lines that Sebastian would say or be triggered when you walk with him around this area using the Companion Mod. The quest in Aranshire would have the main character investigate what happened in the village becoming abandoned by its townspeople. This would lead to a house inhabited by Mary Portman, and she was responsible for breeding all sorts of spiders in the cellar of her house.

Furthermore, Sebastian would have a specific voice line once you get inside the cellar. I have tried to activate this dialogue with other NPC’s but it’s only him that says it. There is the possibility that this quest was supposed to be done with Sebastian as part of his questline.

In this video, with the timestamp 59:39, only Sebastian says this line:

“I suppose we know what happened to Mary Portman. She was breeding the spiders.”

It would be both economical and logical for the Sallow professors to have a house near their place of employment instead of boarding with the other professors in the Faculty Tower without a live-in sitter watching their two children. And even if they did hire someone to watch their children, we were never given any indication that the twins were left under someone else's care when Mr. and Mrs. Sallow were still alive. Plus, it would put quite a dent on their finances to rely on childcare services for the whole school year that they'd be at work.

Lastly, giving birth at home is the norm during Victorian times. According to the Victorian Web:

"... for much of the nineteenth century the safest place to be delivered, regardless of social class, was at home by a well-trained midwife. Until the widespread use of antisepsis in the 1880s, male practitioners were more likely to carry infection, using unclean instruments and moving as they did between different types of medical cases and post-mortems to deliveries."

And so, it would make perfect sense that Mrs. Sallow would give birth at the comfort and safety of their home—which would indicate that Sebastian and Anne's birthplace would be Aranshire, or at the very least, near Hogwarts.

2. St. Mungo’s Hospital, London

Another possible place where Sebastian and Anne might have been born is actually at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

I would like to believe that Wizarding medical practices have stark differences from their muggle counterparts, and that the use of magic may have provided the Wizarding world some medical advances long before muggle technological discoveries.

While all of this is just speculation, there is also the possibility of complications with giving birth to a set of twins. Given that most women of the Victorian age preferred home births due to the higher maternal mortality rate with hospital births, there could still be the possibility that Mrs. Sallow had Sebastian and Anne at the hospital.

Both of his parents are professors, and was said to be open-minded folks. It wouldn't be surprising if they are the type of new parents who had read every maternity book they could get their hands on, and may have chosen the option of having medical witches and wizards to aid the delivery of the twins—should any sort of complications arise in the midst of labor.

St. Mungo's Hospital is located in London, concealed in such a manner similar to that of Diagon Alley.

"To enter the premises, one might step through the window of what appeared to be a red-bricked, condemned department store called Purge and Dowse, Ltd. This acted as a magical gateway to the main building, much like the barrier at King's Cross Station to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Although the "department store" building housing the hospital might have been relatively small, this was not an indication of the true capacity of a magical building, the interior looked exactly as a hospital should. One way an individual could enter the building was speaking to an apparently inanimate dummy in the department store."

3. Fort William, Scotland

For Sebastian's last possible place of birth, I had to resort to looking at his wiki page. There was one little thing that I noticed written on his biographical information. There is chance that he is a half-blood.

Given that both his parents are professors, we don't actually have any actual confirmation or evidence that they taught at Hogwarts!

It could be feasible that one of Sebastian's parents was indeed a professor at Hogwarts, while the other one taught at a muggle school. If that's the case, then the Sallow family might have to settle somewhere in the "middle" of their place of work—one goes to the Wizarding community while the other goes to the nearest muggle town.

And according to the map below, the nearest muggle town that was actually the final stop before Hogwarts was Fort William.

Although, just because Sebastian and Anne were born here doesn't mean that they were raised here. It was still canonically stated that Sebastian grew up within the Wizarding community; which is around Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Aranshire, and other hamlets deep in the Scottish Highlands.

Nevertheless, if one really wants to pinpoint an actual location on the (muggle) map, then Fort William is the nearest and most likely place. And yes, the Hogwarts Express Train passes by this beautiful town.

—

End Results:

Sebastian (and Anne) was most likely born in Aranshire, given the amount of evidence we have in the game—alongside exclusive deleted voice lines from the character himself. Then again, the two other options listed above can be considered as well if we entertain the idea of expounding on the tidbits and hints of information we have about him (such as the possibility that he is a half-blood).

—---—---—---—---—

II. Possible Date of Birth

NOTE: If you're not interested in astrology, you can just skip this one, and go to Part 3, 4, and 5!

This section of the post is pure speculation, and no solid proof at all. But we do know that Sebastian should be born between September 1, 1874 and August 31, 1875 if he was to be eleven years-old during the start of his first year at Hogwarts. Therefore, all of the following information is gathered by astrological observations of his character.

(I have a personal tarot and astrology account, @tarotwitchy, if you guys are interested in knowing more about this type of content).

Based on character analysis, I believe that Sebastian is a Virgo Sun, Scorpio Moon, and Sagittarius Rising.

Now, what does that mean?

Let's break down his character one astrological placement at a time.

1. Virgo Sun

— A lot of people think he is a Scorpio Sun. But as one myself, he doesn't quite fit the bill. Instead, based on his actions throughout the game, he represents the hallmark traits of a Virgo Sun. A person with this placement is someone who gets things done. They have laser-sharp focus on things that matter to them, and they will stop at nothing until they've satisfied their own thirst for knowledge and understanding and experience of whichever captivated their whole attention.

— It's because of this "obsessive" behavior that he is tagged as a Scorpio. But in his case, obsession is a manifestation of an unhealthy Virgo; one that cannot admit defeat and accept their losses. It's like beating a dead horse. It's not actually obsession that took over Sebastian. It's his stubbornness. It's his refusal to acknowledge that he is, in fact, not correct in his methods, and disregards anyone else's advice and pleas for him to stop.

— Before the whole Scriptorium and Relic debacle, you get to know him as someone who has a great reputation around school. The professors and the librarian acknowledge that he is a bright boy, and a notable duellist. When done right, a person with Virgo Sun shines brightly in perfecting their crafts and honing their strengths. The best part is that they have no qualms about helping others reach their full potential as well (and this is evident with the way he helps the MC perform well in practicing spells and teaching them Confringo. He loves knowing beyond what the school is willing to teach. For him, knowledge is knowledge).

2. Scorpio Moon

— This is what most people think he is. But in astrology, the basest of our instincts and emotional fallback is not reflected by our Sun sign but by our Moon sign. Our Moon sign is our last line of defense when the going gets tough. We fall into the characteristics of this placement when our "public façade" has failed to mitigate whatever issue we're dealing with.

— As for Sebastian, his Scorpio Moon took hold of the reins during the time when he was running on fumes; mentally, emotionally, and physically. In Ominis' only note, he mentioned that Sebastian is not acting like himself. As much as he is severely influenced by the Relic, it is believed that Dark Magic amplifies the wizard's emotional status.

— With Sebastian, he was already emotionally worn out from the knawing hopelessness of his sister's condition and from the verbal assault he endures from his uncle. When you combine all these elements together, you get the unhealthiest version of a volatile Scorpio Moon.

3. Virgo Mercury

— People with their Mercury in Virgo are reservoirs of both knowledge and the ambition to understand more than what they already know. They aren't the type of people to stop searching for answers simply because they already found a half-baked solution to their problems. They go the extra mile, and then some more.

— And as we all know, Sebastian had turned the entire library upside down reading tome after tome on possible solutions for Anne's dilemma. A Slytherin main character would first encounter him pacing back and forth in the common room reading a huge book... on the first day of school.

— Majority of people with this astrological placement report that they just have that intellectual "itch" that needs to be scratched with more and more information, experimentation, research, and discovery. Until that hunger is satiated, they will not stop their quest to find out the truth they seek. We see Sebastian's downward spiral with this attribute. He was willing to go as far as casting the Cruciatus curse just to get his hands on Salazar Slytherin's spellbook.

4. Scorpio Venus

— Men with Scorpio Venuses are those who aren’t afraid with the nitty gritty of interpersonal and romantic relationships. Some people like to keep things on the surface level, not really bothering with really getting to know other people on an intimate level. And yet, Sebastian has shown to be yearning for more information about the people he’s involved with.

— In the game, when the main character was starting to understand their abilities with ancient magic, Sebastian was quick to ask, “what aren’t you telling me?” He’s the kind of person who goes beyond the hi’s and hello’s, and wants to understand his companion’s current situation. This is the hallmark trait of a person with their Venus in Scorpio. Furthermore, he also exhibits the mentality of wanting to always be in-the-loop of his loved ones’ lives, even if he’s dealing with his own problems at the same time. In his mind, your problem is also his problem, and he will not abandon you in your most trying times.

— This kind of closeness can sometimes be overwhelming for people who aren’t used to another person being very personal and up-close with their lives. But this is one of the way a Scorpio Venus shows their love, and this is very evident with how Sebastian is also helping the main character in their quest find out more about Ancient Magic in spite of drowning in his own research on Anne’s cure.

5. Leo Mars

— If Mars in Leo had a textbook example, Sebastian’s face would be on the cover. To name a few examples of how he exhibits some of the qualities this astrological placement has, let’s start with the fact that Mars is the planet responsible with body language. The way Sebastian was portrayed during his cutscenes and with his routine walks around the castle, he has a very confident gait and posture. He naturally carries himself with his own brand of masculinity; not aggressively so, but securely taking up appropriate space for himself.

— Another quality that people with Leo Mars has is that they are not afraid of being under the spotlight. They live up to people’s expectations of them, and they deliver a spectacular show of presence. In Sebastian’s case, he was one of the best duelists of Crossed Wands, and he doesn’t shy away from being the main character’s opponent during Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

— He is charismatic, ambitious, and playfully adventurous and competitive. Then again, Sebastian is shown to be stubborn, dramatic, and prone to anger. These are the characteristic manifestations of Mars in the sign of Leo.

(Not to mention that his favorite spells are fiery in nature!)

6. Sagittarius Rising

— A person’s ascendant has something to do with people’s first impressions of them. There are some astrological analysis of what Sebastian’s ascendant (or rising) sign would be. Majority of them are saying he has a Scorpio Rising. To have a Scorpio Rising, one has to have a demeanor of being unapproachable, have an air of enigma, and being quite intimidating. However, our first interaction and impression of Sebastian couldn’t be further from the truth. He is open, he is approachable, he is playful, and he is chatty. Ominis, on the other hand, has a Scorpio Rising for the same reasons I stated above for this sign.

— Therefore, Sebastian has a Sagittarius Rising. Traits of this sign include having a curious glint in their eyes, being quite effortlessly popular amongst his peers, charmingly clever, and has an intellectual brand of humor.

— Sagittarius is the sign of higher learning. If the main character was a Slytherin, the very first cutscene of Sebastian is with him pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, with a massive book in his hand, and reading and learning what he can about his dilemma. That is a very obvious and blatant display of a first impression of a Sagittarius rising.

—

End Results:

Sebastian Sallow was born on September 15, 1874 at around 1:00PM, during the autumn season.

