#there's... a lot of dialogue so far 'cause no one in or out of the bureau knows how to shut up (affectionate)

[catsafarithewriter]

After the fortnight from hell, I finally had a free day and I've made belated progress on TBF 😅 I'm already so excited for when I'll be able to share the first case, it's gonna be so much fun!

[guubiiz]

im excited for the next chapter of tokyo debunker

[s0dium]

I fucking hate him

A/n: One of the dialogues is lightly taken from "God of Ruin" by Rina Kentaken (plz check it out) Enjoy!!

Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: You detest Yuji's uncle, Sukuna. His demeanor is rude and abrasive, and he is undoubtedly a sadist. You don't even try to hide your disdain, but the more you try to distance yourself from him, the stronger his opposition grows. Each attempt to push him away only seems to draw him in closer, closer, ever so close.

"You're fucking insufferable," you spat, your eyes narrowing with hatred. "You're pretentious," Sukuna shot back, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth." No, you're a narcissist," you hiss" Yeah, but I turn you on," he purrs

Warning: Hate sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, edging, cowgirl, size kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, breeding

You remember the day you met Sukuna for the first time like it was yesterday.

It was during the somber occasion of Wasuke Itadori's funeral—Yuji's beloved grandfather. The day was draped in a heavy sorrow; after the ceremony and the lowering of the casket, you followed the Itadori family back to their home. Being practically family yourself, and living just next door, it felt natural to join them and if not grieve, support the grieving family alongside them. While everyone gathered in the garden, sharing hushed memories and quiet support, you slipped inside the house to charge your phone.

As you stepped into the room, the air felt suddenly charged, like the prelude to a storm. There in the living room, was a man, a large man, lounging on one of the sofas dressed in a black suit and tie. The first thing you notice is his striking pink hair contrasting sharply with the dark, intricate tattoos that crawl up his neck and frame his face. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fix on you the moment you enter, and his smirk is like a crack in a mask of indifference.

"You must be the famous dear friend of the family, Y/n right?" he drawls, his voice as smooth as silk and just as dangerous. "Heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise." His voice drips with sarcasm making you thickly gulp.

You hesitate by the doorway, your initial smile freezing on your lips. This was the Sukuna Ryomen? The man you'd heard only in hushed conversations between Jin and Choso, the man Yuji calls his uncle? You try to muster your composure, crossing the room to stand at a respectable distance.

"I wish I could say the same," you reply, aiming for polite but firm. Your voice wavers just slightly.

Sukuna chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. "Oh, come now. No need for such defenses. I'm not the monster they painted in their tales. Or perhaps I am, and that's what intrigues you? What do you think so far" he bends forward. "Am I intriguing?"

You bristle at his words, the arrogance dripping from each syllable like poison. "I-I dont know about that." You curse yourself at the way your voice comes out as a stutter. "I'm here out of respect for your family."

"Respect," he repeats, tasting the word as if it's something exotic. "Funny, I never put much stock in that. The old man sure tried to teach me, shame he is gone. But perhaps you'll teach me its value?"

What the hell does he mean by that?

He stands suddenly, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps. You can’t help but step back, your back hitting the wall. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating.

"Why so tense?" Sukuna teases, leaning close, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. After all, anyone who loves my family must have some redeeming qualities, hidden though they may be. Although," he tilts his head, as if analyzing you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just kept you around cause you're a pretty thing to look at."

You feel a flush of anger and embarrassment heating your cheeks. "I think you've gotten to know enough for one day," you snap, ducking under his arm and striding toward the door. His laughter follows you, low and mocking.

"Oh, don't be like that!" he calls out. "We're just getting started!"

It only took a minute. One minute for you to decide that you hated Sukuna with a fucking passion.

Unfortunately, the fact that Sukuna had just gotten out of jail, did nothing to hamper your hatred. It seemed like ever since he got out, he was not only determined to stick to the family, but to you, like glue.

The Friday night dinners with the Itadori family, once cherished and loved, had practically turned into a battleground. What used to be a warm gathering was now filled with endless teasing and arrogant attempts at flirting. You were even hesitant to stay over now, as you were never to sure when you’d turn a corner and there Sukuna would be with some sleazy remark about your pajamas.

You tried talking to the Itadori family about it, tried complaining to Jin and raise your concerns. And as receptive and understanding as they were, you knew that for them, blood was thicker than anything, and in some part, you knew that applied to you too.

Still, you persisted, even now as you sat at another Friday dinner you were determined to just enjoy yourself with the family you loved so much.

Key word, tried.

"Well, Jin, I must say, this food is... quaint.” He says through a chuckle and you have to bite the inside of your cheek from throwing a fork at him right there and then. “Did you burn it on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?"

"Dude," You breathe a sigh of relief when Choso speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Can you go one day without being a jerk?" His eyes are fixed on Sukuna, echoing the frustration you both share about his behavior. This solidarity is one of the reasons why you feel closest to Choso in the family. His understanding and shared grievances with the insufferable man were one of the reasons why you two were best friends.

"Please, I bet this food beats anything you had in prison." You whisper under your breath, but audibly enough that others catch it when you hear Choso breathe through his nose in a laugh-like snort.

Sukuna sets down his silverware and leans forward with a grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he gazes across the table at you. "Oh, someone's got a sharp tongue," he remarks. "Careful, angel, you might cut yourself."

You roll your eyes and sharply cross your arms. "Funny, coming from someone who probably had to beg for scraps behind bars. Do you even know what real food tastes like?"

You don’t miss the way Yuji chokes on his pasta, stifling back laughter making you smile.

Sukuna's lips curve into a sly smirk as he locks eyes with you. "Oh trust me, I've tasted a lot of things. But I guess you wouldn't understand, being so... sheltered."

Unfazed, you shoot back with a dismissive wave of your hand, "Sheltered? Please. At least I don’t need to rely on prison slop to remind me of home."

This time, Sukuna's response is a silent, piercing stare that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even though you were wearing a sweater and shorts, his gaze made you feel like you were naked.

From the corner, Jin clears his throat, chuckling nervously. "Um, maybe we should all just calm down a bit—"

You cut him off, your voice firm as you defend the meal laid out before you. “No way, not when he disrespects your food, which is great, may I add.”

"Oh, I love it when you get all fired up." Sukuna's eyes glint with mischief as he watches your rising frustration. "It's adorable."

Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me, I think I'm full," you declare crisply, gathering your dishes with a clatter and storming off to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. Without a backward glance, you stride toward the living room, your footsteps echoing your irritation.

"Come on, why do you always gotta be such an ass, Uncle?" Yuji mumbles, shooting a glare at Sukuna who only responds with a shrug.

As you sank into the couch cushions, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of your favorite spot. You turned on the TV, dazedly watching whatever was on, trying to distract yourself from the day's tensions. Of course, thoughts of Sukuna kept creeping into your mind. What was his problem with you? Did the man get dropped on the head as a baby? How and the hell were he and Jin brothers?? Surely he was the result of some fucked up science experiment.

Engulfed in your thoughts, the passage of time slipped unnoticed until a shift in the couch's cushion snapped you back to reality. You turned, and -

Oh what the fuck.

Sukuna settled next to you, leaning on the armrest of the other side of the couch, a tattooed hand settled on his thigh, He had changed into a white tank top and sweatpants, and you feel your heart jump when your eyes unconsciously travel to between his leg where a slight budge pressed against the fabric. Shit. The tips of your ears turned red and you bit the inside of your cheek. That's another thing you loathed about Sukuna; how the scent of his old spice shampoo made you dizzy, how the way he towered over you made your breathing stop, how despite how fucking insufferable he was, he was so so so attractive.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you choked out, your tone edged with disbelief and irritation.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What does it look like? Watching TV," he replied coolly, his eyes briefly scanning the screen before settling back on you. "Everyone's gone to sleep, you know."

"No, what are you doing sitting next to me?" you hissed, the proximity suddenly feeling far too close despite the physical distance. Your eyes narrowed, locking onto his vermillion eyes.

"Why you afraid I'll bite?" He says, gnashing his teeth together in a teasing display before moving closer to you. "Don't worry, I only bite when I'm asked."

"S-stop talking to me like that," you say, trying to shuffle back, but find yourself already trapped against the armrest.

"Like what?" Sukuna's voice is teasing, almost playful.

"Like I'm your toy."

He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips. "More like my doll."

"More like your grim reaper. I'll slice your throat if you touch me," you retort sharply, the tension between you crackling. You watch the way his eyes rake over you like a porn magazine, making you cross your arms as if to shield yourself.

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement. "You're such a menace. I want to gobble you up."

As he inches closer, the scent of his shampoo fills the air—a fragrance so intoxicating you want to bury your nose in it, yet you resist. "I'll give you indigestion, asshole," you snap, trying to maintain your composure.

"Worth it, muse," he counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sure you're going to be thinking about that when I punch you in the face?"

"Oh, and make me bleed? Blood?" He licks his lips. "Yum." He feigns shock, leaning even closer. "You just keep ticking all my boxes today. Did you do your research on me?"

"Not even if you were the last man alive," you choke out, his proximity overwhelming, his face just inches from yours now. A slight move, and your noses would brush against each other.

"Last man to everyone else? No. To you? Highly likely." His whisper is a taunt, his breath a warm tease against your skin.

That's it.

As you attempt to rise from the couch, Sukuna's large hand swiftly lands on your thigh, pressing just firmly enough to guide you back down onto the cushion. You react instinctively, trying to swat his hand away, but he's quicker; he catches both of your wrists in his grasp, holding them gently yet with an unyielding firmness.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demand, your voice sharp with alarm and a flare of anger, your eyes locked intensely on his, searching for an explanation in his steady gaze.

"Jesus christ Y/n" Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes, "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” He chuckles.

Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, and get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so.

“I-fuck you” The words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and stern. You stay silent as you watch him examine your face. He leans in, close enough to kiss you, raises his right hand and runs his finger tips down your face.

"Will you bite my tongue if I kiss you?"

"Maybe"

Sukuna's mouth crashes onto yours, hard, angry, and demanding. He doesn't even give you a chance to resist, not even a breath. His lips are fierce against yours, stealing every breath you try to take. Your hands instinctively move to push him away, but instead, you find yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

You meet his aggression with equal force, your lips moving furiously against his. His hands cup your face roughly, holding you in place as his tongue demands entry. You respond with a whine, opening up to him, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

Every kiss is a challenge, every touch a dare. You bite his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that vibrates through you. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, hot, and angry.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply as if to remind him you won't be dominated easily. He retaliates by pressing you harder against the cushions, so you have no choice but to melt into him.

In one swift motion, Sukuna pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing muscles lined with black tattoos beneath. Before you can even take a breath, he’s back, his mouth claiming yours with renewed fervor. His hands move to your shirt, fingers pulling at the fabric of your sweater. You break the kiss for a mere second as he tugs your shirt off, then he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin.

His hands roam over your newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the waistband of your pants. He undoes them with a practiced ease, pushing them down and leaving you in just underwear and bra, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" you stutter, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replies, his voice low and filled with a wicked amusement.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you." His hands slide over your hips, pulling your pants down completely, and you shiver at the sensation of his touch.

You whine when he places his knee between your legs which pushes against your clothed crotch. You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna chuckle; his shit eating grin widening.

“Needy, arent you?”

Your instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he is already hooking a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your cunt. You mentally curse yourself at the fact that you're already wet, a fact that will sure to swell Sukuna's ego.

Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the juices before pushing a digit into your tight hole.

"S-shit." your groan, and the moment you clench around him, a sickening grin spreads across his tattooed face.

"Always knew you where gonna feel great around me."

The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.

“Hah~ I cant-” You whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You want to say you hate this, tell him to get off of you but you can't, you can't even think straight. You even push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sends tendrils of electricity through your body. But before you can fully bask in the pleasure, before you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, he pulls his fingers out.

"You think I'm gonna let you cum so early? After all the shit you have pulled?" His hand flies to your throat wrapping around it with a force that belies the strength behind it. Your breath hitches, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. His touch is firm, and commanding, but there’s an undeniable pleasure in the way his fingers tighten slightly, reminding you of the power he holds.

"Nah no way." Sukuna chuckles "Your just gonna have to suck it up."

You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to cut off your words, leaving you gasping. The pressure on your throat is intoxicating, a strange pleasure mingling with the discomfort. You can feel your pulse throbbing under his hand. You are so dazed that you don’t even notice he has pulled out his dick until you feel something big pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.

You’re about to open your mouth to say something, what, you do not know, but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like you're being split in two, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.  

“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.

“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.

The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the couch; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. He's girth spread you so well, so much, and the friction was so delicious, tears blotted your eyesight. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. Sukuna's pace is brutal, unforgiving, and he has to grab the arm rest above you with one arm to help his brutal and unforgiving pace into you.

Your mind grows hazy, lost in the sensation of how good he was fucking you, but then, without explanation, a spark of defiance ignites within you. Suddenly, you find the strength to flip him over, his dick not leaving the warmth of your cunt once and so you were effectively laying on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. With your chest flushed against his, and your ass perked up in the air, you begin to fuck yourself on his dick, raising your hips up and down his length as if he was a dildo.

"Oh thats it." Sukuna is not a whining man but here he is, his voice cracking from the feeling and sight of you riding him. "Fuck yourself on me shit shit shit."

You are practically drooling on his chest, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt against your G spot.

You let a whine when you feel yourself start to get tired so Sukuna grabs your hips and starts fucking you on his length.

Fap.Fap.Fap

"Gonna cum in you baby ok?" He murmurs into your ear and you dazedly nod.

Suddenly you feel your stomach dip and your mind go blank. Your mind feels as though it’s been dipped in pure euphoria, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, replaced by an overwhelming wave of bliss that drowns out everything else. Your body responds in kind, muscles tensing and releasing in perfect harmony with the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if every cell is vibrating with delight, your skin tingling with a heightened sensitivity that makes even the slightest touch feel like a divine caress. The heat of the sensation is intoxicating, making your limbs feel weightless as if you’re floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated joy.

Sukuna is quick to follow, shooting ropes of thick cum that glide down his shaft onto his balls.

"See? We are practically made for each other."

[fangharel]

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

[PLEASE READ] edit to add: i realise that this post has been reblogged far and wide and that there is not a lot i can do about it now, but this is me trying anyway.

posting examples from the fic about my issues with its repetitive structure was careless of me, and i apologise to those of you who read it and became insecure about your own writing style. as someone who has worked with ai in academic settings, it's incredibly difficult for me to explain to you how the tone and structure of ai-generated fiction works and how, after reading enough of it, you can simply just tell. i do also realise that this is an incredibly weak argument, which is why i didn't include it when i originally wrote this post.

all that to say: there is an enormous difference between "beginner's writing" and ai writing. being repetitive as a new writer (or a seasoned one who just likes using repetition) is so normal. as is flowery/purple language. i've read hundreds of books and fics and the difference between these traits in ai-text and actual works is starkly clear. please don't feel anxious over the examples i've used in this post.

again, i apologise for any distress i have caused.

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[umikawa]

a/n: omg ANOTHER senku fic?? Sedate me. I went off topic in this fic and didn’t even try to redeem myself so 🙏 writing Stanley next, wish me luck

senku ishigami x gn!reader | no warnings, set at the end of the village origins arc. 970 wc. Lot of dialogue cause that’s just how I roll (｀_´)ゞ

Senku was tired. 

Thoughts raced in his mind at a mile a minute, never-ending and constantly sprouting. On paper, he was sure it’d mimic the nervous system. Each thought that crossed his mind bothered him to no bounds, leading him to sleepless nights where he would devise plans for any situation that could happen. 

Like how to handle animal attacks like the one with Taiju in the beginning. What to do if there were (somehow) a fish shortage. What the plan was if an unknown settlement comes suddenly to raid the village. What to do if the Tsukasa empire decides to take action first…

For once (more than he’d admit), thinking made his head hurt. A groan leaves his lips as he holds his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in an attempt to soothe himself. 

“Another late night?” 

He turns around slowly, watching with parted lips as you approach him, a tray with two steaming cups in your hands. “Yeah.” Is all that he can come up with, mouth running dry. He can’t remember the last time he stopped to have a drink.

“You know, for someone as knowledgeable as you, I’d hoped you know that sleeping can be very beneficial to your health.” Senku chuckles at your words, gratefully taking the cup of tea from your hands. “What’s got you so worked up?” 

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a long sip to mask his uncertainty. “I'm just thinking about how this whole thing will play out.” It’s not a lie; he is worried about how everything will go, but it isn’t what he hoped to say. Though, he isn’t too sure what he wanted to say in the first place. 

You hum, leaning against the edge of his workbench. Your eyes trail over the mess of scribbles on the papers in front of him to the notable bags under his eyes. “Have faith,” Senku nearly rolls his eyes. “Believe in your comrades, and everything will fall into place.” 

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the feeling of your hand holding onto his chin, blinking up at you with wide eyes as you tilt his chin. “You should rest, Senku. A general can’t lead an army with only a wink of sleep.”

He laughs to himself, shutting his eyes as he pulls away from your warm touch. “I know.” Is all he responds with. He knows you're right, but he goes back to the drawing board anyway, ignoring the irregular beating in his chest. “You can go.” 

His tone held no malice or annoyance at the blatant dismissal, his words gentle as he cast a glance your way. You’d walked away from the table, standing behind him now, likely to aid him in his next endeavor. 

Once again, Senku jolts at the feeling of your touch. Your arms wrap around his waist from behind, your head pressed in the space between his shoulder blades, and your fingers clutch the fabric of his tunic. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks. Voice strained to keep himself from shouting or worse– trembling.

“Come to bed, Senku.” You’d whispered, pulling on his tunic gently. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as the slightest bit of annoyance builds up. 

Not with you, with himself for ignoring his health to the point you were concerned. 

“Alright.” He sighs, turning around in your hold. You weaken your grip the slightest. Senku wonders if you thought he’d run away if otherwise. “Don’t worry, I won’t run.” 

“You’d better not, " you mumble, releasing him fully. Your hand slips into his, fingers intertwining in place. He felt like they were meant to fit together. Senku quirks a brow. “Just in case. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to get very far with your… stamina.”

He rolls his eyes, allowing you to lead him out of the lab. Twigs and dirt crunch under your steps as you approach his hut. His eyes trailed around the village, and a part of him was praying that no one was awake to see you and him together. 

Not that anything was wrong with that– it’d just be another annoyance he’d have to deal with. 

Senku blinks down at your intertwined hands. When was the last time he held hands with someone? Did he ever? A flash of Byakuya crosses his mind, and a smidge of sadness crosses his face at the thought–right, when they went to see fireworks. 

He figures the look was still etched on his face when you entered his hut. Your hand comes to his face, thumb brushing over his knitted brows. He ignores the touch, his eyes lifting to meet yours. 

Instead of asking him what was wrong, as he thought you would, you wordlessly pulled him into you, fingers carding into his hair and ruffling it around. He groans out a noise of protest, frowning at the wide smile on your face.

“There’s something wrong with you,” he says, rolling his eyes when you pinch his cheeks. “Ten billion percent.” You don’t say a word in response, only messing his hair up even more until it falls in front of his eyes. “You’re weird.”

You scoff at the insult, pinching his chin. “Yeah? And what are you, normal?” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the craziest guy in this village, Senku. I assure you.” He chuckles at your words, and only then does he realize what you’ve done for him. 

Tore him away from his work, successfully relieving him of his stress and calming his mind. 

Except his mind wasn’t calm, and a million thoughts swarmed his head the second he locked eyes with you again. Did you always make his heart race when you looked at him?

And when did you get so… pretty?

[sunshiinebeetle]

Plural Mars Analysis

This is just chapter 1 cause it's kind of late- let me know if you want more!! I have many thoughts on chapter 2 and 3 so far :]

I'll be posting pages of the comic for readability, but PLEASEEEE read it HERE!! I leave several pages out and it'd be really sad not to support the original.

It’s important to note here how the bunny plush very quickly switches from aggressive to hurt and scared. The aggression is a defense mechanism, but not one that Mars wants to use. It comes from fear of breaking their “normal”. Once it’s shown that Laika won’t be easily scared off, it stops and runs away. Akin to an opossum (which have a very weak bite strength) flashing its teeth. I believe that the bunny was never going to hit Laika, at least not very hard (especially when later it’s shown that Mars has extreme reactions to the idea of hurting people).

Ok very important 2 pages, cause SYMBOLISM!! Willow has mentioned before that they packed a lot of symbolism and hidden clues into Laika’s, especially involving Mars’ backstory in chapter 1. The motif of bunny, kitty, teddy is shown on these two pages, the second is the “intro” page for Mars. It’s not lost on me that these three plushies are in the debut shot. They’re a deep representation of them! This will be elaborated on later, but for now I’m going to break Mars down into 3 alters. Bunny (timid, flight response), Kitty (neutral/happy, protected from those emotions), and Teddy (serious, fight/fawn response). I’ll be referring to them by these names to keep the confusion to a minimum.

Here we see Teddy Mars holding the bunny plush (representing Bunny Mars) and once again trying to intimidate Laika into going away. This is a weaker attempt, and shows Teddy’s fawn response as well- they don’t want to offend Laika so they use polite language, but still ask a question that will help them understand how best to protect the system. They don’t drop their stars until Laika displays that she’s not a threat. Notice what Laika is saying and how Mars’ reaction shifts entirely…

This is because Bunny switches in! Teddy is still co-fronting (as they’re prone to do) to keep an eye on things, but generally lets Bunny lead the conversation. Right away you’ll notice that Mars’ claws go away. Teddy’s claws are often extended because they’re on edge and protective, but Bunny has softer paws (and a complex about hurting things). Teddy’s claws are out when they cast the magic because Bunny doesn’t use magic intentionally. Bunny seeks comfort from Laika as soon as they know she’s safe.

Arguably there’s a hint of Kitty Mars in here too, especially on the second page. Bunny’s body language is often very closed off and small, but when Mars offers to show Laika their room and toys, their posture opens up and their tone shifts!

During the first page Mars is very blended between Bunny and Kitty. This is to emotionally protect Mars as they walk past all the portraits of their past. I’ll explain more later, but Kitty Mars is walled off emotionally from (at least some of) their trauma, while Bunny bears the guilt for it. You can see them both emote during the conversation- up until Kitty blends in, Mars doesn’t really use any enthusiasm in their dialogue. Literally zero exclamation points. But between the two “oh!”s, Kitty peeks through in the conversation :]

Then there’s a bit of wind as Bunny talks more, subconsciously using their powers due to their melancholy. The mood gets more tense as they breach a painful topic.

Mars avoids the question, shutting down emotionally… Kitty is likely booted from the front due to the traumatic nature of the topic. This coincides with their arrival at Mars’ room, which is perhaps also a trigger for Kitty to leave. The lightheartedness from their headmate disappears and leaves Bunny feeling hurt.

This is the first time we see Bunny properly shut down. They try to confide in Laika about their guilt and seek comfort, but she doesn’t quite get it… Good effort though!! Bunny’s routine and mental state at this point is a form of self punishment. They can’t leave because they haven’t hurt enough to pay for it. But at the same time they desperately don’t want to be alone. They’d had fun meeting Laika, but since she can’t stay (that would be “selfish”) and Mars can’t leave (that would be “disobedient” and “too good for them”), they just get even more hurt when Laika gives them a non-solution that just reminds them of their loneliness. The reality dawning on them feels crushing.

