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sunnasweet · 4 months

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Lina and The Landlord 1 & 2

this has been on literotica for a bit now and i forgot to post it here

literotica summary: Lina’s rent is late and her landlord makes her pay.

critiques are very much appreciated

5.4k , alien x female reader

The creaky floorboards of Lina’s sector 3 apartment creaked under her anxious footsteps.

Pacing back and forth while checking her comm for the umpteenth time, Lina’s eyes glazed over as she scanned through her late rent notice. The summary? Pay or get out.

Lina glanced at the holographic clock on her wall nervously, soon enough her landlord would be here to either get his credits or tell her she had a couple of weeks to pack up and leave. Lina didn’t have the credits to pay rent and she definitely didn’t have the credits to move. She was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Her only option was to try to appeal to his hearts and beg him for an extension on her rent.

The trouble was, her landlord was a slumlord asshole.

Sol Sender was a cold two-hearted alien freak who nickeled and dimed her at every expense of her unit. He put the heat on a minimum during the artificial colder months and complained when her water bill was too high. This all-amenities-paid-for bullshit was exactly that considering her rent was so damn high at 400 credits per week on a Sector 3 apartment.

One unexpected system malfunction with her credit transfer later and now she was in danger of being flat on her ass in Sector 1 where the homeless lived.

Still. All of this was better than living on the radioactive hellscape that Earth was these days.

Snapped out of her thoughts, Lina heard the familiar 3 bang-knock pattern that her landlord always used and groaned.

“Coming!” she called, her voice cracking.

Lina shuffled over to the door. She looked through the peephole, taking a deep breath. There he was. Sol Sender.

She opened the door with a painful smile on her face, regarding the alien male with the tilt of her chin. “Sol, hey…” she started awkwardly.

Sol looked at Lina with a raised bushy brow, his lips were in a hard thin line making his strong chin appear more prominent. Lina tried to act unintimidated but it was hard when she was a 5’6 to his approximately 6’4. It wasn’t easy to stare at a man with confidence when you had to bend your neck to look up at him. Even without the stern look on his face, his sheer bulk made her feel like a petulant child.

He looked much like a lion and she wouldn’t be surprised to learn if he had descended from them considering the thin fur-tipped tail that was flicking back and forth behind him, the mane of black fluffy hair, and a flat wide nose.

Luckily his teeth were as blunt as Lina’s. She nearly shivered. She’d seen one too many aliens with sharp knife-like fangs.

“Rent’s due,” he said. Strict and straight. His voice had a slight growling undertone to it and she was sure he must descend from some sort of beast.

Lina winced, “Yeah…that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, why don’t you come inside?” bruskly he nodded and stepped forward. Lina opened the door wider to him and took a deep breath as he stepped inside. He seemed to be in a good mood today. She closed the door and leaned against it with an awkward smile.

“So?” He stared, looking at her expectantly. “Where’s your rent?”

She laughed nervously, “See the thing is…I don’t have the money right now.”

Sol did not look amused.

Lina’s eyes flitted to his tail, whipping back and forth quicker now. She cleared her throat, “But I can get it to you of course. I just need a bit more time, things have been kind of screwy with my paycheck recently and I was wondering if you could just give me till the end of the month?”

Sol’s slit pupiled gaze was locked onto Lina, he stared at her for a long quiet while. Before letting out a grunt and shaking his head.

“No,” he said simply.

“Uhm,” she cleared her throat, “what?”

Was he being serious? She’d been a model tenant up until now. Never made any noise, barely asked for him to come around if there was a problem, and sure he complained about the heating or water or electricity but she knew he got on everyone’s ass about that.

“I said no,” he shrugged. “If I let this go then there’s another problem next month and the month after that then I have other tenants hearing about letting this slide and they’ll think they can do it too.”

Lina rapidly blinked. She actually felt herself beginning to tear up because of this asshole. What the hell was his problem? Had he never been through an unforeseen event in his life?

“Listen, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.” she explains, “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she tried to appeal to whatever soul he had deep, deep, deeep down inside. “My parents don’t live on this Station.”

Sol shook his head, “That’s not my problem. Book a hotel, go stay with a friend. If you don’t have rent for me then you’re out.” her mouth dropped open.

“How…how soon would I have to leave?” she asked nervously. He shifted on his feet shrugging, scratching his jaw.

“A week, maybe two.”

“You’re kidding.”

“This is Sector 3. I’m giving you a break, the law says I could kick you out today if I wanted to.” Lina swallowed. What kind of fucked up shit was this? Was she really about to be flat on her ass? Where would she go? She wasn’t lying, her parents don’t live in this station, and as embarrassing as it was to admit she doesn’t have any friends who would be willing to let her crash on their couch.

There was no way Lina could just accept this.

“Can’t we work something out?” she pleaded, “maybe a payment plan or…or I could owe you a favor or something.” Sol’s head tilted at that, his lip quirking up and Lina immediately wanted to back-pedal because nothing about that look on his face seemed good. It had alarm bells blaring in her head to just accept defeat and start packing.

“A favor?” he asked, his lip quirking up. His eyes gleamed as if he had been expecting this.

Her eyebrows furrowed, she nodded but her heart was beginning to pick up speed. “Y-yeah, like I could house-sit or something if you’re ever out of port or…I don’t know run you an errand.”

“No,” he smirked, looking her up and down. “I have a favor in mind.”

Lina bit her lip. What was he getting at? He couldn’t be… No. That was insane. She could take this asshole straight to court if he was implying what she thought he was. Not that she could afford it…

“Uhm. What is it?”

His smirk turned into a straight-up grin, Sol prowled towards her and she regretted putting herself up against the door. He got close enough to put both his arms on either side of her head. Caging her in, he leaned forward.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

He chuckled, “Turn around Lina.”

She shivered. No way. She shook her head.

“No.” she said weakly, “I’m not doing that. Ask for something else.”

He shrugged. “I don’t want anything else. What I want is for you to turn around and let me take off those pants that hug your tight ass.” Lina’s lips parted as air fled from her lungs. She shook her head again and he seemed undeterred. “No? Well then, maybe you should start packing.”

Lina weighed her options. Getting booted to Sector 2, maybe even 1 or a few sweaty minutes?

The answer seemed clear.

Well, fuck it. Literally.

Tentatively Lina turned around so that she was facing the door and her palms were flat on the cold metallic surface. Sol’s hands came up to cover hers, keeping her pinned there as he gently kicked at her ankles to spread her feet apart.

“Stay like this,” he grumbled.

No way was she about to have sex with her landlord right now. No way. That thought kept repeating over and over even as Lina’s yoga pants slid down her body. She lifted a foot then the other and he kicked them away.

His hand traced over her lower back then the globe of her ass and she took an inhaled breath when his fingers hooked the edge of her panties.

“Nice,” he murmured, rubbing the simple cotton, laced underwear with his thumb and forefinger. They were nothing special. Just plain black cotton, the lace made her feel more girlish but she certainly hadn’t felt sexy until about five seconds ago. Not that she should be feeling sexy, she should be feeling…humiliated, ashamed–whorish.

Instead, she was nervous, excited, and slightly aroused.

Though she would never admit it to anyone, she found Sol to be quite attractive. His mane was something she’d always wanted to run her fingers through and she was fascinated by his tail. With his physique, it looked pretty small but in comparison to herself, she could probably just barely wrap her whole hand around it. The length matched up to her leg and she often wondered what its evolutionary purpose was.

Sol grasped her hips and tugged her back so she was half bent over while her hands were placed flat on the wall. Her arousal seemed to increase. She’d never been with an alien before despite their majority population on Omega Station.

He palmed her ass with a grunt before unceremoniously pulling down her underwear. She was officially bare now, the cold air of the room kissing at her already slightly wet slit. She glanced back as he looked down between her legs.

Sol’s expression was unreadable to Lina, she had no idea what a surly man like him would be thinking looking at a human woman’s pussy. Had he been with a human before? Was he disgusted by her anatomy?

Maybe it was the hair. Lina wondered what the grooming habits of his species were. Did the women go completely hairless like most human women did? Lina didn’t do any of that. She gave herself a trim whenever things got out of hand but for the most part, she just left the hair alone down there. The one time she tried to shave, it grew back so coarse it took weeks of conditioner treatments to get herself settled back to the soft bush she was familiar with. She’d sworn off hair removal there ever since.

His hands gently petted her mound before he gruffly spoke, “Spread your legs wider.”

With a flushed face, she did.

He knelt and she exclaimed, “O-oh!” when he pressed his face directly into her pussy.

One hand held onto her thigh while the other continued to stroke through the soft tufts of her bush. She nearly lost her balance when his tongue went probing between her thighs.

His nose bumped her clit and she was having a hard time keeping herself upright in this weird semi-squatting position. His hands smoothed her down and then spread her apart. She whimpered as he teased his tongue inside her.

When Sol told Lina to turn around the last thing she expected was for him to go down on her. She had logically assumed he was going to just use her body without giving anything in return but she was absolutely bewildered by the fact that he was kneeling in front of her, sucking her clit while he groaned with desire.

Everything came to a halt in her brain when he licked a strip from her clit to her ass, she gasped in shock when he started to prod at the puckered hole.

“Ohh...no, no-” she whined, “wait! I’m not, I didn’t–” she squealed as he tongued her asshole.

Lina had never properly received oral in her life. She had one too many unenthused boyfriends that ruined the entire experience for her so when asked she usually declined but the way he was handling her like this had her going crazy. He didn’t ask, he just set to work and while that might be a problem for some people it certainly wasn’t a problem for her.

She squirmed as he held her by the thighs practically forcing her to sit on him while standing, her hands were no longer flat against the wall, she was bent over, her hands anxiously hovering over him as she was assaulted by the unfamiliar pleasure.

“Sol!” she whimpered, he groaned in response, switching back to sucking her vulva and clit. Her back arched, hips craning to angle herself just right against his tongue. Everything sounded so lewd, the wet and sloppy sounds going on between her thighs were too much for her. She squeezed her eyes closed and she mewled above him.

Soon enough she was rocking back and forth against his mouth, her mouth thinning into a strained line as she breathed hard through her nose. Her brows furrowed and her toes curled.

“Oh god.” she sobbed suddenly and that was it. The dam had exploded. She was ruthlessly riding his face until she was trying to get away from him to which he followed her while holding her in place to overstimulate her. “Sol!” she cried out once again. She practically keeled over as she squawked above him.

When he was finally done with her, he wasn’t done for long. The moment he stumbled back onto his feet he turned her around and pushed her back against the wall.

His pupils were completely dilated and her eyes widened to see that he did have fangs. Retractable ones. Aliens. Go figure. She stared at the four big canines, two on top, two on bottom.

Maybe she was scared of him having fangs so much because now that he had them she wanted to know what it would feel like if he bit her. If he broke her skin and drew blood.

She shivered, Sol pulled up her top and stared at her tits before bending over and sloppily laving against her nipples. The back of Lina’s head gently knocked against the wall as she moaned, holding her shirt up for him and pushing her chest out like she was giving an offering to him.

As he sucked on her breasts, his hands came around to grope her ass. Squeezing and massaging her.

She wanted to do something for him but she was so overwhelmed by his tending of her that she could do little more but just stand there and let her eyes roll back as she squirmed against him. She wasn’t usually a terrible lover. Perhaps he just brought out the worst in her.

Dazedly, Lina reached for the zipper of his pants and he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. She huffed and he bared his fangs at her which made her quiver in desire. Apparently, he didn’t want her help.

“Stay,” he growled, commanding her like a newborn puppy. She did. Happily. When he realized she wasn’t going anywhere and would keep her arms above her head without his guidance, he shoved his lips against hers and she moaned outright.

Lina felt something twist around her thigh and she was surprised to see when she pulled back that it was his tail. She looked at him panting.

“Can you control that?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged, equally out of breath. “Sometimes,” he responded bruskly.

Hot.

Finally, he took her shirt off. She breathed a sigh of contentment as her still-wet nipples hardened under the cold hair of the room.

Maybe because she was half high off her orgasm she asked, “Are you going to take your clothes off now?”

It took little begging on her part. He grabbed his shirt from the back and pulled it over his head with a grunt. Lina’s eyes greedily took in his muscular body, Sol had broad shoulders she could hang on to and a tapered waist that drew her eyes to the nice v of his pelvis peeking through his pants.

She licked her dry lips, waiting for him to remove his pants, she could already see the obvious bulge straining underneath and at this point, she had thrown caution to the wind about the implications of screwing her landlord for free rent.

Lina’s eyes went wide when Sol’s cock was freed. He was hard, curved, and most importantly to her thick.

She could already imagine his girth stretching her open, it had been a while since Lina had been fucked. At least 5 months, maybe longer.

“Where do you want me?”

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes going from top to bottom before he directed her towards the bedroom. “Come,” he coaxed, grabbing her forearm while he dragged her inside her bedroom. She let out a slight ‘oompf’ sound when he pushed her face forward onto the mattress. She crawled on top, spreading herself open for him with a pant.

She laid there on all fours, waiting for him. Wanton and ready. Maybe Lina really was a whore, but she didn’t care. At least, not right now. Not when she could feel his knuckles briefly traveling over the backs of her thighs before taking a handful of her ass.

“Mm..” he grumbled, “Already presenting for me.” her brows furrowed, she didn’t know what that meant but she didn’t think on it too long as he knelt behind her, his knees on the bed. His hands now gripping her waist. “You have a birth control implant?” he asked.

Lina nodded, arching her hips further upwards, practically begging him to stick his dick in her pussy. She was on full display for him. Too horny to think of anything but his fat cock.

“Good.” he reached forward, stroking Lina’s clit in circles and her eyes rolled back, “I want you raw,” he said lowly into her ear, it made her twitch. No one had ever talked to Lina in this way. Ever.

Slowly, he sunk into her, causing a whine to escape her throat. Lina slumped forward, head down–ass up. Inch by inch he pushed inside, deliciously stretching her just the way she had been hoping for. Her pussy sucked him in eagerly, fluttering around him already.

She looked over her shoulder to see Sol with a perfectly stoic expression, the only evidence that he was feeling something was the slight crease between his two brows as he hissed through his teeth.

“Fuuck yeah.” he groaned, rocking forward once. He pressed as deeply as he could go before slowly backing out halfway then rocked forward again. He repeated this pattern at a slow and steady pace.

Lina was done for. She was gasping and clawing at the sheets as his cock kissed her insides exactly where she needed him to. He pressed his palms on top of Lina’s hands, sinking deeper inside as he bent himself against her. Chest to back. Lina’s breasts swayed from underneath her and she could already feel an impending pressure in her abdomen.

“Sol..” she whined, rocking back against him.

He was right next to her ear, she could feel his hot breath on her neck. “Hmmm?”

“Harder.” she whimpered pathetically, “please.” she tacked on.

He groaned once more, burying his nose into her neck. Inhaling her deeply as his hips began to pump faster behind her. His hips slapped against her ass and to her delight, the fur-tipped tail began to prod at her clit, bumping against it before falling into a back-and-forth rhythm. His forearm, wrapped around her neck and pulled her further in against his chest.

They were both in a slightly awkward semi-squat/semi-kneel position but it didn’t matter because it felt amazing. Lina’s breaths were tinged with a whimpered sob every time his cock would hit a specific spot inside her and he made an effort to target it once he realized the pattern. She couldn’t take much more of this. How long until she worked off a month’s worth of rent? Would it take all night? Lina didn’t know if she could handle that.

“Ahh..” she cried out, something snapping inside her, she backed

into him furiously and he growled in hopefully delight. His face went back to her neck and she could feel his canines scraping against her delicate skin. “Mmm…yeah..” she whimpered, “Do it, fucking bite me.” she baited.

He throbbed inside her, his pace increasing and she realized she must’ve set him off in some way because as his movements had become sloppier and more unpredictable, his canines were burying deep inside her neck. She gasped, the sting of pain welling inside her but distracted by everything else going on.

Her eyes rolled back, pussy pulsating around him. Squeezing him for everything he had as her impending orgasm came closer.

Lina’s hips were rocking, and she was arching her back as far as it would go. Craning her head back, revealing more of her neck to the tongue that was currently swiping at her throat.

“Cum.” he grunted, with a growl, “milk my cock.” he ordered.

Maybe Lina had learned a new kink of hers but being ordered around like this set her over the edge, having her toes curling and eyes clenching shut as a wail escaped her throat. Her orgasm seized her, making her go completely still while she painfully clenched on the cock inside of her.

She was pinned against the bed as a roar sounded from behind her, two clawed hands digging into her hips as she was moved to fuck up and down, prolonging her orgasm.

Sol’s canines dug into Lina’s neck, causing a scream from Lina.

He began to swell inside her, and moments later she was filled with thick warm heat. She moaned weakly, collapsing against the bed as cum was pumped into her.

To her surprise, Sol did not get up, grab his things, and go once they were finished. Instead, he unmounted Lina, watching the cum drip from her twitching hole. He let out a satisfied grunt and laid down on the bed next to her. Unexpectedly taking her into his arms.