Of course, all of this is just my personal headcanon but I made sure to back them up with research and imbued them with my own astrological knowledge when it comes to matching his personality and his possible birth date.

—---—---—---—---—

III. Psychometric Analysis

NOTE: I will be linking the sites for these tests should you want to take them yourself! 😊 Have fun!

1. MBTI

— ENTP (Extrovert, Intuitive, Thinking, Perceiving)

"ENTP's are known for their rebellious streak. For this personality type, no belief is too sacred to be questioned, no idea is too fundamental to be scrutinized, and no rule is too important to be broken or at least thoroughly tested. This could make them seem overly cavalier or defiant, but at their core, their innate tendency to test boundaries has more to do with their desire for innovation and change."

Sebastian is, quite literally, the poster boy for ENTP. He embodies the trademark inquisitive nature of this type, and he has the signature charm to back it up as well. He isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to understand a certain topic he zeroes in on, and he doesn’t shy away from topics that would be considered taboo. As a matter of fact, he thrives in the taboo. Sebastian doesn’t discriminate the information that comes his way; instead, he has his own mental compass and filter that systematizes the knowledge he comes to possess.

2. Enneagram

— Type 8 with wing 7; SX/SP (The Maverick)

“8w7 people are action-oriented and powerful people with a passion for pursuing new opportunities. They tend to be self-confident, sociable, pragmatic and comfortable with conflict. They’re ambitious and independent, preferring to follow their own path. They dream big and have the dedication to achieve their goals. They thrive in environments that encourage their idealism, while granting them the authority to make a difference. They don’t settle for anything; they always seek more. They are also strategic and tough if needed.”

True to the name of this particular Enneagram, Sebastian is known as a rebel and a maverick. He’s the kind of person that questions the rules and authority instead of following blindly. He has his own moral code that he abides to because he is secure in his ability to make the correct decisions, even if we know that he’s going down a dark path. As a rebel, he will stubbornly insist to everyone that his way is the right way because he has already examined the possible courses of action outside the constraints of authority.

This is why he ended up butting heads with Ominis (who thrives in his own systematic order). To Sebastian, no rule is too sacred to break. As long as he sees the alternative outcomes to a specific goal, he will march to the beat of his own drum.

3. Four Temperaments

— Choleric–Sanguine (The Executive)

"The Choleric-Sanguine has a natural drive to quickly get results. They are goal and bottom-line oriented, and can be very persuasive in promoting their ideas and goals. They are easily annoyed when others do not comply with their instructions or direction but it passes quickly; quickly aroused, easily calmed. They are not angry, although others may at times think they are furious. They are impatient and will push others to obtain results and be productive."

This is blend of Temperament fits Sebastian perfectly, especially towards the tail end of his plotline. It’s very evident is his voice lines that he isn’t afraid to push people to their limits and persuade others relentlessly. He jumps into the heat of the battle without much thought, and he expects people to follow suit. He doesn’t appreciate it when his close friends question his motives because that would be an insinuation that they don’t trust his judgments. He is quick on his feet and even quicker with executing alternate routes to get closer to his goals instead of wallowing in his failures.

—---—---—---—---—

IV. Corporeal Patronus

NOTE: An Animagus is a witch or wizard's animal representation of their basest instincts and behavior. A Patronus is an animal manifestation of what makes them happiest. While most people will have the same animal for their Animagus form and Patronus, it's not always the case. We know that a person's Patronus can change throughout their lifetime.

Majority of people in the community have an unspoken agreement that Sebastian’s Animagus is a fox. By extension, his Patronus must take the corporeal form of a fox as well. However, I personally disagree with the definitions that I find in most sources. Therefore, I researched every possible Patronus result in the Wizarding World official test, and painstakingly reviewed their meanings using multiple sources. I have also enlisted the help of my cousin, who also completed her gameplay as a proud Hufflepuff, to determine which amongst all the extensive Patronus possibilities suit Sebastian the best. And after two hours of combing and debating through it, we have decided on the Buffalo.

This source defined this patronus as such:

Few possess just the right strength of character for their patronus to take the form of a buffalo. Those that do are dedicated individuals who are fiercely protective of those close to them, and not in a general way, either. Anyone foolish enough to attempt to harm another under a buffalo’s care is unlikely to come out unscathed. They are fighters, and it’s not uncommon for a buffalo to have their own personal code or way of acting to which normal morality simply doesn’t apply, which can be dangerous even for the buffalo. When all is well, they are placid but often outgoing, with strong personalities and who like having fun with those they bond to. However, going too long without contact with friends or family can lead to a buffalo feeling anxious or sad, and they will usually be at their best when sharing time with others. They are steadfast friends that enjoy being helpful and lending a hand to complete a task, or just making someone feel better. The buffalo is full of many feelings, the strong stature of them showing through a person in this way. They try to appear stoic, but it often backfires and they wear their hearts on their sleeves. They are passionate about everything they do and headstrong. They make sure their opinions are known by all that they concern, because they want to show that they are not weak. They feel as though their emotion and lack of control over it does in a way give them weakness, and it angers them greatly. They have strong tempers that are easy to lose.

A witch or a wizards Patronus has been proven to change over the span of their lifetime, and is influenced by major milestones such as marriage, relationships, or simply being influenced by your parent’s Patronus. However, based on the game material itself, a Buffalo Patronus fits Sebastian the best. Yes, he can still emulate the trickster and cunning nature of having a Fox Animagus. But based on his emotional state throughout the game, this animal’s spirit and its subsequent meaning perfectly reflects why he did the things he has done. He bulldozes his way through things without much contemplation, and he does wear his heart on his sleeves. Sebastian is the type to also care about the problems of his friends and loved ones personally, and will be their pillar of strength when needed.

—---—---—---—---—

V. Wand Analysis

1. Wand Wood

Based on the physical characteristics of this wand and the meaning of the wood, it's highly possible that Sebastian's wand is made from Yew Wood.

According to the wand wood information:

"Yew wands are among the rarer kinds, and their ideal matches are likewise unusual, and occasionally notorious. The wand of yew is reputed to endow its possessor with the power of life and death, which might, of course, be said of all wands; and yet yew retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the spheres of duelling and all curses. However, it is untrue to say (as those unlearned in wandlore often do) that those who use yew wands are more likely to be attracted to the Dark Arts than another. The witch or wizard best suited to a yew wand might equally prove a fierce protector of others. Wands hewn from these most long-lived trees have been found in the possession of heroes quite as often as of villains. Where wizards have been buried with wands of yew, the wand generally sprouts into a tree guarding the dead owner’s grave. What is certain, in my experience, is that the yew wand never chooses either a mediocre or a timid owner."

There have been a plethora of different wand woods that are actually suitable for Sebastian's magical disposition. Most people have hypothesized that his wand is made from Aspen due to its duelling nature. However, I have considered that Sebastian's duelling skills are not emphasized because of the wand he uses. It is through his innate magical skills and strength that made him an exceptional duellist.

I also do not see him joining a duelling club (Silver Spears) as a way to flaunt his wand and the exclusivity of what it entails. He was most likely recruited due to his consistent displays of sheer talent and capabilities in martial magic during classes. Sebastian doesn't seem to be the type to use a personal artifact to bolster his reputation. Rather, he utilizes everything he has with efficient resourcefulness to hone his abilities manually and with hard work. You can take his wand from him and provide him with another, and he'd still be formidable with it. That is the kind of witch or wizard Yew wands choose — just as it chose Tom Riddle and Ginny Weasley.

2. Wand Core

This one is easy to determine. Sebastian's wand is imbued with a core of Dragon Heartstring. According to Ollivander, this wand is powerful yet volatile at the wrong hands.

"As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental."

With how quickly Sebastian reads and practices a lot of things in such a short period of time (and simultaneously juggling his studies along with it), it's safe to say that he is a quick learner. He easily absorbs what he reads and witnesses without trouble, and he is able to put into immediate use what he discovers just moments ago. It makes sense that he is paired with a wand with this kind of core, as he needs a magical conduit that doesn't hinder his fast progress.

Furthermore, it is a matter of fact that he truly is drawn towards the Dark Arts, and he was able to cast all the Unforgivable Curses without any error nor did he fumble with them. It takes a great amount of skill a wizard possesses in order to execute these highly complex, powerful, and very dark magic. This is something that a Dragon Heartstring wand core looks for in its owner; the innate drive and relentless energy to fulfill advanced forms of magic. Sebastian just so happens to tick all of those boxes seamlessly.

3. Wand Flexibility and Length

According to the official source:

"Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair."

Because of that, his wand's flexibility is most likely Hard. This source had explained it perfectly:

"A wand of this flexibility is very difficult to work with and its loyalty is not won easily. Hard wands are great for complex and advanced levels of magic, so beginning wizards and witches may find extra difficulty with this wand when it doesn't perform well for simple magic. As such, this type of wand is best suited for wizards and witches who are gifted, stubborn, and never give up. Owners of this wand also have a tendency to view things in absolutes; black or white. Some people may find them intimidating or difficult to approach."

Majority of Sebastian's wand analysis categorizes it as Unyielding. And while that was the initial decision in this post, I ultimately decided otherwise. With this flexibility, it really puts emphasis on his natural affinity for difficult spells and his tenacity to see through what he started. This kind of wand is not for the timid witch or wizard but someone who is comfortable being challenged time and time again. And of course, Sebastian sees a challenge as a test of his magical progress and curiosities.

As for the length of it, a standard 12 and 3/4 inches suits him just fine. He isn't too cocky about his skills but he also has confidence in himself to get things done.

—

End Results:

Yew Wood, Dragon Heartstring Core, Hard Flexibility, and 12 3/4 inches long! (It isn't a mystery that Confringo is one of his favorite spells!)

—---—---—---—---—

Honestly, this is a difficult one to finish. There wasn’t much to go on with, and every information here was based on very limited information. And most of my posts took a back burner because I feel like I needed to finish this one first. And I had this post sitting in my drafts for more than a year now!

Nevertheless, I am happy with what I produced, and this was given the same amount of thought as the one I had with Ominis. This one’s for all the Sebastian lovers! I hope this is up to par with other character analysis we already have in the fandom.

Tags:

Just a shoutout to my cousin, Marsha, for helping me with this post! I had so much fun doing this at the crack of dawn while we FaceTimed. Without your help, this post won’t be published. Love you to bits, and I’ll see you in December!

@sunnyrealist: I promised, didn’t I? I’m sorry it took a year, though!

@pufflehuffing: I swear, our conversations will always be the highlight of my social media presence in this fandom. This one’s for you, too!

@ravenwind-75: I know you’re an Ominis girlie but I also promised to share this with you once I wrapped it up. Our chats have always been so nice, and I genuinely enjoy being a part of your community.

—

Look at the date when I first created this post. It's been rotting in my drafts for more than a year now... just like the rest of my other posts. 🥲

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — A STARRY SKY AND HOPEFUL EYE

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : nightly routines revolve around keeping watch with zoro, but today is extra special as you get to start his birthday off right with an intimate moment and a special gift.