Bunny’s subconscious magic spikes again. This provides a solution to their conundrum- it’s not their choice, but authority’s. They won’t have to tell Laika to leave, which would break their heart, playtime is simply over. Teddy comes back to help Bunny cope and not break down- their speech becomes more clipped and formal, and their expression neutralizes (except for when it cracks, showing Bunny’s feelings). Teddy’s fawn response also shows, asking Laika politely to do the same as them. BIG ol trauma response. Clearly this was the way that Mars survived every scary encounter before. It’s trained, and likely why Teddy split in the first place.

Teddy is polite again, and using their magic intentionally to make the encounter run smoothly. They keep giving Laika instructions so that nothing goes wrong. This behavior implies that they were punished over very small things, even hesitation.

More trauma responses!! Mars looks almost bored here, but it’s actually Teddy’s trained neutral expression. You can’t get yelled at for feeling things if you’re feeling nothing! Teddy is maintaining this to mask Bunny’s fear of being around their parents, but it’s a hard thing to do. As tension gets higher, Bunny’s expressions show through and they start shaking.

Bunny is resigned to riding out this encounter, but Laika can’t stand for it. She interrupts, which terrifies Teddy. She’s way out of line in their mind, and they don’t want anyone to get punished when they can simply take the hurt. Teddy snaps at Laika, using their powers on accident for once. When Laika gets hurt by this, Bunny gets scared for two reasons. 1. They hurt someone, a severe trigger for Bunny. 2. It wasn’t Bunny controlling the body in a situation where they were otherwise the main pilot. This is an objectively terrifying thing to happen, and there’s often a lot of emotional conflict about this in systems who don’t know what’s going on.

Bunny is triggered and shuts down once again. Teddy directs the magic to get Laika out of there and away from Bunny to help them calm down. The earrings doll tries to grab Laika, while the tie doll swipes at her; this implies that they were the more violent and impulsive of the two. Additionally, the tie doll hurting the earrings doll was likely an allusion to domestic abuse between Mars’ parents. However, both were abusive to Mars in their own ways.

Laika unintentionally invokes the royalty/fairy tale symbolism, which speaks to Bunny and cuts through their shutdown. Since their reality hurts so much for them, they find everything much easier to process in stories.

You could see this as Bunny breaking down, but I think it’s Teddy too. Throughout this chapter, Teddy has been nearby suppressing everyone’s emotional reactions to protect them. But now they give into the hurt and the guilt and the loneliness and finally let themself AND Bunny express how they feel. It’s only now that they accept that vulnerability that they can drop their intentional disguise of everything in town. They hid everything to keep Kitty and Bunny happy, to keep them safe. But now that there’s someone else to protect them, they let themself be a scared kid and all of their hard work crumbles under the stress of keeping everything together. (At the beginning of this chapter when Mars is introduced, Teddy was playing with Bunny to keep them happy and distracted. Bunny feels lonely despite their headmates company and is prone to spiraling when they feel bad, so part of Teddy’s job is to entertain them to keep the illusion of stability.) Anyways that's all for now :3 I'll probably do the rest of the comic later. Keep in mind that everything I say here is just my interpretation and I could definitely be wrong! Though it'd be fun to see how accurate I am hehe

obligatory @laikascomet tag <3 yes i'm the same guy who mentioned it on stream :]

[alllgator-blood]

'IT'S JUST A BURNING MEMORY' (part 5/5)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

This part got rewrote the absolute most, the last four panels had a lot more actual dialogue but honestly speaking from personal experience, this is more of a "lay down and scream until no more sound comes out" situation. I don't think the other two have processed the schism like at all because they're busy trying to keep shamura alive, so there's no room to really mourn what everybody lost when they're at risk of losing someone else. UNTIL the baby brother collapses on the floor sobbing, cause like what big sibling ISN'T gonna comfort him but have a lil cry of their own as well

I have a kind of sequel to this in the works but I'm gonna have to hype myself up for it because while it's supposed to be a happy/bittersweet moment, it's another deeply personal one and I can only handle one of these every once in a while :') But if you read this far, thank you, every comment/rb I got for this comic I read really helped me stay motivated long enough to finish this. I appreciate the messages I got offering condolences or asking if I'm okay, I didn't respond only because I don't want to overshare (y'all KNOW how much I type..) but this dumb angst comic really did help me process some stuff. I'm okay!

[scealaiscoite]

‧₊˚ 🎧 ✩ a hundred dialogue prompts

(but it’s one lyric each from my wrapped playlist)

¹⁾ “you say you want me, but you know i’m not what you need.”

²⁾ “all i ever needed is here, in my arms.”

³⁾ “call the police, there’s a madman around!”

⁴⁾ “i miss the man i was the moment we left off.”

⁵⁾ “you’d be surprised the places i find jesus.”

⁶⁾ “just trust me; you’ll be fine.”

⁷⁾ “i hope he never lets me down again.”

⁸⁾ “tonight you’ll have the answer.”

⁹⁾ “not what you want- i’m what you need.”

¹⁰⁾ “didn’t call when i got your number but i liked you a lot.”

¹¹⁾ “i take my whiskey neat.”

¹²⁾ “and i’m not here to be the saviour you long for.”

¹³⁾ “are you ready to swear, right here, right now?”

¹⁴⁾ “baby, take my hand!”

¹⁵⁾ “this could all be yours.”

¹⁶⁾ “i’m granting you more than the debt that i owe.”

¹⁷⁾ “am i worth saving?”

¹⁸⁾ “it’s made you colder.”

¹⁹⁾ “can you figure me out?”

²⁰⁾ “come on- take a ride with me.”

²¹⁾ “it’s too late for me now.”

²²⁾ “mama always said i was born on the wild side.”

²³⁾ “i’d sell my soul for you, babe.”

²⁴⁾ “i’ll do whatever it takes. i’ll go to my grave protecting me and mine.”

²⁵⁾ “i’m proud of all my scars.”

²⁶⁾ “i’m not the girl i set out to be.”

²⁷⁾ “lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails- “

²⁸⁾ “i’ll be gone by the morning light.”

²⁹⁾ “summer is slipping through my fingers.”

³⁰⁾ “man, i hate this part of texas.”

³¹⁾ “if you want a cowboy on a white horse… hold on tight, because i’m not there yet.”

³²⁾ “no rest for the wicked.”

³³⁾ “things we buried low are coming to the surface now, my love.”

³⁴⁾ “they say i’m trouble and i don’t give a damn.”

³⁶⁾ “i got a taste for men who’re older.”

³⁷⁾ “it’s my feeling we’ll win in the end.”

³⁸⁾ “i need you to see me for what i have become.”

³⁹⁾ “baby bunny, come clean.”

⁴⁰⁾ “can you taste it?”

⁴¹⁾ “i grew up with a gun in my hand.”

⁴²⁾ “call me when you get the chance.”

⁴³⁾ “they said this day wouldn’t come.”

⁴⁴⁾ “this is an omen. a warning.”

⁴⁵⁾ “that’s how you know that i’m coming for you.”

⁴⁶⁾ “anything to get me to sleep.”

⁴⁷⁾ “five in the morning ain’t no time to say goodbye.”

⁴⁸⁾ “you can’t be my saviour- i can’t be your sinner.”

⁴⁹⁾ “he’s sitting in the corner with a six pack of corona.”

⁵⁰⁾ “take everything.”

⁵¹⁾ “we can be like they are.”

⁵²⁾ “what do you want from me?”

⁵³⁾ “this summer i might’ve drowned.”

⁵⁴⁾ “we were tangled up like branches in a flood.”

⁵⁵⁾ “i ain’t proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown.”

⁵⁶⁾ “pick yourself up, get back on again.”

⁵⁷⁾ “i need some room to breathe.”

⁵⁸⁾ “did you not say we were made for each other?”

⁵⁹⁾ “well, i grew up in the fallout from the riots in the nineties.”

⁶⁰⁾ “i’m missing you still.”

⁶¹⁾ “i can never take back the pain i’ve caused.”

⁶²⁾ “now i’ve said too much.”

⁶³⁾ “won’t you do this for me, son, if you can?”

⁶⁴⁾ “the damage is already done.”

⁶⁵⁾ “i’m scared of nothing and i’m scared to death.”

⁶⁶⁾ “you can hold me like he held her.”

⁶⁷⁾ “it wakes me in the middle of the night.”

⁶⁸⁾ “wash away the blood on my hands.”

⁶⁹⁾ “the dreams in which i’m dying are the best i’ve ever had.”

⁷⁰⁾ “i won’t back down.”

⁷¹⁾ “leave me alone in the dark.”

⁷²⁾ “i’ve been waiting for her, oh, so long.”

⁷³⁾ “help me to decide.”

⁷⁴⁾ “the money’s all gone.”

⁷⁵⁾ “hell, i ain’t the devil.”

⁷⁶⁾ “would we grow old together?”

⁷⁷⁾ “i’m a few years older than you.”

⁷⁸⁾ “so don’t say you love me- ‘cause you’ll never love me.”

⁷⁹⁾ “i’ve seen it all a million times.”

⁸⁰⁾ “you can always reach me.”

⁸¹⁾ “i don’t know who you think i am.”

⁸²⁾ “my darling believe me, i was born to be with you.”

⁸³⁾ “between the pain, and the way you look- “

⁸⁴⁾ “you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.”

⁸⁵⁾ “oh, i’m gonna lose control.”

⁸⁶⁾ “how d’you live like this?!”

⁸⁷⁾ “do you like that?”

⁸⁸⁾ “would you push me away again?”

⁸⁹⁾ “she’s a bad girlfriend.”

⁹⁰⁾ “today’s music ain’t got the same soul.”

⁹¹⁾ “i’m afraid they’re gonna find you.”

⁹²⁾ “i was far too scared to hit him, but i would hit him in a heartbeat now.”

⁹³⁾ “what am i to do?”

⁹⁴⁾ “come see what i mean.”

⁹⁵⁾ “i’ll never let you go.”

⁹⁶⁾ “getting drunk’s fine, it’s the getting by that’ll get a soul down.”

⁹⁷⁾ “come out from all your hidin’ out.”

⁹⁸⁾ “i ain’t perfect but i’m learning how to be the best i can.”

⁹⁹⁾ “i don’t ever wanna feel like i did that day.”

¹⁰⁰⁾ “and it was my mistake, ‘cause she never said a thing about jesus.”

[bonus-links]

Hello! Could we have a director’s commentary on Ruins pt.11 please?? It drives me insane 🥺🥺

YEAHHH this is gonna be a long one. link to the update

this is also one of my favorite updates (and 100% my favorite dialogue in all of ch.1, possibly the whole comic so far) but I'm glad I waited to do a commentary bc I think this is actually really relevant to the latest update

cause like the conversation Loft has with botw Zelda here is very similar to the one he has with Ganondorf, though he's much less snippy during it

I wanted to give Zelda a chance to be bitter and share her grievances with the gods. Her entire story in BOTW is largely about how the legends and the expectations put upon her by them fail not only her personally but the entire kingdom. And yet she's made to feel like it's all her fault.

A lot of his comic focuses on the legacy of the Hero, but I don't want to leave Zelda (or Ganondorf) out of the conversation. The cycle makes victims of all three of them in various ways, and while I can't do everything at once, it's still my goal to explore that. The Zeldas in particular are all in interesting positions as members of the Royal Family, because they're at once always thrown in peril by it with little agency, and expected to be the facilitators of its success as the people with the closest proximity to the gods. Much to think about.

on that note BOTW Zelda is my favorite Zelda. she is my babygirl. she is my everything. I will die a BOTW Zelda defender. we haven't seen the last of her in this comic i promise :-)

okay on to actually analyzing the comic. This top panel is framed like a diptych, two paintings hinged together. these are often (though not always) associated with religious paintings and are often altarpieces. I use a triptych format in the newest update :D sidenote I think it's very cute that some of the Hylia statues in BOTW have been decorated, so i gave her a little flower crown

I imagine praying starts to feel a little strange when you are dating ur god. yeah. Also I think it's interesting that Skyloft seems to mainly worship Hylia, with the other gods being more distant. It makes sense given the whole "she personally raised us up into the sky to save us all" thing. Even though Loft is the very first hero sent on a personal religious quest directly by his goddess, I've always imagined him as kind of,,,,casually devout? In that way that it's all you've ever known. Like obviously his beliefs are deeply ingrained, but he's not as into the formality of it all as other Links we might meet later.

I think about Zelda in that freezing pool on Mt. Lanayru all the time. RAHHHHHHH

I've posted this before but close up of Slate running their errands, the errand being talking to the Great Fairies about if they've noticed anything weird going on lol. I actually wanted to make it a whole update on its own, but I cut it for time and also because. I don't think the Great Fairies really have any information that was necessary other than "no I don't know what's going on". So u get this panel.

I like this shot of that little statue towering over the both of them, and I mimic it a little bit in the new update here. something something about why we build monuments and what they stand for.

negative sim interaction

Loft still has to believe that Zelda and Slate's negative experiences had to have been some sort of misunderstanding. If Hylia could have helped, she would have. Knowing and loving your goddess on a human level also makes you want to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I actually really love that in BOTW Zelda resents Link for having some sort of access to the divine that she just can't reach. She has her arc about it in the game, but especially now she's come to understand that having the gods' favor is a double-edged sword. Also, that's not really meant to be Peony, but I like the idea that Champion also had an affinity for fairies. :-( Intentionally the same pose as Slate at the fairy fountain, though Slate is so tiny I probably didn't need to bother lol

that was a lot of rambling lol but i have. so many thoughts abt the subject matter of this update. this is the shit about LOZ that makes me froth at the mouth tbh

[rederiswrites]

Okay so I'm giving @corseque 's super-important audio of all Solas' comments about the Blight a second (or fifteenth, whatever) listen and taking notes as I go.

Solas doesn't think for a second that once the archdemons are gone the Blight will be gone. Which really makes sense because it's the Blight that makes them an archdemon, not the other way around. Supposedly, they're blighted when the darkspawn reach and corrupt them. But of course that begs the question of why it's only darkspawn (and uh, honorary darkspawn like the Wardens) that hear their call. Anyway, the way he says it, it sounds more like the archdemons are a limiting factor than a driving factor.

Varric: "What's so confusing about endless darkspawn?" Solas: "A great deal!" So yeah, whatever the plan was, he didn't foresee darkspawn as a consequence. So did he not foresee them existing at all, or not foresee them being free to cause problems? Worth noting that it's really clear both in general and in Descent that dwarves as a whole were a huge blind spot for him.

He is really really surprised that the Western Approach ever recovered from the Blight. Pretty clear he didn't think that was possible.

He thinks that everything the Wardens have done up til now is a deeply misguided effort that's served (mostly accidentally) as a delaying tactic. Gotta say, with the information we have at hand, this point pairs about as well with the last as a nice dry red with spicy pickles. If the Wardens shouldn't have done what they've done, but he didn't think recovery from the Blight was possible, I'd love to hear what he thought the alternative was.

Same dialogue as above, but when Solas talks about stopping the Blight and when Blackwall and Varric talk about it, one gets the distinct impression that they're talking at cross purposes, because Varric and Blackwall are talking about the experience of Blights, as in, periodic events, whereas I think Solas is talking about THE Blight, that is, its true nature, which is yet untouched.

He thinks Erimond is dumb as shit, which is fair and valid. "That's madness! For all we know, killing the Old Gods could make things even worse!" he says. Well, he knows a lot more than "we" know, but it's entirely possible that he doesn't for sure know this. Increasingly clear that he thinks it, though.

I'd forgotten just how pissed off he was about the Grey Warden plan to kill the Old Gods before they were corrupted. It really doesn't give "hey you're killing my relatives" energy. It really gives "wow that would fuck us all" vibes.

Of course, with a side of my remembering that Solas' besetting flaw was always thinking people should know better even though they don't have access to the knowledge he has. That flaw I WILL grant. He displays it repeatedly--you could even say the writers went out of their way to make the point.

"The Blight is the real problem"

"The fools who first unleashed the Blight on this world thought they were unlocking ultimate power." Anyway yeah those are the absolute core of everything here. The Blight is the real problem and the Blight was deliberate. Deliberately made or deliberately freed.

Even during the events of Inquisition, Solas obviously sees Corypheus as secondary to the Blight as a danger.

Cassandra suggests that the archdemons were really just dragons--"Pets to those who no longer exist", by which she probably means the Old Gods, not specifically the gods of Elvhen, just because of her cultural background. Solas finds this suggestion amusingly wrong--a quiet snort, and "I would not go so far as that."

Last notes: he doesn't sound like he thinks the Blight can be stopped, and he's adamant that it can't be controlled. Which is presumably why he broke the world in an attempt to contain it, assuming I'm right that that was the underlying reason for the Veil. That it didn't quite work the way he'd hoped is also pretty evident, though I wanna be clear that I assume he was working from a place of desperation, and that not knowing every possible outcome of an action is not a condemnation of having taken it.

[grimmsbride]

❛I’ll give you lessons, it’s so much to know. ❜ ⸺ Gojo Satoru

【⠀♱⠀】 SYNOPSIS. satoru just wants to show you how different real sex and literature sex is.

【⠀♱⠀】 WARNINGS. self-indulgent. | reader is black coded & chubby | satoru teases a lot | pet names | i tried to keep this as realistic as possible so idk if this is boring i’m sorry | oral sex | fingering | reader is a virgin & is a little insecure about that | reader is also a smut writer | no penetrative sex | praise | minor overstimulation & dacryphilia | satoru is lowkey jealous of the book lol | etc.

【⠀♱⠀】 AUTHOR’S NOTE. i know there’s like plenty of virgin x experienced satoru fics but i just wanted to write this one based off my own experience. so yeah, hope you enjoy there may be a part 2. 3K+ WORDS & PLEASE EXCUSE GRAMMAR MISTAKES

Novels were so easy to get lost in. The moment your eyes landed upon a link of words you were lost to the world; glued to the seat underneath you for hours until your eyes demanded rest.

This was your current situation; glued to your bed, back pressed against the hill of plush pillows whilst your eyes skimmed the sentences within the book. You held the paperback delicately, lips parting every so often to giddily act out a piece of dialogue.

You loved books. Loved reading them, writing them, and much more.

What you didn’t love, was being interrupted while reading one.

The knock against your door was enough to cause your head to snap to it, bottom lip curled tight under your teeth as annoyance threatened to bubble over. With a heavy sigh you slumped into your pillows, “Yes, Satoru?” Your voice ranged monotone, something you used frequently whenever your beloved roommate and friend; Gojo Satoru, decided he needed attention during your reading time.

The door opened with haste, the tall white-haired male entering with a small frown. “You never sound excited to see me.” Satoru breathed, hand rising and lowering against his chest as if truly wounded by your behavior. An act that dissipated the moment you rolled your eyes— the man chuckling and entering the room fully to sit upon the corner of your bed. “I’m bored.. The rain killed all my plans.”

His complaints were barely registered the moment your eyes landed back to your book— a single mhm escaping you instead. A silence covered the room, feeling your bed sink as his long form stretched out upon the edge. Still, your eyes remained on the manilla pages; far too consumed in the utter debauchery playing before your eyes.

Unfortunately for you, Satoru didn’t let this slide for long; given his hand rose to poke the bottom of your foot.

You blinked harshly, lowering the book to cast a glare his way; Satoru’s eyes elsewhere as if innocent. The moment you returned to your book however— he poked you again, going in for a third one just for good measure.

Your legs slid up quickly, book falling to your lap as you glared at the man. “Satoru, how old are you?!”

“I’m bored..” He repeated, cheek sinking into your soft blankets as his pretty eyes stared up at you. Any other time you would have gave into the infamous pout, but not this time. You were enjoying your book far too much.

“Not my problem, find something safe to do.” You huffed, grabbing your book from your lap to slap Satoru’s reaching hand with.

With a quick recoil of his hand, the man sat up, huffing softly. “Like what?”

You groaned, leaning back against your pillows. “I don’t know, Gojo. Cook a dish, sleep, maybe read a damn book— just stop worrying me to death!”

Silence carried around the room for a moment, a bout of anxiety settling deep in your stomach at the man’s unreadable expression. Have I upset him? Was the single thought running in your mind. There were times he was unbearably annoying but again— Satoru was your friend and someone you held very dear.

“Sato—“

“I’ll read a book.” The man rose from your bed slowly with a soft sigh. This alone caused the small bout to quickly grow; your eyebrows furrowing and racking your mind for the perfect apology.

Until.. your beloved roommate and great friend snatched your book right from your hands— dashing out of your room before you could even blink.

Your eyes slowly widened as you registered the situation, fighting with your blankets to throw off as expletives escaped your lips rapidly. You were finally free from the web of comfort— rushing out of your bedroom towards where you loudly heard Satoru reading your book.

“His voice was husky, low; a tone that caused warmth to spread from my stomach all the way to my toes..”

“Satoru— give me back my book!” You rushed towards his spot standing beside the coffee table, watching him raise the book higher and crane his neck to continue to read; all while with a shit eating grin.

“He was close now, eyelids low with plump lips slick with my..” Satoru’s words slowed, eyebrows coming close together for a split moment. “— arousal.” His eyes were wide at this point, falling to your face which held a mix between embarrassment and anger.

The two of you watched each other for a moment, lips forming into a grin and the other a frown; the silence breaking the moment you groaned and landed onto the couch. Satoru quickly followed, snickering to himself as he quickly went back a page;

“Looks like I need to reread for the full effect..“

“Satoru, bite your tongue and die—“

Your harsh words were over shown by his downright maniacal giggling as he read over the pages, leaning back against the cushions. You spared a glance to spot the bright smile drawn across his features, glossy lips parting to softly read out the scene.

Another groan escaped you as you leaned back, balling up the shirt you wore in your hands. You shouldn’t be this embarrassed, really— or should you? Sex was sex, obviously; but it was a little different to be sexually active and simply being reading about. Plus, it was no secret you were a virgin— so you were sure you looked like a perverted hornball.

You wanted to die right then and there.

Soon enough, however; your stolen book made contact with your lap, which caused your eyes to open and land onto the culprit.

Whose grin was still intact.

“So that’s why you wanted me to leave so badly.”

“Satoru, please..”

The man snorted softly, dimples deep and turning to face you. “I’m not making fun of you [Name], it’s normal— it’s like a guy watching porn..” His eyes trailed off for a moment, dancing about the room before clicking back to you. “— Though I have to ask, is this the same stuff you spend time writing about?”

The heat growing within you was becoming too much, washing over your face and causing the embarrassment to dive deeper and deeper. “N—not all of it!” You huffed, eyebrows pinched close as you watched the man raise his hands defensively.

“Like I said I’m not judging either way. It’s just, interesting is all..” He shrugged to himself, leaning back against the cushions as his arms stretched out upon the couch. Satoru’s eyes flicked to your own, grin deepening the moment he noticed your bewildered expression. The man, as teasing as ever— leaned over just a bit closer. “Because you’re a virgin, that’s why.”

“Oh.” You spoke softly, eyes falling from his face to your lap, lips pushed close for a moment— the heat in your face seething at this point. “Well yeah, it’s uh.. ya know, my imagination so it kind makes up for.. lack of experience?”

Satoru stifled a short laugh, slinking away and facing forward. “Your smut is completely different from the real thing, though.” He claimed, tone teetering between cocky and just a tad playful.

You rolled your eyes as a soft obviously escaped your lips hearing the man chuckle. Satoru wasn’t wrong, you were sure real life sex and literature were completely different. From reactions down to positions, it was bound to be very distinct.

Still, the question of how different lingered within you.