Lina was too tired to ask what he was doing and the way he was running his fingers through her hair and rubbing his cheek against hers had Lina feeling drowsy. His tail wrapped around her upper right thigh. She was sure there was still blood running down her neck.

“I’ve been waiting months to conquer you.” he gruffly spoke, Lina’s eyes momentarily fluttered open but she couldn’t speak–too tired to talk. “Now you’re all mine,” he said sternly, staring down at her as if expecting a challenge. Lina had no response to that. She had no idea what he meant but “conquer” as he rambled on, crooning into her ear how well he would take care of her while he functionally groomed her.

A rumble in his chest vibrated between them as he spoke lowly–soothing her to sleep.

Uncharacteristically he said, “Thank you for presenting me opportunity to show my worth as a mate.” he spoke softly, and nuzzled against her ear but all that was buzzing around her head was the word he had used.

Mate.

Lina’s sleepy ears perked at a particular word.

Mate.

What the hell did that mean?

“What are you talking about?” she rasped. Her eyes were opening and closing, he had really zapped–or fucked the energy out of her. “I’m not…this is just…”

Business. A mutually beneficial exchange.

Sol eyed her intensely. “Just what?” his large paw stroked up and down her back and he pulled her closer into his grasp. “I’ve conquered you. That makes you mine.”

What the fuck?

Lina squirmed in his grasp, sitting up with a huff. “That’s not what this is at all,” she remarked calmly. The drowsiness kept her cool but she was starting to become more alert as this misinformed alien kept speaking. “What are you even talking about?”

Despite her rejection of his… proclamation? He looked calm as ever and continued to lay languidly on her bed as he kept grabbing at her.

“I’m providing for you now,” he says, then adds, “This apartment is yours because I’m giving it to you in exchange for your obedience.”

Obedience. The words rang through Lina’s head. Just what the hell had she agreed to? Yes, she couldn’t pay her rent. But that didn’t mean that she was going to be his toy or housewife or just whatever he had in mind for her.

“Wait a minute.” she shook her head, “That’s not…I didn’t agree to that. This is just sex. I’m not going to let you control me!” She was starting to panic now. Was he nuts? What sort of mental gymnastics had he been performing to come to this conclusion?

“Settle,” he murmured, squeezing her gently. “I’m not going to be a demanding mate.”

There was that word again.

“We’re not mates!” she said, half irate and a low growl escaped from beside her. “I don’t even know what that means!”

“We are,” he said sternly. Then he rubbed his thumb over her neck–which caused her to wince when he pressed down on a tender spot. The bite mark. “This makes it so.” She slapped his paw away and touched the spot herself and her mouth gaped wide open. Her brain was going a mile a minute. She hadn’t consented to this!

“I didn’t agree to this!” she repeated, trying to escape from his grasp.

Sol huffed. Humans, he thought. Always going back on their word. Well. Sol wouldn’t let her. He had been trying to find the right way to conquer her for months. In this new environment–away from his home planet, it wasn’t easy to dominate a female. At least, not if he had wanted to do it the honorable way.

He hadn’t honestly been going to throw Lina out to the streets of the megaship, but he needed a way to seize the opportunity that had landed at his feet even if it wasn’t ethical by human means.

“You did, you asked me to bite you.” He grumbled.”

“I–!” well. She had, hadn’t she?

Do it, fucking bite me. That’s what she had said to him.

“That was just in the heat of the moment!” she argued, “It didn’t mean anything, I didn't agree to all this!”

“You agreed when you presented to me.” he rumbled. By all means, he had won. Now he just needed her to understand that. Of course, he was prepared to take on an aggressive female. He had thought her submission had come a little too easily.

Lina stared at him bewildered. “I don’t know what that means,” she said exasperated. “You can’t just tell me I’ve–oh!” she was toppled over, “what are you doing?!” she shouted.

He grabbed her by the waist, putting her on her hands and knees. “This is presenting,” he said lowly–sultry. “You put your back to me and–” Lina whimpered when he cupped between her legs. “Showed me your cunt.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Lina didn’t know what to do. She was held there on her hands and knees with her landlord pawing at her pussy.

“Stop that.” she hissed, she was still sensitive from earlier.

He purred, “Why? You like it…” his hand rubbed back and forth then circled her clit with the pads of three fingers and she bit her lip hard to stop the moan that wanted to escape her mouth. “Don’t fight this…or do…” he murmured, “I’ll just prove myself to you again if I must.”

“All you’ve proved is that you’re a perverted slumlord!” she gasped, hips arching when he dipped two fingers inside her. They slid in easily with a squelch–she was still sloppy with his cum. “Angh! I said stop!” Lina squealed.

He nuzzled against the crook of her neck and she shivered, it felt strangely intimate. The way he was positioned against her, thrusting his fingers in and out of her as he kissed and laved at the bite mark he thought meant some sort of ownership over her.

“You’re..ahh..an asshole!” she moaned out, “stop this,” she begged. Lina was weak. Everything he was doing to her body made her want to give in. To go along with this whole ‘mate’ thing if it meant that he’d keep touching her like this.

“Listen to me…” he purred into her ear, “Your place is here. Your home…that I’m paying for now because you can’t. I’m housing you…taking care of you.” he curled his fingers inside her and her mouth dropped open, “And I’ll do much more for you now that we’re mates.”

“No.” she whimpered, “I just…” she just needed to work out her credit situation then they were done. That was all. This … this was all temporary. “Ohhh!” her eyes squeezed shut when he began to finger her harder.

“Don’t reject this.” he coaxed, “I can make you feel so good.” he continued to cajole into her ear just like before, talking about all the ways he would spoil and take care of her and it was so confusing for her mind, she was whining now.

Tears pooled in her eyes, she felt so full from his two thick fingers and the twinge in her core made her feel crazy. She needed more. She needed his cock.

“Fuck…” she hissed, angling her hips higher, showing her dripping slit. “Fuck me…please…please.”

He sucked harshly on her bite mark and she spasmed.

“OH!”

“Lina…tell me, tell me what I want to hear.” he asked, “And I’ll give you everything you want.”

“N-no…” she whimpered.

She didn’t want to be controlled. Didn’t want to be obedient to Sol. She barely knew him, and from what she had seen so far there wasn’t much more worth knowing. But the way he cooed in her ear. Talked about caring for her, it made her feel warm inside. Made her want to look deeper. He was using her for sure.

But maybe he would use her kindly…

“Please…” she begged, “Please fuck me Sol.”

He growled against her ear, “You can beg all you want, but I’m patient…now, tell me you’ll be mine.”

“N-no-oohh!” she cried out, his fingers moving faster, twisting and curling.

“You want my cock Lina?” he asked, positioning behind her, “Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you and fill you up with my seed?” God. Yes. That is exactly what she wanted.

“Please!” she begged again, thinking she was about to get her way.

He pulled his fingers out of her gaping pussy, then thrust. Only it wasn’t inside of her cunt, but between her pussy lips. The tip teasing her throbbing clit.

“Sol!” She sobbed, “I can’t take it anymore, please!”

“You know what I want Lina…give it to me.” he growled. Pistoning his hips. His tip grazed her entrance one too many times and she was keening now.

“Oh gods!” she screamed, “Yess…yes–” Lina bawled, “I’ll be your mate, just please, please fuck me!”

There it was. The words he had wanted to hear. He smiled in victory, then took her hips between his hands. He slid inside her in one fell push. They both groaned in pleasure and Sol pumped into Lina furiously. He wanted to fill her up with cubs but her damned breeding implant prevented that. He was getting worked up into a frenzy. Instinct overriding logic.

Saliva filled his mouth and his fangs were coming down, he was going to take a bite out of her. Again.

And he did, sinking his teeth into her neck for the second time of the night, Lina howled and jerked underneath him and Sol held her to him as he continued to fuck her.

She was pulsing around him, her pussy clenching tightly as she came with a cry. The pressure was too much for him to bear and he roared out his orgasm. He swelled, filling her up with his cum. He continued to fuck her as she sobbed against the mattress until he was sure he had given her every bit of his seed. He held onto her tightly. Purring in her ear as she shook.

Sol suckled at her skin, tasting the coppery blood of his mate.

His.

“Mine.” he rumbled quietly.

She nodded, beat. “Yours.”

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aurae-rori · 5 months

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DR RATIO ANALYSIS PT 3 BUT IT'S JUST GAY

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, you've done part one, and part two, so why do we need a part three?" The answer is because of two things - one. I made a deal with the Tumblr Peoples that if one of my posts hit more than 50 likes I would do this analysis. Two. Mihoyo is making this shit canon. I CAN'T MAKE THIS UP. So, let's delve into my usual disclaimer, as we might have some new people joining us for the first time with my insanity.

I have been researching psychology personally for about six years, so although I am not a professional (crawling my way there through the education system. I will be one, one day.) I do have some experience with analyzing homosexuals. Psychology hours, my children. They don't call me "chronically cooking" for nothing. Maybe I should change my url to that...

NOW THAT MY LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, LET'S GET INTO THIS! It's time to deconstruct these homosexuals like a modern airplane, because they might as well be taking off with how canon they are.

"It can't be canon," they say, but then Mihoyo DOES PAID SPONSORSHIPS WITH THESE FUCKERS BEING GAY. We've all seen the paid partnership edit. We've all seen the video where Aventurine has the audio of "nice rack" as he talks to Dr. Ratio. PAID SPONSORSHIPS. Now, if that piece of evidence isn't enough for you - let's dive into their actual relationship, which is just a HOMOSEXUAL MESS. I will be focusing more on how Dr. Ratio sees this guy as this is a Dr. Ratio analysis™, but hey, the crumbs.. we eat 'em all. Amen.

Let's start off (I say as I write this part three days later) about how people are like, 'Aven is Ratio's favourite idiot' WRONG. Ratio does NOT consider Aventurine to be an idiot and knows that he is smart and capable in his own right. While Ratio is book smart, Aven is extremely street smart and holds his own very well. Ratio does not consider Aventurine to be an idiot as he takes off his plaster head around him and actually indulges in his whims around him. This is a blatant showcase of fondness because although he is emotionally constipated and can't be affectionate through words without sounding semi-backhanded because he's never had true affection in his life, he showcases his love through actions rather than words. He's just bad at showing love, okay? But he does love Aven. Or like him, to some extent, if you don't want to see them as romantic, which is fine. However, no matter what you label their bond as, it's obvious that they care for one another.

Also, the fucking ZEST FEST that was 'keeping up with Star Rail'. He says, "wait a minute - MUTUAL?" which indicates that he has respect for Aventurine in the first place. He LITERALLY TOLD US that he respects Aventurine and he was commenting on Aventurine's playstyle & everything.. also, at the end, he was here because 'I appreciate this show's dedication to knowledge' - his TONE. Kudos to the VA because that was not convincing at all. Bro was NOT here for the knowledge, bro was here to be GAY!!! Also his little own bathtub couch. We all know Aven bought it for him. Trust, I am John Hoyoverse.

"The Charming Audacity" HUH? BRO? Okay this is hilarious to me because this is the first time that we ever really see them interact with one another, and we get absolutely bitchslapped in the fact that Dr. Ratio calls this guy's audacity 'charming'. That's GAY. That's HOMOSEXUAL.

Also, comparing him to a peacock.. a very beautiful bird.... Must I say more?

Now, the part that I really want to focus on is the part where he gives the Doctor's Note to Aventurine. This shit is important. And I agree with the people who are like - Acheron helped him. Because she did. She was a big part of it and she helped Aventurine get back on his feet in the void. Dr. Ratio is not his only reason to live, but the note, showing that someone will stay by his side? Showing that someone truly cares for him? Someone who's waiting for him when he get back? This bond that he has with Dr. Ratio isn't fake. He already has a starting point to get back to - an anchor to return to. Dr. Ratio is his anchor. Whenever he goes off to do crazy shit, Veritas Ratio will be there when he returns. Because Ratio is loyal. Ratio cares. He cared enough to almost jeopardize their plan to make sure that Aventurine was going to be okay. He cares so damn much about Aventurine that he decided that this man's emotional state after the fake betrayal was more important than all of fucking Penacony.

If you want an example of "I would let the world burn for you," it's Ratio. He's a romantic not in the traditional sense, but he cares and loves Aventurine so damn much it makes my heart hurt. "Do stay alive," he says, knowing that Aventurine struggles with living. Those three words mean the whole fucking world to someone who struggles with suicidal ideation and suicidal thoughts. Someone wants you to live. Someone wants you to stay. Someone wants you by their side.

Dr. Ratio cares. Let me say that again - he cares. He banters with Aventurine, tries to create an environment where Aventurine can feel a little bit more comfortable with the two of them, even in a place as dangerous as Penacony. He will put his own life on the line for Aventurine.

He cares. He cares so damn much. I hate gay people. They make me VIOLENTLY homophobic.

Dr. Ratio after expressing his care indirectly and complimenting Aventurine indirectly: Did I do it?

Aventurine, who has caught none of the hints:

Anyway, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#aurae analyzes #hsr #aventio #honkai star rail #dr ratio #ratiorine #aventurine #veritas ratio #raturine #golden ratio #aventurine x dr ratio #analysis #character analysis #relationship analysis #these bitches gay #good for them

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months

Note

Hello Carina! I absolutely ADORE your works I'm hooked Was wondering if you could do Geto/Nanami/Gojo/Sukuna x fem reader who grew up in a toxic household that encouraged bad eating habits like eating extremely small amounts and tried to always make her a good and docile wife. But she left them and is now pretty successful but her eating habits are still pretty bad Please stay hydrated this summer!

A lot of you guys request stuff like bad heating habits from me and I'm actually a little scared that I receive a shit storm for writing these sensitive topics, but there you go! I decided on Geto since he is the sweetest boy ever but if this goes well and some of you guys show interest, I might write something similar for the other characters as well - enjoy <3

Geto encouraging his girlfriend to eat more after growing up in a toxic household

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: After your toxic parents tried to force you into their picture of a thin and docile wife, you left them as soon as possible and became the best version of yourself - if it wasn't for your bad eating habits still haunting you down when you're out with your boyfriend. Until he decides to have a talk with you...

Warnings: Just let me tell you right from the start that there's nothing wrong with being thin and I hope it's obvious that we're talking about an unhealthy connotation in this fic, if you get triggered when it comes to toxic parents and hurtful phrases regarding weight please don't read this. In general, this contains sensitive content and a few pieces of ED and harsh language, but our boy Geto telling us how much he loves us the way we are

„You know you are totally able to eat more than that, right? We’ve been out without any food for hours now, you need to care for yourself, love.”

Suguru’s hand gently caresses your back while you stare at the salad you just ordered.

“You’re gonna look like a pig soon if you don’t stop eating like one, (y/n). Didn’t I teach you a lady needs to watch her diet?”

“No man wants a fat woman, trust me.”

“Thank you so much for looking out for me. I’m good”, you mutter after shaking their cruel words off your mind.

You can’t bring yourself to catch a glimpse at his comforting brown eyes, not when your guilty conscience almost eats you up alive. The stinging words of your mother and father haunt you until this day. Even though you left years ago and started your very own life away from their toxic household, even though your precious boyfriend Geto Suguru is the living proof for them being wrong.

Just one look at the salad in front of you paired with your memory is enough to feel like in your childhood all over again.

“Hey, look at me honey.”

Gently, his hand caresses your cheek and lifts your head into his direction. There they are, his oh so loving orbs, his tender smile that warms your stinging heart in an instant.

“We’ve been together for a year now and you still seem to be upset when you have to eat around me. I can’t help but wonder why you torture yourself. Is it because of me, did I give you the feeling you aren’t good the way you are? Because I love you with all my heart.”

You never allowed yourself to cry in front of someone else. To be exact, you stopped when you were greeted by nothing but harsh words from your parents with every tear that ran down your cheek. You are supposed to be a good and hostile woman, the perfect little wife for some wealthy man your parents already decided on when you were still 10. A woman that doesn’t speak as much as you do, a woman who doesn’t eat as much as you do. A feminine angel walking on earth with the only purpose to say yes and amen to her beloved husband.

When you were finally old enough to leave them behind, you packed your things and joined jujutsu high. Life is easier around here with so many beloved friends by your side who support and truly love you. Yes, they showed you how good you are, that you are independent and are allowed to have your own opinion, that it’s okay to say no. Yes, you even started to eat a little more and gained a healthy amount of weight and well-formed muscles.

They were wrong. Your parents were so wrong with everything they taught you. But this…

You bite your lip when a sub escapes from deep down your throat, hot tears now stinging in your eyes so violently that you can’t catch your breath. Eating has always been your weakness, the one and only thing you can’t fully control until this day. Their words still crush you every time you order something to eat.

What if Suguru doesn’t find you attractive when you gain even more weight?

What if he thinks it’s disgusting to see you eat like a pig?

What if he’ll fall out of love when you show him that you aren’t as perfect as a doll?