꒰ contents ꒱ : zoro roronoa x reader ; alcohol mention. elements of hurt/comfort, tooth rotting fluff + filled with love. — WC : 1133

happy birthday zoro ♥︎

“I'm here, don’t be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you.” A familiar, gravelly tone pierces through the thick fog of fear that was slowly consuming you. Zoro’s voice was every bit of him as ever — strong, driven, confident, protective.

It serves as a reassuring melody that tugs on your delicate heartstrings, commanding the attention that you so readily give. A gentle reminder that you’re secure in his arms and safely tucked away from the winds of change and everything else that the Sunny is drifting past.

But it held a serene tenderness that would only surface when the two of you were alone and under the stars, sailing across the open sea where the only witness to your love was the pearly moon that dreamily hung overhead.

You hum softly as you begin to fully wake, feeling the words rumble from his chest and caress your back, soothing all of your fleeting worries away. Zoro had a gift when it came to chasing away demons, a renowned hunter that would protect you from anything that dare brought you harm.

“‘m sorry.” You pivot a little, readjusting yourself to nestle into him better. “I didn't mean to fall asleep.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” He roughly gruffs out, a direct juxtaposition to the careful way he was cradling you. “Another nightmare?”

“They come and they go.” The fear of the dream subsides as you take in the night that beautifully envelops you both. 

The stars begin to unveil themselves, gleams of hope scattered across the inky black sky. The sun had long since gone to rest but the night prevails as the two of you keep a watchful eye.

The vibrant colors that once bathed the sky in orange and pink hues were now stripped back without the comfort of the sun. 

Keeping watch was a task you and Zoro would often face together. The norm was that each person would take two hours to complete their shift but overtime, yours had blended together. From the birth of midnight into the early cusps of the morning, this little cozy corner of the world was yours.

Countless times you’ve found solace in each other’s quiet wakes. Words would come far and few in between in favor of soaking up the comforting presence that bloomed whenever you were together. 

Even still, the whispered exchanges were something that never failed to fill you with warmth in spite of the desolate chill of night.

“Get some rest. I'll make sure they don’t come back.” Zoro’s lips faintly brush against your temple in an attempt to ease your troubled mind. Everyone fell victim to the darkness that plagues dreams and he knew all too well the toll they could take.

“I wanna stay up with you.” The looming winter breeze glazes over your face, kissing along your skin in such a way that has you huddling to the source of warmth that surrounds you. “It's your birthday so I want to savor as much time with you as I can before the others wake up.” A pause. “Besides, I got you a little present.”

Zoro shifts a little so he has a clear view of your face, sharp gaze set on you. Mirth swims in his steely eye as he makes contact, lips twitching heavenward.

“A present, huh? Is that why you locked yourself in the crows nest yesterday?” It was true, you had shooed everyone away from the room under the guise of training. But Zoro knew better — you’d never deny him the chance to train with you but he didn’t push it, opting to train on the deck instead.

“Maybe….” You trail off, smiling sheepishly before sliding off of his lap to reach for the gift you had stowed away earlier. The shimmering moon provided enough light for you to see, casting a luminous glow that blankets you both in a loving embrace, glittering with an ethereal magic that only the depths of night could merit.

“You gonna show me or what?” He smirks, his face closer to yours as you settle back in front of him. You nuzzle his nose with the tip of your own, an act of affection he’s grown used to over the time you’ve been together.

Silently, you hand him the small box and your heart thumps viciously against your chest. He opens the tiny, yet neat packaging and is quiet for a moment as he examines what lays within. 

In the box was a carefully leather braided bracelet with a singular bead woven in.

“You like it?” You falter for a moment. Before he can answer, you begin to nervously ramble. “I tucked my vivre card in the bead. That way if we’re ever apart, we can always find each other again.”

There's another pause and the only thing you can hear is your heart screaming for relief as it pounds against the cage of your ribs. Like clockwork, it eases back down as Zoro's face glimmers with an expression you hardly see, one that’s reserved for you during your most intimate moments.

“Hell yeah I like it.” Zoro's cheeks blossom into a soft pink, calloused thumb gliding over the textured leather. His voice becomes nothing but a fresh breath of air. “This is special.”

“It’s…” The word ‘nothing’ escapes you because it couldn’t be further from the truth. It means everything to you. Plus, he’d only chastise you for downplaying such a thing. “Good, I'm glad you do.”

“Put it on me.” Zoro demands, pulling you up into his lap. You hold onto his hand and gently wrap the bracelet around, the pads of your fingers trailing along his skin and he has to hold back a shudder. With a few simple motions, you tighten it so it’s secure and snug but not too much. 

The sunless sky shines again as Zoro smiles at the gift, the light warming you from the inside out and chasing away the chill of night.

“Thank you.” Zoro wraps his arm around your waist, nuzzling his face against your cheek and leaving a kiss there in his wake.

“Of course.” Tension rolls off of your shoulders with the acceptance he so readily gives you. All day, anxiety flooded your veins and took the breath from your lungs as you tried your best to make the perfect gift for him. You even went as far as — “Oh! I almost forgot. I got you something in case you didn’t like it.”

Zoro makes a noise of protest but it almost immediately dies out as he sees you pull his favorite brand of sake out from where you hid it — comically wrapped up in a pink bow.

“Well I'd never say no to this.” He lets out a puff of amusement, taking the bottle from your hand and opening it with ease. “What do you say? Up to share a little drink with the birthday boy?”

“Duh.” A giggle spills from your lips as you watch him hide his smirk with the neck of the bottle, taking a healthy swig. Some of the sake drips down from the corner of his mouth in which you easily scoop it up with your finger, bringing it to your own lips to clean it off. 

He leans in to give you a sweet, sake infused kiss. The slight burn of the alcohol dies down as his eager tongue swipes along your bottom lip, soothing the flames away and drenching you in adoration.

In a few hours, the rest of the crew would wake and who knows what they had planned for Zoro. But right now, with the stars as your only witnesses, this moment was for just the two of you. 

And Zoro couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day than having his favorite person in his lap, a bottle of sake in his hand, and the warmth of love that buries itself into his heart when he looks at the gift you made him.

thank you so much for reading ( ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩) i hope you enjoyed ! ♥︎

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Chondrichthyes - Orectolobiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Orectolobiformes are an order of sharks sometimes known as “Carpet Sharks.” They include the families Brachaelurus (“blind sharks”), Ginglymostomatidae (“nurse sharks”), Hemiscylliidae (“bamboo sharks”), Orectolobidae (“wobbegongs”), Parascylliidae (“collared carpet sharks”), Rhincodontidae (“Whale Shark”), and Stegostomatidae (“Zebra Shark”).

Orectolobiformes have five gill slits, two spineless dorsal fins, and a small mouth that does not extend past the eyes. Many species have barbels: tactile whiskerlike sensory appendages near their mouths. Grooves known as nasoral grooves connect the nostrils to the mouth. A spiracle occurs beneath each eye which is used in respiration. Orectolobiformes are commonly called “carpet sharks” due to their flattened appearance and often ornate patterning, with many species spending most of their time resting on the ocean floor. However, this order also contains the Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus) (image 2), the largest chondrichthyan, whose record holder had a length of 18.8 m (61.7 ft). The smallest of the order, at up to about 30 cm (12 in) long, is the Barbelthroat Carpet Shark, (Cirrhoscyllium expolitum). Orectolobiformes are a diverse order of sharks with differing sizes, appearances, diets, and habits. Most are nocturnal. Most carpet sharks feed on the seabed in shallow to medium-depth waters, detecting and picking up molluscs, crustaceans, and other small creatures. Wobbegongs (image 1) are ambush predators, camouflaging on the seafloor and swallowing prey that swims too close. Whale Sharks are filter feeders.

Reproduction methods among carpet sharks also vary. Some species lay eggs directly into the water column or enclose them in horny egg cases. Some will push their egg cases into crevices for protection. Other species are ovoviviparous and give live birth. Pups are born relatively advanced and independent.

Orectolobiformes first appeared in the Early Jurassic. The oldest known orectolobiform genera are Folipistrix and Annea.

Propaganda under the cut:

Nurse Sharks are nocturnal and largely solitary at night, but they spend the day resting in groups, often piled on top of each other for safety.

The largest confirmed individual Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus) had a length of 18.8 m (61.7 ft), though 14 m (46 ft) is a more likely upper limit. Their lifespans are estimated to be between 80 and 130 years. Along with the Basking Shark and Megamouth Shark, they are the only other filter-feeding shark.

Blind Sharks have fully functioning eyes, but were named so because they would close them when caught by anglers

The Zebra Shark (Stegostoma tigrinum) was named for the black and white stripes of juveniles. As adults, their zebra stripes fade and are exchanged for cheetah print. Early taxonomists thought that juvenile zebra sharks were a different species due to how different their patterning looked!

In Madagascar, Whale Sharks are called Marokintana in Malagasy, meaning "many stars", after the appearance of the markings on the shark's back.

The Epaulette Shark:

As an adaptation to living in tidal pools and shallow coral reefs, the Epaulette Shark (Hemiscyllium ocellatum) moves by seemingly walking, bending its body from side-to-side in a salamander-like gait, pushing off of the substrate with its paddle-shaped pectoral and pelvic fins. The shark is capable of swimming, but often prefers to walk along the sandy or coral bottom even when the water is deep enough to allow it to swim freely. This mode of locomotion even enables the shark to crawl out of the water to access isolated tidal pools as it hunts for worms, crustaceans, and small bony fish, and it can cope with oxygen depletion in these conditions for over three hours.

[flowerandblood]

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Chronicle

Lady Royce's life before abduction by Prince Aemond

Archmaester Gyldayn’s chronicle combines information gathered by Septon Eustace and Mushroom concerning what happened before Prince Aemond ordered the abduction of Daemon Targaryen’s eldest daughter with his first wife, Rhea Royce. As is common in history, lies and truth become one.

Next part ➽

Both Mushroom and Septon Eustace agree in their opinion that the marriage between Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce was, to put it mildly, a failure — the spouses despised each other, and rumours spread by servants on duty in Runestone claimed that the Prince and his wife only lay in bed with each other once, on their wedding night. This is how Septon Eustace described it:

The servant who was supposed to have overheard under the chamber what was taking place in the marital alcove heard silence, then loud arguing and groans, which, however, did not sound like the result of pleasure.

In the morning, the young wife was said to mock her husband's inability to fulfil his duty for a long time, recognising that the reason for this was that she was not related to him. She complained that her husband exhausted her, causing her discomfort and pain, and expressed the hope that his seed would not take root inside her.

The reasons for Prince Daemon's problems in fulfilling his duty as a husband, Mushroom sought to find in his wife's spiteful, harsh, stern temper.

Lady Rhea Royce resembled a man more than a woman — she combed like a man, dressed like a man, spoke like a man and smelled like a man. She lacked feminine charm, tact and patience. She was only interested in hunting and archery, apart from that she had no interests or dreams. Conversations about philosophy and history bored her, as did the warmth of the home.

Contrary to her hopes, two moons had not passed when it became known that Lady Rhea would give Prince Daemon an heir. Although the Rough Prince dreamt of a male offspring, the word that their child would be born pleased neither of them.