Slowly your eyes rose from your lap to settle upon your roommate and great friend, only to suck in a breath the moment you noticed his gaze already upon you. Nervously you wetted your bottom lip, bringing your arms even closer to your chest.

“H..how different?”

Without missing a beat the man was turning to face you, one arm falling to his lap.

“I could show you.”

Satoru’s words took a moment to register, you being unable to hear anything but your rapid heartbeat. It felt as if you were lit on fire, staring up at the man who glanced down at you with clear intent swirling in his eyes. His hand remained on his lap, waiting patiently for a response from your quivering lips.

He was your friend and roommate too; he was supposed to nothing more and nothing less. Every alarm was going off in your head, stating getting entangled in such a way would be a bad idea all around.

But, you ignored them. Wholeheartedly. The stiff nod you gave a clear response.

Except Satoru wasn’t having that, scooting closer as he shook his head at you. “I’m not words on paper,” He spoke cooly, staring down at you carefully. “—I need you to say it.”

You struggled to hold his intense gaze, eyes dancing just about anywhere to avoid it. Your hands fell to the pajama bottoms you wore, carefully clearing your throat. “I… Want you to show me.” You spoke softly, finally glancing back up at the man.

You breathed softly as he drew closer, feeling his hand fall to your thigh to part and intrude the space between them. Satoru lowered towards you, your eyes fluttering shut the moment you two kissed.

It was a embarrassing how inexperienced you were; barely being able to keep up with his lips despite the already slow pace. Your hands rose to grasp his arms, eyebrows pinching close as his tongue treaded across your mouth. A soft moan escaped you, causing his tongue to slither in and tangle with your own.

It was a foreign feeling, one that caused your mouth to ache and for a flutter to occur between your thighs. You gasped softly as his hand slid off the couch to your back, carefully pressing against it and lowering you onto the couch.

Satoru’s long form hovered over you, hand smoothing across your thigh for a moment before rising to the waistband of your pants. It simply rested there as he continued to mark your mouth as his own; lathering his tongue in the wet cavern and sucking on your own appendage to hear you whine. By the time he released from the kiss, drool was trickling down the side of your mouth, lips a mess and red from his own.

You panted softly, watching as he rested on his haunches. Satoru’s other hand met your waistband, toying with the fabric for a moment before removing his hands all together.

The action caused you to raise your eyebrow, biting the inside of your cheek. “Satoru, are y—“

“‘M waiting until you take your pants off.” He said as if the answer was obvious. The man made a show of leaning back to sit on his ass, arms crossed infront of him.

Whether to show he meant business or to restraint himself was something you would never know nor care for seeing as you were currently groaning at his words. You knew your pants would be off in the end anyway, but something about him doing it would.. well, ease your nerves somehow? Who knows, you can’t find an excuse in the moment.

Especially not when the man is simply grinning at you, refusing to make a move until you listened to his request.

Knots formed in your stomach as you rose your bottom half off the couch a bit, thumbs hooking on your pants and panties and slowly tugging them down your legs.

About halfway Satoru was helping, clearly impatient despite the look he was giving you just a moment ago. He tossed the garments off to the side, turning back to spot your thighs closed tight together.

The man blinked in response, even laughing a little to himself as his hands rose to rest upon your knees. “You always look so expressionless while reading your little books..” Satoru spoke coyly, thumbs lowering to press into your heated skin. “Yet here you are; legs closed and barely looking at me.”

“I’m nervous, Satoru. You can’t blame me.” You spoke softly, blinking up at the male who only smiled back. You hissed as his hands fell to the side of your thighs, his fingers trailing the skin to allow you to get used to the feeling.

“There’s no need to be. It’s just me, sweetheart.. no one else,” His voice was calm, easing your mind just a little. His hands lowered to the underside of your legs the moment he noticed you sinking into the couch more, thumbs peeking through the tiny slit between your legs. “— just you and Satoru.” That was enough to allow him to ease your legs apart, revealing your slick slit and more as he widened them further.

You grew uncomfortable under his gaze, adjusting yourself as your hands balled up the shirt you wore. Your stomach leaped however the moment you watched him began to lower and situate himself between your legs, face hovering just a breath away from your wet heat.

You hissed as his breath fanned against you, shivering the moment you felt his thumbs lower to gently pull your folds. “Satoru..” You whimpered softly, gasping as you felt his lips graze your pussy.

“Just relax for me..” Satoru hummed softly against you, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up your slit. His hands tightened against your legs the moment you twitched, keeping your hips down against the couch as his tongue continued to work up and down your cunt.

You’ve never felt something like this before, it was well… weird. It’s not as if you were unfamiliar with pleasure in general. You’ve touched yourself enough to know what does and doesn’t feel good, or what type of response you would receive from yourself.

But Satoru was.. territory you have never encountered before. It was different, far too different to get used to in the moment. You were unable to contain the soft breaths and moans that escaped you, eyes screwed shut and not daring to look at the man currently ravishing you with just his tongue.

It was as if he had already studied your body; tongue dancing across your slit for a moment before lapping at your clit, squeezing your legs the moment they began to rise from the attention. Hearing your rushed cries was pure bliss, soft breathy moans escaping his mouth as he refused to allow you to move away from the pleasure.

Your back was arched now, arousal dripping down to your taint and surely the couch as Satoru sucked and licked your little bud raw. Your toes were curling, legs shaking, and your breath became labored; eyes peeking open to spot his gaze settled onto your face— clearly happy the moment you looked at him.

Satoru’s hand rose from your thigh and allowed his thumb to replace his mouth; rubbing your clit into circles, watching you carefully. “So wet, baby.. you hear it don’t you?” The man went silent whilst his thumb sped up, allowing you to hear the soft squelches of your pussy over the heavy breaths that were escaping you.

You gripped your shirt harshly, whimpering as your legs threatened to close from the pleasure. “S—satoru.. fuck, fuck..” You hissed the moment he leaned down again, feeling his tongue replace his thumb and set a harsh pace against your clit again.

What’s more, you felt his hand low, finger circling your sopping entrance for a moment before slowly pushing the long digit in. You whimpered at the sudden intrusion, but recovered quickly given the continued sucks and licks on your bud.

“Sato—satoru, fuck..!” You cried out, hands lowering to his fluffy white hair, taking the tresses between your fingers for something to hold. Your legs shook, bouncing about and threatening to close as his tongue sped up, while his finger slowly pushed in and out of your opening.

Your stomach was tense, grip tight, and mouth loose with moans as your orgasm hit you far too quickly; a beautiful string of sounds escaping you, as your legs shook around him. Satoru groaned into your sopping sex, gripping your leg as his actions never let up; carrying you through your orgasm effortlessly.

Little tears pricked at your eyes as pants escaped you and with shaky legs you were gripping his hair, pulling him away from your pussy quickly.

“Need to.. breath, Satoru.” You huffed softly, mouth hanging open and whining as you felt his finger slowly slide out of you. Through hazy vision you took in his beautiful features; spotting the red flushing his pale skin and the absolute mess of saliva and your essence coating the lower half of his face.

Satoru smiled up at you with low eyelids, circling the inside of your thigh with his thumb. “Breathe.” He hummed to you, rising up from between your legs to hover above you. The moment your eyes rose to meet his own, his head was lowering to plant a wet kiss to your cheek. “You don’t know how pretty you look like this, [Name].”

The warmth from both his actions and words were burning you up, your eyes shutting and not daring to look at him as a soft whine escaped you. You heard the man chuckle at you, feeling his hand gently squeeze your thigh.

“So shy..” Satoru teased, hand lowering to glide his fingers up and down your messy slit, paying extra attention to your bud with each pass. His eyes lowered as he spotted your legs widening, smile deepening in response. “You want more, huh? You want my mouth on this pretty pussy again, don’t you?”

The vulgar language had you whining, hips rising as soft pleas escaped you. This was enough for the man; slinking back to his previous position all while pushing at your thigh again.

His tongue moved up and down, side to side; reaching places that erupted feeling after feeling within you. Your mouth became raw from how loud you were becoming, arousal pooling under you as your grip never loosened on his hair.

Satoru’s breathing was heavy against you, tongue lowering to your hole and slowly pushing in; fucking you with the slimy appendage while working circles into your bud with his fingers. Despite these expert actions his eyes never left your face, feeling his cock strain within the confinements of his clothes.

Everything about you was addictive at this point. The moans you tried to cover, the way you absolutely refused to look at him, hell; even the twitches of your legs when the pleasure became too much. Satoru could only focus on you and nothing else. Especially not some dumb book that couldn’t make you feel half as good as he was right now.

Satoru’s tongue rose to allow his long digits to push into your awaiting entrance. The man hissed as your velvety walls clamped around them, using his thumb to circle your clit while he rose. “Can barely move my fingers, princess— you have to relax for me.”

You slowly nodded, a subtle pout forming as your hips rose. “‘M trying Satoru..” You huffed softly, eyes threatening to close as you felt his fingers pull back before pushing back in slowly. The pressure and pain dissipated the more you settled into the couch, pleasure even forming the moment his fingers curled. A moan escaped you shortly after, watching his grin widen.

“Good girl, that’s it..” He spoke sweetly. Yet his eyebrows furrowed the moment you closed your eyes, hand rising from your thigh take your cheeks in his hand— turning you forward again. “Mm.. don’t do that, lemme see you. Don’t look away.”

With how easily he was ruining you with his fingers, the task was difficult— but you obeyed; hands falling to his shoulders to hold tightly.

Your hips shook, rising to meet the thrusts of his fingers as a continuous honeyed melody fell from your swollen lips. Praises escaped the man above you as he felt your walls pulse rapidly, his thrusts increasing the moment your moans began to pitch.

“Fuck..! Satoru, I’m close!”

Your whimpers went unheeded, his pace quickening as he leaned down to press his lips against your neck. Your hips rose in the air for the last time as a prolonged moan escaped you, making a mess all over his hand.

This time Satoru pulled his hand away, allowing you to regain your breath while kissing your skin. Your grip loosened upon his body, eyelids falling shut as your pants slowed carefully.

A silence carried in the room until Satoru leaned down, resting his forehead against your own as he spoke;

“Do you know the difference now, [Name]?”

Regaining your breath, your hand rose to smooth across his neat undercut.

“Yeah, yeah I do..”

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

[k4marina]

— viii. Beyond the Wall || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: while you and jon lead a hunting party north of the wall, you come face to face with a being that you'd only read about in history books.

warning: game of thrones cannon violence and themes follows the episode Beyong the Wall [S7, Ep6]

all dialogue in italics is Valyrian

authors note at the end !!

series masterlist || next part

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

4.9k word count

[gif found on pinterest]

The weather had gotten slightly better, the sun was now up in the sky and the snow settled allowing you to see clearly again. The terrain had gotten more jagged the higher we climbed up the mountain. Piles of snow covered the already icy terrain, making it even harder to walk up the mountain. Had I’d known that I’d be brought back in time I would have packed my snowshoes. My feet felt numb and damp from the cold weather and the nonstop walking. 

Tormund led the group with Jon and I behind him. Gendry was by Jon’s side close by. Behind us were the Hound and Beric, another Wildling scout, and all the way in the back Jorah and Thoros who were busy talking amongst themselves. 

“Say we get what we came here for,” Jon glanced at me. “How are we supposed to get back to Eastwatch?”

“I’ll call Viserion and he’ll fly us back.”  

“He’ll hear you this far?” 

“I’ve instructed him to stay close. You may not be able to see him, but he’s a lot closer than you’d think."  

“Shouldn’t he be here with us so he can protect us?”

I thought for a moment before I replied. “The Night King can raise beings from the dead. You’ve seen what he can do with people and bears.” I turned to look at him. “Imagine what he could do with a dragon.” Jon stops for a moment but then nods, finally understanding why I was so protective of Viserion. 

I didn’t need to imagine like Jon, I knew exactly how the Night King raised Viserion and used him to burn down the Wall. I’ve already gotten rid of most of Euron’s fleet, lowering the chances of Rhaegal’s death, but the Night King was who I was the most worried about. If he could get his hands on a dragon then the destruction he would cause would be catastrophic.

Out in the distance, we could hear the sound of metal clinking. Tormund motions for everyone to stop and carefully walks forwards and peers over the edge of the cliff. He turns and motions for Jon and I to come see. A line of wights marched forwards led by a White Walker. 

“Where's the rest of them?” Jon asks no one in particular. 

“If we wait long enough we’ll find out.” Tormund says. The three of us walked back to the group once the undead were out of sight. 

“There’s a line of the undead marching to somewhere,” Tormund said to the group. 

“We need a plan, a good one.” I said. “Any ideas?” Everyone glanced at each other, waiting for someone to pipe up, but no one did.

I let out a breath, “alright, huddle up. Here’s what we’re going to do.” 

––

The undead marched in a line into a hilly area. The White Walker at the front of the line stopped hearing a crackling causing the other wights behind him to halt. It looks forwards and steps ahead, spotting a small burning fire. It cautiously walks towards it, assessing his surroundings. But before it could turn back, everyone sprung up from hiding, ambushing the wights. 

Jon takes on the White Walker while the rest of us fight the wights who relentlessly attack even after they’ve been cut down. Every time one of us cuts them down, they keep getting back up. As planned, Jon slays the White Walker, plunging Longclaw into his abdomen. It violently shakes and collapses into ice, causing the rest of the wights, except for one, to crumble to the ground. We huddled around the remaining wight, looking for an opportunity to grab onto it. 

Huffing, Tormund throws his axe down and punches the wight square in its mouth, knocking it down. Sandor jumps onto it as it screeches and writhes under the Hound while Beric, Thoros, and Gendry hold down its limbs. 

“Gag it!” Sandor yells. 

I reached into my pocket, quickly pulling out a makeshift gag and stuffing it into his mouth just in time, cutting its loud screeching. Sandor puts a bag around its head and ties it with rope while the rest of the men put chains around him and put it into the cage we brought. 

But it wasn’t quick enough. A low rumbling could be heard in the distance. Jon turns back, all of us knowing what that meant.  

“Call him!” Jon yells. 

I looked up to the sky, silently praying Viserion was nearby. “Come to me, now!” 

It’s silent for a moment, apart from the light rumbling, but then we can hear the sound of wings flapping and Viserion roaring out in the distance. 

“He’s too far! Run!” Jon screams, panicked. He turns and makes a run for it, all of us following after him. The rumbling grows louder and as the undead closes in on us. 

We ran into a clearing, a rock in the middle of it with the wights hot on our trail. The ground cracks as we run and climb onto the huge rock. There’s a scream behind us and I turn to see a wildling scout being grabbed by a wight, but when he falls to the ground the frozen lake gives way and the wildling and weight fall through. 

Everyone watched in horror as the army of the undead circled around us. The ice on top of the lake broke away, leaving us encircled by a line of broken ice and frigid water. The undead stood at the edge of the water, not daring to go any further, unless they wanted to drown and die. Their hollow eyes locked onto us watching our every move. 

“Where’s the dragon!” Someone shouts. 

I looked up, wondering the same thing. 

My heart beat loudly and my throat closed up. There were more wights surrounding us and if we stayed any longer the Night King would be here. I turned to face the others, who were clearly disheveled and panicking themselves. Jon stares off where the wights stood, almost anticipating an attack. 

Where the fuck was Viserion?

As if he heard me, there's a loud roar overhead and then fire rains down from the sky and burns the wights. Everyone's head snaps up as Viserion flies by, torching the undead and turning them into ash. 

“Move! Make way!” I flailed my arms around, motioning everyone to step back and create a clearing for Viserion to land. He lands onto the rock and everyone climbs up. I sat at the front with Jon, Tormund, Jorah and Gendry made sure the cage was properly secured while Beric and Sandor carefully helped the injured Thoros up onto the dragon.  

Swiftly, Visierion flies up and back towards Eastwatch. I looked down, watching the undead burn when something caught my eye. I squinted and spotted the Night King. 

In his hand was an ice spear and I felt my heart drop. My hands tightened around Viserion’s spikes. I turned back to the men behind me who were holding onto dear life. 

“Hold on tight! Do not let go!” 

They hunker down, some readjusting their grip. I look down again and see the Night King preparing his aim at us.

“Evade, Viserion. Do not let him touch you.”

Viserion dives down, burning as much as he could. He circles around and faces the Night King, who throws the spear towards us. Quickly, Viserion dodges, pivoting left and rains fire from where the attack came before retreating fully. 

I glanced back, but couldn’t see the Night King anywhere. 

––

When we arrived back at Eastwatch, night had fallen. The ship had been waiting for us, ready for immediate departure. Jorah and Sandor dragged the cage with the wight aboard while Jon said his goodbyes to Tormund. 

“Let’s go.” He turns to me. 

I shook my head. “You go, I still have something to do.” 

Jon, gobsmacked, shakes his head. “No, you saw what’s over that wall. You can’t go.”

“I have to.” I said. “And before you say anything, Daenerys knows that I’m doing this.” 

“Fine.” He huffs. “I’ll go with you.” 

“No you won't. You have to get back to Dany.” 

“And you don't?"

“I do. Just after I’ve done this.” 

He sighs, eyes darting back. “At least take Tormund with you.” 

“You know I can’t-”

“Please.” He cuts me off. He frowns and I sighed. 

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied, he backs down. “Good.” 

“Now go. You have a Dragon Queen waiting for you.” I lightly shoved him back towards the ship. He shakes his head but boards the ship. Tormund and I stood there watching as the ship finally sailed off. 

––

The sun had just risen when Tormund and I met again in the hall. We each had a bowl of hot stew in front of us. 

“Alright, tell me the plan.” Tormund says, shoving a spoonful of the stew into his mouth. 

I drank some of the ale we’d been given. “I need to find a cave.” 

“There are a lot of caves.” 

“I know that.” I crossed my arms on top of the table. “This one is about east of the Fist of the First Men and west of the headwaters of the Antler River. There should be a huge Weirwood tree on top of it in a huge clearing.” 

He stops eating, staring at me. “There’s something in the caves.” 

I nod. “Something very valuable.” 

“Is it a dragon egg?”

I shake my head. “No.” 

“Then what?” 

“I’ll show you when I have it. So, can you help me?” 

He keeps his intense eye contact with me while slowly bringing a spoonful of the stew to his mouth. He loudly slurped, dragging it on longer than he should have. 

“Aye.” 

–––

“There,” Tormund's hand stuck out, pointing down at a small clearing in a forest below us. “If you land there then we’ll only have to walk a distance.” 

I nod and Viserion ascends down, carefully landing. We get off and Tormund rummages in his pack, pulling out an unlit torch. He raises it up to Viserion, waiting. I furrowed my brows, wondering what he was doing when it dawned on me. 

Knowing as well, Viserion looks back to me and I nod. He turns back and lets out just enough fire to light the torch without burning the Wildlings hand. 

Ecstatic, Tormund looks back at me, like a child. “Look!” I had to stop myself from laughing how easily entertained he was. 

Is this what the man who first created fire looked like?

I turned back to Viserion. “Stay vigilant for the undead. And stay close, I may need you.” He purrs, understands and flies away.

“Why isn’t he coming?” 

“Too much attention.” 

“What if we see White Walkers?” 

“What? Tormund Giantsbane can’t take care of a few White Walkers?” 

He puffs his chest, holding onto the torch tighter. “Of course I can!”

“Then let's go,” I said. 

We started walking through the dense forest, Tormund leading the way. The land was rugged and snowy, like most of the terrain beyond the Wall. My eyes scanned ahead in case any White Walkers or wights tried to attack us. We walked for hours before finally coming across it.

There was a clearing in the forest. A jagged hill in the middle with boulders around it. At the top was a giant Weirwood tree. Its branches fanned far out and high, its red leaves glowing in the sun. The trunk of the three was thick, a testament to how old it was. Its roots spread all over, some even exposed and covered in layers of snow. At the base of the hill, behind the boulders was a secret entrance. It looked as if it was blown open and then covered in rocks.

“Well we’re fucked.” Tormund says. “What the fuck even happened here?”

“White Walkers.” I replied, looking for an alternative entrance. “They ravaged the place.” 

“Looks like they did more than ravage.” 

I looked around for an alternative way in, pushing back rocks and the snow around the hill, but couldn’t find anything. 

“Right there,” Tormund points to a small opening, just enough for one person to pass through. It was on the other side of the hill, behind a large boulder. 

“You’ll have to stay out here.” I reached for the torch, but he pulled it away. 

“You don’t know what’s in there.” 

“Yes I do.” A few dead bodies and what I came here for the first place. 

“You just said White Walkers were here. They could be inside right now.” 

“And if they are, then I’ll kill them with my dagger.” 

“But-” 

“Tormund,” I firmly squeezed his arm. “I need you to stand guard and watch for any threat.”  He stops talking and puffs up again, nodding. He hands me the torch and pulls out his axe. 

I carefully slipped through the entrance, holding the torch out in front of me. Was it wrong for me to play into Tormund’s almost himbo mindset to get him to stay out? Sure. But, he didn’t seem to mind that much, happy to play on as the ‘big strong guy.’ 

Vines and three roots covered every inch of the place, even the ceiling. The passageway was narrow but opened up the deeper you went. I spotted a corpse of a man on the heavier side hunched over by a wall, which I assumed led to the other entrance. A little ways ahead, a direwolf with a white belly and a light brown fur coat lay lifeless too. The passageway opened into a large room, covered in three roots coming from up above. Bits of sunlight shone through the walls and ceiling. It was like being inside of a huge tree. 

In the middle of the room a cluster of roots stood tall, reaching from the ceiling to the floor. Its wild tendrils mimicked the Iron Throne, and at the center was a frail, dead body of a man. He was entwined into the roots, having been there for a very long time, his nails long and jagged, arms and fingers boney, his silver white hair falling out. 

This was it. 

I searched the room, high and low, looking for what I came for. It wasn’t until I turned to look around the man did I spot it, covered in its black and red scabbard with faded gold detailing. I set the torch down, getting on my hands and knees to dig it out of the mess of tree roots. Finally free, I was able to fully admire it. 

I pulled the blade out of its sheath, the almost metallic liquid looking steel shining back at me, even after all these years of not being used it still looked to be in somewhat pristine condition. Its crossguard was made up of gold and in the design of dragonwings with a bright red ruby at the center above the rainguard. Its grip was leather bound, clearly worn with a scale pattern on them, and the pommel was made of two pieces; a golden piece mimicking fire and a chunk of Valyrian steel molded into a dragon egg. 

Quickly I sheathed the sword and grabbed the torch, making my way back. I walked briskly, feeling that something was off. As I approached the entrance I could hear grunting and an axe swinging before a thud. I hurried and got out, only to see Tormund on the ground, a wight on top of him while he tried to push it back. 

I work fast to pull the sword out of its scabbard, running to where Tormund was. I lift the sword high and bring it down onto the wight, killing it instantly. Panting, he pushes the wight off of him and back onto his feet, grabbing his axe. 

“Took you long enough.” He gets ready for another quip, but stops when he sees what’s in my hand. 

“What is that?”

“Dark Sister.”

––

“You’re not going to take a ship?” I shook my head at Tormund. “It’ll take too long.” 

“And on Dragon?” 

“Long, but still faster than a ship.” 

Viserion growls behind us, eager to leave and get back to his mother and two brothers.

“I’ll see you again.” I say.

“Stay safe, dragon women.” He sticks his hand out and we shake, holding onto each other forearms.

“You as well.”

I quickly mount Viserion, and take to the sky. The cold wind blew past me and I sighed, finally able to go home. 