“I’m so sorry. The last thing I want is to see you cry”, he instantly speaks out, wrapping his much-needed arms around you so tightly that you sink into his broad chest.

“It’s just…I’m afraid to eat more…”, you finally blurt out.

A part of your heart flutters in relief when those words finally leave your mouth. For more than a year, you simply forced yourself through the aching of your stomach, the hunger that kept you awake when Suguru laid next to you fast asleep. All because of their cruel words. All because they made you believe your whole life you aren’t good enough if you eat “too much”.

“You don’t feel comfortable eating around me, don’t you?”

You simply nod against his chest, too ashamed to lift your head. How embarrassing to hear those words leaving his lips, that he already knows why you’re acting this way.

“May I ask why? Did I say or do something that makes you feel this way, love?”

Your head starts spinning. The sheer thought that he might think your strange behaviour is his fault, that he did something wrong is ridiculous in your eyes.

“Absolutely not. It’s…It’s…”

Why is it so damn hard to find the right words? You stutter like an idiot for what feels like ages while listening to Suguru’s steady heartbeat. He knows how rough your childhood was, that your parents treated you like the dirt underneath their feet. You were never good enough, never pretty enough, never smart enough. Until you became a well-known and rich jujutsu sorcerer with a charismatic man like Geto Suguru by your side.

“See? I told you you will find a wealthy man if you keep up with our education, daughter.”

“All because we taught you everything you know and kept you in shape!”

“No”, you replied immediately, straightening your shoulders while facing the people who made your life living hell for more than enough years.

“I did all of this by myself. Because I chose to be the person I am instead of the person you wanted me to be.”

“They always told me I’m too much, that eating in front of my man is strictly forbidden. I was supposed to be a thin and docile wife.”

Your voice is nothing but a far away whisper. All those nights your father scolded you when you weighted more than you did before. How your mother screamed at you when your curves start to develop through puberty, how disgusted they looked at you when you wore shorts or ate next to them. Deep within, you know how toxic your eating habits are despite the positive changes you’ve been through. But still…Just the thought of eating a cheeseburger in front of Suguru fills you with so much disgust that your guts turn immediately.

“You aren’t docile but strong and stubborn. You aren’t only thin but strong and athletic. Your body is capable of so much more than simply being thin, (y/n). You are perfect in every single way, your body allows you to fight so well that even Satoru admires your skills. You are so breathtakingly beautiful that I could stare at you all day…I am glad you didn’t follow their rules, that you didn’t turn into the good and docile wife they wanted you to be. Because you became so much more. Because you can do so much more. But for that, you need to fuel your body the way it deserves it even when I’m around. I love to see you eat, I love to see you happy and healthy. And I know how hard it can be to overcome things you were taught from a young age. Would you promise me something?”

Now you can’t help but lift up your head, staring at him through your wet lashes. His words, his oh so sweet words still linger through your mind and force your cheeks to turn bright pink. Is this really how Suguru feels about you, are you really enough for him just the way you are?

Why wouldn’t you? After all, he was the one choosing you.

“What?”, you mumble.

“Promise me that we will work this out. If you can’t bring yourself to open up to me, please consider checking up with Shoko or another professional. I admire you for all the things you’ve already did, that you were actually able to turn into a wonderful woman with that horrible family. I’d love to hang out with you while eating chips, I’d love to eat a whole lot of unhealthy junk food and sweets with you without you worrying about my thought. Because the only thing I care about is that you’re happy. And you being healthy and eating properly means happiness.”

That smile. That oh so bright smile that reaches his brown eyes and lifts up your mood immediately. Oh, you truly don’t deserve him. A new wave of fresh tears threatens to spill over your eyes and begins to take your sight.

But those aren’t tears of sorrow. No, those are tears of pure joy and love.

You throw yourself around his neck before he’s able to catch you properly, causing both of you to almost fall off his chair.

“I will”, you mutter against his ear.

“I promise I will work on it.”

“I’m more than glad to hear that”, he replies softly while caressing your hair.

“Would you like to order something else in addition to your salad, then?”

You let go of Suguru with a small smile, holding his hands tightly as your heart overflows with love. The man who showed you what you’re capable of, who supports you through anything. Sooner or later, you will be able to share food dates with him and enjoy them. But until then…

“I’m fine for today. But next time, I might order something else.”

“Fine. Just let me know when you’re ready, (y/n).”

Tags This takes me ages, so please if you decided to be part of the tag list show some love lol):

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@okay-it-is-ivy

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katasstrophy · 2 years

Note

Bruh Nagi being buff as hell after Manshine's training 🥰🥰🥰

sammy you deadass bout to make me objectify this man on main SO BAD this has been running something of a small marathon in my head so 😵‍💫😵‍💫 pls accept my humble word vomit

cw. [n]sfw. mdni. pro player! nagi + aged-up characters. bit of body worship(?) you ride his abs. nipple play (m. receiving). subby nagi (but he's actually a switch >:) + some fluff bc he's so baby :(

note. a bit rambly oop soz it’s bc i went insane. i describe how he looks like to ME (re: hot as fuck) but i guess y'all can read it too hehe<3

1.4k words -> how could you ever hope to keep your hands to yourself when nagi's body looks like that.

i feel like unless you have prior knowledge of the fact that nagi is a pro athlete, from a cursory glance, your first thought upon seeing him wouldn’t be “hmm i bet that dude is built like a brick house.” it doesn’t help that nagi’s basically the unofficial king of athleisure — his closet’s chockfull of loose-fitting hoodies and sweats. he barely owns anything else besides those monochrome hooded tracksuits (and sportswear for practice, i guess he’d need some of that too lol) because he claims it’s the only outfit that gives him unlimited access to just lounge about basically anywhere he pleases. it’s what he genuinely finds to be the most comfortable style for him as well. but if you’re fortunate enough to get a peak underneath the layers of baggy clothes? dear god nagi’s built like a fever dream. amen you’ll eat so good then he’s a whole ass feast.

i’m gonna brazenly speak my truth here so don’t come for me >:( but! from what you’d consider to be “a typical footballer’s physique”, purely from that perspective, nagi’s legs are… not that impressive. his stagnant motivation has much improved ever since he committed to making a career out of soccer, but that doesn’t mean his slacker tendencies haven’t followed suit. don’t get me wrong, he still puts his all into every game so his legs are still very much capable of making your mouth water, but you won’t catch him sprinting up and down the field at full speed if he can help it. packed with lean muscle, his thighs are thick, calves well-defined with a few bold veins thinly zigzagging down the taut skin like a lightning strike on the occasion you happen to catch him after a particularly gruelling conditioning session. but compared to some of his teammates whose legs seem to be carved from iron, he’s a bit.. overshadowed.

it’s a fairly similar story with his arms. (i promise i’m not just talking shit lol i could NEVER my poor meow meow it’s gonna get so hot in a second i swear just bear with me!!!) again, it’s most definitely a drool-worthy sight. the stretch of his arms is long and sinewy, rolling with a set of generous biceps that flutter under the gentle scrap of your fingerpads and nails when he (totally intentionally) flexes the swell of muscle there. in his profession, he mostly uses his arms for balance and to create distance between himself and his opponents. buried in his private nook back home, he has a tendency to hold his phone above his head while playing mobile games — that blissfully only rarely come crashing down on his face — but his unrivalled favourite will, of course, always be enveloping you in his arms <3

nagi’s not the most expressive person, but his subtle social cues become much easier to pick up on whenever he’s sleepy, which let’s be honest is almost always. he’s in dire need of a snuggle in those moments and not only loves, but craves being close to you physically, his face a canvas of huffy evidence of what a Big Deal this is to him if you learn to read the hidden hints (it’s a pursed, pouty frown nine times out of ten he ain’t slick lmfao). he kind of regards your presence as his “recharging station” what a cringe fail soggy loser man i adore him with my whole heart 🥹 his lanky limbs will snake around you with the security of a vine until you’re all cosy and wrapped up in each other, his hold bearing enough strength to not budge against any playful escape tactics you might attempt — at least not until he decides he’s had his fair share of quality snuggle time with you.

nagi’s a practical man, however — the world doesn’t call him a lazy genius for nothing. for these, albeit lovely, purposes, he determined there’s absolutely no need to overexert himself by lifting weights to buff up his arms. he can get by just fine! there are definitely more jacked arms out there i’m sorry :(

but here’s the kicker. nagi’s tall. you could even say he’s huge — he’d tower over most people if he actually straightened his posture for once. so his muscle mass kind of stretches out a bit… unevenly throughout his body. he does have muscle mass though, plenty of it, actually, and he needs only to do one tiny little thing to remind you of it: lift his shirt up.

it’s a subconscious, everyday thing for nagi to toy with the hem of his cotton tees. his fingers often grow restless if they’re just lying about, so playing with the material of his clothes is not only stupidly ready at hand but also helps to soothe the itch brimming along his fingers to do something with them. in the process, you’re rewarded with glimpses of his stomach often when he involuntarily ends up exposing the skin clinging to those hard planes. but what’s objectively worse for your sanity is when nagi comes trudging into the kitchen to ease his thirst. he never bothers with a glass from the cupboard, just swoops down to drink from the open tap, his adam’s apple bopping rhythmically as he swallows. there’s water coating his lips when he rises, a few droplets still running down his chin that he tugs on the ends of his t-shirt to lazily wipe away. it’s an innocent endeavour to him, but a sinful display for you, as it essentially shows off his entire, deliciously shaped midriff. nagi might slack off in other areas, but his core strength is insane. his torso is like a gift from the heavens, chiselled after the image of their gods and heroes. don’t even get me started on his abs.

because i cannot stress enough how perfect nagi’s abs are for grinding your sweet, drooling little cunny on :( the ridges of muscle packed together at his abdomen are firm, but twitch almost uncontrollably when you slowly drag your cunt up and down the sculpted slabs of his stomach that bump against your poor, swollen clit in a way that makes you delirious. your thighs bracket his waist as you move, his waist that is so trim and almost tiny compared to the broad stretch of his shoulders. you can feel the coarse, light hair of his happy trail graze against your bare ass, leading to his heavy, stirring cock still confined in his sweats for now as you continue to leisurely rut your pussy down his abs, leaving a slick mess behind. the hard cut of his v-line is so prominent a thin contour of shadow clings to the underside of it.

nagi wishes desperately that he could help you, that he could sink his fingers into the plush of your skin and push you down along his abdomen to accelerate your high, dictate a more intense pace for you by his hands and make you take it, but he’s too busy being a moaning, blubbering mess underneath you to take initiative. his large palm lies dormant at your waist, the other tangled in his snowy, sweaty bangs so he doesn’t miss even a blink of the intoxicating vision you present above him. he’s drunk on every salacious sound that comes tumbling from your lips, every wanton contortion of your gorgeous face as the lewd squelching of your pussy fills his ears. his defined chest is flushed red from arousal, shuddering with shaky exhales as he all but devours the sight of you — he thinks you using him for your own pleasure is so fucking hot.

if you want to turn him into an utter wreck, whining like a bitch in heat, please please play with his nipples :( paw at his pecs all needy first, ‘n don’t be afraid to grip the flesh with the blunt of your nails. he’ll mewl about it, but you only need to shush and praise him, tell him how good he looks like this for you and he’ll behave. pinch at the pretty pink of his pebbled nipples, gently circle his areola with your tongue, sucking on the bud and nagi will lose his mind, might even cum untouched :( but that’s okay because he’s so turned on his refractory period is barely an issue, he’ll sink into your tight, sloppy walls in one go and fuck you absolutely senseless on his cock. it’s all you can do to scramble for purchase with your trembling fingers, marking up the milky expanse of his broad back and mouthing at his collarbones to stifle your near pornographic keens and cries as he mercilessly splits you open.

in conclusion nagi seishiro is built like a wet dream and i want him carnally </3

#i rewrote this like three times so i’m just releasing it into wild now bc i’m sick of it lol!! i retain my right for this to be sucky hehe #haven’t written anything in a hot minute but if this causes at least one (1) person to short circuit my job here is done #nagi smut #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #—bllk.thirsts!#—riv.fic!

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mrshesh · 1 year

Note

thinking about "the distraught father adopting an orphan daughter" trope but with price and ghost :( like imagine, the reader is a younger girl in the task force, and she has kind of become like a daughter to them but they've never really disclosed it, and one day she just mutters "i love you, dad" to them (individually) :(( how do you think they'd react?

"i love you, dad." - simon "ghost" riley x reader

overview: calling simon "ghost" riley dad for the first time

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gender neutral reader, platonic

genre: fluff, angst

a/n: hi anon! i looooove this request :( i've actually been thinking of this exact scenario for sooo long! however, i couldn't really think of anything for price. so if someone can help me out by sending some ideas & headcanons to me privately, i will make a price version asap! and, as much as i love the father-daughter trope, i decided to keep this gender neutral, so everyone can feel included. i hope you love it.

TW! mentions of abuse and torture. proceed with caution.

Simon’s father was the devil personified. His dad is the epitome of evil to him, even more so than his captor, Roba. He cringes when he sees a dad and son being affectionate with each other in public - it pains him to think about what could’ve been, how he could’ve turned out. He knows most of his trauma stems from the abuse his father put him through, which has forever shattered the image of fatherhood in his mind.

That is until you came along.

Simon immediately felt drawn to you when you joined the Task Force. Being the youngest member had difficulties, yet you took it like a champ and kept toiling while still being so bright, colorful, and full of life. He admired that about you.

He found himself worrying for you more than he liked. If you were reckless on a mission, he’d pull you aside and yell at you, scolding you for pulling such stupid stunts at the risk of your being. But after every talking-to, he’d give you a gentle pat on the head with shaky hands. “You need to be more careful, mate.” He’d mutter, feeling a pit in his stomach. Why does he care so much? And why does he feel the need to protect you?

He would keep an eye on you at all times. He’d ensure nobody got too touchy with you and that everybody on base treats you with the respect you deserve. If he saw you getting mistreated, he would use his authority to punish the person hurting you. He would then turn to you, his eyes softening as he stares at you through his balaclava. “You tell me if anyone’s hurting you, alright?”

The day Simon realizes he loves you like his own child is the day you open up about your past to him. At this point, you’ve known each other for a few years.

He has always known that he has a special love for you, but he never came to terms with it until this day.

When you tell him about all your painful experiences in life, he can feel his heart tear open and get shredded into millions of pieces. Regardless of what you’ve been through, his soul aches for you. That day was the first time Simon ever hugged you, and he vouched to care and be there for you as long as he was breathing.

Today, you’ve had a difficult time falling asleep. Tossing and turning in bed can only get you so far, and the thought of drinking warm milk at this time makes you physically ill. You’re in the comfort of your room, but you don’t feel the amenity. You need someone to talk to.

You know that Simon is usually up during this time - he who deserves sleep the most gets it the least. Insomnia’s a bitch.

You decide to send him a text.

You: “You up?” Read, 3:38 AM. Simon: “Yeah. Why are you awake?” Read, 3:38 AM. You: “Can’t sleep. Your sleeping habits have rubbed off on me.” Read, 3:39 AM. Simon: “Welcome to my world.” Read, 3:39 AM. Simon: “Is everything okay, though?” Read, 3:39 AM. You: “Yep. Just need someone to talk to, that’s all.” Read, 3:39 AM. Simon: “So you decide to text me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “I would’ve texted Johnny, but he fell asleep at midnight.” Read, 3:40 AM. Simon: “What’s so wrong with me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “You’re a grumpy, old man.” Read, 3:41 AM. Simon: “Thanks, mate. 🐶” Read, 3:41 AM. You: “You’re welcome.” Read, 3:41 AM. You: “Don’t worry, though. I like that about you.” Read, 3:42 AM. Simon: “Not enough to be your first texting option.” Read, 3:42 AM. You: “Don’t hyper-fixate on that, I’m begging.” Read, 3:42 AM. Simon: “It’s funny.” Read, 3:42 AM. You: “It’s not. 🙄 It’s so boring I’m starting to feel sleepy, actually.” Read, 3:43 AM. Simon: “That’s good. Go to sleep, mate.” Read, 3:43 AM. You: “Yeah, might as well. You should sleep, too.” Read, 3:43 AM. Simon: “I’ll try.” Read, 3:43 AM. Simon: “Goodnight.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Night. I love you, Dad. ❤️” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Hold on, before you go! I have a question.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Hello?” Delivered, 3:50 AM. You: “Simon?” Delivered, 3:55 AM. You: “Did you fall asleep?” Delivered, 4:01 AM.

You sit in your bed anxiously, not knowing whether you fucked up. You know Simon had a rough past with this father, but you didn’t even think about that when you sent that text. You feel an instant regret wash over you, rereading your messages hundreds of times, hoping Simon will open them.

Your spiral of uneasiness is interrupted by a hurried knock on the door of your room. You can hear breathing, almost panting, through the door - you immediately know it’s Simon.