It is known that Prince Daemon did not accompany his wife neither while she was with child nor during the delivery, appearing in Runestone only after the child was born. Both Mushroom and Septon Eustace agree that the birth of their daughter was a great disappointment to the Prince.

“You can't even beget a son,” Rhea Royce was to tell him according to Mushroom's accounts, humiliating him in front of all those gathered, holding the infant in her arms, “thank the gods my daughter did not inherit your hair.”

Prince Daemon left Runestone the same day and did not appear there for many months. According to Septon Eustace's informers, Lady Rhea was no better a mother to her daughter than her husband was a father.

Lady Rhea was unable or unwilling to find herself in the role of mother — just a few weeks after giving birth, she handed her daughter over to a wet nurse, devoting herself to horse riding, returning to her daily routines. She entrusted the girl's upbringing to Septa, herself keeping her interactions with her to a complete minimum. She did not visit her or dine with her, forgetting her existence.

Mushroom was even more strict in his assessment.

Rhea Royce preferred her hounds to her daughter, showing them more interest and affection than her. She failed to manifest any maternal instincts towards her and did not surround her with care, leaving her in the hands of her old nanny and stern Septa.

Little is known about their daughter's childhood itself — both Mushroom and Septon Eustace described her life superficially, apparently having no reliable sources for what happened to her during this period.

“The girl was quiet and meek, withdrawn and close-mouthed,” wrote Septon Eustace, “probably because she could not cope with rejection from both her father and mother. Septa Catlyn was a strict and pious woman, lacking maternal warmth and understanding — she taught her to write and read, and to some extent to play the lute and draw. She often punished her by making her kneel on the stone floor for long hours when she did not approve of something in her gaze or facial expression.”

Prince Daemon visited his daughter and wife rarely, and when he did, there were arguments between the spouses — one of which probably resulted in Lady Royce's death, and her body was found at the foot of the mountain. Both Septon Eustace and Mushroom have their own explanations for this mystery.

Prince Daemon came on Caraxes to Runestone to settle the matter concerning their marriage and divorce her once and for all — by then the whole Kingdom was already gossiping that the Rough Prince had taken his niece to his bed and deeply desired her.

Lady Rhea was said to have laughed at his words, saying “you will not free yourself from me, you pathetic man” which was supposed to have enraged her husband and resulted in him pushing her and her falling off a cliff.

Mushroom portrays this incident completely differently, finding more fault with the person of Lady Royce.

When Prince Daemon appeared in Runestone to take his daughter with him to Dragonstone, her mother refused: “I will not allow you to destroy her life,” she was to say, “her place is by my side.” “You have made her your hostage,” her husband replied, “you are a worse mother than I am a father.”

We do not know what happened next, however, the result was that Prince Daemon fled to Dragonstone and Lady Rhea's dead body was found at the foot of the mountain.

Their daughter became heiress of Runestone after her mother's death — the young girl, horrified at what her parents' miserable marriage had led to, feared that the Lords of the Vale, seeing her as a good match, would want to marry her off against her will. With the persuasion of her cousin, who saw her weakness as an opportunity, she relinquished her rights to the fortress in exchange for a lifetime of guardianship from her family.

Indeed, while this move politically destroyed her chances of marrying a high-born lord, it also threw off the burden of responsibility and unhappiness from her shoulders — her cousin fulfilled his promise, taking her with him on hunting expeditions, teaching her archery and horsemanship.

Sources are silent about her for many years to come, however, it can be concluded that her life was prosperous and peaceful until Prince Aemond saw her as an opportunity to gain an advantage over her father.

Next part ➽

[cherepizza]

Wow it's been more than a month. Didn't realize that. I guess I have something to show but uhh my sketchbook got under heavy rain so paper here it's a little wavy. It's a miracle it had so little damage considering what happened to my other stuff. Also nights proceed to get longer and I wasn't lucky to take better photos. Anyway..

All beacons' religions are based on mythology and existence of numerous gods and spirits inhabiting the world. The closest thing they have to monotheism is a religion formed around the existence of a transcendent all-present force (spirit) which, however, cannot perceive the world and interact with it by itself, only being able to do so by splitting itself into many different "sides". Only sides are able to maintain physical bodies and though they all come from the same source and it the end would become one again, they are treated as completely different entities. There're 8 major sides – 8 major gods, other deities are considered lesser. Aand I'll just leave it there because I'd better wait for the time I have a fine picture depicting gods to have at least something accompany a ton of sentences that would come describing them.

Many religions practices and ceremonies are performed at altars. The most simple home altar is a wooden table, low enough so that a beacon would have to kneel down to perform any ritual. The most common offering is food, other offerings include things associated with a specific god. Watered down alcohol may be poured only on certain celebrations. It's a very uncommon practice and in some households it's not allowed and has to be done secretly. After all, you want your gods to be sober to do their duty.

Living creatures sacrifices are also practiced, but sacrificing other beacons is forbidden (at least on the territory of the forementioned "all comes from one spirit" believers). Animals cannot be sacrificed on wooden altars and it's quite rare for a beacon to a have a stone one at home, so cooking and eating a designated animal or specific parts of it (obviously offering a piece to the gods in the process) on a celebration is usually enough.

An interesting religious thing are these sticks made from wood or bone, always coming in number of 8. If their owner didn't make them themselves, they may have some standard decorations and phrases pre-carved but most part of their sides would always remain empty for the owner to fill. Each stick is devoted to one of the major gods and contains an encarved list of things which a beacon wants to ask for from the deity. An altar is not needed when you have sticks but you should still make an offering if possible.

The sticks also serve as some sort of passport as encarvings may contain information about beacon's place of birth, place of work, profession, number of children and other things like the kind of crop their village grows even if the owner has nothing to do with farming but wants the crop to be protected anyway.

All stick sets are personal and follow their owner to the grave. However, taking copies is not frowned upon. Keeping the original set for yourself and leaving a copy with the deseased is also fine but the ritual of changing sets should be performed by close relatives who wish to keep the original sticks as a memory. Otherwise it might be considered disrespectful.

[anjelicawrites]

Can I please request a Aemond x reader x Aegon fic, where after the brothel scene in ep3, reader (who is Aegon’s wife) tries to repair the brother’s relationship with her pussy. Reader starts off the dominant one as she forces them to make up and gradually it switches and she becomes the one being dominated by them as they start to work together. Include whatever kinks or anything else you want, the main thing is that the brothers are as into each other as they are into reader. Thank you! 🧡

Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending this my way! I'm not sure if I managed to fulfill it perfectly but the muse grabbed my hand and took me down this road, I hope you'll enjoy this!

Warnings: angst, B&C has happened, loss of a child, reference of B&C threatening reader with rape, incest, a quick reference to Lucerys's death, a quick reference to the brothel scene, a quick reference to Jahaera's trauma after B&C, brothers fighting, guilt, mourning, reference to Aegon being unfaithful, Aegon's drunkenness, fear of death on the birthing bed, kissing, oral (f receiving), titty sucking, mommy kink, breastfeeding kink, p in v sex, anal sex, threesome, a bit of manipulation. A/N: reader is AFAB, when needed they/them pronouns used. Reader is referred to as "Wife".

You know it's late, the whole Red Keep asleep around you, yet you can't. You toss and turn in your bed, tired and wired up, your body begging for slumber, yet your brain still running, incapable of setting down.

A loud bang makes you jump with a scream locked behind your teeth. Your first instinct would be to hide under the covers like you used to do when you were a wee child, but that stopped being an option and everyone knows why.

You grab the heavier candlestick you can find and, with a beating heart, you pad to the day room that connects your chambers to the ones of your King husband; the source of the loud noises is there, barely muffled by the thick walls and the tapestries.

You can't hear anything over the mad beating of your heart and the whoosh of blood in your ears. There should be more security after the accident, you're safe, no harm shall befall you, nor your remaining children, then why is your hand shaking when you grab the knob?

With a mad scream you open the heavy door, ready to smash the head of whomever is here to attack you family again, and barely miss Aegon's head.

You can't stop the momentum and topple forward, Aemond's hands grabbing you the only reason you don't fall on the floor. Hastily you shrug his hold off your body and try to stand to regain your dignity, the candlestick held firmly against your heaving chest.

You're not sure of the expression you're wearing, but the smile on Aegon's face dies as soon as he meets your hardened stare.

He can barely stand, his hair an unkempt mop now, when they were nicely styled earlier in the night and Aemond, even though he looks prim and proper, has a strange light in his lonely eye, which doesn't meet yours as soon as you look at him.

"Why are you still awake, Wife?"

You can hear how hard Aegon tries not to slur his words, and that drives you even madder.

"I could ask you the same question, Lord Husband, but I already know the answer."

You advance towards the brothers and see Aegon trying to square his shoulders.

"The whole court knows where you've taken your Kingsguard to sully their sacred oath. You smell of alcohol, Lord Husband. I suppose a brothel is the best place where you can mourn, isn't it?"

Any remaining drunkenness leaves his body at your words, before he can answer, you turn towards your brother in law.

"The same goes for you Aemond, you reek of cheap perfume. At least you're sober, not that it changes anything." You spat, noticing how his whole composure hardens at your accusation.

"You should mind your words, Wife. You're talking to your king."

Your hands tighten around the candlestick at his words, the rage and the unspeakable pain simmering in your belly ever since that night seem to grow into a wildfire: all you've kept locked pushing to explode and destroy everything in its wake.

"My king? My king? Where was my king when those men came to my children's bedroom? My king was playing pretend on the throne with his imbecile friends, that's where he was, my king! Where was he when they cut his head off and threatened me with rape? Where was he when I mourned my child?"

You feel tears and bile well up, but you're not done, you rage is not satisfied, yet.

"I tell you where he was. Whoring around with his friends, promoting them to Kingsguards, destroying his father's scale model! That's where he was!"

You see the color drain from Aegon's face, he looks green as he takes a step behind, grabbing a chair to keep himself on his feet.

"And what about you, Aemond? Where was the man who swore to protect me and my children with his life? The good brother, the one I could trust when my husband failed me? In a brothel. You should have been here, keeping us safe!"

Aemond is different than Aegon, he doesn't show how he feels, yet you know you've hurt him, you can see in the way he stiffens up, his whole body turning into stone, and that's not enough, he's not suffering enough for his slights.

"My boy is dead, my Jahaerys is dead!" You shout. "Jahaera will only feel the coldness of his grave, not the gentle hold of his hand. Do you know, dear king, that she keeps saying that she's cold all the time? That she begs me to bundle her up more? You'd know if you had visited her at least once. And Maelor, my poor Maelor, now he has a target on his back, and no one to protect him."

You can feel wetness flow down your cheeks, on the inside you're hollow now, a void thing that can barely breath, strangled by pain, blinded by tears. Strength leaves your hand, forcing you to let go of the candlestick, the dull thud of it on the carpeted floor evades your ears, all you can hear is the mad sound of your temples beating a mad tattoo.

You don't care about the consequences of your words, what Aegon, what the king would do to you, you just want to be left alone to cry all the tears you haven't already wept.