–– 

Night had fallen by the time I had arrived back to Dragonstone. The moon lit my way from the cliff sides to the castle. Viserion quickly went to find his brothers, exhausted from flying in the North so much. 

I found Daenerys in the throne room, staring out of the large floor to ceiling windows, deep in thought. The door closed softly behind me, catching her attention. 

“You’re back. Was there any trouble?” 

“Had a brief encounter, but other than that nothing else.” 

She saw me covering the sword behind me. “What is that?”

“It’s yours.” I stepped closer, grabbing her hand and leading her up to the throne. “Nearly half a century ago, your family lost one of its ancestral swords. And it wasn’t until hundreds of years later was it found again by explorers.”

“I don’t understand.” 

I stood her in front of the throne, stepping back. “Brynden Rivers, bastard son of Aegon the Unworthy. In 233, he traveled to the wall with the sword and later became Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but then he vanished while he was ranging beyond the wall, taking the sword with him.”

I pulled the sword from behind me, taking it out of its scabbard and presented it to her. The moonlight pouring into the throne room glistened against the blade. The gold detailing, despite its rust, stood out against the Valyrian steel detailing. And the bright ruby that already stood out, glowed a deep red. 

“Dark Sister,” Daenerys said, breathless. 

Carefully, she reached out, letting her fingers glide across the swirling steel. She finally grasped the slim handle, feeling the weight of the sword. Her eyes lingered on it before shifting towards me. 

“That’s why you went.” 

“Partially, but yes.” I replied. “Bit by bit, we’re going to restore your family back to its former glory. Starting with this sword.” 

––

Everyone stood in the open courtyard, eagerly waiting for the “demonstration.” 

Daenerys stood on the steps, Missandei, Tyrion, Varys, and I at her sides. Grey Worm and a few Unsullied stood close to them, ready for a sudden attack. Jon and his men stood in the middle of the courtyard, a box at their feet. 

“You said you wanted proof of the undead,” Jon looked at Daenerys. He motioned for Jorah to open the lid of the box, reaching in and pulling off the burlap sack. Sandor kicked the box and out fell a chained skeleton in rags. Everyone watched, intently, as the wight slowly woke up and let out a shrill. It tried to run and attack, but couldn’t as the chains kept him close to the box. 

Daenerys’ face drops, the full weight of the situation clear to her. This was more than a fight for the throne now, it was about life and death. Having seen enough she motions for Jon to cage the wight again. It screams when the Hound punches it in its face before being bound and caged again and then dragged away.

“All of you risked your life to bring the world proof of the undead.” Daenerys steps down the steps. She looks up at Jon. “We’re going to destroy the Night King and his army, together. You have my word.” 

There’s a weight lifted off of everyone, relieved that Daenerys had agreed to join sides with Jon. 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jon tilts his head down and to everyone's surprise sinks down to one knee. Daenerys’ eyes widened, more surprised than anyone else. “I swear my allegiance to you, Daenerys Targaryen.” 

“What about those that swore allegiance to you?” 

“They’ll all come to see you for who you really are.” Jon replied. 

Daenerys squares her shoulders. “Rise, Jon Snow, Lord of Winterfell.” He stands and Daenerys takes his hands in hers, and the two share an intimate moment. 

Eventually, someone (me) loudly cleared their throat, pulling them back to reality. Awkwardly, they let go of each other, stepping back as if they’d been caught by their parents. 

“Let’s discuss this further in the painted chamber,” Daenerys says. She turns and walks down the hall. 

Daenerys sat at the head of the table with Missandei and I at her sides. Tyrion and Varys sat down as well, while Grey Worm and Jorah stood behind Dany at attention. Jon sat on the other end with Ser Davos at his side and his men behind him. 

“What is the progress on our armistice with Cersei?” Daenerys asks. 

“Cersei has agreed to it, surprisingly.” Tyrion replied. 

“That was easy.” Davos says. 

“She thinks we’re surrendering.” I turned to Tyrion. “Where are we meeting?”

“The old Dragonpit on Visenya's Hill. We’ll bring 300 Unsullied with us, half will be our escorts, the other half will stay by our ships. We’ll also be bringing 50 Dothraki with us.” He replied.

“We did say that we’d bring a small army to King's Landing.” I nodded towards Daenerys. I looked back at Grey Worm. “How were the upgrades to the Unsullied’s armor?”

“They have worked well. The armor is durable and the weapons are light and sharp. The enemy fell easily to us.” Grey Worm, nods, appreciative. 

“Good.” Daenerys says, bringing the attention back to her. “You all will arrive first with our gift while Y/n and I will arrive on Dragonback.” 

“Nope.” I shook my head. Daenerys turned to me, confused. 

“But-”

I shake my head again. “Nope. You need to assert your dominance on Cersei. Only you and Drogon will arrive together while I arrive with the rest. And, try to make it dramatic.”

Daenerys smiled, “I’ll do my best.” She turned back to the others, more serious now. “What is the progress on our travel to Winterfell?” 

“They’re fairing well, Your Grace.” Varys replied. “The servants have started packing all necessary items.” 

“What about food?” 

“We’ve got plenty now that Highgarden is ours.” 

“And for the dragons?” I ask. 

“We’ve filled as much as we can, but I’m afraid it’s not much. Perhaps the dragons can hunt while they’re North?” 

“We’re going as guests to the North and you’re suggesting that we slaughter their livestock?” I raised a brow. “The Northerners are already suspicious of other Westerosi, imagine what they’d think if a Targaryen brought her foreign army and three dragons to eat all their food, they’d never support us then. It doesn’t matter that we’re going to defend all of humanity along with them, the North will remember this. We’re going to defend the North and make nice with them.” 

Varys closes his mouth, looking towards Daenerys, who nodded at what I’d been saying. “I apologize, My Lady, Your Grace. It seems I may have misjudged.” 

I sighed through my nose, averting my gaze to Tyrion. “What about the villages on the island?” 

“The villages on Dragonstone?” 

I nod. “Ask them if we can take a few sheep from their herds, don’t say it’s an order, but as a sign of good luck or support towards Daenerys and her cause.” 

“Why would they do that?” Daenerys asks. 

“The Targaryens and the villagers have had a close relationship for many years. Some villagers are descendants of Targaryen bastards while others families used to tend to the dragons that have lived here. And second, you’re their Lord, anything you say they’ll do, within reason of course.” 

Daenerys seems to go over my words before nodding. “Alright,” she turned to Tyrion, “you have your orders.”

“We should also send ravens to Highgarden, Sunspear, and Pyke. We’re going to need all hands on deck if we’re going to go against the Night King and his army.” I say. 

Daenerys nods. “The meeting is in a few days and we’re set for Winterfell in a few weeks, we can not make any mistakes. This is more than a fight for the Iron Throne, this a fight for the Realm.” 

––––––

“Around eight-thousands Unsullied, nearly fifty-thousand Dothraki, one hundred Ironborn ships, two-thousand men from the Reach, and fifteen-hundred Dornish. That’s what, sixty one-thousand five hundred men?” I read aloud, 

“And Cersei?” Daenerys asks, back to me and facing the window.

I sighed, looking down at the paper. “Around twenty-thousand Lannister soldiers, four-thousand in the City’s Watch, one hundred and fifty Ironborn ships, and if she’s lucky, which I doubt, twenty-thousand soldiers from the Golden Company. Making the grand total, forty four-thousand with the Company and twenty four-thousand without.” 

“She’s out numbers either way.” 

“She is, but that doesn’t mean she’s that less of a threat. Cersei’s forces may be smaller than yours, but she’s strategic and resourceful which is why when we’re in King’s Landing it’s important to keep your head on a swivel, you can’t underestimate her.” 

“Head on a swivel?” She turns, frowning. “Is this another one of your ‘figures of speech’?” 

“Yes, something like that.” I smiled. “But I’m being serious, Dany. Keep your eyes open for anything. It could be a remark or a gesture, you are our number one priority.” 

She nods, sitting down next to me. “What about Jon?” 

“His numbers?” 

“Yes.” 

I turned over the paper, “ten-thousand men from Northern houses, three-thousand Wildlings, and four-thousand Knights of the Vale.” 

“Which means seventeen-thousand in total.” She adds up. “Making my total forces seventy eight-thousand five hundred soldiers. How many would I lose after fighting the Night King?”

“Half at best. All of them at worst.” I stretched my back. “From what I remember, it’s estimated that he has almost two hundred-thousand in his army.”  

Daenerys looks at me, bewildered, “How are we supposed to win if she says no? We'd be greatly outnumbered.” 

I placed a hand over hers. “Well, for starters, we have three dragons, and once we’ve slain the Night King the rest of his army will fall. So the quicker we can shank him to death, the better our numbers.” 

She sighs, squeezing my hand. “It seems all you’ve been doing as of late is comforting me when I should be comforting you. You’ve fought in battle after battle, yet you don’t seem all that affected.” 

“It’s no big deal.” I gave her a small smile. 

She studies my face, frowning. “What is it?” 

I looked away, contemplating. “I had a dream the night before we’d arrived at Eastwatch. I doubt that it was a Dragondream, or it would have come true, or it was me remembering the future, but I dreamt about it.”

“What was it?” 

I faced her fully, grabbing her hands. “Originally, Jon and his men were supposed to go to Eastwatch. Once they’d gotten the wight, they were surrounded by the Night King and his army. Jon had sent one of the men with him back to send you a raven of what was happening. You and all of your dragons arrived to rescue them, but while fleeing the Night King threw a spear at Viserion, killing him.” I felt Daenerys’ grip on my hand tighten. “The rest of you managed to escape, but then the Night King resurrected Viserion and turned him into a wight. After that, he used Viserion to melt down the wall and march south.” 

Daenerys lets out a shaky breath. “But now he doesn’t have him, so he won’t be able to march south, right?” 

I shrugged. “In theory, but we live in a world of dragons and the undead walking.” I sighed, rubbing my face. “The Wall and him are made of the same magic, his is just darker, I guess? His sole reason for being alive is to cause destruction and plunge the world into a long and bitter winter. He’ll find a way south, it may take him some time, but it will happen.” 

She nodded, taking the information in as well as anyone would in her situation. 

“Hey,” I said. “No frowning, come on. We have a big day coming, so no frowning, okay?” 

She smiles, nodding. “Alight, no frowning.”

“So,” I smiled, my tone lighter. “How are you and Jon doing?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied quickly, turning away from me. 

“Oh, yeah?” I laughed. “Then that little scene in the courtyard was nothing? The way you two looked into each other's eyes.” I leaned in, placing my chin on her shoulder, looking over at her. “They way you two affectionately held onto each other's hands.” 

Her face turned red. “He was merely swearing his allegiance to me, nothing more.” 

“Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you two fancy each other?” 

“Jon likes me?” She quickly turns, trying her best to hide her smile. 

I huffed. “For someone who has nothing going on with him, you sure do look happy that he’s attracted to you.”

She looked like she'd been caught with her hand down the cookie jar. 

“Be honest, do you like him?”

She tried to hide her smile, looking down at her lap. “Yes.”

I smiled. “Finally, she admits it. I’m not against it,” I hummed. “You two would make a good couple, dare I say perfect.” 

She gasped, face red. “Alright, enough. Go, shoo, leave me be.” 

I laughed, getting up. “Fine, fine. But I’m not wrong. Maybe you should put some thought into it.” 

a/n: i know i'm horrible for updating late (like always), but i was soo stressed from shopping and packing everything that i kinda forgot about it ngl. but who cares lol.

i've suddenly gotten a bit more motivated to write some of my other series so perhaps i'll upload that, but it all depends on if the motherlands network allows me to.

anyways, i'll be back with another chapter once i'm back home. see you all!

taglist: @wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat @evilunicorns4minions @honeycola-umbra

[myownwholewildworld]

v. a Roman’s rotten heart - acta, non verba

chapter 4 | series masterlist | ao3 | chapter 6 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: temptation is sweeter than honey. a/n: well, well, well, what can i say other than this whole chapter had me howling? over half of it is smut, so if that's not your thing, i'm sorry? 🤓 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings: 18+, mdni. mentions of war, death, starvation, marital abuse, infidelity. some fluff because cormag is a grumpy sweetheart. marcus is the praise/consent king. very soft!marcus (yes, this is a warning). he talks you through it. a lot of fingering. nipple play. unprotected piv. reverse lap dance and reverse cowgirl positions. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin). marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. unbeta'd, very minimal editing (soz). w/c: ~8.8k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Come see me tonight,” Marcus almost begged you as you turned around in his embrace.

He had you pinned against the wall of the garderobe, the small room filled with the scent of wine and sex.

You chuckled, eyeing him through your lashes. It was a good sign that he was eager, but you wondered if he was just trying to bed you, fuck you and then be done with you. All men were the same, especially men like him — drunk with power, believing they were above everyone else, that they could get anyone to bend to their will.

And… was not that what you were trying to do anyway?

“I’ll see what I can do,” you conceded, leaving him hanging. “But won’t you have an early day tomorrow? I’m sure being the General of Rome have you waking up like an early bird.”

You were fishing for information, and hoped he would bite the bait.

Surprisingly, he did.

“Tomorrow we are going on a reconnaissance mission around the area, stalk out some points of interest where…” he trailed off, probably realising he had spoken too much. “But I don’t mind having a late night when I know it will be worth it.”

He surely knew how to make one feel fucking special. But what he said was like gold dust to you — it wasn’t much, but enough to get your plan working. You’d need to speak to some people, see what could be arranged, but if it worked out, perhaps your people could instil some fear in those rotten Roman hearts.

You wondered if Marcus’ was as rotten as his people’s. An idea of him had formed in your mind, and it contradicted what he had shown you so far. But only a man with a rotten heart could cause so much pain, so much grief.

You chewed your bottom lip, crouching for a second to collect the jug you had dropped before.

“If I finish early after cleaning up all the mess of your birthday’s celebration…” you teased.

“Right,” Marcus took a step back, liberating you from the warm prison of his body. “You go first, I’ll wait a couple of minutes then leave.”

“Such a gentleman, worried about my reputation,” you mocked him a bit, hand on the doorknob.

“I am,” Marcus replied, and you were not sure if he was joking back or being serious.

You didn’t stay to find out, scurrying away down the hallway straight to the kitchens. There were a lot of people in the small room, with Cormag at the forefront of it, barking commands and orders to everyone. The air was heavy, a cloud of smoke collecting close to the low ceiling.

The poor cook was profusely sweating near the hearth, his paw stirring a cauldron with a big wooden spoon.

“Ye deaf lad?! Bring that over right now!” the old git screamed at the top of his lungs, breaking into a coughing fit a second later.

Tomorrow you would make sure to put out the fire and clean that damn chimney, because one of these days Cormag was going to cough up a lung. You wouldn’t tell him though, otherwise he would try and talk you out of it, pointing out that it was no job for a lady. As if you cared.

Placing the empty jug down on one of counters, you saw Brighid and Isla tattling in a corner, giggling and blushing. You could only imagine what they were talking about. Had Brighid recognised you? It was dark inside the garderobe, and Marcus had tried to shield you from her, but the maid could be very perceptive.

Then Brighid swept the room and waved at you to come over, still snickering.

You steeled your back and sauntered towards them, not sure what to expect.

“Oh, mo bana-phrionnsa, you’re not going to believe what I just saw!” she squealed, almost too excitedly. “I just saw the Roman General fucking one of the harlots in the garderobe!”

Should you take offense in being mistaken for a prostitute? Perhaps you should but didn’t. It was actually a relief. Being caught red-handed sheathing Acacius’ cock in a crowded event like this would have been bad, really bad.

“Did you now?!” you faked the same level of excitement, sharing in the gossip.

The rest of the night was a haze, serving plates and taking empty ones away, cleaning up after the unwanted guests, replenishing wine and beer one pint after the next. Your feet hurt, although the dull, pleasant aching between your legs had nothing to do with standing up for hours. You had Marcus to thank for that.

Perhaps you were being paranoid, but you felt strangers’ eyes on you for the remainder of the night. You had avoided looking at the dais the whole evening, slightly worried that if your eyes lingered on him for too long, people would notice and add up your absence with his. That wasn’t the kind of attention you needed.

The last of the Romans had left now while you and the maids continued to clean after them. Marcus and Maximus were the last ones to exit the great hall, and you could sense the General’s brown eyes burning through your skin as he walked towards the double doors. You didn’t look his way, although the temptation was there. You knew if you did, you would not be able to stop yourself from following him to his room.

Two hours had gone by, and you were knackered. Rummaging through a basket, you found one of the plums that Cormag had gotten for you from Fachabair, jumped and sat on the clean counter. Your feet dangled in front of you, your mind stuck in that garderobe.

You were so distracted, your heart almost escaped your chest when someone spoke behind you.

“Meanbh-chuileag (Highland midge),” you almost fell from the counter when you turned around to look at the old cook.

“Cormag! I almost threw up my heart right now,” you accused him, his hearty laugh reverberating in the room.

“Didnae ye hear my ol’ knees clicking? Umnae (am not) that stealthy, fear beag (little one). What are you doing here? It’s so late, you should be in bed,” he questioned you, stopping in front of you with arms folded.

You rolled your eyes — Cormag was too close to a father figure to you, so you would sometimes give him the same attitude you did your dad.

“I was about to go, just wanted something sweet before I left.”

“Is that why all the plums are disappearing so quickly?” his brows knitted together, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Coireach (guilty). They are just too sweet. Didnae you say you bought them for me exclusively?”

“Exclusively? Now I don’t recall saying that, ye wee liar,” Cormag joked, his expression softening. “Are you and your family having enough to eat?”

The old man had a nose for hunger. While you were not starving, you did save as much food as possible so your niece and nephew would not go to bed with an empty belly. Bonnie was trying her best to keep you all fed, but four more mouths to cater for in the household meant that resources were a tad scarce. Your sister’s children were used to Cormag’s cooking, not having known hunger for a single day of their lives. And you didn’t want that to change now.

“We are making ends meet,” you eluded, shrugging, while sinking your teeth in the plum.

Cormag tutted at you and with no other words, he veered around and shuffled around in the kitchen. You watched him with curiosity, not sure of what he was doing. Got off the counter to drop the stone in the bin.

“Here, you take all of this with you, and I won’t accept no for an answer,” Cormag placed down a basket full of food. “They are leftovers from tonight. Brighid, Isla and the lads have already had their share.”

You could smell the stew even with the tiny cauldron covered. Fresh vegetables, berries, bread, and, of course, quite a few plums along with other seasonal fruits. All that food would keep you all fed for a few days.

His generosity made the knot in your throat swell, your eyes lighting up with unspent tears. You had not expected to feel emotional, but the cook’s kindness reminded you too much of the family you had lost.

“Cormag,” you whispered, fearing your voice might crack, “mòran taing (thank you).”

He waved one of his paws, making light of the situation.

“Dinnae mention it. You still have a few inches to grow,” he jested, palming your shoulder.

His joke worked — it lightened your mood.

“I am six and twenty. I don’t think I’m growing any more than this,” you chortled, grabbing the basket to rest it on your hip. “Awright, I’m leaving before you diminish the castle’s reserves.”

“Off you go then,” his hands did a brushing motion, the man almost pushing you out of his kitchen.

If you had planned on visiting Marcus tonight, that had now changed — carrying all this food to Bonnie’s home was your main priority. You couldn’t wait to see the sparkle in your niece and nephew’s eyes when they woke up in the morning, plums and berries ready for them to break their fast.

Marcus knew that the rebels would be up in arms, but he did not expect them to be so bloodthirsty. The barbarians from the Highlands were not going to go down quietly, he had come to learn.

He had lost at least a dozen of men in the skirmish. They had been ambushed in their way to Cùil Lodair (Culloden), and none of his trackers had seen any indication of the small legion being followed. The moment they entered the woods and the path narrowed, arrows flew from tree to tree. Hell ensued, a dance of swords quickly singing its melody up to the treetops.

With his wounds still fresh and healing, Marcus had been able to knock down the first two men that approached him. Maximus and Cassius had come to his aid in time — the warmth soaking the tunic underneath his armour a good indication that he was bleeding again.

The General looked around him before jumping onto Faun’s back. Death followed him everywhere he went, like an old companion stalking his every step. He should be used to it by now—the reeking stench of humanity’s demise—but the truth was, Marcus never would. It never became easier, just manageable, but his duty to Rome had him drown the lingering doubts living quietly in the back of his mind.

After an unsuccessful mission—never made it past the woods—they returned to the castle, carrying their own dead and leaving behind a pile of bodies for their people to mourn and bury.

His muscles ached with exhaustion as he crossed the barbican. A dense fog had settled in the bailey, not a soul to be seen. As he trudged forward and the warm air of the keep hit his damp skin, his senses flared — alert, hoping to cross eyes with you.

Marcus had not seen you since his birthday. Despite asking you to join you that evening, you had not shown up at his door. He had waited up for a couple of hours and when reality dawned, he called it a night, somewhat resigned.

Perhaps it was for the best. He was a married man, after all. It was normal for men to take up a mistress or two, but Marcus was the kind to think that matrimony was holy — despite the hardships and the cheating, that was. At least, that was his mind up until he met you.

Should not be after a woman who was several years younger than himself either, he thought with a pout. But whatever spell you had him under, he could not break free from. You were like the opium poppy — your mere proximity could soothe pain, but also cause it.

“You need to get that stitched up again, Acacius,” Cassius pointed out, interrupting his line of thought.

Marcus’ palm was pressing on the wound on his hip — he had almost forgotten about the pain, the thought of you soothing.

“I’ll call for Atticus,” Maximus chipped in, and Marcus nodded.

“Shite!” you staggered backwards.

The hardened soot and coal you had been poking at with a broomstick to unblock the chimney’s breast dislodged from the inner walls. Snapping your head back, your face was saved by hair’s breadth, but the black ash had cascaded down your chest, staining the red linen dress you were fashioning today.

You clapped your hands together, a cloud of soot flying around you as you tried to shake off the rest of it off your clothes.

Huffing and puffing, you grabbed the damn broomstick and brush the mess off the floor. At least the chimney was unblocked now, so the air would not be loaded with smoke when the hearth was ignited again.

At least the kitchen was empty, so no one was witness to what has happened. Not that you were a refined lady worries about being seen like this, but you just knew that if Cormag was around, he would be giving you hell.

Once you were done, you left the kitchen and sauntered towards the doors to the bailey. You were in dire need of a dunking to clean yourself — you knew the perfect secluded spot on River Ness’ bank, one you had been going to since you were a child.

“Callie?”

The voice behind you made your heart skip a beat and your feet freeze. One you would now recognise anywhere.

“Dux Meus,” you murmured, turning around to face the fire of your desire.

Dux Meus. His lower tummy burnt at the words.

The last thing Marcus had hoped to see this fine morning was you standing in the hallway, a red dress hugging the hourglass figure he longed for. Your chest was covered in what seemed to be ash and soot, a deep black staining ruining the front of your pretty dress. It spread to your neck, your cheeks, the tip of your nose — and your green eyes so bright that they were pulling him in.

“What’s happened?”

“A minor inconvenience in the kitchens, Dominus. I was unblocking the chimney’s breast and, well…” you lifted your arms and pointed at yourself. “I guess my reflexes are not as sharp as I would have liked.”

Marcus grinned, the annoyance in your voice adding to the entertainment.

“I guess not,” he hummed, his fingertips burning to touch you. “I can help you,” the words escaped him before his brain was able to catch up with his own intentions.

I can help you clean yourself, he meant.