You walk to the door, hesitantly opening it, only to be met by Simon’s bare, tear-stained face, and the whites of his eyes have turned a bright red. You stare at him in shock, only stepping aside to let him in your room.

You close the door behind you after he enters your accommodation, and you turn to look at him right away. Your eyes meet instantly, and you feel a cloud of shame pour down on you, coating you in an aura of grief. “I’m sorry.” You instantly whisper, and your own eyes sting. “I shouldn’t have… said that.”

He doesn’t respond, only looking at you as if you’re the only matter in the universe. Everything else has become nonexistent - a vacuum.

“No.” He sniffles, stepping closer toward you. He had a panic attack right after you called him dad - and you know it. “No.” He repeats, his tears spilling out of his eyes. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispers. He reaches out to you hesitantly, his trembling hands gently gripping your shoulders. He holds them there for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling.

Before you know it, he pulls you into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck and weeping quietly into you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him cry. Ever.

He’s stiff as he embraces you, his shaking body telling you everything you need to know. Your heart breaks for him, resulting in you biting back your tears - you’ve got to be strong for him. But you can’t.

You let your sobs fill the air, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close to you.

You stay in each other’s embrace, pouring out your emotions for one another. You don’t even dare to speak until Simon has calmed down slightly, his breathing getting slower and softer.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, kid. More than you know.”

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fayes-fics · 2 years

Text

The Things We Do For Love

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict and his wife ask for Anthony's help to conceive a child.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, MMF threesome, fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, no incest. Married couple, infertility, conception, childbirth. Angst & emotion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Authors Note: This is a fic request fill for @broooookiecrisp from this ask (in essence, Benedict and his wife turn to Anthony for help to conceive a child). Thank you to @colettebronte and @makaylan for their invaluable advice and betaing. This is very different to my usual threesomes. This is much more angsty and emotional, but there is a happy ending. I hope you all enjoy <3

“Don’t worry, darling,” he soothes as you tear up, “it will happen for us one day.”

Despite his words, you stare at the bloody rag and feel nothing but failure.

More than anything, you want to give him children. Perhaps not a brood to rival his prestigious family, but a few children would be nice—two, maybe three. And you, more than anything, want to be a mother. To nurture life, be surrounded by children's laughter, and bring wonderful, new humans into the world.

But six months into your marriage, despite frequent, wonderful, vigorous, and enjoyable attempts, every month, your courses have arrived like clockwork, and every time, you feel you are letting him down.

“Please don’t cry,” his sweet, comforting voice almost pained; his lips mashed into your temple as he gently rocks you. “I love you regardless of if we can ever have a family. I need you to know that,” his voice sincere, maybe a little desperate.

“I know that, Benedict; I love you too; I just….” you say between muted sobs, “…I just want to give you a family like yours.”

“Darling, for all we know, it is I who is at fault, not you. In fact, we would never know unless…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but his mien turns thoughtful.

“Unless what?” you prompt, lifting your head to look at him intently.

“Unless you attempt to get pregnant via another man,” he sighs, his face pinched.

“No!! No!!” bile rises in your throat at merely the idea of being with anyone but him. He is the only man you have ever known intimately, the only one you trust. “I can’t do this with anyone but you, Benedict,” you plead.

“And believe me, my darling, the thought of you with anyone else makes me nauseated, but this may be our only choice to find out. And perhaps actually have a baby we can raise as our own,” he points out.

He’s right, and you hate it. You would do anything to let him be the father he so obviously yearns to be. And if that means you have to lay with another man, for him, and only him, you will make yourself do it if that is what he wants. It will hurt your heart beyond belief, but you want him to be a father as much as you wish to be a mother. The problem is that the only man whose babies you want is the one asking you to take another man’s seed.

You draw your knees up on lean on them, sobbing bitterly. Benedict kisses your temple and hugs you as you cry it all out.

——

Benedict hovers nervously outside Anthony’s study at Bridgerton House, having no clue how to broach the topic he wants to discuss. But after weeks of consideration, it’s the only way forward he can see that doesn’t turn his stomach.

“Brother, will you be lurking all day or just for a half-hour?” comes the dry, bemused voice from behind the door.

Benedict stops pacing, closes his eyes briefly, and then, with a decisive nod, heads into the room.

“There is a sensitive matter I would like to discuss with you if you are amenable?” he begins, too nervous to sit in the seat Anthony gestures to. “I’ll stand if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever can it be? You seem quite the bag of nerves,” Anthony observes wryly, leaning back casually in his chair behind the desk.

“It’s regarding children,” Benedict begins slowly and carefully.

“Ah, right, family and intimate matters,” Anthony gets up and closes his office door. He stays standing as Benedict rocks on his feet, and Anthony looks at him expectantly.

There is nothing else but to dive in headfirst. Benedict steels himself for this tough ask and then begins.

“Despite our best efforts, my wife and I are… struggling to become pregnant,” he exhales.

“I am sorry to hear that, but I think a doctor may be a better confidante than myself,” Anthony argues, “should your wife need examining….”

“Well, that’s the thing; I’m not so certain she is at fault,” Benedict counters.

Anthony scoffs. “You are a Bridgerton. If there is one thing we are capable of, it’s progeny,” he laughs, pointing at the row of miniatures of their siblings.

“Well, maybe I am the exception that proves the rule,” Benedict replies quietly and seeing the pain written in the lines of his face, Anthony’s whole demeanour changes.

“I did not mean to make light of your challenges, brother,” Anthony states slowly, “merely that the balance of probability it is not your fault is quite high.”

“Well, there is only one way I can think of to confirm that suspicion,” Benedict answers, “and that is for another man to attempt to impregnate my wife.”

Anthony's shocked expression is a picture. “You wish for your wife to lay with another man?” the contempt in his voice unmaskable.

“Wish it?” Benedict scorns. “I wish anything but. It is the very definition of my nightmare, but… she deserves the world, and If I am at fault, I could never forgive myself if I do not explore all avenues to fulfil her dreams. To make her happy. If I cannot give her children, I will not begrudge her the happiness of motherhood she so desperately craves.”

Anthony is floored by the self-sacrifice his little brother will always make for those he loves.

“And this brings me to my proposal….” Benedict adds warily.

Anthony senses the nerves emanating in waves off him and clamps a reassuring hand onto his shoulder.

“What is it, brother?”

“Selfish as it may sound, I want any child I raise as my own to be a Bridgerton. And there is only one man I would allow to lay with my wife without my stomach turning…. and that dear brother,” he takes a deep breath and meets Anthony’s eye squarely, “is you.”

Anthony freezes and falls back into a nearby chair. Literally stunned.

“I.. “ he begins but can not find more words.

“I'm aware this is a huge ask,” Benedict rushes out, “but I can't think of another palatable solution to my wife's happiness, and, more than anything, I want to give her that. Happiness.”

Anthony can see the quiver in his brother's lip, and his heart breaks for him at this impossible impasse.

“Brother, I’m not sure I can do this,” Anthony wavers honestly, standing up again and beginning to pace.

“Please,” Benedict implores, “please at least consider it. I will sign any private sealed paperwork you wish, ensuring that should she become pregnant, the child has no rights to your title or estates….”

“It’s not that,” Anthony cuts in, frowning that would even be a consideration, “it’s just… Benedict, it’s your brother bedding your wife. This choice seems fraught with potential anguish.”

“It seems unlikely to me at least that two men in the same family would be similarly afflicted, coming as we do from a man capable of siring eight children. If you do not impregnate her, then maybe we will know it is not me at fault,” Benedict argues, appealing to Anthony's logical side that he knows will often win in an emotional moment.

Anthony stops pacing and instead shuffles a pile of perfectly neat paper, nerves manifesting in the need to keep himself busy in the motions of a pointless task. “Allow me to think on it.”

Benedict gives a short sharp nod and, with nothing else he can think to say, takes his leave.

——

His fingers trail gently over your stomach as you lay in post-coital bliss.

“Darling, I have an idea for our baby dilemma,” he offers softly, tracing his lips over your collarbone.

“Mmm, I'm all ears, husband,” you reply drowsily, your ankles twining with his, your fingers running into his thick, lush hair.

Tonight he took you somewhere truly primal, and it feels different. Like it's possible you are actually pregnant this time. That something so fundamental happened in your moment of pure blissful release that, indeed, life was created.

“There is one way to ensure we have a Bridgerton child,” he begins quietly, his warm breath dusting over your dewy skin. “And that is for you to lay with my brother, Anthony.”

The world stops. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears and a weird static buzz in every bone of your face. Like you have been struck by lightning.

No, No, NO, Benedict, your mind wails. Literally anyone but him, dear god.

Unbeknownst to your husband, there is only one man you had ever considered before you met him. And that is his older brother—Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. You harboured a flame for him upon your first visit to Aubrey Hall with your family when you were fifteen, and that really only abated a few years later when you met his wonderful, soulful younger brother who utterly stole your heart.

“Benedict…” you sigh, going to move away, but he holds you in place, staring deep into your eyes, running his hands over your jaw, your cheeks.

“Think about it, my love,” he cuts in. “He is someone I trust with my life. He will not attempt to blackmail us or steal you away from me,” he petitions. “And we look so alike, my brother and me; no one would bat an eyelid about the child’s appearance, should you conceive one. It is the perfect solution,” he looks at you so beseechingly that you almost feel like you are betraying him just by wanting to object. And so you can’t, you don't. You will never deny him the right to fatherhood he so obviously deserves. If that means playing with the fire of your attraction to his brother, you will do it.

You grab his hand and lace your fingers with his. “My love, if this is what you want. I consent,” you murmur as your insides riot at the idea of lying with his brother. “But I have conditions.” you swallow thickly.

“What are they? Anything, my love,” he says pleadingly. “I will do anything for you; you know that,” he asserts as he kisses a fervent line over your cheek to your lips.

“I cannot do this without you,” you answer meekly. “I need you there the whole time. Not just in the room, I need you with me, skin on skin; I need you to hold me when it is happening, to talk to me.”

He inhales sharply. “You wish to lay with both of us? At the same time?”

“Yes, Benedict, my love. I cannot give my body to another man unless you are right there with me. Please, please.”

“I… I….” he stumbles, “I will have to check with him, but if that is what you need, what you desire, I will, of course, be there, my love.”

“Will you fuck me too?” your use of the base, crude term somehow feels necessary in this context.

You see the vein in his neck jump, and his voice turns gravelly. “You want that?”

“Yes, husband. Once he has been with me, I want you to be with me too.” you push up and kiss him deeply, trying to transmit just how much you love him, that for you, how much all of this is for him, for his happiness.

“Alright, my love,” he appeases with delicate kisses, “of course, of course….”

——

When Benedict rises the following day, his valet hands him a hand-delivered note. It is from Bridgerton House, and inside the wax-sealed envelope, on Anthony's signature note paper, there, in neat-looking penmanship, is just one word.

Yes.

Benedict drops the card onto his desk and rubs his temples, uncertain if he should feel elated or empty.

——

The fateful night arrives sooner than you would like, but equally, the weight of anticipation felt like almost too much to bear in the lead-up. You fidget nervously with your silk robe, which all at once feels too heavy and not thick enough, your skin prickling with the uncertainty of what is to pass.

You stay in the bedroom, brushing your hair at your vanity with repetitive calming motions as Benedict greets Anthony and invites him into your home. In advance, you and Benedict had agreed a few strong brandies would likely assist both men before embarking on this journey; you declined to imbibe in the hope it would aid with conception. So you sit nervously awaiting as they partake downstairs in your drawing room, no doubt.

For some reason, you prefer not to see Anthony before the ‘act’ begins; it feels too much like danger knowing what will happen, the ghost of your past attraction like a potential unwanted spectre taunting you. It feels safer to keep your distance until, well, until you cannot.

You get onto the bed and attempt to read, but your butterflies mean you are staring at the same page for minutes at a time, words just a jumble of letters that bleed into each other, your mind too preoccupied. Just as you start to fret about whether you can do this, you hear voices and a pair of heavy boots ascending the stairs.

Then there in the doorway are your husband and his brother, looking at you with the same expression you give them. Nervous apprehension, but theirs mellowed by alcohol.

“Darling,” Benedict drawls as they walk in, and he closes the door, “how are you?”

“I am fine,” you assure with a quick, tight smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. The butterflies are truly rioting now.

Your gaze falls to Anthony, who flashes you a brusque smile before he peels off his jacket and rapidly moves onto his boots. It seems almost business-like, and there is a hot flare in your stomach. Benedict is already more casual, barefoot, just his white shirt and trousers; it's like he senses your spike of anxiety and is on the bed with you in the blink of an eye.

“It's okay, my darling,” he mollifies, pushing you gently down into the pillows, his breath sweetened by brandy and smoky from cigars, “I’m here, my love, I’m here.”

His kiss is gentle and pitched to reassure, his lips soft on yours, intuiting the need to settle your fears. It works, and as you always do, you find yourself melting into your husband's loving embrace and attention. His hands run delicate patterns over your thin robe.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, a soft smile on his lips as he moves to kiss down your throat, his lips warm and plush as his words vibrate over your skin. He goes to untie your robe, but you halt his hand, covering it with your own.

“Please, Benedict, I need you naked before I am,” you plead quietly.

He lifts his head and meets your imploring gaze, nodding slightly, understanding your reasons without you needing to vocalise them. It's part of why you love him so much, this shorthand you have developed, this unspoken bond. You can't help the little flutter in your chest as he whips off his shirt and settles over you, so much body warmth seeping through your robe from his skin. As he kisses the cord of your neck, you sigh and allow your hands to wander, loving the feel of his toned flesh under your fingertips.

With him over and surrounding you, he is your whole field of vision, perhaps by design to centre your focus on him. In the background, you can hear the sounds of Anthony disrobing, but Benedict utters soft, reassuring words against your skin to drown out the sound. His warm lips feathering down over your collarbone, skirting the edge of your robe. As ever, his tender treatment makes you stir, and you feel your body become pliant under him, allowing him to ease between your legs, your robe falling open as his wool trousers tickle the inside of your knees.

“My darling, you smell wonderful. Did you bathe in your favourite magnolia petal soap?” his voice buzzes over your breastbone as he breathes deeply and smiles indulgently as you hum in the affirmative. “Your skin is so soft; I am such a lucky man.” you know he is being extra vocal and reassuring with his words and actions; it makes your heart melt a fraction. He wants you comfortable and aroused. He wants this to be pleasant for you. You would never have the heart to tell him his efforts are not perhaps as needed as he believes.

You cannot look at Anthony to this day without a tiny stab of desire, perhaps remnants of a theoretical scenario where he could have been your intended, at least in your mind. Or it could be that he is an objectively handsome man. Either way, the thought of laying with him is not abhorrent on a physical level; in fact, the genuine possibility of the opposite stokes the blaze of nerves in your belly—that you could enjoy it a little too much.

You reach down and begin unbuttoning Benedict's trousers, wanting, needing more, as he continues languid kisses on your exposed skin. This time you do not object as his fingers insinuate between your bodies and tug at the ties holding your robe closed.

You inhale sharply as his naked body surges over yours as he kicks away his trousers. So much heat and warmth as your thighs cradle him. You can feel his rigid cock searing the apex of your thighs, and more than anything, you want him to push into your body.

As his lips close on your left nipple, you moan and cant up towards him; you sense something else happening in the room. You realise, without looking; you have an audience. Anthony’s gaze feels heavy on your skin; you know he is watching as his brother's tongue peaks out and lathes over your nipple, watches as he sucks the nub into his mouth, and you cry out. Somehow the audience makes this more hedonistic. You want to feel ashamed at the throbbing between your legs, yet…. you don't; you just feel a molten desire. The idea of being the sole focus of two of the most handsome men of the ton does not escape your mind.

Somehow you know without looking that Anthony has taken his cock in hand and is ogling your body, just as Benedict's hand slides between your legs and glides over your folds.

“Are you ready for us, my love?” he asks softly. Part of you wants to lie, to ask him to dive his face between your legs and suck your clit until you are writhing and panting, but you know tonight is not about pleasure; it's a means to an end. And besides, he would know it's unnecessary as soon as his fingers slide between your lips, which they now do, and he hisses at the pooled, slick viscous heat he finds within. “Oh, darling, you are more than ready, aren't you? You are positively weeping from your gorgeous little cunt.”

You moan again at his words, almost surprised he is willing to talk like this in front of his brother, but you suspect it’s because he knows how much it arouses you. And indeed, you hear a noise from Anthony as you writhe on Benedict's fingers, wishing more than anything for him to sink them into your body and massage that spot you love so very much that only his fingers can reach.

“Please, fuck me,” you exhale, and it's a dangerous elixir thrumming in your bloodstream when there is a duet of responding groans to your breathy plea.

“I will, darling, I will,” he promises with an aching urgency, propelling one of his fingers into you and you crying out his name.

His fingertip massages that spot as his mouth is on your other breast, and you don't hide your enjoyment of what is happening. In truth, perhaps you are more performative, your whispered pleas just a little louder for Anthony’s benefit, your body flexing a little more pronounced; you almost want him to desire your body as much as your husband does. Sometimes playing with fire is such a beguilingly hypnotic idea.