Blindly you turn and head for your chambers, your hand slips on the doorknob and you don't even notice: you just want to lay on your bed, alone, and mourn.

"Wife..."

Aegon's hold is light on your upper arm, gently he turns you to look at him, all he receives are your fist banging on his chest, and your screams of pain.

"I wish I have never married you! I wished your whole family had perished with Old Valyria! I hate you so much Aegon! It should have been you! It should have been Aemond, not Jahaerys!"

You don't see his pained expression, he keeps you tight against his chest, letting you cry and scratch at his skin.

He knows he's been a lousy husband and a barely decent father. He's the mockery of a king and no good at taking care of the ones he loves; he can't give you Jahaerys back, if he could he would take his place immediately. To bore all your pain and anger is the meager offering he can give you.

"I wished that had happened. It would have saved you all this grief."

Aemond's words cut through your desperate crying. You were so focused on yourself you didn't notice he has followed you and Aegon in your bedchambers.

With light feet he approaches you, impossibly tall and does the unimaginable: he falls on his knees in front of you, head bent, like a penitent at the Sept's altar.

"I have deserted my post, forgotten my promise..."

He can't finish his sentence, Aegon's voice cutting through.

"All to suck on a whore's breasts."

You push Aegon's body away, only to take a few step backwards to distance yourself from both brothers.

You adjust the shawl you're wearing over your nightgown and assess the two of them with an hardened stare.

"Can't you see, Aegon? Even now you can't help but drive a hedge between you and Aemond, a hedge in our side! We need to be more united than ever, least Rhaenyra comes to kill us all, the way she did Jahaerys. Don't you understand that?"

"I didn't go for myself!" Your husband tries to justify his actions. "The young squire needed to know the ways of life before battle."

At that Aemond scoffs and stands up to his full height.

"What are you moaning about? You had your fun back in the day!"

"You didn't even ask if I had any!"

You look at the brothers fighting, again and again. There's a looming threat at Dragonstone, a very real one, that's already damaged the family once, and they're still at each other's throat.

"You might as well save Rhaenyra's time and open the city to her. That would save us the war and, maybe, she'll kill us all swiftly."

Your words cut through their fight, both brothers staring at you, confused.

"The more you work against one another, the easier it will be for her and the Rogue Prince to come and wipe us like an overused candle. You two need to work together, for our sake, for our children's sake!"

"We know how to work together!" Aegon answers, subconsciously looking around for a cup of wine

"Right now you two wouldn't know how to draw a circle using a glass, let alone conduct an army."

"We will never put our differences in the way of winning this war"

You stare at Aemond, trying to assess his words, the weight of trust you can put in them.

"Will you? Show me, then, how you two can work together."

Again the brothers look at you funnily.

"Come on, show me how you can be a team. I don't think you two are capable."

"I... I don't see how."

If the situation weren't this loaded you'd laugh at the dumbfounded expression on your husband's face: he's truly at loss here, and even his smart brother is grasping at straws.

Later, you'll tell yourself grief clouded your judgement. Praying at the Sept with the Queen Dowager you'd repeat that over and over again, right now you perfectly know what you're doing as you throw your shawl on the floor, closely followed by your nightgown.

In the pale candlelight you're naked, soft curves born out of two pregnancies in full display, your heart is hammering in your chest: Aegon hadn't seen you like this even since you two conceived Maelor, and he's always been your one and only, no other man had witnessed your body fully.

You're not willowy as you used to be, you're still breastfeeding therefore your breasts are larger, heavier. Having carried twins has left you with stretch marks on your thighs and bosom, you husband deserting your bed has put a huge dent in the way you look at yourself in the mirror. Yet you carry on, with a voice that desperately hides your anxiety: you have made your move, now it's up to them, and you can't go back.

"Seduce me. The bed is a good battlefield as any other."

You're not sure of their reaction. Aegon has preferred whores ever since Maelor was in utero, and you don't know if you have ever catch Aemond's interest. This can, potentially, go wrong in so many ways, but you're desperate, and desperate people make desperate decisions.

You can see the way both swallow, the pink raising on Aemond's cheeks, how Aegon's hand shakes as he takes yours: you know he desperately needs to drink, how scared he is. For all his boosting, you husband is still a young man, insecure even after whoring himself around Flea Bottom.

Aemond's lips are soft on the meat of your shoulder, he barely kisses you, as if afraid the Gods might strike him for his indiscretion; Aegon's eyes land on your breasts, his hands cup them with a sigh, and you wonder why he hasn't called for you, if he looks like he's missed their familiar weight.

You want to let yourself go in their warmth, feel their touch, so different, on your skin, yet they keep bickering. In between kisses and caresses, they never stop: they're with you in body, in spirit, they're still fighting at the brothel.

"This isn't working." You say, defeated, after they stopped kissing your skin to argue about what to do. "Nothing can truly help you work together."

Head bent you evade their dual embrace and try to locate your nightgown.

"Please close the door on your way out."

You don't see the glance they share, you can't know how the challenge you now pose tickles the blood of the dragon flowing in their veins.

Aegon's hands curl around your upper arms, his hold is firm but gentle: he doesn't want to hurt you, but now he wants to show you what he's capable of doing.

"Not yet, sweet Wife, not yet."

"Let go of me, Aegon."

Swift and silent, Aemond is kneeling at your feet again, this time not like a penitent, but like a crouched animal, ready to pounce.

"You don't challenge a dragon and then decide when to stop, sweet Wife."

"I'm not joking Aegon."

"Nor are we." Aemond's voice is soft, and final. "Say the word and this stops, but you wanted to see us work towards a shared goal. Let us show you we can."

You let yourself be lost in Aemond's lonely gaze. The purple hue of his eye is shifting in the candlelight, their shadows doing nothing to hide his hunger: you'd never imagined he'd look at you this way.

You let out a small gasp when Aegon rests his chin on your shoulder, pouting, like a child.

"Let us, sweet Wife."

You know you aren't capable of deny them when his large palms cup your breasts again. Gently he massages them, moaning at the weight and warmth, his nimble fingers pinch your nipples, so sensitive ever since your pregnancy, forcing a long whine out of your lips.

You grab Aemond's head one handed, the other clenches on Aegon's side as your hips cant faster and faster, following your husband's pinching of your nipples: you're so needy you might come like this, untouched and pressed between their bodies.

"What do we have here?"

Your husband's voice is huskier now that milk has stained his fingers. Ashamed you try to hide your face, but he doesn't let you; with a dark smile he smears the milk on both your lips and your pearl. In the distance you hear Aemond groan with want.

"I'm sorry." You try to say. "There's always so much."

"Don't be. I always wondered what it tastes like."

It's like a dam has broken, when his lips land on yours, hungry and possessive, your mouth is already slack to welcome his tongue with a snuffed moan of want, that morphs into a whine when Aemond's hands grab your hips to smother his face in your center, his long tongue seeking the sweet taste of milk in your cunt.

They both kiss you like they own you. Aegon's tongue playful against yours, Aemond's is sloppy against your pearl, where he writes his love poem to you; his hands don't block your movements, he helps you ride his face, moaning at your taste, foreign and sweet, the vibration traveling your body like lightning, your high so close, so close, the pleasure of Aegon's fingers on your breasts spurring you on. There! There! You're almost there!

You whine, pathetically when Aemond removes his face, wet with spit and your essence, he angles it to look at Aegon, who squeezes your breasts again, until more milk spills and he can drench his hands with it, to use it to paint your cunt, mixing it with your honey, until you're on edge again, ready to explode, only then Aemond attacks you again, sloppy and fast he licks you, seeking that taste as Aegon kisses you with his hands still on your breasts, he massages the soft globes rhythmically, following his brother's hungry pace, driving your body into a frenzy.

Your hips move desperately following Aemond's tongue on your pearl, puffy and pulsating with every stroke, your knees wobble with pleasure, Aegon's mouth swallows all your screams, as pleasure grows and grows yet again in your belly, until it explodes behind your closed eyes.

You're woozy, you're legs are trembling and it's the brother's dual hold that keeps you up on your feet: it has been so long since you felt such undiluted pleasure that your body feels drunk with it.

"Undress, now!"

You try to bark your order but you hear how slurred your voice is.

"You're in no position to give orders."

Aegon's voice is playful, which makes your blood boil again. On trembling feet you turn around and grab the lapels of his half opened jerkin.

"Take your clothes off one another, Husband, now!"

You feel Aemond's hands on your hips, his lips on the base of your spine leave a soft kiss.

"Hae ao jaelagon. As you wish." He murmurs.

On trembling legs you walk to your bed and lie there, with your head on the fluffy pillows.

The brothers stand at the end of the massive frame, they look unsure and excited at the same time; to spur them on your spread your legs, offering the sight of your drenched cunt to them.

"I always have to do the work myself."

You wish your voice was stronger, not needy and broken as it comes out, that doesn't stop you from letting your fingers wander down your body until they reach your wet center. You moan when your pads find your pearl, swollen and drenched, and start massaging it slowly.

"I'm so close already." You whimper. "You two better hurry up, if I reach my end before you're done, you will not be allowed in my bed, aah!"

You try to keep your eyes open to observe the men, who look at you, pleasuring yourself, transfixed.

There's always been this undercurrent between them, energy that even them couldn't truly decipher, you want to see if you were right, if there's something there that goes beyond their brotherly bond.

Aemond is the first to act. With his good eye on you he hastily removes his brother's jerkin and attacks the knots keeping his shirt closed. Aegon seems to awake from his reverie when he feels his clothes being roughly removed from his body, his own hands are fast and hungry as he disrobes his younger brother, his lower lip bitten raw the more he discovers Aemond's alabaster skin; he moans when he sees his erection spring free from the confinement of his leather breeches, his mind imagining how it would feel to submit to the intrusion, to let his brother own his body in such a way.

For a second you don't exist, the room, King's Landing, the budding war, all forgotten when the brothers are naked in front of one another. Aemond's eye softens as it observes Aegon's pink skin, his pebbled nipples and cock, thick and ready: he hasn't been alone in his forbidden needs, it seems, not when Aegon takes a step towards him, only to go to his tip toes to brush his reddened lips on Aemond's.

The dam breaks, Aemond's control and inhibitions annihilated by his brother's taste; hungry he grabs Aegon's face to push it backwards, open his mouth and conquer it with his tongue, following the phantom taste of your sweet milk and Aegon's own, mingled.

Aemond doesn't realize he's pushed his brother's body against one of the columnar foot post of the canopied frame, he whines when Aegon's hand finds their weeping erections to jerk them fast, hungry, their lips disconnecting, only for Aegon to bite Aemond's sweaty shoulder, until the latter whines in pleasure.

"Like what... oh Gods! You see, Wife?"

Aegon is so close, not even in his wildest dreams this could have ever happen: Aemond's cock warm and hard like steel against his, his hips kicking against the wet hold, your sobs of pleasure and your eyes, full of lust and approval for the sight they are offering you.

"Yes! Yes!" You're delirious in your own need, another orgasm so close your cunt hurts with the need to be filled to the brim. "Come for me! Now!"