Your eyes locked for what felt like an eternity, the pupils in your orbs flickering, pondering.

One of your brows raised in your forehead and you took a step forward towards him.

“Only if it is not inconvenient for you, Dux Meus,” you cooed with a girlish smile.

“Of course not,” he quickly replied. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“I believe your pretty dress is ruined,” Marcus husked, the damp rag brushing the exposed skin of your clavicle.

This was fucking torture. He was playing a game, and your patience was running thin. He had been paying immense attention to every inch of your skin, cleaning off all soot and ash. You knew he was debating, but he wouldn’t have taken you to his bedchambers—your room—if he hadn’t had something in mind.

The same thing you had in mind, to be completely honest.

“It appears so,” you said, sliding your hand to his.

To hell with subtleties — the tension was eating you up.

You guided his hand, the one holding the linen cloth, to the valley between the swell of your boobs. Slowly you pushed it down, one corner of the rag disappearing between your breasts.

Marcus didn’t say a word. And he didn’t need to, because the way he was looking at you—like a man who had not drunk water in days—was speaking for him.

You were not sure who had taken the initiative, but soon enough you were in his embrace, his mouth warming your lips as his hands rested gently on either side of your waist.

“I need you,” you mumbled, possibly being sincere for the first time.

You had not been able to stop thinking about what happened in the garderobe. Every time the memory came back, you would find yourself rubbing your knees together to quench the thirst between your thighs.

Marcus groaned in reply, his hands harsher now as they found the buttons on the back. With steady fingers, he undid every single one of them until your dress cascaded off your body and gathered at your feet. Soon your loincloth was also on the floor, leaving you completely naked.

The General took a step back to take in the sight of you — the intensity in his brown eyes making you blush as he studied every square inch of your body.

“You look beautiful,” he muttered, one hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts, his thumb skimming the nipple. You pursed your lips at the gentle touch. “You are beautiful, mel.”

Then he bowed down to kiss you again, and he took control of your hands to show you how to undress him. So you did under his delicate guidance, until you both were equally bare.

Marcus’ body was a woman’s dream — or, at least, yours. Toned but not too muscular, a hard chest, strong and defined arms, his lower tummy slightly softer with the passage of time, a pronounced V line, and then a happy, hairy trail that your eyes eagerly followed.

His cock had started to harden, the tip pearly with his excitement. The length was generous, but the girth was what caught your attention.

No wonder why he couldn’t fit it in the first time. Perhaps it hadn’t been your body’s rejection, but that Marcus’ dick was thick, very thick.

“It’s alright, honey, we’ll make it work,” he hummed, his thumb tilting your chin up to press a soft kiss on your mouth.

Then he walked to the bed—his ass, goddamn his ass—and sat on the feathery mattress.

You were standing there, completely naked and suddenly you felt shy — your arms wrapping around your body to try and cover yourself up. Your skin had bristled, not because of the room temperature, but because you felt completely exposed to him.

Being shy was not something you were used to, but everything you had endured with your late husband had taken a toll on you, one you had not expected at all. It pained you to acknowledge that Iain might have broken your spirit a tad more than what you would have liked to admit.

Marcus’ nudity should have calmed you, but instead it made your eyes widened and your heart pound harder.

He was big, really big ― to the point that you pondered if he would ever fit inside you. No wonder why he had only fucked you with the tip a couple of days ago. Taking more inches of his cock seemed like an unachievable task, at least for you. You were no stranger to sex, having been subdued to satisfy all of Iain’s vices, but this… this was too fucking different to what you had expected.

Doubt nagged at your mind, questioning yourself. Perhaps this was all a bad idea, wanting to seduce Marcus to get information off him. But you truly didn’t see any other way of obtaining what you needed ― leverage.

Marcus extended one of his hands towards you.

“It’s alright, melculum. Just want to make you feel good,” he husked, his palm an open invitation to join him, sat on the bed. Your bed.

You slipped your hand to his and he pulled you gently until you were sat on his bare lap. His hardening dick rested on the side of your left thigh, warm and heavy. His right hand traced mindless lines on your back, while his left caressed your belly, the pads of his fingers lightly stroking your mound.

With eyes shut, you sighed, relaxing at his touch. Marcus kissed your shoulder, then the curvature of your neck.

“That’s it, mel, relax. We are not doing anything you don’t want to,” he whispered.

And you believed him. Knew better than trusting your enemy, but his voice was so reassuring, there was no more room for your initial doubt.

His left hand surprised you travelling up instead of down, cupping your left breast while his thumb stroked your nipple. A shiver of need went down your spine, soothed by the gentle pet of his right hand on your back. His beard scratched your bristled skin as he crouched down a little to trap your taut nipple between his lips.

Inevitably, your head tilted back, mouth agape with short breaths. Marcus worked your nipple diligently, the warmth of his lips dripping onto the wrinkled nub. And even as you started trembling on his lap, he did not stop. If anything, your little gasps and quiet moans spurred him on, his tongue flicking your nipple.

The sensation was too much ― Marcus latched on your breast as a man starved, his broad hand cradling your breast with reverence. He was intent on making it good for you and not asking for anything in return. But your instinct wanted you to reciprocate, you needed to do something.

Your left hand found his stiffened cock, leaned against your thigh. Tentatively, your fingertips stroked the leaky mushroom head, which gifted you a deep groan coming from his chest. Hearing him moan around your nipple was a great incentive to explore him a bit more, so you swiped his glans with your thumb, collecting a pearl of precum and buttering it onto his tacky skin.

“You don’t have to,” he purred between licks.

“But I want to,” you cooed back, mind mushy with pleasure.

Marcus’ efforts on your nipple doubled, twirling the tight button between his teeth and pulling slightly before soothing the gesture with a wet kiss on your bud. You couldn’t help but whimper, dampness gathering between your thighs.

As if he knew how drenched you were getting, the hand that cupped your breast slowly trailed down until it found your mound again. His ring finger stroked the outline of your seam a few times, your knees pressed together so your juices wouldn’t leak out.

“Let me see how wet you are, please,” Marcus murmured in a moment of reprieve, his lips pecking your nipple with every word he spoke.

You couldn’t resist him, not anymore, so you parted your legs just enough to let his hand slip between your thighs. The moment his ring finger dunked in your warmth, you both moaned in unison. The pad of his finger slid across your velvety skin, from your clenching hole to your writhing clit, a few times, as if he wanted to get acquainted with the map of your pussy.

“You’re soaking,” he grunted. “So damn wet for me, melculum.”

His words in combination with his cheeky finger short-circuited your brain, that coiling sensation you had been craving these last two days starting to take form low in your belly. It was warm in here now, so much your cheeks flushed as if you had drunk a pint of uisge beatha.

With lazy strokes on your soggy slit, Marcus’ tongue kept on licking and flicking your nipple, now completely sodden with his spit. His digit worked you slowly too, moving up and down between your swollen pussy lips until it caught on your needy clit. You sobbed quietly at the touch, and sensing how much you enjoyed that, Marcus repeated it.

Soon enough you were mewling into the abyss as the General pressed languid circles on your bundle of nerves at the same time he was lapping at the tip of your boob. And the moment he sunk the first phalange of his ring finger in your leaking hole, your wails just grew louder.

With an unhurried pace, he pumped the tip of his digit in and out of you, feeling your inner walls relaxing around him. A couple of minutes later, your walls had adjusted to the intrusion, his finger now completely buried in your seeping hole down to the knuckle.

You heaved, pursing your lips in a vain attempt to control your moaning, but the pleasure building up inside you was too great to bear. Too intense to ignore. You bit down your bottom lip until you almost drew blood, your hips bucking up with a mind of their own.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you feel that?” Marcus’ devilish mouth abandoned your nipple, lips pressed against your ear. “Come for me, please. Melt for me.”

You resisted, wanting to prolong this moment. It felt too good to let it go just yet, albeit your whole body was commending you to. Your insides tightened around Marcus’ lone finger as you tried to hold on to the feeling a little longer.

You were so lost to the new sensations, you hadn’t realised your own fingers were wrapping snugly around Marcus’ throbbing erection. Hoping he would falter, you began to pump him slowly, his hot glans leaking onto the skin of your thigh.

“Don’t be a tease, mel, don’t want to come yet,” he groaned in your ear. His finger suddenly left your insides to slap your hand away from his shaft.

You sobbed at the emptiness, the coiling feeling starting to diminish. The idea of not finding relief haunted you, so you obeyed his command.

Your fingers found his wrist, gripping it tight and guiding him back to your beating cunt. You coaxed your pussy lips apart with his fingers and silently begged him to resume where he had left off.

“Are you going to be good for me and come?” he asked, kissing your shoulder. “Do you promise?”

You nodded with vehemency.

“Good girl.”

With more urgency now, Marcus worked you back to the edge of the pleasure cliff, forcing you to climb up to the top with a relentless pace. Every time his ring finger bottomed out inside you, his thumb would flick your burning clit. The repeated tease of his hand was your undoing.

Teary eyes and parted lips, you moaned as an enormous wave washed over you, the coil inside finally snapping with a force unknown to mankind. Or, at least, unknown to you. Marcus kept on fingering you throughout, pulling the last bit of pleasure out of you until you were spent.

You hadn’t realised how much you had leaked until you felt his wet thigh underneath, sticky and warm with your release.

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean―” you tried to move off his lap, but Marcus’ strong arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you on his lap.

“Don’t apologise, it’s normal. It means you’re enjoying it,” he reassured you, then lifted his gaze to yours, a lingering question dancing in his dilated pupils. “I thought you were a widow?”

He was not wrong. But not all men spent the time he was taking to make it pleasurable for women.

“I am. But my late husband only cared about himself,” you told the truth, a crack of sincerity in your carefully built façade. “Never took the time to… make it good for me.”

Marcus frowned with incomprehension at your revelation, his mouth falling into a flat line. Was that a ray of anger? If it was, it quickly disappeared from his brown eyes.

Judging by what had just happened, you knew he was the complete opposite to Iain in that respect.

“Two days ago, in the garderobe. Was that your first time orgasming?”

You pouted, feeling like the conversation was taking a very personal turn. But you didn’t want to lie to him, there was enough deceit between you two. So you nodded, eyes withdrawn with a tinge of embarrassment.

Marcus cursed himself, annoyed with something although you didn’t know what. Annoyed with you, perhaps?

His thumb stroked your bottom lip, soothing the grimace showing on your face.

“Had I known, I wouldn’t have taken you like that. This should have been the first time you climaxed, melculum. I am sorry,” he apologised, and your heart jolted.

He was angry with himself. But the whole thing had been so good, you wouldn’t have done anything different. The memory of Marcus’ tip fucking the first two inches of your pussy had kept you warm at night.

“What? Nay, don’t. It was good, really good. I wouldn’t change a thing about what happened,” you quickly replied.

And what was worst, you actually meant it.

For a minute, Marcus didn’t speak a word, studying your face expression until he reached the conclusion that you were not lying.

“Stand up for me,” he said out of nowhere.

You obliged, the tremor of your knees almost gone. standing in front of him, he leaned forward, hands on either side of your waist, to kiss your mound. The intimacy of such gesture caught you off guard. Then he leaned back and dragged his body on the bed until he was sat in the middle of it, back resting against the headboard, knees bent with his soles resting flat on the silky bedsheets.

He palmed his thigh, his cock so erect it twitched with every heartbeat against his happy trail.

“Come here,” he mumbled with need.

You might not know what you had to do, but your body definitely knew what it needed to do to chase that high again. So you crawled on the bed until you were straddling him, the tip of his throbbing cock kissing your hooded clit.

Marcus’ hand cupped your ass, and then tutted.

“Not yet, mel, I need to make sure you are completely ready,” he husked.

It was your time to frown.

“I am ready,” you assured him.

“It was only one finger, sweetheart―”

“One thick finger,” you remarked, snappy.

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yes, but I need you to take all of this,” he whispered, his hand gripping the base of his cock to direct your attention there.

He was girthy. Probably too girthy. One of his fingers was nothing in comparison.

You swallowed, your gaze looking for his.

“Yeah, I know, dove. We’ll take it slow,” he leaned forward a bit to kiss your right nipple. “Turn around, I want you to sit on my lap with your back resting on my chest.”

The promise of another climax numbed your mind, so you did exactly as he had asked. Sat on his lap, you leaned back until your bare back met his hard torso. His knees were still bent, and he slipped his forearms under your thighs to lift them up over his own thighs. The back of your thighs were now resting on top of his, and when Marcus pulled his knees apart, your legs followed the motion, leaving you completely open and exposed.

When your eyes drifted down your own body, you saw Marcus’ erection poking in between your thighs, gently lodged between your pussy lips. His hips moved slightly under you, his length skidding along your drenched fold, the head disappearing from sight as it dragged backwards across your seam. It hitched in your entrance, just briefly ― then Marcus tugged his hips upwards and his glans reappeared again, protruding where your slit began.

Marcus repeated the whole process a few times, his name dripping from your mouth in choked moans. He buried his crooked nose in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“You feel like heaven right now,” he mumbled, kissing the nape of your neck. “Play with your boobs for me, mel, my hands are about to be very busy, sadly can’t be everywhere.”

His request had your cunt gushing some more, if that was even possible. You felt so wet down there, you even wondered if there was something wrong with you. Couldn’t be that out of all men on this world, the one who killed your family was who had you melting under his touch.

Feeling a bubble of slick leaking from your hole on his thudding shaft, you leaned your head back on his shoulder and moved your hair out of the way, some ginger curls cascading down your front, covering your breasts. Cupped your underboob and pushed them up, creating a deep valley between your tits.

“That’s it, stroke them for me, melculum,” he mused as both of his hands rode up your inner thigs until your pussy was framed between them. “Brush both of your nipples with your thumbs, just lightly. Don’t be too harsh with them, they are sensitive.”

Marcus talked you through playing with your buds, petting them gently as he was telling you. While doing so, his left hand grabbed at his cock and began to pump himself, while his right started working your clit again. Looking down, you just caught a glimpse, which sent you trembling on his lap like a newborn foal.

He cupped your mound, the pads of all his fingers rubbing your clit leisurely, as if you had all time in the world. The fire burning between your legs hiked up your spine the moment Marcus let go of his cock and it sat snug against your pussy again, his fingers stopping for a second.

You whimpered in protest, your nipples hardening under the touch of your thumbs.

“Shh, it’s okay, Callie,” he heartened you, only to resume the petting of your slick nub. You let go a sigh of relief. “There you go.”

His free hand went down your thigh to find your drooling entrance, testing it out with one finger. Your pussy sheathed it with ease and Marcus hummed behind you.

“You’re much more relaxed now,” he praised. “Pinch those nipples for me, twist them gently between your thumb and index.” You did as you were told, another wail tearing your throat apart. “Yes, just like that, you’re doing so well, mel.” He gave you a moment to acclimatise to the feeling of having hands everywhere ― your nipples, your clit, your hole. It was almost too much. “Now, suck on your thumbs so they are wet and go back to rub those beautiful buds for me. Imagine they are my fingers. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, desperate. Doing exactly as you were told, the sudden cold of your spit on your nipples made the sensitive skin under your thumbs wrinkle. The brief pain transformed into something else, hellfire running through your veins.

So focused on your breasts, you had almost forgotten about Marcus fingering your pussy and smothering your clit at the same time. Your toes curled, hips bucking up, so close to that cliff again, one you would throw yourself off gladly.

“You’re doing very well―so, so well,” Marcus’ praise was like music to your ears, all your nerve endings firing with delight. “You think you can take another finger?”

You sobbed, shaking your head.

“Yes, please,” you begged.

As promised, Marcus introduced his middle finger, the pads of both dragging along your anterior wall to find that sweet, soft spot. Your hips jerked up and then back down on him, grinding a circular motion on his lower tummy.

“Well done, mel. I am sure we can get your sweet tight pussy to make room for me.”

His cock twitched between your thighs, leaking, and you knew he was as desperate as you. So, while one hand skimmed your nipple, the other drifted down to caress his glans with your thumb. Marcus rumbled underneath, his breath hitching with a quiet moan ― you did it again.

His fingers sunk inside of you effortlessly now, pumping in and out and all you could hear were the squelching noises coming from your swollen lips. It should have felt embarrassing, but it had the opposite effect on you ― if anything, they made you gush even more.

“If you can take three fingers… shit…” Marcus almost lost his composure there, “if you can, then you’ll be ready, sweetheart. Shall we try?”

You gripped his beating erection harder in response, mewling audibly now with every stroke on your clit, every thrust of his fingers, the caress of your own thumb on your nipple… Then the third finger went in smoothly and you saw stars behind your closed eyes.

It just was too much. Your knees quivered and so did your cunt, clutching on his fingers. You felt your inner walls contracting, but this time it was different ― it wasn’t to get the fingers out, but to push them as far in as you could. And Marcus obliged, bottoming out, then slipping them out and back in. The coil inside you twisted feverishly and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You started wailing, grinding your ass against his tummy, in an attempt to increase the friction in your drenched opening, in your clit, everywhere.

“You’re close, mel, you’re so close,” Marcus huffed. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

You were barely able to nod at his words ― right now, you would do anything he asked for.

His fingers left your hole with a pop, and the second hand stopped petting your clit right when you were so close to fall off the cliff of your pleasure.

You panicked, tears brimming now as a sense of anxiety peaked inside you.

“M-Ma-Marcus,” you complained in a stutter, your whole body shaking.

You didn’t have much time to finish your protest, because he grabbed your hand off his cock and pushed your fingers against your clit. He showed you how to move them in circles, coaching you for a minute, teaching you how to pleasure yourself.

“Keep touching your sweet little clit for me, deliciae (darling),” Marcus groaned, his voice raspy and deep. “I’m going in. I want you to come while you sheathe me.”

And with no further ado, he slipped his forearms under your thighs, lifted you off his lap to align the tip of his veiny dick with your entrance. Slowly he dropped you, his length furrowing its way up your cavity with no difficulty.

The moment his glans was sat and more inches intruded, you finally came. The strength of your release had your whole being shaken up, your climax so intense you couldn’t see anything even through half-lidded eyes. Feral moans escaped your lips, every inch of Marcus’ cock intensifying the climax that had you on its tight grip.

Your inner walls hugged his cock, choked it actually. Your heart was racing so fast, you could feel the heartbeat in your quivering cunt, a sensation so overwhelming it almost sent you over the edge again.

You hadn’t realised, but Marcus was completely seated inside you, buried down to the hilt, his balls intimately kissing your puffy lips. Fullness tugged at your walls, stretching them, still adapting around his girth. He was everywhere ― filling every crevice, every nook and cranny. You felt his presence so intensely, it was staggering.

“Oh Gods…” Marcus sounded like he was within an inch of his life. “You feel so good, melculum. So warm, so wet, s-so… uhm… so tight. Heaven on Earth,” he prayed in a hush, his tone almost breaking. “How… are you feeling?”

“Blissed out,” you hummed. “Full, in the best way possible.”

Those were all the words Marcus needed to hear from you. He had been to hell and back, and even though his cock had been barely stimulated, he was throbbing for you. Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he felt this… needy.

And now he was in heaven, his shaft sweetly embraced by your wet warmth. A gift you were, sent by Gods themselves ― there was no other explanation.

Marcus’ forearms were still resting on the back of your thighs, then he hoisted you up ever so slightly, moving you up his length so you would free a few inches of his cock. The cold air of the room clung onto his damp shaft, a shiver running down his spine, then placed you back down on his lap.

Every time he pushed you up and down on his lap, you would moan like a woman possessed. Your little sobs and whimpers were the best melody he had ever listened to ― so quiet, yet so wanton. They filled your mouth and spilt over your lips like honey. He would drink them right now if he could.

His dick pulsated hard when your pussy fluttered around him, then your walls tensed around him and Marcus snapped his head back against the headboard, a feral groan ringing in his eardrums.

“Do that again, please,” he requested, all his fingers digging in the flesh of your thighs.

“W-what?”

“Squeeze your walls for me, sweetheart. Hug me tight,” Marcus mumbled, struggling towards the end the moment you did exactly as he asked. “For everything that is holy―”

And you did it again, his words dying out as you clamped down on him with a strength that had him delirious. His mind spiralled down and just in the last second, Marcus stopped himself from coming.

“Such a mischievous nymph you are,” it wasn’t an accusation but a compliment. “Let me see if you’re still playing with that taut pearl in your pussy the way I’ve shown you.”

When he looked over your shoulder, you coaxed your sodden flaps apart for him, showing him how your fingertips worked your clit. Marcus’ hips jerked up at the irresistible sight, burying himself further down in you. His waist waved underneath you, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“You’re doing great, mel. Such a good girl,” he moaned in your ear, nipping your lobe. “Do you like that, hm? Rubbing your tight little button?”

Your reply was a trembling whimper, your pursed bottom lip quivering with your eyes shut. Your brows were knitting together, bunny lines hugging your upturned nose. Marcus could feel your need, your palpitations. Your desperation.

“Is it too much, melculum?” You nodded, almost crying now. “I know, sweetheart, but we can remedy that. Do you want to come so you feel better?” Another nod of your head. “Alright, do you think you can ride me?”

“Aye, I want to ride you, Marcus,” you sobbed his name, his balls tensing up into his lower tummy.

Marcus let go of your thighs and helped you accommodate your knees to either side of him, so you were straddling him backwards. His hands caressed your round ass cheeks, eyes locked on where your bodies connected.

“Do whatever feels right, honey.”

Overtaken by instinct, you leaned forward and placed your hands between his calves, fisting the bedsheets as you started bouncing your hips up and down on his lap. Marcus let you find your rhythm, standing still underneath, letting you use him as needed.

The sweet choke of your pussy was too much ― too tight, too wet, too warm. This was the best he had felt in fucking decades, all thanks to you. Slowly, he matched your thrusts with his own, fucking up into you, meeting you halfway while his hands on your hips kept you grounded.

The slapping of his testicles on your swollen fold went on for a few minutes, a lewd cacophony echoing between the walls of his bedchamber. And soon enough he found himself grasping for control, his cock pulsating uncontrollably inside you.

You might have felt his pulse, because you spoke between choked wails.

“You can come inside, I can take―”

“What? No,” his response was instinctual, cutting you off before you finished. “You don’t need to take anything.”

Because the mere idea of you drinking some sort of potion so his seed wouldn’t take made him sick. Was that what your late husband had taught you? Was that how you were treated in bed, like a simple plaything to be used to satiate a man’s lust?

Those thoughts were deserted the moment your entrance squeezed hard around him, your moans mixing with the clapping sound of skin on skin. You pushed down your hips onto his lap, your sweet ass flush with his lower tummy. He felt another orgasm hit you and Marcus fucked you through it, steadily rutting up into you.

His own climax was near, all his muscles tensing with anticipation, his hips stuttering. With the last drop of his sanity, he lifted your butt up, his erection becoming free and resting between the swells of your ass cheeks. A second later, white ropes painted the small of your back while Marcus let go of a guttural groan.

With a fucked-out expression and a sweet grin, you looked over your shoulder and down at his spent sliding down your back. Marcus reached for the bedsheet and cleaned his cum off your skin delicately, his brown eyes fixed on your emerald ones.

“You’ve done extremely well for me, melculum. Exquisitely well,” he remarked, his hands smoothing over your thighs. “Come here.”

You turned around and laid down besides him, the upper half of your body resting on top of his torso. Your cheek rested on his sternum while his fingers traced invisible lanes on your arm, just above your elbow.