“Make her climax, brother; I have heard it can help with conception,” Anthony’s smooth voice rings out, and you gasp, whipping your head to look at him for the first time since clothing was shed.

There’s a stab of what almost feels like betrayal as your eyes fall on Viscount Anthony Bridgerton—naked and imposing, standing as he does next to the bed. Unlike his brother, his chest is covered in a thatch of dark hair; his build is thicker and more muscular than your slightly taller, lither husband. Perhaps predictably, given their shared genetics, he is physically appealing too. You can tell by the motion of his arm he is stroking himself, but you daren't allow your eyes to wander lower than his taunt, defined abdomen, almost scared to see what lies between his legs. And yet curiosity wins out as he mounts the bed on all-fours, you glance down the plane of his torso and glimpse his cock nestling in a patch of dark hair, just like Benedict's, but it looks different. You can't deny that. A shade thicker, perhaps, just like their bodies. That you are comparing your husband's cock to his brothers fills you with a self-disdain you don't want to contemplate, so you quickly cut your eyes away. It matters not the pleasure he can provide during the act; what matters is the outcome: his seed, the hope of progeny.

“Here, let me help,” Anthony offers casually. And your breathing accelerates rapidly as suddenly he is next to you and his lips close around your other nipple, still wet with your husband's saliva.

A long, low curse slips from your mouth unsolicited as you experience the blinding pleasure of both nipples being sucked simultaneously.

Something burns white hot, not just desire but also shame. Shame that you want this so much. That your whole axis is thrown off by the equally talented tongue of Anthony Bridgerton swirling and sucking your nipple. But then he himself did just say female pleasure is paramount to conception. Who are you to deny yourself this pleasure if it is a means to the ultimate end? Your selfish, licentious side greedily courting all the attention they are willing to offer.

Benedict's finger curls more insistently inside you as a thumb lands on your clit, rubbing in an unfamiliar but alluring motion. It is not your husband’s. It does not have the same softness; there's a rasping quality to Anthony’s more pen-calloused skin that snags perfectly on your sensitive bud. Having the mouths and fingers of two Bridgerton brothers teasing you is overwhelming, but part of you feels overridden with guilt that you are deriving such pleasure from them both.

“It's alright, my love,” Benedict assures, sensing your emotional quandary, and it’s the license you need. Allow yourself to indulge in the sensation enough to be carried away by the sheer wonder of it all.

Within moments, a potent tide rips through your being as you writhe, surrounded by their bodies. Benedict surges up and captures your lips in a passionate, consuming kiss as you clench so hard on his finger and holler his name so loudly into his mouth. You don't dare speak his brother's name, but something makes your hand grasp Anthony's hair as he gently laps your breast.

Benedict eases himself from between your legs and arranges his body against your left flank as you calm. On instinct, still fuzzy from your orgasm, you turn your head towards him, seeking his lips for more kisses, sighing as he obliges, your nostrils filled with the scent of your own arousal on his damp fingers that cradle your jaw as his lips open gently with yours. His cock is branding your hip as he pulls your left leg towards him, opening you up, and your heartbeat spikes as you feel Anthony climb over your right leg and shuffle between your thighs.

“Benedict,” you gasp over his lips. He knows. He knows you are at your most vulnerable, and he clutches your face tight, keeps your gaze locked on his, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Shhh, my love,” he soothes, “you are doing so wonderful; you are my whole world; I love you so much,” his searing words pour into your soul as you feel Anthony’s body over yours.

Benedict holds your face, his grip almost vice-like, not letting you look away, to his brother, as arms band around your hips, and Anthony heaves you onto his thighs, your pelvis now higher than your head.

“Don't stop talking,” you plead into your husband's mouth as you feel the tip of Anthony’s cock at your entrance.

“I love you; I can't wait to raise a family with you, my darling,” he entreats. The mix of desire and hurt on his face breaks your heart as you cry out with the force of Anthony’s cock ploughing into you. It feels so different in a way you can't explain and want to weep, but you can't do that to your husband, hurt him like that. So you keep staring into his hazy eyes, breathing his exhaled air and familiar scent as Anthony starts to move inside you.

It feels so wondrous, your walls clinging to his thick veiny cock as you bite your lip to trap the sounds you want to make. There is no denying how utterly incredible Anthony feels inside you. He almost immediately hits a harsh snapping rhythm, making slight panting noises with the exertion. Benedict shuts his eyes and swallows heavily, and you know it's to school his emotions, yet you can't help but steal a glance up at his brother while he does so. Anthony looks so handsome and majestic, an errant curl of hair bouncing on his forehead as he throws his whole body into the thrusts. His skin glows dewy in the candlelight. His eyes meet yours, and a flame there startles so much that you swivel your eyes back to your husband’s as they reopen. Guilt makes you utter his name, each syllable rising and falling with the motion of your body as Anthony fucks you so hard.

“It's alright if you enjoy this, my darling,” Benedict affirms sotto voce, and it's like whiplash to your heart how giving this man is, how much he is sacrificing so you can have a family together. You know it must be eating him alive on some level to see the pleasure his brother is giving you.

“I only want to come if it's with you,” you whisper harshly.

“But you need to come, my darling; it will improve the chance of a baby,” he assuages.

You feel Anthony’s fingers at your clit, and you seize Benedict’s face. “Then talk to me, my love. Talk like it’s just us, say all those debauched things that make me burn so hot for you, just you,” you implore desperately.

Benedict growls and surges his rigid cock against your hip, leaking onto your dewy skin as his warm lips capture your cheekbone.

“I want you, my wife,” he intones through clenched teeth. “Every day, I want to strip you down and take you so hard.”

“Yesssssss,” you hiss, writhing on Anthony's cock, who groans and grips your hip bone hard. “More, please, more.”

Anthony’s fingers are a frenzy on your clit now as you keen loudly, urging him on; you unwittingly squeeze his muscular forearm.

“I know what makes you come so hard; only me, only I can do that. You are my wife, mine. Say it,” Benedict orders, his tone as desperate as yours, spying the way you have latched onto his brother, needing reassurance.

“I'm yours, Benedict, always, forever,” you cry, and it turns into a scream as Anthony starts to spear you so hard you want to see stars.

“I love you, my darling wife. You are going to be such a wonderful mother; I know how much you want that. To be a mother. To have a baby,” he murmurs, placing his forehead onto yours, “that is why we are doing this, my darling.”

"But Benedict, I only want your baby… Our baby…" you lament, raw with emotion, as you battle the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Anthony's cock makes your eyes roll back in your head, and Benedict's words take you over a soft edge, your blood boiling in your veins for your husband and his brother. Your scream muffled into his jaw as your cunt flutters hard around Anthony.

“Fuckkkking hell, I'm going to come,” Anthony warns, and for the first time, you look away from Benedict, uncaring that he sees.

“Give it to me,” you growl at Anthony, “give me your seed Bridgerton; I love my husband more than life itself; give us our baby right now!”

Both men seem equally shocked and aroused by your voracious demand.

“Darling…” Benedict pants raggedly on your cheekbone, his leaking cock pressing rhythmically against you again as you wrap your arm possessively around his head, fingers tugging no doubt painfully on his hair as you stare Anthony down, urging him to come.

There is a long guttural noise as Anthony stills. You feel the warmth of his release bloom inside you as he slumps over your body. His head on your damp diaphragm, puffing hard breaths over your ticklish skin as he keeps jerking and pumping little aftershocks into you.

The act over; as much as Anthony is an attractive man, all you want, crave, need, and desire is your husband with every fibre of your being. Like a siren calling across an ocean, he is the only place you want to be wrecked.

“Benedict, now, please, please, I need you,” you turn to him and cry.

You rasp lightly as Anthony pulls out and slumps back breathlessly against the footboard of your bed as you almost drag your husband on top of you. You chant a litany of pleas as he fumbles to line up with your fluttering body. And your eyes well with emotion as he finally surges into you. The stretch of his cock is different but so familiar, mind-bending and heart-stopping.

Your mouths mash together in a frenzy, and you cling to Benedict, pleading with him for more and harder, uncaring of the audience you have. You think he won't last long, but you don't care—you crave his release more than your own. You just want to revel in the carnality of your husband’s body and of what you have just permitted to happen for each other, for love. You steal a glance at Anthony over Benedict’s shoulder, and the soft, understanding look he gives you fills you with unspoken gratitude that he agreed to do this, to help you in this amazing way.

Benedict is not gentle, and you are grateful for it, conveying all of his passion for you with firm hands grasping your flesh, destined to leave imprints, teeth grazing your neck, thrusting into you with no mercy. You were mistaken, though - he does last. Keeps pounding into your body over and over and over as you make needy noises with each movement, climbing higher again.

“Come for me, husband, please; I need to feel it,” you beg, clasping his bum encouragingly, kissing every inch of skin you can reach, dragging your nipples over his chest, greedily pursuing your satisfaction as well as his.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands, sweat dripping from his forehead onto yours, his eyes burning into yours.

“I love you; you know I love you,” your response is a reflex. And that is what causes the dam to break for him, his whole body jerking violently, hissing and groaning loud against your ear as he spills inside you, fingers flexing, nails leaving moon-shaped marks on your shoulders where his arms curl under around them. The visceral feel of him coming apart, his body smashing against your clit takes you over too. Eyes fluttering closed as your body clenches in waves around his spasming cock.

And as you lay there sharing ragged breaths, Anthony’s warm hand encircles your ankle, and your eyes meet again in a moment of connection that feels warm and profound; you hope beyond hope a baby was conceived tonight.

——

Nine months later.

The birth of your baby is the most harrowing but rewarding day of your life. As you hear the infant’s first cry, your whole world crumbles and is rebuilt around her. Your precious, precious gift.

Benedict’s embrace is so tight as you cradle new life in your arms, scarcely believing the truth. Then a tiny set of eyes blink open, and your heart soars to heights you never dreamed possible.

“Benedict,” you breathe, joyful tears flowing unabashed, “look… she has… she has your eyes,” your whisper tremulant.

There, unmistakable as anything, is his baby. Not Anthony’s, not just a Bridgerton baby. His. Benedict’s.

“I don't think she can be anyone’s but yours, my love,” you assure ardently.

His fervent kiss on your dewy brow is only made wetter by the gentle tears that roll down his cheek and onto your skin.

“I love you,” he whispers reverently, his large hand wrapping delicately around your swaddled baby. “I love our daughter. We are finally a family.”

Benedict & Anthony Taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @queenofmean14

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beiasluv · 2 years

Note

heyyy so i was thinking what would happen if neteyam went to jake for advice on how to ask the reader out, i just thought it'll be a cute moment :) you don't have to write it if u don't want to, completely up to u 💓

have a lovely day gorgeous 🫶

a father’s advice? neteyam x reader

a/n: that’s actually so cute / ye grammar mistake cuz I’m too potato / hope you enjoy, gorgeous gorgeous girl 🤍

masterlist

saying who’s got the most rizz in the family is hard, their blood is strong. but one thing neteyam can’t deny, is that his father is the original rizz

how did he managed to pulled off neytiri? he don’t fucking know. the daughter of the chief while he is a ‘dreamwalker’ to them? he got them rizz

neteyam, being the golden child he is, is determined to follow his father’s footsteps.

and who else could he ask advice from? lo’ak? nope, that boy would never miss a chance to make fun of him, if he would go for his assistant. plus, he got rizzed up by tsireya, he down real bad.

kiri? nah, she has her own world and neteyam respects that. letting her be her free-spirited self would be the best option.

spider 👁️👁️ what does that boy know? does he even have a girlfriend? *ahem* i guess we’ll never know. he got the lowest rizz game in the family, with all due respect from neteyam.

tukkk, SHE IS A MINOR AND A CHILD.

neytiri? i guess? bet she would be more of a pain in the ahh if he would go to her for advice. being a mom she is, she would definitely judge neteyam’s crush and all of his dream would crash down. no, we don’t want that.

jake, it is.

but how? how to make it the least awkward to approach his dad about stuff like this?

he tried to give his dad signals and signs everyday but he doesn’t seem to pick them up. he even started to doubt if his dad is the real player, cuz them boy is clueless😭

“dad?”

“yes?” jake replied with his back facing neteyam.

“how do you er…like send a sign?”

“neteyam, i thought we went over this already,” he sighed. “press your collar when speaking, and say ‘over’ when you are done talking”

“oh!” he scratched his neck. “okay, sorry, dad.”

neteyam was hopeless 😭 but to get a girl, he can’t just give up easily

he tried again, now, with a little help from his sister

“dad,” he walked quietly into the marui where his dad is resting.

“what?” he grumbled.

“erm…last time…when…” his words fumbled around each other, while kiri came into the marui.

“when what? get to the point,” he shifted the blanket off his chest and sat up.

“dad, he is asking you how to ask a girl out,” she said nonchalantly as she looked through the drawer. “you’re welcome, bro,” with a swift of her tail, she was out the door.

“oh, well,” jake chuckled loudly. “have i heard correctly?”

“well, yea..yes.”

“c’mere, son,” he patted the mattress. “let me show you.”

jake would be so proud. he would laugh uncontrollably for like 10 minutes cause neteyam got him worried there.

but his son ask, he will reveal

“now, welcome to “the way of rizz 101” class with jake sully,” he joking said. “there are many ways to ask a girl out, alright, but there is a main pattern you must look out for.”

“number 1: set the mood. it is the most important, alright?” he ruffled neteyam’s locks. “you could never go wrong with setting the mood, look for spots, lighting, and the feels.” “guess where we got down, the tree of souls, yeah, magic, am i righ-“

“ew dad, please.”

“okay, listen to the experts, son,” he laughed. “number 2: make it personal, PER-SO-NAL”

“yes, i understand, I’m not dumb”

“no, son, it’s really important. don’t reuse your letters, never get her the same gift. DO NOT never ever use the same pick up line. AND definitely do not use the same pattern for every girl.” (amen to deja-vu from olivia rodrigo, guys)

“number 3: be yourself,” he patted his son back. “don’t be afraid, if she doesn’t accept your offer, don’t let it consume you.”

“how can i do that?” he retorted.

“what is she like?”

“she is the only girl i have ever laid my eyes on and they were stuck! can’t imagine even just one other girl that i have felt the same feelings i am feeling right now.”

“that’s the spirit, atta boy,” he chuckled. “then, i pray for eywa that this is the way.” “eywa will show you the way if she is the one for you,” he smiled softly.

“and a honorable mention, do not ever make a girl cry over your stupid mistakes, alright?”

“how would i know?”

“you would feel it, respect her, respect her as a goddess, hell yeah, adore her, like eywa,” he added. “she is gentle but deadly, the spirit of life. always ask for consent, always. when you are mated for life, you both become equal.”

“let her guide you, and let you guide her,” he held his palms together as one. “now, how to rizz a girl up is not useful without your effort,” he patted his son’s head and pushed him up.

“go get the girl, atta boy!”

today is a great day to go touch grass 😳 i mean- take care of yourself 🤍

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @loudcolorwolfgarden / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

#fanfiction #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #imagines #neteyam imagine #jake sully imagine #jake sully #neteyam

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hajihiko · 11 months

Note

You gotta explain one thing to me because I need to understand.

How do you see Kazuichi and Sonia's relationship? Like, how do you think they would interact with eachother after Kazuichi being creepy towards her (in the game and the anime)?

You hardly ever draw them interacting but they're both a part of one found family, right?

It's not an attack or hate or anything I just want to understand how you see it.

well firstly because I love to be difficult I don't Gotta do anything <3 but I get you

Basically

Kazuichi wakes up much less of a hormonal teenager for one. He also gets some Processing Time re: gender, sexuality and What He Wants (having a beautiful blonde princess gf was only about validation and not Actual Feelings). Also, he, like everyone else, gets A Talk from Hajime probably (the talk is like 'hey we all have to live together and we cannot fuck this up so everyone own their Issues right now immediately' this also goes for Fuyuhiko's anger issues and such). If they're gonna make this work everyone HAS to respect the others and be willing to change, Kazuichi somewhat especially (again, Fuyuhiko too, tho he already showed a willingness to change in spades).

Sonia doesn't think the behaviour was Fine but it feels very hard to hold onto anger for a) one of the 4 people left in your life b) after you both committed actual atrocities. Like the perspective is like "he was very annoying and inappropriate and belittling however I destroyed an entire country so. Priorities." Hopefully she'd also be amenable to a talk, wherein they both get to share their feelings and come to an understanding. Never gonna be besties, but they're family. It helps that Sonia is just. Super duper sweet.

I always wanted to do a confrontation comic where Sonia gets to tell and make her feelings known (I think her polite and kind manner needs to step down for a sec for her to really get it all out) but it's so much dialogue.... But it would basically be "you make me feel like shit, the way you treat me, even if YOU perceive it to be nice".