You try to time your pleasure with theirs, needing to come with them, but your body has a different plan, the knot in your belly breaks and you come, arching your back, screaming and they follow you, Aegon with a shout, Aemond with a long moan, pained when Aegon's hold doesn't release his softening cock. He has to push his brother away, loathing how cold he feels now, his trembling legs abandoning him to fall on the plush mattress, beckoned to you by your wet fingers.

He groans when your taste hits his tongue again, ravenous he licks your finger and moans when you push them inside his hungry mouth as far as they can go.

"Not fair. I wanted a taste!"

Your husband whines; rolling your eyes you spread your legs for him again.

"Come and lick me clean then."

The bed bounces under Aegon's weight, he enthusiastically dives in your center, tongue and mouth so ravenous he has to push your hips to the bed, or you'll break his nose.

You moan, torso arching again, you're so sensitive now, after two orgasms, and your husband knows how to devour you, all the little tricks he needs to drive you high again, ready to explode for him.

Aemond's head finds refuge on your shoulder, hungry he looks at his brother pleasuring you and fleetingly wonders why he seeks whores when he has you, warm and enticing, ready to pleasure him. He doesn't even realize his hand has traveled on one of your breasts, his palm is squeezing the soft globe gently, unsure of how hard he can go, until droplets of milk adorn your nipple, and need takes control again.

"Drink from me, Aemond, come."

Your voice is soft and laced with desire, yet he looks at your face to see if he truly can, and all he can see his your open smile.

"Kirimvose. Thank you." He murmurs, before latching on your breast, hungry like he's never been before.

Despite Aegon's ravenous desire, the orgasm crests slowly, following Aemond's soft suckling and his moans at the taste. Blindly you grab both their heads, drunk on the pleasure they're giving you, deaf but to the sound of your own whines of pleasure, until you come again on Aegon's tongue, who moans against your center, the vibrations pure torture against your pearl.

You lay boneless on the bed, staring at the brothers who, now, look at one another, still hungry for your taste and for each other.

Aegon initiates the kiss this time, one hand in Aemond's long hair he smashed their lips together, seeking the sweet taste of your milk, moaning when Aemond's tongue licks his mouth, only to try to subjugate his.

"He likes to have his hole played with." You say, with a smug smile.

Aemond abandons his conquest to let his brother ravage his neck and shoulder again, a dark glint in his eye.

"Iksos bona sīr. Is that so."

His fingers find the squelching mess that's your center to wet them, only to start playing with Aegon's puckered hole, who whines in response, hips kicking against Aemond's; your word, your order and he'll let his younger brother take him for your viewing pleasure, mind turned to shreds by the need to be buried inside of you, and to let Aemond play with his body.

"Not yet, Aemond." He manages to groan. "I need to come in them."

The brothers stare at one another, a silent dialogue pass as you feel the energy in the room shift while you look at their bodies entwined and tiredness seeps in your bones.

Aegon stares at you, hungry and more in control now that Aemond's fingers have stopped playing with his hole. His cock is so hard again, leaking and almost straining for your cunt; he moans when Aemond hugs him from behind, big hands on his chest, head on his shoulder.

"You have neglected the other breast. Go and do your duty." Aegon orders.

Aemond smirks but Aegon can see how feeble his control is; whatever this night has unlocked, it changes everything between you three, something that was needed.

Aegon lays on you, the cradle of your hips home as he slips inside your warmth; he whines when he bottoms out, so hot and perfect you are, the only true scabbard for his sword, no other cunt has ever felt like yours.

"I missed this." He moans as he slowly pushes in and out of you, unsure that you're listening now that your face is the picture of sexual pleasure. "Why didn't..." You arch and curl under and around him, your words lost for a second. "... call for me? Oh Gods!"

Aegon can feel control slip through his fingers as your cunt strangles his cock after a harsh suck on your nipple, he can feel the tendrils of pleasure spreading through his body with every thrust, flashes of white exploding behind his closed eyes.

"Can't risk... can't risk to lose you." He groans and stills when you curl your legs around his hips. "On... Gods! The birthing bed. I can't!"

Tears fall from his eyes when your caress his back and let him hide his face in the curve of your shoulder: you'd never imagine the ghost of the late queen would haunt him this way, he's never said a word about it, you didn't know if he even knew about her destiny.

"I will not die there, I promise you. Look at me, Aegon." Unwilling he faces you again, his eyes are red rimmed and desperate. "I will never leave your side, I swear on our children, Aegon!"

The mention of your remaining heirs has him cry harder and grab his brother's head to push their forehead together; over you Aemond seems taken aback, he tries to dislodge himself and Aegon grabs his hair with a tighter grip.

"I didn't want to make fun of you, I wanted to hurt you, punch you, make you feel a ounce of what I do even since Jahaerys."

Something had happened in the brothel, something you aren't privy of, something that seems to shake Aemond to his very core; for a second the younger man seems to turn into stone, no expression on his handsome face, before an array of emotions play there. You've never seen him this animated, not even when you saw him after Jahaerys's death.

"I do. Every waking moment." Aemond answers with a strangled voice. "I would have killed them, I would have..."

Aemond chokes on his words and hide his face against your shoulder. You can't see the tears but can feel his bigger body quake with them, over you Aegon seems equally distressed, it comes natural to you to whisper to him to find refuge against you.

You're not sure for how long the brothers cry silently in your arms, you're weeping as well, for the pain past and for the grief ahead of you all.

"I make you cry, always." Aegon says against your skin. "It's good tears, my love. Needed."

Both brothers dry your cheeks, their dual touch gentle and soft. You do the same, paying extra attention to the scar on Aemond's face, unsure of how much pain he feels: he might have kick started the war, but a part of your heart, cold and black, can't seem to pity him for Lucerys early end.

Aemond lets you remove his eye patch, he even smiles when he hears your murmuring how beautiful the sapphire is; he has to fight tears again when you kiss the length of his scar, butterfly kisses his numb skin can barely feel. Against his face you beg Aegon to move, to start taking you again; Aemond seals your lips with a deep kiss when his brother's hips start canting, slowly, reaching deeply inside of you, owning your body after deserting it for many, too many moons.

You're delirious with pleasure, you burn with it, your whole body sings with it as your feel your orgasm crest and crest, until you crash, followed by Aegon, who slumps in your arms as his flaccid cock slips out of your hole. You delude yourself with thinking you can feel his seed seep out of your cunt, warm and sticky; brokenly you beg the brothers to use your body as the shrine where they swear loyalty to one another, until Aegon rolls off you to make space for Aemond.

Your brother in law hovers over your body, his weight carried by one arm, the other in Aegon's hair as he starts suckling on your breast with soft moans of pleasure. You can barely make out Aemond's lovely face through your own tears, yet you can see the insecurity there.

"Have me, Aemond. I'm yours to take."

He murmurs something in High Valyrian, before sliding his erection against your overused cunt to wet it with both your honey and Aegon's seed. He groans when he breaches you, your cunt is so warm and perfect, drenched with your need and it sucks him in when he tries to go slow, mindful of how sore you must feel, the pleasure you're giving him drives him mad with the need to stay rooted inside of you for the rest of his days, your muscles massage him, your lovely voice spurs him on to own you, to spill his seed inside of you. He moans when you lock your legs around his hips, stopping him from pulling away and coming on your soft tummy: he's not going to taint you with a bastard, he'll never do such a terrible thing to you.

"It's too early to take, Aemond. Come inside of me." You plea after his cock head finds that spongy part that has your toes curl in pleasure. "Aemond I'm begging you!"

He can't deny you anything, he'll spend his life making up to you in any way possible; his thoughts frazzle and die the closer you're tethering him to his end, the longer your cunt strangles his cock and he knows you're close, because he's right behind you. With a shout you come, your cunt a painful vise around his cock and he follows you, his seed sucked greedily by your hungry hole.

You order them not to clean you, you want to feel their spent on your skin as you drift into slumber.

Aegon is the first to succumb to sleep, he hugs you from behind with his hands cupping your breasts; you're close as well and make a displeased sound when Aemond tries to leave the bed.

"Your handmaidens will discover us." He tells you. "They know they have to knock before entering." You answer, kissing his wrist. "And if you close the canopy they will see nothing. Lay with me, with us, where you belong."

In the dying light of the fire you see that violent array of emotions on his face again, and wonder if he's ever had the warmth of a lover lull him into sleep.

Fast he closes the thick drapes around the bed and lays on the mattress, facing you. He looks so young, younger than his ears with his air down and his cheeks pink. Behind you Aegon snores and you have to choke on a giggle.

"This is the reason why we sleep in separate beds. He's very loud even when asleep." You smile.

Aemond doesn't speak for an heartbeat, then he has to muster all his courage to ask, almost shy

"Were you serious, before."

You take his hand in yours, letting your fingers entwine with his, so long and strong against your dainty ones.

"I am, Aemond. We can't let this family tear itself apart even more than it already did. I need you and Aegon to work together to keep us all safe. Look what the divide did to us." "If I knew, if I had an inkling..." "I know you would have made good to your promise. And you still can. We have so much to lose."

You know you're being manipulative, then again that part of yourself who died with your poor Jahaerys, that part that's so cold and dark, takes control, and you can't find in your heart to feel bad for what you're doing.

"I have a plan. Cole and I have one, no one knows about it." Aemond tells you after a spell of silence. "It's about Rook's Rest. It's a good plan, solid, it will help us on the long run." "Then talk to him about it before the next Council meeting. He will follow you if you give him the chance. He wants to do what is good by all of us, and he can't if he's left alone on the Throne. You two together can win this war and bring the Realm back to its glory! Not the Dowager Queen, nor your grandsire can do that, but you two, the true heirs of the Dragon."

Aemond stares at you, weighting your words against his torn heart, against all the pain Aegon has put him through: none of it matters if you are all dead and Rhaenyra sits on a throne that doesn't belong to her, warming it for her bastards who will lead the Realm into ruins.

"As you wish." He tells you, the hurt child in himself beaming at your smile. "Come now, you need to sleep."

You wake up in their arms, their erections poking at your holes, and it's only natural that Aegon slips inside of you, and begs Aemond to take him as he slowly fucks you again, long strokes against your battered walls. Aegon wails as Aemond pours oil on his hole and fucks him with his long fingers until the King his reduced into a babbling mess, only capable to grunt and keen when Aemond's bulbous cock head breaches his tight hole: it has been so long since he's let you fuck him, but that doesn't matter, not when he's pressed between you two, fucking and being fucked. Tears spill from his eyes when Aemond orders him to spear himself on his cock, he wails as the dual sensation of being sucked in and being open ravage his mind; he ruts like an animal inside of you, who lay there, canting your hips to take all of him, as he tries to bottom out on his brother's cock. He's a rag doll when Aemond takes control again, grabbing his hips to piston inside of him, and you, harsh and hungry. He bites Aegon's shoulder savagely and the latter drools in pain, and need, passing out when pleasure blanks his mind; Aemond doesn't stop fucking him, using his limp body as a proxy to take you, until you come for him, and he follows, slumping on the bed when it hurts to keep going.