A moment of quietness lingered as your rapid breaths calmed down, your hearts settling back into a normal pace at the same time.

“I thought it was bad for you,” you muttered, the palm of your hand splaying right underneath his belly button.

“What was?” Marcus asked, confused.

“Uhmm…” you paused for a second, dubious, but then decided to trust him with your questions. “Coming outside. I was told it was extremely painful for the man to come if you are not buried… deep inside of a pussy.”

Your words awakened something with him, something dark and primal ― protective. For a moment, Marcus wished your husband was alive, so he could teach him how to be a real man. He had started to create a picture of what your sex life had been so far, and it wasn’t a pretty one.

In retrospect, he regretted having taken you so hastily in the garderobe. Barely took the time to work you to a climax. Marcus had paid worshipping attention to your breasts, but when it came to your clit, he had not been as attentive. Marcus should have shown you how good that could feel, should have taken his sweet time like he had done today, but he had been too anxious to fuck you.

Marcus looked for the best way to tell you without making you feel naïve. He didn’t want you thinking something like that, that he would force his seed on you for his own pleasure.

“That’s not how it is, mel. I’m sorry you’ve been told that,” his lips brushed your red crown, then pressed a kiss on your forehead. Could you hear how hard his heart was pounding with rage? One he was trying to quiet down. “I can come outside just fine, that’s not an issue. I prefer that a thousand times over you having to drink some nasty potion that will end up hurting you.”

His care for you was genuine, and Marcus was shocked at the truth that thought held. He barely knew you, but what he had seen of you so far had him reeled in like a fish attached to a rusty hook.

You were so direct, snappy even, with a sarcastic retort always at the ready. Your strong personality was refreshing, especially to someone like Marcus, used to be surrounded by women who would bow their head down at the sight of him. But knowing this side of you now―a tad insecure and inexperienced, rediscovering what sex was really like―, he wondered how much of your façade was just that, a carefully built stonewall to keep people at bay.

“Oh, I see,” you muttered, the skin between your brows pinching.

Marcus tilted your chin up with his thumb. His gaze roved over your face, studying it and finding that you seemed to be upset, possibly with yourself. He didn’t like that.

His thumb stroked your bottom lip to relax your pouting expression.

“If you were told such a thing, it’s normal that you believed it. I just don’t want to lie to you, don’t want to take advantage of you, melculum. I want you to enjoy yourself, to discover what you like and don’t like in bed.” The hand that was caressing your arm travelled down your back, went over the swell of your round globes until he found the slick of your arousal clinging onto your pussy lips. He stroked them carefully, buttering your sticky cunt with your own juices. “This is how I want you, sweetheart. Creamy and satisfied. That’s all I care about.”

You hummed at his words, eyes shut and mouth agape. His fingers pried your pussy open, the cold air on your wet, sensitive skin made you shiver on his chest.

Acacius knew too damn well what he was doing, taunting you again like this. You didn’t think you had it in yourself to come again, but the General seemed to think otherwise.

His index found your clit and stroked it maddingly slow. Seemed like he was right.

You gasped, chewing your bottom lip, your mind drifting away at his intimate touch.

“I think you can come for me again, don’t you?”

You whimpered in response, lifting your bent left leg until it rested on of his lap, so he could reach your swollen, reddened pussy better. You humped the side of his thigh, grinding on his hairy skin to get you off.

“You’re drenched,” he purred with satisfaction, kissing your forehead as your seeping hole sucked in his finger eagerly. You moaned. “Seems like you need me to take care of you again, mel.”

His fingering had you drooling onto his chest until you came again, sobbing like a babe gasping for their first breath. Your limbs felt numb as your pussy pulsed a few more times, releasing the last of your arousal onto Marcus’ palm. He rubbed your seam, cupping your whole pussy, until you were completely done.

Then tapped your cunt softly, gently. “Feeling calmer now?”

You nodded, blissed out and speechless.

You remained on top of his chest while coming down from your latest high. You had lost count of how many times Marcus had made you come now, but keeping count had not been on your foremind. What you had realised though was that this―whatever this was―was dangerous.

You had expected Marcus to behave exactly like Iain ― to take you how he wanted and discard you when he was done with you. Yet here he was, making sure you had no more orgasm to give him tonight. This was not your plan at all ― you banked on him being a complete monster who would ravish you given the chance.

This could complicate everything, and you even wondered if you should stop this madness before shit got too real.

A man with a rotten heart would not have you question your decisions. Perhaps it wasn’t rotten, only spoilt.

It’s just sex, a means to an end. Doesn’t matter how good, how fucking delicious he makes it to be. Fuck him, enjoy it, get what you need from him, then destroy him. Easy, you reminded yourself, albeit with less determination than before.

“I should be going,” you mumbled, unwilling to leave this bed despite the inner talk you just gave yourself ― your bed that now was his.

“So soon?” he whispered, his lips twitching in a pout.

Damn him for making it difficult to leave.

“My aunt will be wondering where I’ve gone. Can’t risk her coming here looking for me, can we?” you tried to make light of the situation with a white lie.

“I guess not,” he finally agreed after a brief silence, then kissed your forehead. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Patience is a virtue, Marcus,” you mocked him a bit, sitting up on the bed. “And mine has run out, I’m afraid. Aye, I’ll come tomorrow.”

Marcus sat up on bed too, hugging your waist, his mouth dangerously close to yours.

“I will make sure that you come tomorrow, mel,” the double meaning was not lost on you, even less on your gushing pussy.

You swallowed a whimper, kissing his lips briefly to then jump out of bed and grab your clothes off the floor. You put them on as fast as you could.

“You better,” you threatened him, softening the gesture with a wink, before you disappeared through the door.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

[nerdallwritey]

About to Strike (Part 2)

***IMPORTANT! PLEASE NOTE: This is Part 2 to Part 6 (it makes sense, I promise) of my Beauty and the Bard series! Find Part 1 of this chapter here. If you'd rather read it all in one go, it's also posted to AO3.

Summary: “Oh,” he said smoothly, his features settling into a seductive smirk. “Giving me a ring so soon, my sweet? I’m flattered.” He plucked the ring from your hand and attempted to slide it onto his fingers. “Alas,” he sighed dramatically, “it’s too small - something I've never had trouble with in the past.” You made a face and smacked him lightly on his bicep, causing him to laugh. He caught your hand in his and examined your fingers. “I suppose you’ll have to wear it instead.”  He slid the ring onto your pinky gently.  It was a perfect fit.  The two of you stared down at it for a moment, a quiet tension hanging in the air. “Mine,” he breathed, turning the ring over and over around your finger.  “Yours,” you confirmed, bringing a hand to his cheek and looking him in the eyes. OR You and Astarion have a room to yourselves at the Last Light Inn. What happens next?

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 21.3k (This particular part is 10.6k) CW: smut, reader is new to sex,piv sex, oral (male receiving), hand job, vaginal fingering, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, protective Astarion, soft Astarion, whimpering Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), lots of party banter, AND JAHEIRA!! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 and 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 Last chance to go back to Part 1 of this chapter!

a/n: So sorry to be posting another tumblr two parter. Once I started writing, I simply couldn't stop. Thank you if you made it this far! Your reward is once again smut! I hope you all enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!)

The room was fairly cozy; a full sized bed was made neatly in the back left corner by a door that led out into the wrap-around porch that surrounded the inn, while an upholstered couch sat in front of a large window, and a storage chest was hidden behind an ornate screen, full of alchemical materials and a few gold pieces. 

You set your backpack down and removed your armor, taking note of the contents of the room and pausing when you saw Astarion on his hands and knees by the bed. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, shutting the curtains on the window and raising your eyebrows at him as he held his ear to the ground. 

“Shh, shh, shh, quiet darling,” he said softly and knocked on the board below his ear. His eyes lit up when the wood made a hollow sound. “Just as I thought!” He sat up on his knees and pried at the edge of the board until it lifted to reveal a small hiding cubby for valuables underneath. He flashed you a winning grin before reaching his arm down into the hole blindly.

You sat on the bed to get a better angle as you watched and leaned forward to brush your hands through his hair. 

“Aha! Found something!” he said assuredly before retracting his arm to share his findings with you. He opened his hand to reveal a crumpled letter and a tarnished ring. 

You snorted. “A thrilling yield,” you said, patting his shoulder, “well done.”

Astarion let out a frustrated exhale. “Maybe the ring is worth something?” he tossed the letter aside, which you picked up and scanned quickly. 

“This Ketheric Thorm guy seems to be no joke,” you said absently, reflecting on the contents of the letter. The author wrote of feeling stuck at the inn on their way to Baldur’s Gate, and of how the people from the nearby village were on edge whenever they were asked about Ketheric. It had clearly been written long ago.

Astarion had one eye closed and inspected the ring closely. “Yes, yes, he’s a brute and a hellion, blah blah blah, we can worry about that tomorrow.” He opened his eye again and turned to you. “Tell me, dear, what does this say?”

He handed you the ring, which was ice cold when you held it in your palm. You sensed that it was full of ice magic, and took a closer look at the inside of the band. A series of names had been scratched out, one after the other. The last word, however, was untouched, and not a name.

“‘Mine,’” you read aloud. 

Astarion was already up and looking for more items hidden within the room. “You don’t need to lay claim to it,” he said, inspecting an emerald ring that he found on the dresser, “it’s worthless. You can have it.”

You laughed. “No,” you said, getting up and walking over to him. You held the ring between your thumb and index finger, angling it in front of his face to where the inscription could be read in the candle light. “Mine,” you repeated. 

“Oh,” he said smoothly, his features settling into a seductive smirk. “Giving me a ring so soon, my sweet? I’m flattered.” He plucked the ring from your hand and attempted to slide it onto his fingers. “Alas,” he sighed dramatically, “it’s too small - something I've never had trouble with in the past.” You made a face and smacked him lightly on his bicep, causing him to laugh. He caught your hand in his and examined your fingers. “I suppose you’ll have to wear it instead.” 

He slid the ring onto your pinky gently. 

It was a perfect fit. 

The two of you stared down at it for a moment, a quiet tension hanging in the air.

“Mine,” he breathed, turning the ring over and over around your finger. 

“Yours,” you confirmed, bringing a hand to his cheek and looking him in the eyes. 

His hand came up to meet yours and his eyes were half lidded when you closed the distance and kissed him fiercely. Your tongue flicked out to prod at his bottom lip and he gladly opened for you with a rumble low in his chest. He pulled you closer by the hips and shuffled you backwards toward the bed.

“Mine,” he repeated between breaths. “You’re mine,” he growled and pushed you backwards with enough force to make you fall onto the bed. You yelped gleefully and repositioned yourself to be more comfortable as he climbed on top of you. He continued to kiss you eagerly; all over your face, jaw, and throat.

“Aren’t you…” your breathing was heavy and your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “aren’t you scared of hurting me?”

Astarion paused his kisses and pulled back to look at you. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” you exhaled, pulling him back down by the collar of his shirt and kissing him clumsily as you threw your arms around his neck. 

He moaned weakly against your mouth. “I’ve missed you,” he said, moving down to drag his fangs along your throat. 

“Bite me,” you sighed, angling your head to give him better access to feed. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he cooed and clicked his tongue. “If this night continues how I think it’s going to, then I’d rather taste you-” he moved his mouth to your ear and said lowly, “-while I’m inside of you.”

You shivered and threw your hands over your face, whining pathetically. “From anyone else, that would have been terrible.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as he nuzzled his nose along your jawline. “But you can’t leave now. I’ve given you a ring, which you’ve foolishly accepted.”

“Ah,” you nodded slowly, “trapped by societal expectations. Curses!” You held your fist up to the sky, cursing no one in particular. “Though, that means you’re trapped with me, too.”

Astarion continued kissing you, making a noise of affirmation against your mouth. “A shame, considering I can’t stand you,” he rolled his hips, causing you to inhale sharply when you felt how hard he already was. “Ignore that, that has nothing to do with my hatred for you.”

“I can tell,” you teased, palming at his shirt. 

He took the hint and sat up to pull the fabric over his head.

You watched him, your eyes roaming all over his unfairly beautiful body, until they landed on his left thigh and you gasped. 

“You’re bleeding!” 

“I’m what?” Astarion looked himself over, but fell backwards when you sprang off the bed to run towards your backpack.

“You’re bleeding,” you said again, shuffling back over to him with your bag in hand and rummaging through your belongings to find the salve and bandages you’d been using on your own wound. 

Astarion now saw the crimson stain on the front of his leg, complete with a slash through the fabric of his pants. “And I just mended these,” he sighed.

“Take them off,” you instructed, tapping his right thigh.

He smirked. “Are you sure, darling? You might like what you see.”

You gave him a look that said “I’m being serious,” and he groaned.

“Fine.” He stood and undid the clasps of his trousers before shimmying out of them and dropping them ungracefully onto the floor next to him. He sat back down on the bed and you did your best not to stare at his erection. He rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to bite you,” he said. “Though I certainly intend to.” He raised his eyebrows seductively.

You nodded absently at his comment, to which he muttered, “Oh, you’re no fun,” and began to assess his wound. It looked as though it had stopped bleeding hours ago, but the fact remained that he had gotten injured in the first place. You got up again and walked over to the wash basin in the corner of the room to retrieve water to clean the blood. 

“When did you get this?” You knelt in front of him with the wet cloth and began to gently dab at the injury. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He shrugged, watching your hands. “I suppose I got it from one of those cultists we battled earlier. But my armor was too dark to see the blood.”

“You didn’t feel it?” you asked.

Astarion laughed humorlessly. “I’ve felt more pain in my life than anyone should ever have to.” Your hands froze at that. He sighed. “I may have felt something slash me, but obviously it wasn’t enough to take me down.”

“Obviously,” you smiled up at him sadly. 

He looked back at you fondly and brushed his fingers across your cheekbone. Then he furrowed his brow. “If I’m not mistaken, you know a healing spell or two that could make quick work of this scratch.”

It was hardly a scratch. An injury like this would have downed a weaker man. Or at least made it harder for him to walk. It wasn’t a very deep wound, but you had no doubt that it had been painful.

You felt your cheeks go red. “I do have some healing spells…”

“But…?”

“But… you took such good care of me while I was healing, I feel like I should return the favor.” You looked back up at him shyly. 

He was watching you smugly and sitting back on his hands. “Go on then,” he nodded his head towards the salve you were about to spread over the wound. 

You pressed your lips into a line and focused on covering the entire injured area tenderly, but effectively. “I can still cast a healing spell if you’d prefer.”

“Oh no, dear,” his laugh was real this time, “I’d much rather experience your soft touches and longing glances than one quick blip from the weave.”

“I always knew you only wanted me for my soft touches and longing glances,” you teased. 

“Call me old fashioned,” he shrugged with a smirk. 

“Astarion!” you gasped, reaching for the salve and spreading a generous amount on his thigh. “You shouldn’t call yourself old. You don’t look a day over two hundred and fifty!”

“Very funny,” he narrowed his eyes at you. “But I’m not two hundred and fifty!”

You tilted your head, concealing a smile. “You’re not? My apologies.” 

“And to think I was going to allow you to have sex with me tonight.” He sat up and crossed his arms. “Pity. Your loss.”

As an act of rebellion, you reached forward and squeezed his cock through his underwear. Astarion let out a pathetic whine and his entire body tensed. 

He looked at you and furrowed his brow. “Warn a man, would you?”

“Sorry,” you said genuinely, hiding behind an awkward smile. 

He bounced his left leg, bringing your attention back to the wound. “Now hurry up and wrap my damn leg.” 

You nodded and began to wind the bandages you’d collected around his thigh. “Is this tight enough?” you asked after a few wraps. 

Astarion nodded, once again watching your hands. “Yes, darling. You make a marvelous nursemaid.”

Your eyes wandered as you continued to wrap the wound. His thighs were more muscular than you’d ever noticed. Being this up close and personal with them made you appreciate just how powerful he was. You’d never admit that to him, lest it go to his head, but in these past weeks since you’d met him, all the running, and fighting, and crouching in preparation to strike enemies, had really paid off. 

Hesitantly, you leaned forward and kissed the tender skin on the inside of his thigh. 

He inhaled shakily in response. “Easy,” he said on an equally shaky exhale. 

Slowly, you placed another kiss inside his thigh, higher this time, all the while still wrapping his wound. You watched his face intently.

He was focused completely on you, his pupils blown wide.

You kissed him again, even higher. “Does that feel nice?” you asked.

“Don’t be si-illy,” he rolled his eyes but his voice caught when you kissed him again. “Of course it feels nice.”

“Good,” you smiled and licked a stripe from the middle of his thigh, up to the top, bringing your face dangerously close to his bulge. You were pretty sure you saw it twitch.

Astarion shuddered. “Gods above…”

You tucked the bandage into itself and tugged it a little to make sure it was sturdy. When you were satisfied, you stood up fully and wrapped your arms around Astarion’s neck.

“There,” you said quietly, stepping between his legs. You watched his mouth before finding his eyes again. “All better.”

Astarion nodded wordlessly, watching your mouth in turn.

“Tell me next time you’re hurt,” you leaned your forehead against his.

“Careful what you wish for, darling,” he purred. “I may willingly step in front of an arrow if it means I get to have your attention all to myself.” He went to kiss you but you pulled back with a laugh.

“As if you don’t always have my attention.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Sometimes you speak to the others.” He pouted, adding, “It’s awful.” 

You mirrored his pout. “Poor thing.”

He pulled you closer by the hips and kissed your clothed stomach. “Enough stalling,” he reached for the hem of your shirt. “I’ve waited long enough to have you again.”

When he went to pull your shirt up, you halted his wrists. He looked up at you curiously.

“What’s the matter, my sweet?”

You took a step back and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “It’s nothing.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

You exhaled through your nose. “It’s just that… well… I know you’ve seen every part of me-”

“Yes.”

“-and that you liked what you saw.”

“Oh, yes.”

“But now…” you waved your hands through the air, trying to say what you wanted to say without sounding stupid. “Now I’ve got this scar.” You held a hand to the wound on your right side. 

It had been a few days now that you’d gone without wrapping the injury. The skin had healed and no longer bled, now it was just a matter of stretching and continuing to let your body heal itself. But it also meant that you saw the remnants of your near death experience every time you looked down. Not to mention the twin wound on your back. You didn’t like seeing the scar, which honestly could have been much more gruesome, but it only served as a reminder of how badly you’d messed up that day. You hated remembering the terrified look on Astarion’s face when he cradled you on the battlefield, or the way he held you close as he ran for help. The whole thing was just… ugly.

And yet, Astarion laughed. 

“You seem to forget who you’re talking to, darling.”

You scrunched your nose at him. “Your scars are a horrible reminder of everything you’ve gone through at the hands of that horrible man. Mine are from a mistake I made that scared the hells out of the person I l- care for the most. You’re a survivor, I’m just… a problem.” 

“Dearest, you’re someone who also survived.” Astarion stood from the bed. 

You avoided his gaze. “But it’s my fault it happened in the first place. You didn’t sign up for this.” You gestured to your torso and rested a hand over where the scar was hidden under your shirt. 

“No,” he said softly, bending to kiss your neck. “But you’re someone who I’ll choose again and again, regardless of some trivial blemish.”

You froze and watched him pull away, noting that soft look in his eye that you loved so much. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes and placed his hands on the hem of your shirt again. “May I?”

You twisted the ring on your pinky to distract yourself. “Okay.”

Astarion bent to kiss your lips softly, then carefully pulled the shirt over your head. 

The scar cut diagonally across your appendix region, pink and shining ever so slightly in the candle light.

“Do you know why I love this scar?” Astarion sank to his knees before you, never breaking eye contact with you. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Instead of making some sort of snarky remark about what he’d just said as a means of deflection, you merely shook your head. 

“I love this scar-” he leaned forward to kiss the tender skin, “-because, like your heartbeat, it means you're still here.” He kissed across your stomach. “With me.” He took your hand and fiddled with the ring on your finger. “Mine.” He looked up at you smugly.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You’re going to be insufferable about that, aren’t you?” 

“Absolutely,” he said, narrowing his eyes seductively and standing up to kiss your mouth again. 

You whimpered lamely when he slid his tongue into your mouth and turned to push you gently onto the bed. Once you were comfortably lying among the pillows, he climbed on top of you again and continued kissing you slowly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked against your lips.

“Uh huh,” you exhaled, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Good,” he whispered, and rolled his hips against your pelvis, reminding you of his desire.

You tangled your leg around his. “Astarion…” you sighed.

He was kissing across your jaw, rolling his hips slowly. “Yes, sweet girl?”

“I want to try something,” you placed a hand on his chest to gently signal for him to stop his kisses.

“Oh?” he smirked. “Feeling experimental, are we?”

You nodded shyly, then pushed lightly on his shoulder to get him to pull away from you. “Take my spot,” you said, sitting up and gesturing for him to lie down where you had just been. 

“What are you planning?” he asked with a smile and obediently took your place at the head of the bed. “Riding me again? Bondage of some kind? Or perhaps something you read in one of Shadowheart’s cheap paperbacks?”

You sat back on your knees between his legs. “I told you that you took such good care of me when I was hurt,” you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs, careful to avoid his wrapped cut, “now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Is it, now? And I’m assuming this doesn’t involve wrapping some other wound I haven’t noticed.” 

You shook your head. “Do you trust me?”

He let out an amused breath through his nose. “Of course I do.” Then he added, “But don’t make me regret it.”

You grinned at him and marveled at the way he watched you, so open and unafraid. It made your heart soar. You cleared your throat. 

“I’ll need your help,” you dipped your head bashfully. 

“Anything,” he said, not taking his eyes off your face. 

You leaned forward and kissed his clothed cock.

“Ohhh,” he sighed blissfully. “You’re very sweet, darling, but you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you said, kissing him again.

Astarion closed his eyes and arched his back a little, chasing the warmth your lips left behind. When he opened his eyes, he looked almost embarrassed by the neediness his hips had given away.

“Please,” you said softly. “I want nothing more than to take care of you, my love.”

He remained silent as he considered your offer.

“Show me how,” you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his underwear and felt him shiver beneath you.

Then you watched the mask go up with a seductive arch of his eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we can give it a try,” Astarion said, his voice airy and detached. 

You immediately crawled up the bed to hover over his face. He looked back at you with a alluring smirk. “Hey,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “It’s me.” You brushed his cheek with the back of your knuckles. “You’re safe.”

Astarion stared at you before shaking his head mildly and smiling. “I know,” he said. “I want this.”

You bent and kissed him deeply, reaching a hand up to massage the tip of his left ear. 

He moaned quietly and you felt his hips bump yours, seeking friction. “Please,” he whispered.

You gave him a sideways smile before shimmying back down his body and hooking your fingers under his waistband again. 

“Wait,” he interrupted. 

You paused. “What’s wrong?”

He pouted - something you realized he did quite a lot, now that you thought about it. “I miss your breasts.”

You snorted and crawled up to him once more. “Would you care to do the honors?” You hovered above him, low enough that he could reach behind your back and undo the clasps of your bra. 

“More than anything,” he murmured. Almost as soon as he answered was the clothing off your body and on the floor next to the bed. He sat up a little and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Hey!” you laughed and pushed him away. “Bad.” You pointed a scolding finger at him. “I’m supposed to be pleasuring you.”

Astarion smiled, half lidded. “Apologies, darling. You’re too delicious, and I’ve missed your taste.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you deflected and tried once more to travel down his hips. “Is this okay?” you asked, once more hooking your fingers under his waistband.

“Yes, my sweet.” His voice was soft and genuine, with the slightest twinge of eagerness. 