Basically, they're family and they love each other and also have a lot of problems in their past that might pop up sometimes (not unusual for family tbh)

#not an art #Talky talky

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jeewrites · 7 months

Text

Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner

Series Master List

Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.

Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series

Word Count: ~4.0k

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV

next chapter >>

The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.

Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.

You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.

Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.

"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.

"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.

"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.

"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.

"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."

You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?

When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.

So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.

It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.

“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.

Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.

You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.

“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."

Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”

“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."

“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”

Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.

He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.

“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.

“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”

“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.

Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.

At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.

At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.

Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.

"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.

Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."

"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.

Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."

You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.

"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.

For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.

"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.

"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.

"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.

"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.

"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.

"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.

Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.

"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.

"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.

"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.

"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."

"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.

"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.

"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.

Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.

He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.

"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.

"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

You move so you stand with your side towards his front.

“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, you ready?"

He nods.

You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.

You brace.

Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.

Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.

When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.

Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.

But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.

For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.

It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.

Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.

You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.

"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.

"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.

"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.

Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.

"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.

Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.

You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."

Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.

He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”

Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.

It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.

next chapter>>

Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards

🙏🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #pedro pascal cinematic universe #hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #happy frankie friday #frankie friday

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diiwata · 17 days

Text

the tbosas tributes as x-men/mutants

my x-men brainrot makes me wanna merge my two fixations. very little people will get this, but i still put my heart and soul into this post, and i do not care TM.

do not take the x-men's actual relationships into account! just because two x-men are dating or siblings, doesn't mean that's what i interpret for the tbosas characters unless it's explicitly stated in the description!

context: the x-men are a superhero group formed by marvel, comprised of a special group of humans known as mutants. they have the x-gene, which grants them powers either at birth or during a stressful situation as the individual experiences puberty. they are a marginalized group (other superheroes don't undergo the regulations and criticism that they do) and began as a metaphor for discrimination in the 60s!

lucy gray as jean gray (power: telepathy and telekinesis)

i know it seems like i chose them because of their similar names, but hear me out! lucy gray has such a strong and almost telepathic hold on both panem and coriolanus snow, but they're also soft and loyal to the people they love. the last scene in dark phoenix (2019), where a "comet" flew over the sky and was implied to be jean, reminded me of lucy gray's mysterious ending.

marcus as magneto (power: magnetism manipulation)

the comparison that started it all. partners on the opposite sides of the war. (sejanus moving to the capitol / charles wanting to coexist with humans) is seen as a huge betrayal to (mutantkind / district kind) according to (magneto / marcus). magneto uses the helmet to block out charles' telepathy and undying love. marcus actively avoids talking to sejanus.

jessup as colossus (power: organic steel form)

both are large powerhouses that seem like physical threats at first glance (colossus is literally made up of steel), but actually have heart of gold. jessup has such big brother vibes and never brought harm to anyone with the only exception being lucy gray because of his rabies. he'd use his powers for good, and like colossus in deadpool, would have a no-kill policy <3

reaper as wolverine (power: retractable metal claws and regenerative healing)

two menacing characters with hardened exteriors and a "trust no-one" attitude. they also, apparently, are both istp. their softer side is reserved for the people they are loyal to. they're passionate about their fight and aren't afraid to die for their causes. i also don't want reaper to die TM so he gets regenerative healing to heal from the snakes/poisoned water. amen.

dill as shadowcat (power: intangibility)

book!dill seems to have the same teenage girlism that kitty pryde always radiates in the animated shows, especially in x-men: evolution. they're both sassy in a fun way, always ready to snap back at someone who isn't acting right... ahem, ahem... coriolanus snow. even while sick, she puts people in place. ill dill forever.

coral as mystique (power: shapeshifting)

both these characters are associated with the color blue, have red hair, like girls (mags as destiny? lol), and take initiative. coral rounded up a pack and went to town in the arena! mystique always stood on business no matter who she's up against. they both have this fierceness to them, have solid strategies, and know how to be a leader in their own way.

mizzen as mirage (creating illusions of opponent's fears)

the "m" in mizzen and mirage stands for "menace". in the "new mutants" and tbosas movie, both characters were unassuming and not seen as too much of a threat. people are quickly proven wrong. mirage proved herself to be an extremely powerful mutant in the facility while mizzen stood on business. they didn't play.

lamina as rogue (power: memory and power absorption through touch)

rogue is a gentle soul who laments about not being able to have physical contact with people. lamina... well, she was known for crying a lot. both are unassuming, yet resilient and fierce. lamina's natural empathy would also work really well with the power to absorb memories and skill sets. she'd use this power responsibly.

treech as nightcrawler (power: teleportation)

this power would've been so useful while he was running around the arena and stealing from others. people in the fandom mark him as some kind of performer thanks to his juggling, which is exactly what kurt was in the circus. I don't believe they're similar in terms of personality unless you look towards the x-men movie version of kurt, I just think they're swell.

brandy as magik (power: time travel via teleportation and sorcery)

based mostly on the "new mutants" movie, both characters are aggressive and aren't afraid to cause a little trouble with an authoritative figure. brandy with her mentor and the peacekeepers. illyana with dr. reyes... but she also beefed with the other mutants in the facility. lmao, she was always mad.

tanner as gambit (power: kinetic energy charging)

both are from the south with a bit of a menacing streak, and tanner deserved a gambit-adjacent southern accent. he seems like a guy that would love to deal cards that exploded upon contact with their opps. gambit also seems like to dance over the body of an opp (still love you, tan the man).

wovey as blink (power: portal creation)

based on our interpretations of blink in "the gifted", i can see her being similar to wovey. blink had been using her powers to hide and steal to survive, whereas wovey had always used the hiding technique in both the book and the movie. they're both softies inside and out! wovey with pretty pink portals agenda 2k24.

bobbin as havok (power: cosmic energy absorption and redirection/blasts)

in the xcu and tbosas, both characters are baa: blonde and angry. bobbin could've channeled his pent up anger into a bunch of energy blasts emitting from his chest. these characters like to cause trouble, but are so protective of their loved ones. also... imagine the chase scene in the arena, except bobbin had powers. it's entertaining, no?

character assignment speed-run! (since we don't get much of their personality in either the book or the movie, so now it's based on my vibes)

teslee as psylocke (power: telepathy and telekinetic constructs)

the ability to construct weapons out of nothing but pure, telepathic power? get my menacing nerd on the field! she would've loved being able to have weapons at her disposal, with the snap of a finger or a flick of a wrist.

circ as forge (power: intuitive intellect/limited technopathy)

our other techno-genius! forge has the ability to create anything intuitively by listening to the mechanical energy of the parts he puts together, which I think would've fired circ up and only increase his passion for technology by a tenfold!

velvereen as husk (power: transitional omni-morph)

husk has the power to shed her skin and form a new layer made out of any solid material. it made me think of velvet cloth, which made me think of velvereen... to me, she's stubborn and persistent like elizabeth!

facet as emma frost (power: telepathy and organic diamond form)

a boy named after the sides of a gem being assigned the mutant that turns her skin into an indestructible gem. poetic. not much to say about personality, but i like the idea of powerful!facet.

sol as sunspot (power: solar radiation absorption)

her movie version seemed determined and headstrong as she and hy pursued lucy gray and jessup, which matches sunspot's big personality and confidence. also... sol. sun. i'll see myself out.

hy as cannonball (power: thermo-chemical field propulsion)

I've always thought of his character as someone like sam in "the new mutants": reserved, nervous, and loyal. i also like the idea of hy being able to propel himself like a human cannonball... <3

ginnee as jubilee (power: "firework" energy blasts)

get it? because she got blasted in the arena... anyway, i imagine her to be similar in personality to jubilee. rambunctious, spunky, fun, a teensy bit stubborn, and always willing to prove herself by going on missions.

otto as cyclops (power: optic/eye blasts)

i imagine him to be a bit more reserved, assertive, and protective. he also got blasted... i feel terrible for assigning blast powers to the d6 homies, but I feel like they deserve this. good karma, if you will. if they get blasted, they deserve to have a... blast, too...

sabyn as quicksilver (power: super speed)

i genuinely do not give a flying fart if he was retconned as not a mutant, sabyn is him. she was so close to running away from the peacekeepers had it not been for that river TM... rip sabyn, you would've loved track and field.

sheaf as domino (power: probability manipulation/heightened luck)

luck is exactly what sheaf needed to survive those injuries sustained from the bombing. to me, she exudes this coolness, certainty just like domino in the deadpool 2 movie, with a dash of independence.

panlo as deadpool (power: regenerative healing and 4th wall interaction)

this power would've been the redemption arc panlo deserved after sustaining those injuries. he also looks like the perfect 4th wall breaker. just look at him. while not much of a jokester like deadpool, I can definitely tell he's a softie at heart like him!

might make this into a fic... 🤺

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #x men #tbosas tributes #the hunger games #edsters.mp3

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shepherds-of-haven · 1 year

Note

I will never stop laughing at the first scenes with Riel and Chase because:

- Riel being very affronted at Trouble and MC saying they find the criminals' methods smart— like, sorry bro, but these two had some very rough lives that they can't bring themselves to condemn anyone 🤷

- MC having to wait for the conversation to end just to tell Blade that their pendant got stolen. Very "Me going to mommy's bedside at 3 am to tell her I threw up 😐 🧍" energy.

I actually really struggled with that first scene with Riel because 1) in the novels, he was literally a criminal, like a full-on criminal business genius who got recruited to the Shepherds because they had better uses for him out of jail than in it, so who is he to judge 😂... and 2) even game Riel is implied to really morally gray and completely amenable to using less than legal tactics to get what he wants...! I wanted to play up the hostility between the two guilds, which is why he and Aerin act really judgmental if you praise Chase and the thieves in that scene, but nowadays I just justify it as 1) the rivalry was personal and Riel just didn't like any praising of Chase whatsoever, but just made it about his criminality because it was convenient and better than just "I really hate that man 😒" and 2) he was keeping up a facade that he was a prim, law-abiding, righteous guildmaster because he didn't know them and thought they were officers of the law who would care LOL. Gradually his social mask falls off over time and reveals himself to be "talks like a supervillain but has good intentions" cutthroat lmao

And LOL to your second point, it is so funny the idea of Chase getting farther and farther away while MC is waiting for Blade and Riel to finish their talk like

#Shepherds of Haven #silly #Chase #Chase Trinaeste #Riel #Riel Syndran #chapter 2 #public demo

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whyse7vn · 1 year

Text

POSITIVE VIBES ONLY! -

[ ot7 x reader ]

WHO’S IN PARIS?

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: can someone wire me 100k?

jk: how do you wire something??

y/n: beats me

namjoon: 100k?

jimin: why?

jin: did you hear lucas left nct LAMSOO

yoongi: who?

hobi: i’m about to raise the roof

yoongi: oh

tae: can someone send me 100k or not omg

y/n: are you not a millionaire???

jk: word on the streets is that he’s a hardcore gambler

jin: ur living room does not count as “the streets”

jk: 😟

y/n: guys kai is enlisting i’m gonna throw up

yoongi: gws

hobi: pretty girl you like peaches 🩷

y/n: you’ll never be him

hobi: 😞

namjoon: why does tae need 100k??

y/n: yeah why does tae need 100k??

jk: let the audience know tae

tae: yes or no can you send it now?

jin: i could but i won’t

yoongi: no

jimin: asked for coffee the other day and you said no

now you want 100k how about you kys

hobi: i’ll send it

y/n: no you won’t

hobi: i won’t send it

jk: bold of you to assume i have 100k

namjoon: jungkook what?

you make more than 100k a day??

jk: okay??

bold of you to assume i have access to my card

namjoon: ??

jin: i don’t even wanna know tbh

y/n: he once ordered a 10k marching band the day after the hamster we had died because he needed to “clear his head”

jimin: you guys had a hamster??

jk: lived one day will miss tony forever ☝🏻

yoongi: this is why we shouldn’t of let the 2 youngest members live together

y/n: jungkook once brought a “picassco” painting of iron man for 50k

jk: is very pretty it’s in my room

hobi: picasso is dead

jk: what

jimin: tae and jennie let’s get into that

tae: let’s not

jin: REAL is that why you need 100k stuck in paris bf of the year?

y/n: RIGHT WHAGT IS GOING ON FR

tae: nothing

namjoon: ?

y/n: be fr tae

tae: are you jealous??

y/n: no

jk: yes

y/n: what

tae: what

jk: ur giving her 100k ofc im jealous

jin: omg?

y/n: FR??

namjoon: ur giving her 100k?

jimin: that’s insane

yoongi: does she not have money?

hobi: her and tae fr twins then

jimin: how is he giving away money he clearly doesn’t have?

tae: i have 100k

jimin: ur not acting like it

namjoon: wait so ur asking us to send you 100k that you already have to give to ur gf?

tae: what??

jk: guys i’m kinda confused rn

tae: i don’t have a gf?

yoongi: bro

jimin: i don’t even care anymore

y/n: tae was dropped as a baby

tae: OMG 😧????

jimin: constantly

tae: wtf namjoon say something this SICK the way they talk to me

namjoon: i give up

y/n: wasn’t talking TO you i try to keep that to a minimum

tae: when she hates you 😍

jk: jennie hates you?

hobi: she’s kinda real for that

tae: stfu about jennie

jk: omgee did you fight??

yoongi: you guys are not real

there’s no way

jimin: the next bitch to send a question mark being shot and killed immediately

y/n: mark lee

hobi: let’s play ball

tae: mid

y/n: MARK LEE MID ARE YOU OUT OF UR MIND???

jimin: …

y/n: if you shoot at kill me that would be considered a hate crime

jimin: it will be worth it

y/n: :c

jk: :3

hobi: :0

yoongi: freaks

namjoon: cute

tae: guys i feel like you don’t actually love and care for me

jk: whaaat ur really cool!

y/n: yikes

jin: jungkook sarcasm says it all tbh

jk: what

jin: nvm he just dumb as hell

jk: ??

jin: ur so cool jungkook!!!!!!

jk: ur coolest jin ^^

jimin: the oldest too

namjoon: don’t start

yoongi: yikes x2

hobi: eeek

jimin: i care for none of you

y/n: ur ugly

jimin: take it back

yoongi: i would put you all in a freezer

namjoon: what?

hobi: cold >.<

jk: does tae still need 100k?

tae: YES

jk: okay

tae: ???

jk: ???

tae: are you not giving it to me?

jk: no?

tae: wtf?

why did you ask then?

jk: cuz i wanted to know if you still needed it?

y/n: all these questions not enough answers

jimin: amen

hobi: queencard

namjoon: i think being in this gc is what taking acid would feel like

jin: druggie

jk: namjoon pls don’t do drugs

yoongi: save me

hobi: so tae is single?

tae: taken by the lord

jimin: i’ve been counting down the days for the lord to take you

tae: when i actually die ur gonna feel an unbearable amount of guilt

y/n: jimin when will you rest omg

jimin: i’m a born hater it’s hard to live like me

yoongi: if i were you i would kms

namjoon: i love having positive conversations with you all

hobi: me 2

jk: is it just me or am i the only one not seeing the positivity rn…

y/n: love you bffs 💓

jk: okay nvm !!!

me after lying saying i’m gonna release more stuff and then just running away 🤭🤭🤭. i’m just silly like that am i gonna regret posting this at 3 am and not proof reading it? possibly but it’s okay i’m back for how long? god knows but the jennie and tae stuff absolutely crazy i must say #gothemtho i have nothing else to add love u kissing you mwah mwah.

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ollypopwrites · 4 months

Text

From Depths Unknown; Part 7/7

Part 1 ⚜️ Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 or Read on Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Smut (PiV sex, eating it from the back and hitting it from the back, semi-public sex, semi-roleplaying sex), fantasy racism, background Bloodweave, familial banter, Rolan being Rolan, and Tav's savior complex.

Notes: Tying up some loose ends and giving you extra smut as promised.

Chapter Summary:

Rolan and Tav begin the newest chapter of their lives together.

Tav felt more relaxed than she had in months.

Humming to herself as she made her way up to the suite at the Elfsong, she could hardly keep from smiling as she walked through the doors. Calling out a greeting, she went to collect any letters and missives that may have collected during her overnight stay at the tower. An official invitation to Duchess Florrick’s coronation, some inquiries from Barcus Wroot, and a letter about erecting a statue in the upper city of her and her friends. She snorted at that.

“And where have you been?” Astarion called, he was standing cross armed with a measuring tape around his neck while Gale stood in front of a mirror in a rather lavish looking robe pinned in place. He was smirking, and even Gale was trying to come across stern rather than mischievous as he stared at her through the mirror.

“I had stuff to do at the tower.”

“Does ‘stuff’ include the master of said tower?” Shadowheart smiled.

“Actually,” Tav said despite the burning heat in her face. “ Yes .”

“Thank the Moon Maiden,” Shadowheart said, “it’s about time.”

Tav had nothing to say back, her false bravado dying with the high pitched giggle that came from Astarion across the room.