By the end of the war, your husband and your brother in law wear the scars from their battles and you kiss them all. You hug Aemond tight when Vhagar seems unable to survive her clash against Daemon and Caraxes, you have a custom walking stick made for Aegon, whose left leg never healed properly after having slain Rhaenyra; most of all, you make sure your bedchamber is the actual Council, where your lovers can discuss the matters of the realm and find a united front against the Court. It's in your chambers that you three discuss the destiny of Aegon III and Viserys II and how those children can be used to unite the factions still reeling after the victory of the Green. Your lovers are not happy with your proposal, you three need to discuss for days before they can accept that those children can't be slain. They are not bastards, their deaths can be used by Rhaenyra's faction to start the war again, but if Aegon III and your beloved Jahaera will marry, it will bring unity to the realm and, if the child in your belly is a girl, her marriage to Viserys II will only straighten the family. You wish there was another way, but there isn't: those children will be raised at court, where they can learn the truth about the Dance, and how to love the family they have left. By the time they'll grow into men, they will be so entwined with you all, that they will not raise a hand against their wives, and the rest of you. With Maelor, they will lead the Realm into prosperity, along with the dragons, who will raise into numbers again, to make sure no one tries to attack you all. And, if the mad prophecy Viserys entrusted Rhaenyra with, babbled by her bastard son on his deathbed proves to be real, you all will need all the strength the Dragons can provide. And that's all it matters.

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

[fluentmoviequoter]

S.W.A.T. (CBS Series)

David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

✧ blurbs and celebration fics

A Day Off with Deacon

2.1k+ words | wife!reader | fluff | You enjoy a fluffy day off with Deacon.

Confessions of a SWAT Team

2.9k+ words | SWAT!reader | angst to fluff | You and Deacon fell in love with each other, but didn't tell anyone. When officers closer to your age begin flirting with you, Deacon grows distant and won't tell you why.

Worried for You

2.3k+ words | angst/fluff | You worry about Deacon, but he doesn't know how it feels to be unsure and scared. When you're involved in a school shooting, he learns what you deal with daily.

A New Kind of Fear

2.1k+ words | angst/fluff | When 20 David completes a raid with narcotics, they stumble upon a stalker. The unknown suspect has been watching you, and now Deacon must find him while dealing with the fear you've grown used to.

What We Say When We're Sick

1.8k+ words | sick fic, fluff | Deacon takes care of you when you're sick, and you feverishly confess your feelings for him. Deacon is left to wonder if you feel the same when you're healthy.

Long Distance to the Future

1.3k+ words | fluff | You, Deacon's long-distance girlfriend, surprise him in LA, and then surprise him again with good news.

How Does He Know that You Love Him?

1.7k+ words | fluff, brief angst | Deacon worries about the age gap between you, but you repeatedly prove that you love him, no matter your ages.

The Kay Princesses

2.2k+ words | fluff | Lila's POV | Deacon introduces you to his kids over dinner and game night.

The Kay Princesses' Happily Ever After 2.4k+ words | fluff | 3rd person POV | Deacon wants to marry you, but he has to ensure that his kids understand and agree before he proposes. Then, you have a special question for Lila.

They Know Deacon Loves You (5+1)

3.5k+ words | SWAT!reader | fluff | 5 times someone realizes Deacon loves you, and the 1 time he realizes for himself.

Bloody Work

3.2k words | slight angst, fluff (period fic) | Your ex left deep scars, and when you unexpectedly get your period with Deacon, he comforts you and shows you how wrong your ex was.

The Real Us

2.7k+ words | fluff | You go under cover with Deacon while you're both hiding your feelings for each other. While acting as a couple, you realize that you don't want to pretend ever again.

Undo It

5.2k+ words | angst to fluff | SWAT!reader | You get abducted on your way home and won't talk to anyone after you're saved. Deacon vows to undo all the damage done to you.

My Home

4.5k+ words | angst/fluff | You are Deacon's favorite neighbour, but when you start receiving threats, he notices a change in you. While he and his team search for answers, you are attacked. Deacon returns home to find you and come to some realizations of his own.

20-David on a Plane

3.2k+ words | fluff | 20-David flies to Washington DC, and along the way, you learn why Deacon can comfort you so easily.

Blue and Red

2.7k+ words | angst to fluff | firefighter!reader | You are a firefighter who has a unique rivalry with Sergeant Deacon Kay. When you're injured while working together, Deacon learns why the rivalry started.

Love (Both of) You

4.6k+ words | hurt/comfort | pregnant!reader | After telling your husband you're pregnant, he kicks you out. Going to your best friend Luca's house, you find an unexpected source of comfort in Deacon Kay.

Love (Both of) You More 4.1k+ words | fluff/comfort | You grow closer to Deacon throughout your pregnancy and learn that you aren't the only one who loves him. (This picks up about a month after Part 1 and covers the rest of the pregnancy and birth!)

Don't Touch Her

3.0k+ words | angst to fluff | You and Deacon are abducted by men who want revenge on you. After Deacon is forced to watch them hurt you, it is up to him to comfort you and keep you calm.

Hot or Cold

2.7k+ words | angst to fluff & hurt/comfort | You work in a coffee shop, and when you are trapped in the fridge during a robbery, you can only hope that your boyfriend Deacon will find you.

Hectic Relief

2.2k+ words | fluff | wife & teacher!reader | After a long week of teaching and protecting Los Angeles, you and Deacon find comfort in one another.

Sweet as You

1.4k+ words | fluff | baker!wife!reader | You visit the LAPD to drop off some baked goods and to visit your husband. Mostly to visit your husband.

If the Bun's as Sweet as You 1.6k+ words | fluff | After you find out you're pregnant, you try to use baking jokes to tell Deacon. Unfortunately, he isn't the first to understand you.

Robbery

1.2k+ words | fluff | wife!reader | You're in a jewelry store when a robbery occurs. You text Deacon, and he proves that he will always come to save you.

Your Biggest Fan

1.1k+ words | fluff | ballerina!wife!reader | Deacon brings his whole team to watch you dance, and then promises to be by your side, no matter where you go.

Lockdown

2.8k+ words | fluff, comfort | While covering a court hearing, you get taken hostage with your favorite S.W.A.T. sergeant.

Best (Fake) Boyfriend

2.0k+ words | fluff | When you receive unwanted attention at a fancy restaurant, a handsome SWAT sergeant pretends to be your boyfriend to help you.

You Weren't Supposed to Hear That

1.6k+ words | fluff | shy!wife!reader | After years of trying, you get pregnant. With Deacon's birthday coming up, you decide to surprise him with the news, but he catches on to your nervousness and you accidentally tell him more than you mean to.

You Weren't Supposed to Know That 2.7k+ words | angst to fluff | Deacon is stressed with work and you are shyer than ever, so you don't tell him how sick your pregnancy is making you. When you collapse while home alone, you call Luca and he and Deacon rush to your aid.

Favors and Broken Promises

3.0k+ words | angst to fluff | journalist!reader | When you begin receiving death threats while writing an article on a dirty cop, Deacon Kay reluctantly agrees to protect you. He makes the situation worse before it gets better.

Soft Spot

3.4k+ words | angst to fluff | shy!assistant!reader | When you're kidnapped and used as a pawn, Deacon sets out to find you. Once you're tied up together, he changes his goals regarding your safety, finding a soft spot in the kidnappers and himself.

First and Second Steps

1.2k+ words | fluff | Deacon has missed a lot of important moments, but when you surprise him at work, he gets to watch his baby's first and second steps.

You're Safe

1.2k+ words | fluff | wife!SWAT!reader | Being on the same S.W.A.T. team as your husband provides plenty of opportunities to protect one another and share words of affirmation.

Our Songs

1.0k+ words | fluff | Deacon sings your song every chance he gets, but when he finds out why you love to hear him sing, he introduces more Sinatra into your life.

Every Day After

6.6k+ words | angst to fluff | shy!SWAT!reader | You are Deacon's best friend, and when you're poisoned and nearly killed, his protective tendencies make an appearance as he stays by your side to help you heal.

Because of My Family

4.0k+ words | angst to fluff | wife!Street!SWAT!reader | When you return to S.W.A.T. after having your fourth child, you are fatally injured. Your family gives you a reason to fight.

Think Different, Love the Same

3.9k+ words | fluff | When 20-Squad begins dealing with an activist group, Deacon falls for you, the group's leader.

Accidental CI

3.1k+ words | fluff | When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.

Speak Up

1.7k+ words | fluff/comfort | shy!girlfriend!reader | Your shyness makes it hard to speak up for yourself. Your boyfriend Deacon makes it easy.

Lucky Me

2.7k+ words | angst to fluff/comfort | Deacon loves you and he considers himself lucky to have you. Unfortunately, you can't see what he sees, so he takes it upon himself to show you just how lucky he is with you.

The Safest Place is With an Angel

4.2k+ words | angst to fluff/comfort | bodyguard!Deacon x singer | The bodyguard you never wanted quickly gives a new meaning to the City of Angels. After he saves you and helps you sing again, all of your fears disappear in his safety.

Not Since I Found You

2.5k+ words | (angst to) fluff | After Annie was changed by her brain tumor, she left Deacon. Now that he has you in his life, she decides that she doesn't want him to move on and does everything she can think of to sabotage your relationship.

As Oblivious as You Think

2.2k+ words | fluff | Your team thinks you're oblivious about your feelings for Deacon, so they try to push you together. Their plans fail because you already have a boyfriend, and you're not as oblivious as they think.

Proud to Listen

1.1k+ words | fluff | You perform in a talent show, and your boyfriend Deacon is proud of you for singing a song that means something to you.

Dress Up

1.2k+ words | fluff | Lila wants to wear matching Halloween costumes with you, and you're both surprised when Deacon joins.

Paying for the Sins of Our Fathers

3.6k+ words | angst to fluff | SWAT!reader | A new serial killer arrives in Los Angeles with a penchant for girls with bad relationships with their fathers. After you offer yourself up as bait to catch him, Deacon shows you that you're not as hard to love as you think.

Rich for a Night

2.5k+ words | fluff | detective!wife!reader | To catch a thief targeting wealthy couples, you go undercover with your husband Deacon.

Care Now and Forever

1.7k+ words | fluff/period fic | You struggle with iron deficiency on your period and learn during a rough day that Deacon will care for you no matter what.

Care Now and Forever (Starting Now) 1.0k+ words | fluff/comfort | You faint and Deacon takes care of you. As you wonder how he manages to be exactly where you need him to be, Deacon plans to start forever with you.

Always and Never Our Time

4.3k+ words | angst to fluff | SWAT!reader | You love Deacon and Deacon loves you, but you keep missing one another because the time is never right. Until your time, imperfect and late at night, finally comes along.

Always Time for You

2.5k+ words | angst to fluff | After you move to Los Angeles to escape an abusive relationship, you meet Deacon Kay and fall in love. When your ex arrives in Los Angeles, you have to tell someone, but don't want to worry Deacon.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight

2.3k+ words | fluff/brief angst | SWAT!reader | During a weekend off with your team, you run into one of the FBI's most wanted criminals. With a little luck and Deacon on your arm, you catch the criminal in a trap that places him exactly where you need him.