You nodded and pulled at his undergarments, working them down his hips and onto the floor next to you. When his cock emerged, it was red and swollen, leaking precum at the tip. You tried not to look intimidated by this new, somewhat daunting task that laid before you, but Astarion saw your expression and laughed. 

“Is it as pretty as you remembered?” he asked, barely containing his mirth. 

“Gorgeous,” you teased. “Now tell me what to do.”

He laughed again. “Well, when I was pleasuring another man, I’d start with my hands. They usually enjoyed that.”

You tilted your head to the side. “But is that what you like to start with?”

“I-” he paused. “A good question. I was rarely on this end of things. But… Yes, I do enjoy your hands on me. You’re warm. And you moisturize.”

Now you laughed. “Glad you noticed.”

“You’re wonderfully soft, my dear,” he confirmed. “Now… do you remember what I’ve shown you before?”

“Yes,” you said and reached forward, taking his shaft into your hand and squeezing slightly. 

“Ah,” Astarion shut his eyes and smiled. “Good.”

You moved your hand upwards towards the head and twisted, gathering some of his precum and spreading it down his length as you brought your hand back down. 

“That’s it,” he said softly, his eyes still closed. “The tip is particularly sensitive.”

You nodded, not that he could see you, and raised your hand up again to swipe your thumb over his slit.

“Oh, yes, that feels amazing,” he opened his eyes to watch you with a lopsided grin. “May I show you something?”

“Please,” you said, pulling your hand away. 

“No no,” he shook his head and lifted himself up with one arm. “Give me your hand,” he held his out and you allowed him to guide you back towards his cock. “Right here,” he said, leading your hand to the underside of the head where it connected with his shaft, “feels marvelous when you stroke it gently. Like this.” He took your thumb and ran it over the skin lightly, back and forth. He exhaled, blowing cool air into your face before lying back down. “Just like that,” he sighed, his voice gravelly. 

Feeling brave, you kept lightly stroking the area and spat into your free hand before wrapping it around his length and pumping up and down. 

Astarion inhaled sharply at the sensation. “I see you’re not completely in the- ah- the dark.”

You smiled. “I may have been reading some of Shadowheart’s cheap paperbacks, yes.”

He laughed airly. “You’re adorable.” 

“Am I?” you asked mischievously before repositioning yourself between his legs so that you were now lying on your stomach, your hands never stopping their motions. You leaned forward and replaced the hand at his tip with your tongue, swiping back and forth repeatedly. He tasted of salt and sweat and something that you’d describe as distinctly Astarion.

His body jerked involuntarily. “Why you…” He leaned up to look at you and noted the glee in your eyes. “Cheeky,” he chuckled. 

You kissed the tip of his cock and licked at his slit, which was still weeping precum. 

“Unf,” Astarion whined. 

You hummed lightly. “Does that feel good?” Your left hand was still pumping up and down, and you bent to kiss the underside of his cock.

“Yes,” he sighed, reaching forward to twist a hand into your hair. “But darling,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I may need more.”

“Would you like my mouth?” you asked bluntly.

He eyed you curiously. “Do you really want to?”

You rolled your eyes and licked his slit again. “No, clearly not.” 

Astarion laughed shakily. “Then, if you’re offering, there’s nothing I’d like more than your mouth.”

“Good,” you smiled. “You’ll have to help me. There’s only so much a paperback can teach you.”

“I don’t know, what you were doing felt pretty good,” he smiled.

“I’m being serious,” you said. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“How sweet,” he twisted his hand more tightly into your hair. “Of course I’ll help, sweet girl.”

You turned your head towards his hand in your hair and kissed his wrist. “What first?”

“First,” he said, “you need to relax. Let go of the tension in your shoulders.”

“Okay,” you nodded and focused on relaxing your muscles. “I just want to get this right.”

“And you will, pet, but I can promise you that this will be much more enjoyable for both of us if you’re out of your own head.”

You scoffed. “Me? Thinking too much? How dare you.”

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed teasingly. “My mistake.” He took in your eager expression and chuckled again. “Rather than trying to fit me in your mouth all in one go, I find that it’s quite useful to tease first. Like what you were just doing with your kissing and licking. That feels remarkable.”

“Kissing and licking,” you repeated. “Got it.”

“And then,” he continued, “when you think you’re ready, you can slowly start taking me into your mouth. But be wary of your teeth and choking.” He thought for a moment before adding “And pay attention to me.”

“Is that not what this is?”

He gave you a mildly annoyed, but unsurprised look. “Yes, clearly. I mean, listen to your partner. Their voice and body will usually give away if they’re feeling good and what they like best.”

“Kiss, lick, mouth, careful of choking, listen to you. I think I can do that.”

“Teeth, darling,” he said, flashing his fangs, “don’t forget to mind the teeth.”

“You never do,” you teased.

He smiled, but you observed some hesitation in his face. “Really, darling, you don’t have to-”

“Shush,” you said, sitting up on your knees and leaning forward to kiss his mouth. “I want to do this. You deserve to be taken care of for once.”

His eyes were nothing but fond when he bent upwards to kiss you. “Alright,” he murmured.

“Tell me if anything feels bad,” you said, repositioning yourself between his legs. “So help me gods, I’m going to make you come tonight.”

Astarion laughed. “I believe in you, darling.”

You kissed his tip again and returned your hand to pumping his shaft once again. 

“Yes,” Astarion breathed, “hands are good too.”

Boldly, you started licking long, languid strokes with the flat of your tongue up and down the head of his cock. 

Astarion’s hips jerked involuntarily. “Very good,” he groaned.

You planted a kiss where your tongue had just been, then removed your hand to lick a stripe from the base of his length up to the top. You blew softly on the saliva left behind and smiled when his thighs tensed and heard his breath catch in his throat. He sighed out your name, a blissful look on his face. You alternated between kissing and licking and paid close attention to areas that had Astarion bucking his hips, or biting his lip, or moaning softly.

His hands tightened in your hair when you licked a particularly sensitive spot. “Gods,” he focused his eyes on you, “you’re wonderful.”

You kissed him once more before saying, “I’m going to try taking you now.”

Astarion’s breath caught again, this time with anticipation. “Go slow, darling. There’s no rush.”

“Don’t you have dinner plans?” you deflected with a joke, trying not to get too in your head before taking him into your mouth.

Astarion groaned. “You are my dinner plans, you rotten woman.”

“We should stop talking now.”

“Agreed.”

You took a deep breath to slow your heart rate, which had Astarion chuckling again.

“Honestly darling, if this is too much-”

Before he could finish, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock and swirled your tongue in a circular motion, causing him to gasp loudly and arch his back in surprise. You giggled at his reaction, the vibration of your voice further causing him to clutch at the sheets beneath him. 

“Oh…” he breathed. “More of that, please.”

You did as instructed and added your hand to pump up and down his length. He let out a small cry of pleasure in response. You gave an experimental suck and were delighted to be met with an even louder cry of pleasure.

“Darling,” he moaned, “you’re a natural.”

You hummed a “thank you” and lowered your head, attempting to take more of him into your mouth.

“Ah,” Astarion squeaked. “So warm.”

Your hand continued to work the base of his cock while you took even more of him, experimenting with your limit. When he bumped against the back of your throat, you felt yourself gag, and pulled back.

“No,” Astarion whined, “come back…”

“Sorry,” you wiped your eyes to rid yourself of the tears that had involuntarily gathered at the corners.

He watched your hand, still pumping up and down. “Don’t apologize, dear, just come back to me.”

You studied his face, which was relaxed, save for the mild distress caused by your mouth leaving him. “You’re enjoying it?”

“Can’t you tell?” He took your chin in his hand and smiled fondly. “I think you know me well enough by now to know if I was faking it.”

You nuzzled his hand. “I would hope so.”

“Please darling,” he whispered, “you’re doing so well. Give it another go.”

You smiled, thrilled that you were able to do this for him and that he was actually enjoying himself. “Any tips for gagging?”

He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “Well if you’re nervous that I don’t like it, throw that thought away. The sensation of your throat constricting is heavenly.”

“Good to know,” you nodded.

“But if you don’t like the sensation, I’ve read that squeezing your left thumb can help reduce your gag reflex. And it’s worked for me when I’ve tried it.” He held up his left hand and demonstrated wrapping his other four fingers around his thumb. You swapped your left hand, which was still slowly stroking him, with your right hand, and mirrored the motion. He nodded. “That’s it.”

“Okay,” you said with a newfound confidence. You dipped your head back down and kissed the head of his cock again before taking him back into your mouth gradually.

Astarion threw his head back, a fangy smile gracing his features. “Ahh…” he exhaled.

You felt him twitch in your mouth and giggled. The vibration of that once again had Astarion humming pleasantly. Rather than seeing how far you could take him this time, you took a decent amount before lifting back up and bobbing back down. You repeated this a few times, trying to take more of him with each bob of your head. 

Astarion twisted a hand into your hair again and whined out your name. “So good… so good for me.”

When his tip bumped the back of your throat this time, you squeezed your thumb and found yourself not as rattled this time. Emboldened, you started taking even more of him, despite the tears gathering in your eyes. 

“Oh gods,” he whimpered when you let your right hand move downwards to start fondling his balls lightly. 

You hummed again before popping off of him to catch your breath. Astarion’s chest was rising and falling heavily, and the smile on his face was nothing short of euphoric.

“You better not stop,” he said through a laugh.

“Those of us still living actually need to breathe, sorry,” you licked along his shaft again before returning to bobbing up and down, with him down your throat. You swallowed involuntarily, which had him whimpering again and bucking his hips deeper. 

“Ah,” he moaned quietly. “You feel perfect. I could have you like this forever.” 

You hummed an affirmation, making his hips twitch again. 

“Don’t you…” his breathing was still labored, despite his lack of breath, “Don’t you dare make a… snide remark about being together… forever.”

“Mmm,” you said, sounding an awful lot like “Aww.” You pulled back up and swirled your tongue around the head again.

“Oh…” he moaned again. “You’ll have to… show me… the paperbacks you’ve been reading.”

You gave him a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t currently fondling his balls and brought it back down to slide it up and down his thigh softly. Goosebumps emerged on his skin and he inhaled sharply. 

“I’m close, darling girl,” he brushed his hand through your hair encouragingly before fisting it tightly again. “Keep going.”

You could feel with your tongue as you bobbed back down that he was more rigid now than when you’d begun. He was also twitching more frequently and bucking his hips to chase after your mouth. 

He ran his free hand through his hair. “Where shall I-?”

You gave him a brutal suck before popping off with a filthy sound. “Not sure I’m ready to swallow yet,” you admitted shyly, despite a string of drool connecting you to him. Your right hand was back to twisting around his length.

He loosed a breathy laugh. “Understandable.”

“I suppose on my chest?”

He laughed again. “You- ah- suppose?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed. “Is that sexy? I’ve never been cum on before.”

He smiled fondly and thumbed over your lip again. “You’re always sexy, pet.”

“Liar,” you laughed, “you’ve seen me drool in my sleep.”

“And what a sexy drooler you are,” he teased.

You scowled. “Ew, don’t say that.”

He groaned, but not at your remark. “Really darling, I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Right,” you said, “chest it is.” You returned your mouth to his cock, kissing it sloppily before taking him back into your mouth as much as you could. 

You decided to start humming “Bard Song” while moving up and down, a callback to the night of the tiefling party, when he’d hummed an offkey version for you. 

“Ohh, please,” he whimpered pathetically at the humming sensation mixed with your hands on his shaft and thigh, “please.”

You took that as encouragement to hum a bit louder.

“More,” Astarion whined, “faster.”

You squeezed your hand around his length a bit harder and started increasing your speed. He, in turn, was letting out louder, less censored moans.

“Good,” he breathed, “such a good girl.” His hips began bucking wildly and you did your best to remain where you were. “I’m going to- ah- darling,” his eyes rolled back before he shut them and reached to tap your shoulder, signaling for you to stop.

You pulled back to hover over him and watched as he began stroking himself furiously. Wanting to spur him on even more, you began massaging the tips of his ears, which had him calling out your name before spilling all over your chest and his abdomen. 

The sensation was sticky and warm, and you were surprised by just how much of it there was. Normally you’d try to avoid a mess like this, but seeing the intense focus turned to pure bliss on Astarion’s face made it worthwhile in your eyes.

He opened his eyes and gave you the most radiant smile you’d ever seen. “Oh, darling,” he sat up and kissed your mouth fiercely, “that was incredible.” 

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you smiled against his lips and kissed him again. He pulled you closer, making your chest press against his. “Oh!” you yelped, pulling back and observing how his cum on your chest had transferred onto his chest.

Astarion brought a hand up to his face and swiped it down his features as he laughed. “Not the worst thing I’ve been covered in.”

“I will not be asking you to elaborate,” you said.

“Nor would I want you to.” He sat up a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up, beautiful.”

“No, no, no,” you held a gentle hand to his chest and made him lie back down. “Allow me.” You rolled off of him and walked over to the wash basin in the corner.

Astarion sat back up to watch you. “Well,” he said airily, “one could get used to this sort of service.”

You found a clean cloth and wet it thoroughly. “Get used to it, pretty boy,” you walked back over to him, “you’re not in this alone anymore.”

“I suppose I’m not,” he chuckled. 

You began to wipe Astarion down, ridding his chest of any unwanted substance before moving down to his stomach. You gasped when you felt him lean forward and lick your chest. “What are you doing?”

“Just helping to expedite the process.” He smirked at you. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“How kind,” you said, pushing him back. “Um… did you want me to do that to you?”

Astarion blinked a few times. “Oh, no, certainly not. I mean, unless you want to!” He searched your eyes, but you scrunched your nose a little at the thought. “Yes,” he chuckled, “I find the process to be rather… I don’t know… It’s not my favorite thing. Much too salty.”

“Then… why are you doing it now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, watching your hands clean off his stomach with the cloth, “other men liked it when I put on a bit of a show when it came to cum.”

“Well, I’m not other men.” you said, dramatically gripping your breasts firmly in both hands, then regretting it when they came away sticky.

He laughed. “Let me help you, dear.”

You allowed him to take the cloth from you and observed him thoughtfully. “Just so you know, you never have to put on a show for me.”

He met your eye, looking at a loss for words. 

“I mean,” you said quickly, “you can if you want to, but you never have to. I like you, and it’s not because of how great you are at sex.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “so you finally admit it.”

“Shut up,” you slapped his bicep gently. “You know what I mean.”

He sighed and looked at you fondly. “What ever did I do to deserve a sweetheart like you?”

“You’ve always deserved this kind of care,” you said, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “I’m just sorry it took so long for me to find you.”

He pressed his forehead to yours and spoke softly. “You really took your time, didn’t you? Selfish.”

You snorted and pushed him away, a devilish grin on his face. “That’s a new one, by the way,” you smiled. “‘Sweetheart.’”

He began to wipe your stomach clean, paying extra delicate attention to the area around your scar. “Like that one? There’s plenty more in the arsenal. Let’s see…” He bent and kissed your neck. “Sweetheart… sweetie… sweetness…”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” you laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re delicious,” he murmured next to your ear before biting it gently. 

“Oh, you haven’t eaten!” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering that you’d asked him to bite you earlier. 

Astarion nuzzled your neck with his nose before pulling back. “Relax, darling. I haven’t forgotten. But you have, it would seem.”

“What do you mean?”

Satisfied with how clean the both of you were now, Astarion threw the cloth back towards the washbasin. “I mean,” he brought his face close to yours, “don’t you remember when I said I wanted to taste you?”

I’d rather taste you while I’m inside of you.

Right.

“Still?” you asked.

He nodded. 

“But…” you furrowed your brow. “If this is about feeling like you owe me, cut it out. That’s not how it works anymore.”

Astarion whined. “Darling, this is the first night I’ve been in a proper bed in months. This isn’t about payment, this is about allowing my to finally fuck you properly.”

You were taken aback by that. “So… what were all those other times?”

Astarion quirked his mouth to the side. “Well, those were still me fucking you but… in the woods.”

You snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

He crashed his lips into yours desperately. “Please,” he moaned. “I need to feel you again.”

“Are you,” you smirked, “begging?”

“Darling, if I was begging, you’d know.”

“And if I say no?”

“I won’t beg,” he said, looking down his nose at you. “But don’t say no.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Okay, tough guy. If you’re still up for it, then so am I.”

“Excellent,” Astarion placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you fiercely before flipping you onto your back. He hovered above you, still kissing you deeply, and you felt his hands reach for the waistband of your pants. He hummed into your mouth by way of asking permission, and you hummed back an affirmation. He pulled away and undid the ties on the front before pulling both your pants and underwear down at the same time. 

“You are fast,” you remarked. 

“Practice, darling,” he said before crawling on top of you and kissing you again.

“Are you even,” you said between kisses, “ready for another round?” You looked down and saw that he was already getting hard again.

“I’ve missed you,” he shrugged and kissed your throat. “It’s impossible for me to not want you right now.”

“Oh,” you said, genuinely flattered. “I’ve missed you too, my love.”

He moaned against your throat and rolled his hips against yours. “Say that again.”

“‘I’ve missed you?’”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “No, the other thing.”

“‘My love?’” The phrase was met with another roll of Astarion’s hips. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m yours,” he reached for your hand, which still had the ring on, and twisted it. “And you’re mine.”

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, wrapping your leg around his hip to pull him closer, “I’m yours.”

“My beautiful girl,” he bumped his nose against yours affectionately. 

You gasped in surprise when you felt him slide his fingers through your folds.

“You did miss me,” he teased. “Shall I help you feel good, darling?”

“Please,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He continued to slide his fingers between your legs, spreading your slick and preparing you to take him. “No funny business tonight,” he said. “No new positions or experimental moves. I just want to feel you around me.”

“I can agree to those- ah- terms.” You stuttered when his thumb began circling your clit. “Whatever you want.”

He looked at you with an overwhelming fondness before kissing you sweetly. “Thank you, darling.”

It was then that he stuck a finger into your core slowly and you gasped, tightening your arms around his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed, “I’m preparing you to take me, my sweet. You’re going to do so well.” He began to pump the finger in and out of you slowly, curling it just so. When your body relaxed, he picked up the pace. “There now,” he said, “you’re doing so well already.”

You nodded and watched his hand move between your legs. “You can go faster.” 

Astarion smiled and picked up the pace on his pumping and circling your clit. You tensed in pleasure. 

“I’m going to add another,” he said, looking you in the eye. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you nodded and tightened your grip on him once again when he inserted the second finger slowly.

“Okay?” he asked, making sure you were alright. 

“Careful,” you said, causing him to halt his motions, “you’re being awfully nice to me.”

“Don’t ruin this,” he said flatly, and pumped his fingers into your core harshly.

“Ah!” you exclaimed with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry!”

He leaned forward and kissed your mouth again. “You’re forgiven.” When he pulled back, he scowled. “For now.” 

You laughed. “How generous.”

His fingers suddenly brushed against the spongy spot inside of you and you keened.

“There,” you moaned. “That felt amazing.”

“Good,” Astarion smirked and focused his attention on hitting that spot over and over with some force, all the while circling your clit.

That familiar tightening in your stomach started to make itself known, and you moved one of your hands to grip Astarion’s curls. “I’m close,” you said.

“Very good,” he purred and increased the pace of his hand once more. His other hand came up to tangle into your hair and he started kissing you deeply.

Your hips rolled against his hand, chasing even more friction. “Astarion,” you whined.

“Come for me, darling,” he murmured next to your ear. “You can do it. You made me feel so divine earlier, I know you can come for me too.” 

“Keep talking,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your climax to overtake you.

He chuckled lowly. “It’s been so hard keeping my hands off you while you were healing this last tenday, sweet girl. All I wanted to do was rip your clothes off, and get my mouth on you, and touch you everywhere.” You whined and bucked your hips. “I adore you, precious thing. I promise I’ll protect you from now on. So that I’ll never have to hold back again.”

The words, combined with the brutal pace of his fingers and thumb hurdled you over the edge and into your climax, which had you calling out for Astarion and gripping onto his back.

“I’m here,” he cooed. “You’re so beautiful when you let go.”

As you came back down and caught your breath, you smiled at him. “I missed that.”

Astarion scoffed lightheartedly. “And here I thought you liked me for more than how fantastic I am at sex.”

“I lied,” you teased.

“Oof,” Astarion held a hand to his heart. “If my heart were beating, surely it would break.”

You sat up and kissed him swiftly. “I adore you too, dummy.”

“I know,” he said pompously and you reached behind you and whacked him in the side of the head with a pillow. “Ow!” he exclaimed, and you laughed at the way his hair became disheveled. “Come here, you,” he growled, pinning you back on the bed and kissing you deeply once more. He ground his hips against yours, allowing you to feel how hard he had become. 

He pulled back and looked into your eyes with unrestrained desire. You looked down and saw him aligning himself at your entrance. 

“Ready?” he asked sincerely. 

“Please,” you rested your forehead against his. 

He pressed into you slowly, making you inhale sharply before you relaxed into the sensation. Astarion, meanwhile, appeared to be struggling. He’d paused, and his eyes were shut tight.

“Are you alright?” you asked, caressing his hair and brushing against the back of his ear.

“Huh?” He opened his eyes with a start, then smiled down at you seductively. “Oh, yes darling, why wouldn’t I be?”

You pursed your lips. “We can stop if something is wrong.”

“No!” Astarion’s eyes widened. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m just… overwhelmed, I think.”

“By…?”

He rolled his hips slowly and closed his eyes again. “You feel so good. It’s been too long. And I’m still not used to… this.” He opened his eyes and used his chin to gesture towards you. 

“What, my excellent breasts?” you deflected, feeling scrutinized under his gaze.

“While, yes, they are excellent,” he reached forward and squeezed your left breast for good measure, “you know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you said quietly. “But what exactly… did you mean?”

He sighed. “I’m still figuring that out. It’s never felt this way before and I… forgot.” He rolled his hips again and your eyes fluttered closed.

“F-forgot?” 

“How good this can feel. How good you feel.” He reached for your hands and tangled your fingers together with his on either side of your head. “We’re going to go extra slow tonight. I want to savor this.” He kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth before he started thrusting his hips at a leisurely pace.

You moaned into his mouth. “Take your time.”

“I plan to,” he said, caressing one of your thumbs with his own. 

The two of you remained like that for a few quiet moments, the only sounds being your hitched breaths and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, a pleased smile on your face. “This is nice.”

“This is nice,” Astarion agreed, biting your ear gently.

You sighed dreamily. “What would you usually talk to your… um… previous partners about? During sex?”

He pulled away from your ear and furrowed his brow. “Must we talk about others at a time like this?” He wet his thumb in his mouth sensually, and brought it down to your clit. 

You gasped and arched your back. “Of- of course not. I just like hearing your thoughts.”

Astarion smirked and leaned forward again to kiss your jaw. “Couldn’t you use the tadpole for that?”

You wrapped a leg around his waist. “I- ah- I guess. But it feels wrong to do that without your permission.” 

He growled against your throat and thrust into you harshly. “You always know just what to say.”

You laughed. “Liar.”

He thrust into you again. “Normally I was just trying to make the other person reach the finish line, so to speak. I’d say or do whatever was necessary to get them there.” 

“And you?”

“Oh, perish the thought. My needs were never at the forefront.” 

“My love…” you whined.

“People are much more willing to follow you around after you’ve brought them to the peak of pleasure.” He laughed a little. “Kind of like how you won’t stop following me around.”