“Oh I’d kill to see the look on his face,” he grinned. “He’s probably levitating.”

“You’re all terrible.”

“I haven’t said anything,” Gale protested.

“That’s somehow worse .”

“So…” Shadowheart slinked over. “How was it?”

Tav balked. “What? Do you want details?”

“Yes,” she and Astarion said at the same time.

“I’m sure we all have enough imagination to figure it out.” Gale said. It was no secret that he was rather private about these things, in high contrast to Astarion and Shadowheart who were definitely not.

“There you see, Gale doesn’t want to hear about it,” Tav said quickly.

“Don’t ruin this for me,” Astarion poked him. “Start talking.”

“What makes you think Rolan wants you to have all the sordid details?” Gale protested. “It’s hardly our business.”

“Well you were gone all night,” Shadowheart said. “So I’m assuming he did something right.”

“A few things, actually.”

“Didn’t know he had it in him,” Shadowheart teased. “That could be for your benefit, though. You’re the bossy type, I’m sure he’s amenable.”

“You never know,” Astarion commented, back to his project of Gale’s outfit. “You’d be surprised how out of character people can be in bed.”

“So Gale’s not a talker then?” Tav teased.

“How did I become the topic of this conversation?” Gale scoffed.

With the attention off of her, Tav gratefully went to change her clothes from the day before. Before she walked away, Shadowheart grabbed her hand.

“We are happy for you, you know.”

“Thank you.” Tav smiled, feeling suddenly shy.

“Have you found something to wear to this coronation?” She asked, taking mercy on her friend and changing the subject.

“Oh shit,” Tav blinked. “Damn I haven’t even thought of it.” She looked over to Astarion and the lavish robe he was fitting to Gale. “What are you wearing?” She asked Shadowheart.

“Halsin and I will be long gone before then,” Shadowheart said. “He’s not much of a fan of all that pomp and circumstance. And I don’t care much for dancing, and balls and the like.”

“What kind of balls do you like?” Tav cocked her head.

“The big burly druid kind, I’d wager,” Astarion said.

Tav cackled.

“Children.” Gale muttered with a grin.

“I do want to see what you’ll wear,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

“I’ll drag Mum and Lottie away to Facemaker’s soon, you can come with,” Tav said. “Oh gods. I have to tell Mum and Lottie.”

“Hopefully you spare them the details.”

“I mean about staying in Baldur’s Gate.”

Just like that her bubble burst. All of the sudden she remembered the weight of the decision, the very reason she had gone to the tower the day before in the first place. The guilt in her gut returned, and the dread of telling her mother she would be staying so far away reared its ugly head.

“So you are staying?” Shadowheart asked.

“Jaheira offered me a role in the Harpers.” Tav explained. “And… I think I really want to do it.”

“Having the city’s archmage for a lover certainly helps make that decision easier, I’d think.”

Rolan had tugged Tav backwards for one last kiss before she made her way out of the kitchen that morning for breakfast. Cal and Lia had been on the other side of the door when she opened it, staring as she called a quick goodbye on her way out. He straightened his spine in preparation when Lia looked at him with her eyebrows raised so high they nearly touched her horns.

“Tav spent the night?” Cal asked confused as he came in. “I didn’t even see her!”

“I think she was busy.” Lia grinned.

“What could she be so busy with that she didn’t —“ Cal cut himself off as he looked at Rolan. “Oh, Hells, that’s — ugh ,” he shuddered.

“So?” Lia asked.

“So what?” Rolan said shortly.

“Did you ask her to move in yet? Did you propose?”

“We…” Rolan took time to choose his words. “She’s staying in the city, if that’s what you mean.”

“Thank the Gods, you’ve been moping for weeks,” Cal said. “Can you cheer up, now?”

“I’m perfectly content,” he said dryly. “I had quite the invigorating morning.”

The pair of his siblings protested so loudly it was enough to satisfy him that they would stop pestering him for a while. The shop had to be opened, and business had to be attended to. There was still the issue of his having something to wear to Florrick’s coronation, and he needed to ensure Cal and Lia did as well. Between studying, running the shop, and answering letters — it was time to set out for their weekly meet up at the Elfsong before he knew it.

Alfira performed more often than not, but at least once a week the tieflings in the city from their caravan all gathered. A small sense of community in a new, frightening place. Usually Tav’s dwindling camp joined in, if they were not previously occupied. The only time she had missed it was after they found themselves in the belly of a Bhaalist temple. Even then Rolan had found her on the rooftop that night.

It was business as usual, the crowd was loud and rowdy. Lottie’s special of the week was sold out quickly, and Tatianna winked at him from behind the bar while she served. Tav and her companions were chatting with the tieflings, and as he took in the scene, he considered that just a short while ago he would not have expected to see them all socializing so casually. The party at the Grove had been a special occasion, but now it felt more like tradition.

Minsc was locked into an intense arm wrestling match with Guex who was just barely holding his own against the ranger. Dammon was speaking with Tav, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Bex and Dannis sat by to listen to a story of Halsin’s, while Lakrissa laughed at something Astarion said that had Gale hiding his blushing face. Shadowheart and Alfira were deep in conversation, and Lia bounded right up to crash it. Cal had taken to cheering Guex on and Rolan easily moved to take the other seat next to Tav.

A strange nervousness sat in his stomach as he gingerly wrapped his arm around the back of her chair. His fingers played with the collar of her shirt, and she grabbed it to quickly press a kiss to his skin before continuing on with her conversation. Emboldened he wrapped his tail around her ankle under the table, happy enough in the moment to simply be there with her and not start a conversation of his own. It was comfortable, easy proximity that made his heart swell.

“What do you think, Rolan?” Dammon asked.

“Erm,” Rolan faltered, realizing he had not paid one bit of attention to what they had been saying.

“We are thinking of building some kind of enchanted case around Karlach’s heart, with some kind of ice or water spell,” Tav said.

“Enchanting Infernal Iron with anything but fire based spells would be difficult,” he frowned. “But not impossible.”

“Difficult is fine, we can do difficult,” Tav said eagerly.

“Difficult is your middle name, I’m convinced,” he said back.

“It still may only be temporary,” Dammon said. “The engine was meant for extreme physical exertion in the hells. It made her a war machine, essentially. It runs that hot to keep her going under any circumstances.” He scratched at his chin, “we have to find a way to reconstruct it without killing her.”

“But the enchanted casing, it could keep it cool and give us time, and then she could come back.”

Dammon didn’t seem to want to let Tav down, and he gave a half nod. “It’s certainly worth looking into.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” she said gratefully.

Dammon excused himself to grab more drinks. Leaving the two of them alone amidst a crowd of people. Tav seemed lost in thought for a moment after he left, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“By the end of this you’ll be an expert enchanter,” he said.

“If that’s what it takes,” she shook her head. “Sorry,” she winced, “I’m getting tunnel vision again. How was your day?”

“Fine. Just letters and the shop and my books.”

“What more could you want?”

“I have something in mind.”

Tav looked shy for a moment, hyper aware they were in public as she looked around the room. It was not often he felt debonair, but that just seemed to be her effect on him. Confidence that felt well-founded for once.

“The coronation,” she said to fill the silence. “I was wondering if you… would go with me?”

“I was under the impression we were all going,” he raised an eyebrow.

“We are,” she laughed a little. “Except Shadowheart and Halsin. But I meant together as in… you know. Together .”

“How else would we go?” He laughed.

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said, flustered.

“It’s not much of an assumption, it’s more a given, honestly. Or did I not make it clear this morning when I had your thighs over my shoulders?” He lowered his voice enough that only she could hear, leaning in slightly.

Tav looked over her shoulder to make sure no one heard before she also tilted her body forward closer to him. “You could always make it a bit clearer again tonight. Just for transparency, of course.”

“Can you two get a room?” Lottie suddenly appeared with a tray of food for the table, dropping it between them and making them create some distance. “Where were you last night?”

“Out.” Tav said shortly.

“Out where?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Tav shook her head.

“Cal says you slept at the tower.” Lottie grinned.

“Gods, that big mouthed buffoon,” Rolan winced. “I told you introducing them was the worst thing that we could have done.”

“I’m telling mum.” With that Lottie quickly escaped the glare of her older sister.

Tav groaned. “I think we should consider a nanny for them again. It would be worth the money.”

Her friends had cleared out for breakfast, leaving Tav alone with her mother and sister. That morning she had woken up and only had a few moments of calm before her reality set in. As excited as she was for the prospect of her future in the city, there were some painful goodbyes on the horizon. It was hard not to linger on them, despite them not even having happened yet.

“We will have to wrangle up supplies soon,” Tatianna said over her breakfast. “Rations last, I think, but we should head to Sundries to get what we need.”

“Cal said he has been setting some stuff aside for us,” Lottie replied. “Some health potions and scrolls.”

“We won’t need much,” Tatianna said. “Just enough for any mishaps, and some extra comfort.”

“The roads may be dangerous,” Tav said. “The Absolute threat is gone but who knows how many former cultists are still nearby.”

“You doubt your dear mama?” Tatianna asked. “I’ve slipped past worse than goblins and bandits.”

“I know,” Tav smiled. “I just worry.”

“Rolan gave us some sending scrolls,” Lottie said. “We can call for help if we need to.”

“We won’t need to,” Tatianna said certainly. “Lottie knows what to do if I don’t come back from scouting, we had everything planned out on our journey here and we will do the same on the way back. It’s going to be fine.”

“Are you sure traveling with Halsin and the refugees isn’t an option?” Tav asked. “You don’t need to go to the coronation, I’d rather know you’re safe.”

“Tav,” Tatianna sighed. “What is this about?”

There was a long pause as Tav tried to gather her courage.

“I’m not going with you,” she blurted out. “I’m joining the Harpers.”

Tatianna cocked her head a little. “Sweet one, I know you’re not coming. We never thought you were.”

“What?”

“It’s so obvious,” Lottie rolled her eyes. “You're the Savior of the Gate, now. You have big important hero stuff to do.”

“It’s not like that,” Tav said quickly. “I - I like this. I think I’m good at it, I think I can really do something here.”

“You can,” Tatianna said, “you will .”

“Rolan will make it so I can be there if I need to,” Tav rambled on. “If you need anything I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Tav,” Tatianna put her hand out to grab hers. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she laughed a little. “This is your life, my dear girl. I’ll miss you everyday, I’ll never not think of you, but I’ll be happy to know you’re out here doing exactly what you want to do.”

Tav chewed the inside of her cheek. “When Papa died I told myself I’d always —“ she took a deep breath, not even sure what she wanted to say, “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry you didn’t get to know him,” she said to Lottie, “I’m sorry that —“

“It’s time to let that be in the past,” Tatianna said firmly. “He would never have wanted you to carry it like this.”

Lottie didn’t say anything, but she shifted to hug Tav.

“I’ll try,” Tav said gently, pressing her head to Lottie’s.

“The Harpers will be lucky to have you in their ranks,” Tatianna said. “And I know quite a few. I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, great,” Tav rolled her eyes.

“And Rolan is here,” Lottie lifted her head with a sniffle and mischievous look in her slightly watery eyes.

“Yes,” Tav said pointedly. “He is. And I’m sure Cal and Lia will tease us enough that you’ll be satisfied.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to.”

“Did he speak to you?” Tatianna asked.

“Yes,” Tav cleared her throat, trying desperately not to think about just how much was said and done up in the tower that day.

“Good, I thought he never would.”

“I’m starting to understand what he means about being meddlesome.” She sighed in response.

The rest of the day went much like the others had. A weight was lifted off of her shoulders, despite the gloomy prospect of her friends and family leaving soon. Still, she was determined to enjoy their company while she could.

Seeing Cal and Lia wearing formal clothes was a change he was not sure he could get used to. Cal looked uncomfortable in the stiff shirt, and the shoes that were far less comfortable than his well-worn leather boots he had for years. Lia was enjoying it, at least, but she was moving carefully like she would tear or stain the silk shirt she wore.

Despite what he was trying to convey, he also felt the new discomfort of wearing something so formal. He was hyper aware of the tighter collar of his robes, distracted by the pinching of the shoes, and the heavier weight of the expensive fabric. Still, he put his shoulders back, his chin high and attempted not to pay attention to any looks sent his way.

A lot of the gathering was patriars, but a good number of merchant class were present. Another sign of Duchess Florrick’s influence: as the city was rebuilt she was trying to mesh the upper city and the lower onto more equal ground. But there was still an apparent separation of who the patriars were deciding to sit next to. And a good number of people had stared for far too long when they had been announced; three Elturelian refugees were not what many of them expected as the new attendentents of Ramazith’s Tower.

He felt an immense amount of pressure not to embarrass himself. A renewed feeling of eagerness to make it clear he belonged there.

The means of the celebration were less grand, which was purposeful. Most money had been spent on local vendors who still had enough to decorate and cater an event — the Gazette was lauding her for ‘invigorating the local economy.’ Florrick was doing well to get the city on her side, and it was clear by the celebrations happening in the streets outside of the actual event.

Rolan watched as Tav, Gale and Astarion made their way to stand at Florrick’s side along with Minsc and Jaheira who were now repeat defenders of the city. Astarion and Gale looked right at home, both of them dignified and upper crust in their own ways. Tav seemed to be mirroring them, with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Just a couple days ago she had been holding back tears as she sent Shadowheart and Halsin off, spending the rest of the day in a sad haze. Now she looked confident and stoic, he was sure he was the only one who noticed the nervous way she kept biting the inside of her cheek as she glanced around the crowd.

She caught sight of him, seated with his siblings, her mother and her sister. She smiled a little and he gave her a firm nod of encouragement before she looked back to the ceremony.

Rolan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Facemaker had gone out of his way to create a beautiful gown for the city’s hero, themed off of her storm magic in silver, purple and navy blue. The plunging neckline showed off her breasts, and the delicate pearl necklace which she wore everyday. Her skirts looked silky to the touch, hiding her legs except for a slit in one side. Speeches were made, honors were given and all the while Rolan’s eyes kept drifting back to Tav.

The Duchess and the heroes were stormed by upper-city admirers once the ceremony ended, Rolan staying to the back with their family and nursing a glass of wine. His eyes tracked over the crowd every once in a while. Gale and Astarion were with her, so he was not too worried, but he immediately felt relieved when he saw them all approaching their group.

“I’m starting to understand why Halsin and Shadowheart left before this,” she muttered. “No less than three patriars have tried to bribe me for a dance.”

“It’s a hot social commodity to dance with a defender of the Gate,” Astarion commented.

“Is this truly my life now?”

“Every job has a downside, Tav,” Tatianna laughed at her.

“You two should take to the floor,” Jaheira came up, ever ready to marionette everyone for her own schemes of keeping the city in order. “The Master of Ramazith’s Tower and the Savior of the Gate will send a clear message. The lower city is not to be ignored.”

Rolan felt his stomach turn. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Me neither,” Tav winced.

“No time like the present to practice, cubs.” Jaheira arched a brow at them.

“This is an order, isn’t it?”

“A suggestion,” she shrugged, “but if you refuse it may escalate to an order.”

“I’m not a Harper,” Rolan reminded her.

“ But I am ,” Tav chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Who else would do in Rolan’s place?”

“A merchant. Someone like the Irlentree’s new head of house, or the Dluskers.” Jaheira pointed out a young half-elf woman and a human man across the room.

Rolan felt himself bristle. “You’re going to just pawn her off to the nearest suitable parvenu?”

“This is the game we play now,” Jaheira told him seriously. “The city is in a state of equity, and in order to keep the Patriars in check before they bloat their pockets again a point must be made.” She looked at Tav, “you’re the daughter of an innkeeper, vaulted to unknown heights by your own mettle. Giving the working class families your attention tells the nobles and the city your intentions.”

“I understand,” Tav nodded, a serious expression like she had just been given a mission of life or death.

“Bloody hells,” Rolan grumbled, holding out his hand, “come on.”

“Rolan, you don’t have to —“ Tav started, but he never gave her the chance to give him an out. He grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the dance floor. “No one is trying to guilt trip you, Rolan,” she said as she caught up to his pace. “There’s nothing to get worked up about.”

“I’m not going to watch some puffed up social climber swing you around the room,” he said. “We don’t know anything about them, what if they're dangerous?”

“Oh, it’s my safety you're concerned about now?”

Rolan turned and felt his jaw tighten. He grabbed her waist, and her hand in his. If he was honest with himself the idea of her dancing with someone else was annoying, especially when they had arrived together. But in the back of his mind, he was worried about Tav’s general goodness being used against her.

Astarion and Gale were well enough versed in high society to hold their own — Tav was from a small village on the edge of nowhere.

Rolan was just as green when it came to these events, but his time as Lorroakan’s apprentice had him well prepared for the worst of the city’s upper class denizens. He also had the benefit of being circumspect and ready for the worst. More than one of the nobles had already made a comment about his being a tiefling. No one had outright called him Hellspawn or foul blood but opinions of him had been made clear with double sided compliments. Tav had the tendency to assume the best of people, and she was too forgiving, something he knew he benefited from himself. Who else would bother with him after the way he had treated her in the Shadow Cursed lands? Who could blame him for being protective?