Save a Verse for Me

1.2k+ words | fluff | After hearing a man singing in your neighborhood, you fall for his voice. When you locate his house and sing with him, you discover there is more to love than his voice.

Blurbs

✵ David Kay!

✵ Roman Empire

✵ 20 > 50

✵ Just Want to Dance With You

✵ You Know I Love You

[unforth]

I had a day off yesterday.

And I can already practically hear the assumptions that such a statement is prompting the reader to make. Those assumptions are wrong. I don't mean I didn't work. I did, for about 8 hours. That's not at all what I mean.

I mean my wife took the kids out at 9:30, spent the night with her mom, isn't back yet the next morning.

There are things I NEED people on this website to understand about parenting. And I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, because honestly the way that Tumblr as a cohort talks about parents makes me sick. Multiple polls have shown that only about 2% of people on here are parents. We're a huge minority, and we're constantly talked over, ignored, or accused of being bad parents (like, personally, I have had people reply to my comments or come on to my posts and tell me I shouldn't have my kids). In my case, being a parent means I'm almost 41, I'm married to @ramblingandpie, and our children are inching up on being 8 and 6 years old.

My entire day, and therefore my entire life, revolves around them. I'm up most mornings at 5 AM, because that's the earliest they're "allowed" to wake up, and so my brain just defaults to being awake around then - better to wake up before them, at least then I get a few minutes in the morning. Between 5 and 7, I sit with them, do my social media, work on side blogs, study Chinese. Then it's helping them get ready for school, then my wife or I or both get them on the bus, and then I work until the last possible minute, which is either when I need to go pick them up for an after school activity or when I need to go down and meet them off the bus. My afternoons are after school activities, chores such as washing the dishes and cleaning up toys, talking with them, working with them, playing with them. Their bedtime starts at 7:40, and my son gets scared if I leave before he falls asleep so I sit with him until about 8:15. As soon as he's asleep, I go fall on my face, sleep as best I can, then wake up and do it again. Overnight, it's hard to sleep deeply, because about once a week someone will wake up in the middle of the night and need help. That could be as minimal as a hug or as complex as having to completely change the bedding on a bunk bed at 2 AM while also comforting a child who is afraid they'll be in trouble, or afraid they're sick, or afraid of their nightmare, or, or, or. Further, if a child is awake, there is always noise. I usually study Chinese with two or more competing sources of noise. I read the same way. My life is loud, and active, and consists of constant interruptions.

I adore my family, and I love my children, but this is terrible for me.

I do all of this as an neurodivergent introvert. My clinical depression is at least medicated, mostly because post-partum depression after I gave birth the first time nearly drove me to suicidal in under a week (we were expecting this and were prepared, fortunately, getting help was as simple as a phone call). The constant noise and interruptions and forced socialibility are about the worst combination of home-life I could be subjected to. I spend far too many early mornings just breathing deeply and gearing myself up to be subjected to the wall of Loud, Boisterous, Needing-My-Attention that is every minute when anyone else in the house is awake.

So what did my day off look like?

I helped get the kids ready to go and did some morning chores. I'd been up at 4:30 AM so I also had already social media'd and studied. Then, while my wife finished the preparations, I started work, and I worked from about 8 am to about 4 pm, straight. I didn't get hungry so didn't bother stopping for lunch. No one interrupted me, no one asked me to look at anything they'd built, no one broke my concentration, no sounds could be heard except those I'd chosen myself.

I'd been out the day before at a local shopping street and listened closely to the things the kids said they wanted, so at 4 I grabbed a couple orders I needed to ship for work and drove to our local downtown, dropped the orders in a post box, then went back to the shops and did some Christmas shopping in the 45 minutes or so before everything closed. I think I'm basically done with what we'll get them - other bigger things will be left to grand parents - so that's a load off, I literally had a stress dream earlier this week about it being 12/24 and having forgotten to do the shopping and having to go to (oh horrors) the mall on the day before Christmas. (Reminder: I'm a Jewish atheist. It's just virtually impossible not to Holiday in the Culturally Christian Hellscape that is the US. Also, my wife is Christian. So.) Found something cute for my wife, too, even tho I already know the main thing I'm getting her. Then, I realized - one of my favorite restaurants is on that block. So. I went there. I sat by myself at a table, only the indistinct restaurant hubbub around me. I read four or five chapters of my book, and ate a savory crepe, and drank lovely fruit tea, and got a scone to-go that I'll eat for lunch today. It was more than I probably should have spent on myself - about $25, including tip - but fuck it. I only get maybe a handful of days off all year, and I'm allowed to indulge a little.

Then I came home. There were no lights on. There was no noise. I had considered doing some more merch work while watching TV on the actual television (my kids are too young for subtitled shows, so usually if I want to watch My Shows I either have to do it on my computer when they're not around, or put them on and read all the subtitles aloud while trying to keep up and process the actual meaning of what I'm reading). But when I got back, the quiet and dark was so goddamn NICE that instead I curled up on the couch and read more of my book. I did that until bedtime - still about 8:15, because I'm exhausted. Then...I went to bed. And I slept long and deep, knowing that there was no chance I'd be interrupted and woken up, I didn't have to be, even in sleep, alert to every noise and possibility that I'd be needed.

I'm still exhausted and burned out, but even one night to myself felt really, really nice.

Saying "Tumblr does X" as a universal statement is doomed to failure, but generally speaking, the parenting posts I see on Tumblr, the ones with tens or hundreds of thousands of notes, speak what's apparently widely seen as a truism on here: that unless someone wants to spend 24/7 with their kids, to be 100% emotionally available at all times, is always kind and patient and perfect, they are a bad parent, maybe even abusive. I remember when covid started, there were multiple posts actively mocking the "oh god, my kids are now home all the time, how am I supposed to do this?" attitude that a lot of parents posted in despair. WhY dId YoU hAvE kIdS iF yOu DoN't WaNt To SpEnD tImE wItH tHeM?

Look at what my usual day looks like.

Look at what my day off looked like.

Do you really think I don't want to spend time with my kids? Do you really think I don't love my kids?

But I'm not a fucking MACHINE. I'm a PERSON. That's what people on Tumblr seem to forget. PARENTS ARE PEOPLE. The same tumblrinas who post ~uwu be kind to yourself rest if you need to, you should forgive yourself for that mistake you made~ will turn around, with zero sense of irony, and post "you're a bad parent if you ever raise your voice around a child."

Expecting parents to be perfect means expecting parents to be inhuman. It also means that a parent can't be poor (can't spend all your time being the perfect parent if you have to work multiple jobs or weird hours!), can't be introverted (can't be a perfect parent if you're not completely emotional available, god forbid socializing is exhausting for you), can't be on the ADHD or autism spectrum (what do you mean you forgot to get your kid to a doctor's appointment once? what do you mean over-stimulation can make you angry? how dare you get angry at a kid!), can't be depressed (gotta get out of bed every single day, gotta always be upbeat, patient, happy, or else that's Evil), can't be (like my wife) physically disabled (what do you mean your hands hurt too much to hold a child's hand? are you denying them touch?? CRUEL). And when the only answer you can offer to that is, "if you can't be that perfect you shouldn't be a parent," then you're saying people who aren't middle class to wealthy, people who aren't neurotypical, people who aren't physically able, shouldn't have children.

And honestly...what the fuck is your problem?

I'm not perfect. I tell my kids to just leave me alone sometimes. I raise my voice, especially when one of my kids starts punching the other, but also sometimes just cause I'm exhausted and Can't Anymore. I've forgotten an appointment by accident and felt like a total fucking idiot, and I've skipped an after school activity because I just wasn't up for taking them. I've served them more unbalanced, unhealthy meals than I can count. I've made many, many mistakes, but I've also done my best, and I love my kids, and I hope that when they grow up, they'll still love me even as they recognize that I wasn't perfect, just as I've come to accept my own parents' short-comings while still loving them very much. They're people, too, and the older I get, the more I understand where they were coming from.

When I fuck up, I apologize.

When they tell me they're unhappy with something I've done, I apologize, and I try to do better. Sometimes I even succeed.

This shit is hard, yo. And it's getting harder every year.

I'm BEGGING Tumblr: you need to start seeing parents as people. The way y'all talk about parenting on here is toxic, and genuinely harmful, and frankly exhausting. You have no idea what the reality of raising kids is like, and you need to shut the entire fuck up.

I had a day off yesterday.

I might get one more before the end of 2023.

I already can't wait. I am so, so, so tired. sigh

(if you actually read this whole rant and even a single word of it resonated for you, please reblog it. I'm tired of never seeing positive posts about parenting while I see negative ones with a bajillion notes.)

[theotherwesley]

I've been thinking about Spring Horror.

Autumn Horror is a given, and Summer Horror is its own genre. Winter Horror acknowledges the expected dangers of the cold and dark.

Spring Horror is a bit of a rare breed, spring being dominated by the association of new life and rebirth, but before the rebirth, there is the hungry gap, the starving time. It comes after all the provisions stocked for winter have run out, and the new growth has yet to begin. Animals are pregnant but have yet to give birth, birds are still returning, fish are half under ice. Early spring is when you find the bottom of the barrel. Winter of course will kill you in its serene way, but where the dead stay frozen in the snowy months, they must eventually be revealed by the thaw. The dead leaves from autumn are a carpet of slime yet to be reclaimed by soil; carrion that has been desiccating under the snow emerges again as husks and bones, sleeping where they last rested still wearing their skin like a loose costume; rivers unlock the sodden corpses of the unlucky, anything that had stumbled and was claimed by frozen currents under the ice. The spring ice will claim even more victims as it thaws, when the solid sheets across lakes are no longer trustworthy, and the rivers burst with snow melt. In the spring, water is at its most treacherous; things that were missing return changed. Whatever was hidden, floats up.

Snow becomes rain, icy ground becomes mud, old vegetation becomes mold, cold becomes wet; clothes that kept you warm in winter may be less suited to keeping you dry, and the firewood is damp. As the sun gradually returns, staying in the sky longer but with no more heat than in December, the first things to grow are mildew and fungus; the first flourishing crop of the year is spores, the second is illness. Whatever solidarity or peaceful isolation came from the necessity of sheltering through the winter is less pleasant when fasting becomes a regularity. The outdoors remains hostile, but the home is where madness and melancholy have been fermenting through the longest nights. By spring, habits may have become obsessions, and any small repeated annoyances will have long since grown intolerable. What has grown tight must snap.

Spring will always bear an association with birth and rebirth; it goes without saying that birth can be a source of horror, and before there can be rebirth there must first be a confrontation with rot. Spring Horror is about gnawing the bones that winter left, scouring the empty cellar to find the last shriveled apple; it's finding the corpses you buried staring you in the face, your bloated crimes rising to the top of the old well; it's about watching the world digest the dead; its about planting sins and picking the flowers that come up wrong.