You scoffed with a smile. “Do not compare me to someone you had to sleep with. And you’re the one who begged to be inside of me earlier. Not to mention when I had you in my mouth.”

Astarion thrust into you again forcibly. “I did not beg.” He thrust once more, changing the direction of his circles on your clit with his thumb. “Although I’m fairly certain I could get you to beg.” He flashed his fangs at you.

“Oh, please,” you said on an eyeroll.

“And there we have it,” he smirked. “I win.” 

“That was not me begging.”

“I heard a ‘please,’ didn’t I?”

“I loathe you,” you said, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. 

“I’m a magnificent bastard, aren’t I?” he took your other thigh and hiked it around his waist, making you lock your feet together. “Oh,” he moaned loudly, “I never want to leave this room.”

“We-”

He pressed a finger to your lips. “Do not list our many incomplete tasks right now, I beg of you, my darling.”

“You what?”

“I beg- oh shut up.” He withdrew himself from your cunt and slammed himself back in, coaxing a gleeful moan out of your throat. “Can’t you say anything sexy?”

“Hmm…” you thought aloud, closing your eyes when he began kissing your jaw again. “Sometimes, when I see how beautiful you are, I’m just dumbfounded.”

He chuckled. “Me too.”

“But I love talking to you, more than anything.”

“This isn’t really the kind of ‘sexy’ I had in mind, but do go on.”

“Even now, as you’re finally fucking me on a bed, I’m just as thrilled to hear your voice.”

Astarion gave you a questioning look. “High praise from a bard.” 

You kissed his bare shoulder. “You’re not trying to impress me, you're just… here with me. As Astarion.”

That made him pause for a moment. “Oh, believe me, dear, Astarion is trying very hard to impress you right now.” He rolled his hips at a slightly different angle, hiking you up closer to him. 

“Well- ah- it’s working. Great job.” You leaned up to kiss him and he chased your lips as you laid back in the pillows. He continued kissing all over your face and down your neck. He paused when his nose bumped the base of your throat.

“Darling?” 

An unspoken question.

“Hungry?”

He nodded against your skin, searching for a good spot to strike.

“Take what you need,” you whispered. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you.” You heard him inhale before the piercing coldness of his bite entered your veins. Your entire body tensed before you were overcome with the familiar pleasant numbness. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you groaned, raking your fingers through his hair. 

You could feel how slowly he was drinking from you, almost in time with how slowly he was still thrusting into you. He kept letting out tiny whimpers of delight, excited to finally taste you again. 

“You’re heavenly,” he said, pulling back momentarily as if to catch his breath. “I almost forgot how much I love your flavor. So sophisticated and sweet.” He dove in again, first licking the wound before biting down and continuing to drink. 

“Take as much as you like,” you sighed, bucking your hips when his thrusts started to pick up some speed. “Just don’t kill me.”

He chuckled against your throat but didn’t let up. He resumed letting out little noises of pleasure, and brought one of his hands up to paw at your breast. The other was cradling the back of your head affectionately. 

You could feel his cock growing steadily more rigid within you, the more Astarion drank. His speed was also steadily increasing, with thrusts becoming much more frequent than the slow passionate movements they’d been at the start of the encounter. 

“Astarion,” you whined, feeling yourself become more lightheaded than his usual feedings. 

“Mmf,” he said articulately before pulling back from your throat and licking the wounds to soothe the mild pain and clean excess drops of blood. When you could see his face once more, the tips of his ears were dusted a light shade of pink, and you swore there was more color in his face. His radiant smile was back, and he looked at you as if you were the sun itself. 

“As good as you remember?” you asked, laughing lightly at his expression.

“Better,” he said, surging forward to kiss you. You welcomed the coppery tang of your blood on his tongue happily. “Now, if you don’t mind, a reward.”

“Hey-” you warned.

“I want to,” he insisted. “Besides, it’s not just for you.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? How selfish are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s see it then.”

He smirked and moved over to your ear, murmuring, “I’m going to make you come again, sweetheart.” He pulled away, looking proud of himself. “That name works in a few ways actually. Because your blood is sweet, and it comes from your heart. And because it’s quite an endearing nickname.”

You nodded. “We’ll work on your tight five and get you a slot in the Laff Riot at the Elfsong once we’re back in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Oh, hush you,” he said, quieting you with a kiss. “I feel great,” he smiled down at you, returning his hand to your clit as he continued thrusting into your core. “Don’t ever almost die again.”

“I-” you gasped at a particularly pleasant thrust, “I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he purred, bringing his forehead to yours. “Tell me, darling, how can I help you?”

“My boobs are feeling pretty neglected, if I’m being honest.” You gave him a sideways smile. 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “‘Boobs,’” he mocked. “I suppose I can do that.” He smirked before lowering down to your left breast and teasing your nipple lightly with his teeth. His left hand came up to massage your right breast as his right hand continued to circle your clit. He sucked at the bud of your nipple rather harshly, causing it to pebble in his mouth and his tongue swirled around it greedily. 

You arched your back in pleasure and tried pulling him closer with your legs still locked around his middle. He hummed against your skin and turned his attention to your right breast with his mouth. 

“You’re so good,” you said wistfully, your eyes closed. “I love this.”

“Ah luff thish too,” he said, licking around your right nipple and making you laugh. 

“Keep going,” you said, tapping your foot against Astarion’s bare ass, encouraging him to thrust faster. 

He let out an amused breath through his nose before picking up the pace as requested. His thumb on your clit sped up as well.

“Oh gods…” you moaned, digging your nails into his scalp. You could feel yourself getting close again, just a little more and you’d be tumbling over the edge into your climax. “Talk to me,” you said desperately.

Astarion lifted his face from your nipple. “About what?” 

“Anything,” you looked at him pleadingly. “Say something sappy.” When he gave you a stupidly seductive look, you amended “And mean it!”

His face immediately fell, but his pace didn’t falter. “I need to think about this for a second.” 

You laughed. “You don’t have to, just keep going. I’m close.”

“Is this like when I made you come by telling a joke?”

“I didn’t-” you rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s exactly like that.”

Astarion nodded dutifully and thought for a moment. “I could say something about how in these accursed shadow lands, you are my light?”

You were squeezing your eyes tight, trying to reach your peak. “That could work. Ah!” Astarion bit your nipple again lightly. 

“Hmm… no, feels too sappy. Oh.” It looked like something dawned on him. He bent forward again to kiss your neck and whined when you pulled lightly at his hair. “Earlier,” he said, sounding out of breath, “when Jaheira likened you to my mate,” he almost spat the word, “I didn’t… entirely hate it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “What?” 

He nodded against you. “I like… having you around. And if some old druid likens that to procreating bears or whatever, then so be it.”

You smiled. “That might be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“So come, gods damn you! I want to come too!”

You laughed. “Kiss me, dummy.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face to yours. He moaned into your mouth when your tongue slipped past his lips. “Yours,” you murmured. 

Astarion growled, kissing you deeper. “Mine.”

With a few more circles of your clit and another brutal thrust from his hips, you fell into your climax, feeling him coming not far behind. Your cunt pulsed and fluttered around him, sending bursts of pleasure throughout your body. He moaned your name before collapsing on top of you, thoroughly spent. 

He smiled at you lazily. “Well darling?”

You blinked at him. 

“Performance review? From a humble bard such as yourself.”

You laughed. “The critics at the Baldur’s Gate Gazette will sing your praises for years to come.”

“Outstanding.” He kissed your chest before carefully pulling out of you and getting off the bed. 

You watched him walk to the washbasin and wet a fresh cloth before coming back and wiping down the space between your legs. 

“Here,” he said, handing you his discarded shirt from earlier.

“Are you sure?” you asked, taking the shirt and watching him wipe himself down with the cloth. 

“It smells like you when you sleep in it,” he said earnestly. “But would it kill you to move less in your sleep? You might ruin the neckline.”

“I’m going to purposely stretch it out now,” you joked. 

“Menace,” he said, sounding scandalized, before tossing the cloth towards the washbasin and pulling on a pair of loose cotton pants from his backpack. 

“Those are new,” you remarked.

He crawled onto the bed and tucked himself into your side. “Now that I’m sleeping on a bed, the protection from the leather against dirt is no longer necessary.”

“How practical,” you said, turning to face him as he pulled the blanket over the both of you. “And where did you find them?”

“I may have stumbled upon them in Gale’s belongings.”

You snorted. “You’re the menace.”

“And you like me so much,” he teased, scrunching his nose at you.

“I do,” you smiled and poked his nose before yawning.

Astarion chuckled. “Did I tire you out, darling?”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you said, “we killed a pretty big spider earlier.”

He snorted. “I believe they’re called driders.”

“Tomayto tomahto,” you closed your eyes and scooted forward to snuggle into his chest.

Astarion hummed a vague agreement and wrapped his arms around you. “Goodnight, my sweet.” 

“Sleep well, my love. I hope you had fun tonight.” You didn’t open your eyes and instead bent forward to kiss his bare chest.

He exhaled through his nose. “That I did. Thank you.”

You smiled against his skin before your features relaxed and you drifted off to sleep. 

~~~~~

Above your sleeping form, Astarion stared at the wall, unblinking. 

A million thoughts were running through his mind, all of them revolving around you. 

He’d forgotten how good sex could be. He’d convinced himself that he was okay without it, that you were okay without it, while you were recovering, and for the most part, he was. He was happy, even! Staying by your side all day and simply enjoying your company and silly commentary had been more than enough. And it seemed that you were happy, too.

But in that time, he’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten how his feelings for you might interfere and make things… better. 

Could it always be like this?

He looked down at you, breathing steadily in his arms, and took your hand in his. He observed the ring on your pinky and twisted it a few times. He took it off of you and slipped it back on a few more times. He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it repeatedly.

He was in big trouble. 

You’d said and done things tonight that made him feel… loved. And he’d basked in it like the sun was still high in the sky.

He’d been mulling over his feelings recently, but not really. Why should he when things were good the way they were?

The problem was that he no longer wanted things to just be good the way they were.

He wanted more. 

And he wanted you to feel as loved as he did.

Wait.

Oh no.

He was in love with you.

Fuck!

[marysdigdiaries101]

NEW INTERESTS

summary: as business woman barbie, you had to be quite serious and uptight about your field of work. so when you couldn't make it sleepover night, which wasn't unexpected of course ꒰but nevertheless꒱ , stereotypical barbie comes to check up on you.

warning/s: top! barbie, bottom! reader, no smut, but it's implied, fluff/comfort, tired reader, talk of depression, swearing, not proofread, pretend they have genitals btw.

word count: forgot to check lmao

authors note: hi hi hii ! first post omg? i just watched the new barbie movie and..im fucking obsessed, i swear i missed half the movies dialogue tho cause i was admiring margot's gorgeous face. anyway i thought what if we had a super stressed, borderline depressed barbie who just needed a break from her thoughts ? enjoy pookies ! ୨♡୧

+ btw men dni.

navigation ! | ୨♡୧

the wheels of your pastel pink car came to a stop in your driveway as you sluggishly dragged yourself out of the drivers seat. another long day, another girls night you couldn't deal with. bright lights illuminated the moving bodies on the vast dance floor, pointed stilettos tapping and turning swiftly as stiff hands clapped and clicked to the music.

clutching your purse, you moved across the dance floor, avoiding flapping arms and desperate kens in need of a dance partner. as you got to the last section of your mission, you felt a pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that were too familiar for you to shake off. looking over to your far left you found a set ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. the one and only stereotypical barbie. the perfect one, the main bitch of barbieland acknowledging your presence.

conversations between the two of you were very scarce. with you having a very busy work life and her having none at all, you never crossed paths that much. but living right across from her was a given, so conversations at times were necessary.

brushing off the nervous feeling that had crept up on you, you silently scolded yourself for the rosy blush that had quickly painted your cheeks. once again, clutching your purse tighter, you resumed your journey to your apartment in the lively dreamhouse.

the scratched door creaked open as you released your grip on the plastic doorknob. in any other room you can pretty much expect bright pinks and yellows and lovely colors..but not yours. in fact it wasn't the case at all.

black scribble lines all over formerly hot pink walls, torn up grey bed sheets, deflated pillows, a bedside rug that was once a lovely shade of baby blue now a murky lake green, and scratches, whoever was messing with this room had a no sense for care, as this room, this room was desecrated with scratches and marks.

sighing, you flopped unto the creaky mattress, the back of your knees hitting the plastic bed structure. reaching over to your achy feet, you pulled off the black heels that had been causing you anguish the whole day.

dropping your heels, you unzipped your pale pink silk dress, one of the very rare bright pieces of clothing you had left. flinging it over to the other side of the room, you tapped over to your closet, the once shiny, luxurious white structure, scribbled on and vandalised; stripped of its pride. you looked through the distressed drawer that had been left open from the mornings' rush. music flooded into the silence of your room as picked out navy blue pyjama bottoms and a tight fitted white tank top.

as if by magic (no pun intended) , your desired clothing adorned your slim body as you strolled over to your bed, plopping yourself on it and sinking into the mattress.

thoughts clouded your mind like a raging storm, keeping you a prisoner of your own mind. weird barbie said this would happen a lot more so it shouldn't have been unexpected. but it still hit you like a brick every time the thought of stereotypical barbie flooded your head. her plump lips, the crystal blue eyes that locked you in a trance at the slightest glance and her hair, oh god her hair. you just wanted to run your fingers through the golden curls. you wanted to tangle your fingers in it, you wanted to ruin it, you hated how perfect it was.

you hated her. you hated how ken adored her, how everyone was so goddamn drawn to her, it was like the town revolved around her jobless ass. you wanted her. you needed her. you needed her to need you. but you had your ken and she had hers, and that was that.

the last person who uttered a word about a barbie and a barbie or a ken and a ken was weird barbie and look how she turned out. it's not like you weren't weird yourself, with your heels dropping, thoughts about death, uncanny interests in barbie , your burnt waffles and messed up room and messed up clothes, you were borderline line outcast. you just hadn't been sent to the weird house yet.

'it's only a matter of time though'. you thought shutting your eyes. the late nights and early mornings catching up to you.

it only seemed like a few minutes before you felt the opposite side of your bed sink and a warm hand on your icy shoulder. shrieking, you leaped into an upright position, very nearly hitting your head on your heart shaped headboard.

"jesus! what the hell.." you came to an abrupt stop as you looked over to your side meeting a very dear set of eyes. "look, i'm sorry for barging in so randomly, i know you were sleeping and you're a very busy woman and-" the words mushed together in your head as you focused on her pouty lips. you would let her talk for hours on end if it meant seeing those lips move.

"it's okay." you stated, the corners of your lips turning up. "really? i mean i could leave honestly! it's no biggie..i mean if you want me stay i could?" the icy blonde rambled meeting your gaze softly. "i promise your fine." you assured her shuffling a bit, suddenly feeling very naked.

"so why are you here?" you questioned, sinking back into the comfort of your duvet. dropping your gaze, she fiddled with her velvet night gown, undoing the strings and redoing them. "..well i don't know, you looked more down than usual and you at least make it to the nail painting sessions in my room, but today you missed the whole night altogether." barbie confessed, searching your y/e/c eyes for reasons.

"i know, but-" "you promised." she stated, cutting your flimsy excuse short. "i'm sorry. i've just- i've had some things on my mind as of recent." you explained, your eyes looking at barbies' room across from yours.

“ what type of thoughts?” you raised your eyebrow at her answering her question silently. “right. too far… sorry.” she blushed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. an uncomfortable silence filled the room as barbie crossed her legs, moving dangerously close to you.

clearing your throat, you glanced at her figure, letting the image cloud your senses. the curve of her hips to the sharp cut of her jawline, she really was the perfect barbie.

“i have thoughts about death too.” barbie whispered. you didn’t reply so she continued “all the time actually. they’re more frequent than they used to be. i thought maybe someone felt the same way as me so i shared it during the dance party downstairs, but, they just looked at me like i was.. weird.”

your heart rate tripled as you gazed up at her. she looked so.. vulnerable. all this time you had thought you were alone in this paradise. you thought of yourself as the elephant in the room. but there was a chance that the one person you thought was perfect, was just as fucked up as you.

“i’m so sorry, i’m gonna leave now-” “stay.” you muttered connecting your eyes with hers. “what?” the blonde asked, a bewildered look on her face. “i think about death too. maybe we have more in common than we thought.” you explained, running your fingers through your y/h/c haphazardly layered hair.

grinning immediately barbie sat back down, babbling instantly. and you did what anyone would do if they were in that same situation, you stared at her with hearts in your eyes, smiling broadly.

only mattel knew how you ended up sprawled across your bed with barbie straddling your lap, braiding chunks of your hair. who knew depressive thoughts could bond two dolls like this?

“your eyes are so pretty.” you murmured gazing up into her ocean blues. blushing she retorted : “oh shut up.” , but you could tell from her scarlet cheeks and darting eyes that she appreciated the compliment.

“can i kiss you?” you blurted, not being able to hold yourself back. barbie stared at you, her eyes glistening. preparing yourself for rejection you opened your mouth only to have it shut by pillowy lips.

stars behind your eyelids, in fact a whole constellation. gliding your fingers up the small of her back, you reciprocated the kiss as she cupped your face softly. biting your bottom lip, she explored your mouth slowly. sucking on your tongue, she extracted a well deserved moan out of you.

“fuck y/n” she groaned, grinding on you. moaning desperately, you fervently moved your hands around her body as she pulled away. breathing heavily you both stared at each other lovingly. “the others will hear..” she commented, returning to fiddling with your hair. agreeing, you smirked as she looked at your lips.

“i better go then. i don’t want you tired tomorrow, busy work life and all.” the blonde remarked as she slowly stood up. “mhm” you retorted, as you let your eyes wander all over her body.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well okay?” she stated, looking over at you as she got to the door. “i will.” you grinned, snuggling into your comforter. and at that she giggled as she closed your door, the echo of her voice promising you of better days. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🩰 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[directdogman]

hey dog! sorry to bug you with a coding question, but i'm learning rpg maker mv for a fangame & i'm wondering how you did a couple things. if it's not too much trouble, could you quickly explain some of it? i've scrounged around as much as i can but i cant find what i need so i thought it'd be worth asking directly ^^;

how did you get the players name to show up in the message log? i know theres a plugin that adds the name windows for other characters & i've got that figured out, but i have no idea how to get the players name to show up in the history after selecting stuff

how'd you get the graphic for the route diverging choices to show & play During choices? so far ive figured out that looping the images recreates the visual but then the game doesn't progress, bc its just stuck in that loop...

how'd you disable ( + grey out) dialogue options after selecting them??

how'd you add the fullscreen option? i found a code that was supposed to add a fullscreen option to the optionscore settings but that one just breaks the plugin & i simply Don't know enough javascript to figure it out myself

i'm using all the same plugins that dialtown has so clearly these are possible without extra ones, i just don't know how to do it,, thanks for explaining your pronoun system a little while ago btw! i wasn't the one who asked but your post was super helpful when i was setting it up for myself :D

It's been close to 6 years since I started making DT, and I had to figure out a few solutions to specific issues that cropped up which I've likely forgotten now, but I'll answer what I can remember. I'm also gonna give you some advice and advise you not to use RPG Maker for projects like these.

I basically Scott Cawthon'd DT and forced the engine to yield to my demands because I wanted to use the one I knew best. A few of these solutions are over-complicated because the easier ones (which would've worked in other engines) had to be constructed differently. I'll also mention a few solutions to problems you might not have encountered (but inevitably will if you try to recreate DT.) With that out of the way...

1)

You'll want these settings for the backlog plugin. the \c[x] commands refer to standard name colours. Log special inputs set to true, followed up by this below:

\n<\c[4]\n[1]\c[0]>%1

With \n[1] being the name you want and the number after the first c being what colour you want.

I'll also save you a potential future issue: I'd actually recommend you find the backlog plugin I used in DT's files (located inside the www/js/plugins folder) and use the version I have instead of the official release if you're not already, because I made a small change to fix an error. Basically, it breaks slightly with the plugin that lets you bring up the menu during dialogue because text reloads when you leave the menu and re-enter the text box, causing text to be logged at least twice after you pause it. If you keep bringing up the menu, you'll get constant duplication. I simply added a line of code that tells the log not to have two duplicates in a row. Not a programmer, but it seems works.

2)I did it in a funny way to ensure the engine wouldn't screw it up. Basically, there's 3 steps to the event and it's kinda hard to explain (and would be annoying to reproduce without a lot of trial and error for a beginner.) It's easier if I show my code. The first thing I do is run a common event (you can also just paste this code in and run it from the event) that renders the frames used by the popup, so they're loaded into memory + ready to go.

As you can see, they're set to 0 opacity but now ready to be used. Obviously they have to be on a layer that isn't being used by anything else in the scene (and won't be during this part of the game.) I run this event ahead of time, usually 4 messages before the choice comes up or so, so even slower PCs should have time to get them up.

The 'if head' thing just switches between the files for phone/typegingi's heads. I render each frame on separate layers and toggle their opacity from one to the next on a single frame to avoid flickering (bc RPG maker's renderer is hot trash and I have to work around it. Case in point.)

Step 2 is a second command event that orders the frames to fade in.

One layer is the text (which doesn't move) and the other is the first frame of the little head animation. A switch is also turned on at the end, and this signals the animation to go, which is handled by an event on any map where a choice like this comes up.

The event page that handles the animation itself has 2 pages, one to handle the animation as it goes and the other to handle when it stops (note that you could use one page and simply use a conditional branch. I didn't.)

Set to parallel so it runs in the bg behind normal events. As you can see, every 17 frames, I command one image to fade out over a single frame and another to fade in. It loops perfectly, cycling from middle frame, to left, to middle, to right, back to middle. Finally, when you select any route diverging choice, it sets off a second switch, which activates the second event page and commands the game to dispose of the graphics and then turn itself off.

Basically, it's the same animation but with a twist. The text is faded out over 60 frames and then the same animation is played as before, except the values it fades back into go from 255, to 170 to 85. Each of those commands is also followed by a 17 second fade to the opacity of the next frame. So, frame one renders in one frame at 255. Then seventeen frame fadeout to 170... Next frame renders for 1 frame AT 170, then fades out gradually to 85. Then next frame renders at 85 during 1 frame, fades to 0. This is how i synced the turning animation to fade out convincingly.

At the very end, I turn both of the switches this event page uses off so both event pages don't continue on loop. I also have a check for the first event variable to check if the game should still think the animation is running, as a failsafe. I don't remember if this mattered.

3)It's a function in the YEP Extended Message Pack. You'll see the commands for hiding (temporarily removing) + disabling choices (greying them out) as you scroll through the help list, almost 2/3 down. The thing you have to remember though is that messages that are commanded to be hidden/disabled will STAY disabled unless you turn them back on. So, ANY time there's a possibility to make a choice with a disabled or hidden message, add this plugin command to EVERY selectable choice

ClearChoiceSettings

This will ensure the game doesn't break from having a choice permadisabled. If you use loops or labels to make the game return to a previous choice, make sure the looping point is BEFORE any logic that may disable/hide a choice so it doesn't autoenable everything if the game has to go back.

4)Make a new RPG Maker project, copy the js folder from www/data/js and open the new project alongside your other one. Then check my YEP Option core plugin and follow this path in the plugin editor

This code should work.

On a similar note, I'd also take a look at how my plugins are ordered, if your list is different. I had to meddle with the list to make sure some plugins functioned correctly. This engine is held together with duct-tape and spite, so do what this advice what you will.

Hope this helps!