“She’s throwing you in too quickly,” he said as they started to move. “You don’t know this world.”

“And you do?” She was slightly defensive, he could sense it in the tenseness of her pursed lips.

“I spent weeks under Lorroakan’s thumb,” he commented. “I know what they’re like.”

“I can handle myself, Rolan.”

They were moving around the floor in slightly stunted movements, neither of them very graceful dancers. But they were managing it fine, mostly paying attention to each other rather than anything around them. Nerves and embarrassment were drowned out. She was with him, they were a force together, she didn’t need any up and coming troglodytes with rich parents to send a message.

“I won’t watch the people here use you for their own gain,” he said plainly.

“I’m not some blushing ingénue, you know that,” she softened slightly.

“You’re not,” he agreed. But she was no seasoned diplomat, either.

“Are you jealous?” Her eyebrows flew up.

“Of them ?” He scoffed. “No.”

“Good,” she grinned. The type of grin he immediately knew spelled trouble for him. “My next dance may be with the patriarch of the Caldwell family,” she said, “he was very complimentary of my dress, you know. He liked the neckline a lot, judging by how he was looking at it.”

Rolan’s nostrils flared, a hot flash of anger making him grip her tighter. She was doing this on purpose, he knew, and he wasn’t some brute who had any ideas of ownership over her. However, this particular crowd was entitled, arrogant and presumptive. She wasn’t theirs, no matter how badly they wanted to put her on a shelf of important acquaintances and connections. Gods forbid some sniveling brat thought they could court and capture her.

“It is a nice dress.”

“Thanks for noticing,” she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve noticed little else the entire night.”

“Go on,” Tav encouraged. “It won’t kill you to compliment me.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said plainly. “Anything else to say about it is best left for later.”

“Well, you can’t say that and expect me not to ask for more.”

Rolan leaned in close, their bodies pressed tighter as he lowered his lips to her ear, “don’t be greedy, my love.”

Tav gave a small little gasp and licked her lips, and he was suddenly ten feet tall. It seemed he had flustered her, as she had no other comment to add. He felt his face slip into a smug smile, eyes pulling away from hers to glance around the room making eye contact with anyone watching them. As the music came to a halt, they offered their applause to the resident bards and then made their way back off of the dance floor.

Tav’s voice was just a pitch too high when she asked, “how much longer is this thing supposed to go on for?”

Tav looked down at the city from the terrace, her feet hurt from dancing, and she was just slightly more buzzed than she had planned to be at the start of the night. She had felt quite pretty in her dress, more lavish than anything she had ever worn before, fit specifically to her and perfectly suited to her storm magic. So many eyes on her all night had made her a bit self-conscious, it was strange having so many people come up to her and offer their accolades.

The entire night she had been grateful to have Astarion and Gale with her, both of them fit right into this part of her new life. If she ever felt overwhelmed or didn’t know what to say either one of them always did. They understood the manners and the interests of the Upper City’s population. Tav had done her best, was polite and gracious and when she felt overwhelmed she just focused on looking stoic. Whatever the hells that looked like, she had no idea, but she did her best and it seemed to have worked out.

Rolan had come off aloof and proud the entire night, but she couldn’t fault him for that. If anything she was proud of him for not snapping at anyone. More than one person had rudely alluded to their surprise at a tiefling being the new master of Ramazith’s, and that implication was more than enough for her own temper to nearly break free of her own reigns. But he had handled it all with cutting wit that never veered into outright rudeness. She had run to his rescue so often, it had taken effort not to do so even when she knew he could handle it himself.

Despite Jaheira guiding them to talk to this person or that, to be seen with the new Duchess by the right people – the entire night she had been making her way back to her mother and Lottie or Cal and Lia. As special guests of theirs they had been able to avoid having to do much work, and if anything she thought those four had the most fun.

Cal and Lia had danced with Tatianna and Lottie, ate the truly delicious food and had enough drinks that they were convinced to spend the rest of the evening at the Elfsong. People were still celebrating in the streets, she could hear music and see the small shapes of people milling about. It was less about their new Duchess and more a celebration of survival, levity as the city settled back into a sense of normalcy. It was nice to know her family and Rolan’s were down there partaking in the revelry.

Anytime she noticed a new scar or permanent ache acquired on the journey she reminded herself why it was worth it.

“It’s not too late to go join the festivities,” she heard Rolan say from behind her.

“No, I’m alright. Sometimes I just like to look.”

Rolan came up behind her, hands grabbing at her waist and kissing behind her ear. His warm breath was a sharp contrast from the slightly cool air up so high. She shivered a little, bringing her hand to his. Sharp teeth played with the skin of her ear, hot tongue tracing after, and she swallowed hard with an audible gulping sound that truly exposed his effect on her.

“Keep looking.”

His hand moved from hers to slide down the neckline of her dress, exploring the exposed skin between her breasts. Despite layers of robes and a gown between them, he was pressed tightly against her back, and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. When his fingers dipped beneath her dress to grasp at her breast she gasped, fingers gripping the railing tight as she felt his free hand start to push past the slit in her skirt, pulling the fabric aside so her leg was entirely exposed.

“Rolan —“ she cautioned.

“No one can see us up here,” he assured her.

“Part of me thinks you wouldn’t mind if they could,” she breathed a little laugh.

“It is… an interesting idea,” he commented, his mouth coming to her neck, “letting the entire city see their hero fall apart for me.”

“You're on a possessive streak this evening,” she muttered, punctuated by a gasp at the feeling of him pinching her nipple between his fingers. It was making her body start to thrum with heat.

“Those nobles,” he said, the lilt of his tone becoming rough and grumbling, “they looked at you like a piece of meat.”

“I’m quite - oh,” she stumbled over her sentence when he pulled at her thigh, opening her stance and forcing her to lean slightly over the railing. “Quite popular. Everyone wants to know the Savior of the Gate.”

“They can know you, but they cannot have you. Not like this,” he replied. “Right?”

She was certain he didn’t mean to sound unsure, he probably intended to be confident, and authoritative. But she could parse out the slight taper into a whisper, the smallest hint of insecurity. Despite their new found renown and fortune, they were still a refugee orphan from a damned city and the child of an innkeeper from the middle of nowhere.

No one in those grand halls had any idea what it took to get there, at the top of the tower in clothes that cost more than their former belongings combined. They couldn’t hold a light to her wizard, powerful and self-made.

“No one can have me, but you,” she said certainly, she grabbed her skirt, hiking it up for him, “ Master Rolan. ”

If his ego needed some bolstering in the face of being talked down to by the nobility, she was happy to do it.

He gave a sharp gasp and then a soft laugh pressed into her neck, his hot mouth latching onto the skin. The hand on her thigh dipped down rubbing over her underthings. She moaned, her eyes flicking over the bodies in the street, unknowing of what was happening above them. Insistently he teased her over her clothes, the slightest roll of her hips trying to increase the pressure through the fabric.

“I’ll pay a fortune to Facemaker to keep you dressed just like this.” He muttered. “I’ll keep you in my lap, looking so pretty, wearing the most expensive gowns — my decorated hero.”

She chuckled, ready to play along, “are you going to lock me up in your big tower? Hoard me all to yourself? What will the people say?”

“I’ll let them come gaze upon you,” he hummed.

“How generous.” She smiled. Her body shivered in reaction to the slight chill of a breeze, pushing further into his heat at her back. “Would you let them see the great master of the tower get on his knees for their hero?”

Rolan bit down on her shoulder, sharp teeth digging into flesh enough to make her go limp. “Only so they know you’re the only one I’d kneel for,” he said once he’d released her skin from his teeth, tongue running along the spot where his teeth indented her skin.

“Rolan,” she whined impatiently as his nail ran over her clothed clit.

She felt him slide down, heard the rustle of fabric as he got to his knees. Her skirts in her hand, one of her tits half out of the dress, he slid her underthings down her legs. Gently he grabbed each ankle one at a time to remove them fully, what he did with them she wasn’t sure nor did she care when his hands came to her ass. He spread her wide, and she gave a shuddering breath.

The sharp teeth biting into the flesh of one of her ass cheeks made her squeal, and she nudged him with a foot.

He laughed, “couldn’t help myself, my love.”

“You’re — fuck ,” whatever casual tease she had for him flitted away when his tongue ran through the folds of her cunt.

Speaking ceased for some time as Rolan’s mouth was otherwise occupied and Tav could hardly find words worth saying. The streets below still were bustling with life when her eyes opened, none the wiser that she was above them, with Rolan’s tongue buried between her folds. He teased her entrance and traced a line up to her clit that had her panting, all while his nails dug into the flesh of her ass.

By the Gods he was a quick study, only a few short weeks and he knew which steady way to lap at her clit to have her bucking her hips and what way to caress the rest of her cunt with his tongue to keep her eager for more. The slightly muffled sounds of his mouth on her tickled her brain into a lewd haze, and each responding groan of pleasure at the way she was panting and whining had her heart pounding in her chest.

Grinding her hips back, he hummed in approval, flattening his tongue so she could use it as she needed. She felt him pulling at her slightly, helping her keep a steady rhythm to claim her pleasure. It didn’t take too long, the rough heat of his tongue making the edge come closer with each motion back and forth. When she finally hit it, her body went rigid and the movements became jerky, but he had figured out what to do then as well.

Rolan took over, teasing her clit so the waves of her orgasm went on for what felt like forever. And he refused to stop until she was twitching and frantic, almost overwhelmed and leaning dangerously over the balcony railing. A fitting death, she thought in the back of her mind, to fall over the tower's edge still pulsing from the magic of his tongue.

“Careful,” he growled, getting to his feet, tugging her backwards to a safer position.

“You chose the location,” she sighed, still thrumming.

“So the city could hear you, not so you could drop to your death,” he grumbled in reply.

“My deepest apologies, Master,” she tried to sound cheeky, to play along with the little game that had started all of this. But when it came out of her mouth it just sounded needy.

“ Zurgan ,” he hissed, his hands disappearing from her for a few short moments before she felt the blunt head of him pressing against her. “Say it again.”

A slightly hazy laugh rolled up from her throat, rich and heavy. “Please, Master Rolan, fuck me.”

The abrupt thrust that filled her with him had the words dying on her tongue with a grunt. He paused, shaking hands now on her hips and gripping too tight. Rolan had a tendency to hold her so firmly she wondered if he forgot his strength or simply was afraid of her slipping through his fingers. He could be gentle, but she had learned that when he forgot himself he gave way to desperation and raw need that made her mouth water.

It seemed tonight was one of those nights. He started out unrelenting, clothed hips smacking against her ass with a roughness that only allowed her to hold herself up on the balcony’s railing. She felt the tip of his tail tickling the skin of her leg as it wrapped around her thigh. Each grunt and groan was lost to the open air around the tower, neither of them at all concerned with being heard from this distance.

It seemed his mind was wiped off speech, not even mindless babbling could make its way out, just heavy breaths and sounds of pleasure with each push and pull of him inside of her. Her ass pressed out, the curving of her back tilting her hips so he rubbed against the spot in her that made her whisper out a curse.

A whiny moan slipped out of him, leaning over so his chest was pressed to her back. He curled an arm around her, keeping her pressed to him and grabbing her bunched skirts while his other hand came to the railing to cover one of hers. He laced their fingers, effectively pinning it to the stone edge, and she felt her heart fit to burst with the wordless gesture of affection.

“Touch yourself,” he begged.

He kept her steady, and she followed his plea, hand diving between her thighs. Her own fingers were frantic, but practiced in what would push her to another orgasm. Sensitive, brain blank with his hot panting against her ear, and spurred on by the overwhelming sensation of his ridged cock sliding in and out of her she choked a moan out. She pressed her forehead to the stone in front of her, as her legs shook when the sudden second release hit her hard.

“Yes, Gods, yes ,” Rolan panted.

She felt herself clench around him and he seemed to lose his ability to think again, only mindless rutting with increasingly short groans. There was a harsh few thrusts, before he stilled against her with a final shout. She felt him pulse inside of her, and Tav breathed out a soft laugh. He kissed her ear, the side of her face and caught his breath.

“I love you,” he sighed. “I’ll run a bath, grab more wine … just let me catch my breath.”

“Take your time,” she leaned her head into his.

“I love you.”

“You said that already.”

“Don’t care, love you.”

“I love you too, Rolan.”

Rolan had not been paying attention, but he knew he really ought to be. It was rather important, a dinner with Duchess Florrick, another member of the Council of Four and some of the members from the Parliament of Peers. The upper city was nearly finished with rebuilding thanks to internal funds, but the lower city still had stubborn areas of piled rubble, people were hurting for work and there was a heavy increase in homelessness.

For the first time since the fall of the Elder Brain, Tav had been sent out of the city on Harper business. Until only a couple weeks prior Jaheira had her working on the rebuilding efforts, and working with merchants and the harbor masters. After the departure of the last of her friends and her family, Tav had been visibly out of sorts. Throwing herself into work that drained her mentally and simply kept her busy. This first mission away had been needed, he knew, but it didn’t make it easier on him.

It had been a couple days without a word from her. Amongst his daily duties his jaw would clench tightly when he let his mind get too carried away with worry. It had been a while since she’d had to fight, what if she made a misstep? And she was used to fighting alongside people who could tap into her very thoughts; what if her team of Harpers had been out of sync and she got caught in some crossfire?

Cal and Lia were only a short distance away at any given time, he was able to breathe easy about them, but as usual his noble hero was out risking life and limb far beyond where he could help. He had promised he would find a way to deal with his tendency to overthink at the very beginning of their courtship, and he intended to. At the prospect of doing something besides trying to charm the nobility she had visibly perked up, her excitement had been palpable, and despite his excessive worrying he had made a point not to say anything about it.

His hand in his pocket fiddled with the engraving on the sending stone in his pocket, outlining the face with his thumb. Tav had the matching one, and he was barely preventing himself from activating it just to double check she was still alive on the other side. It had been a day or two since her last check in, and he was unable to focus on much else. Still, if she wasn’t checking in it could be because she was too entrenched in something to stop – if he distracted her it could be catastrophic. But if she needed help, how would he know unless he tried to get in contact with her?

“Master Rolan has a perfect view of the disparity between the two districts,” Florrick was saying, making him pay attention suddenly.

That's right. He was in the middle of very important archmage business.

“Indeed,” he said blandly. “Repairs on the lower city have all but stopped, meanwhile new imports of materials are carted through Heapside everyday into the Upper City. We still have an alarming amount of people whose homes were destroyed, still living in the temples or on the streets.”

The charm of being important enough to be attending these gatherings had worn off. At his first Tav had steadied his shaking hand before he set off, not commenting on his nerves, but simply kissing him on the cheek and telling him she’d be waiting on his return. Now it was rather tedious that they had the same conversations every time; the upper city had taken the brunt of the damage, but the lower city was not to be ignored in the recovery.

“I'm sure the residents of the Upper City would be willing to be more generous if the remaining Savior of the Gate who lives here would be willing to make more appearances. Not to mention the Master of Ramazith’s tower.” Duke Exeltis said.

As Rolan understood it, from Jaheira’s estimation, Exiltis had a lot to prove. He had replaced a duchess which had ousted her predecessor and was an agent of the Absolute, a new name in the seat of the Council of Four besides Florrick was not common. He wanted the Upper City’s support. There were several unopened invitations to both him and Tav to different dinner parties and galas that neither of them had any interest in.

“The Savior of the Gate is a busy woman,” Rolan clenched his hand around the sending stone in his pocket. “Making the nobles feel important is low on our list of priorities.”

“You are new to your position, and to this city,” Exeltis snarled, “so I will forgive your ignorance. The more you snub the leading families, the less inclined they are to acquiesce to your requests, they find you both arrogant and too proud to admit you need their support.”

“We have the Lower City’s support,” Rolan felt his own hackles rising, he really was not a diplomat , and his patience was disappearing quickly. “Perhaps if you weren’t ignorant to how much you need their support your attempt at being elected Grand Duke wouldn’t have failed.”

“How dare you —“

“Master Rolan, Duke Exeltis, please,” Florrick intervened. “Unity between the upper and lower city is what we need. I brought you all here to find a solution, not brew further division.”

“If I may,” said one of the Parliament members, Dlusker who was, as far as Nobles went, tolerable to Rolan. “Perhaps a noble family could attempt to bridge the gap. A fundraising event, for the Lower City’s benefit. My family would be happy to host, and Tavryna could attend as a guest of honor.”

Rolan had changed his mind: Dlusker was far from tolerable. Every noble that wanted to make it seem like they were close allies with Tav always used her full name, finding the shortened version mundane and lacking gravitas. She was just Tav to everyone who mattered, had never introduced herself as otherwise. And he was tired of them trying to parade them both around like prized show dogs.

Exeltis was still fuming, but he had figured out how to get under Rolan’s skin. “A fine idea,” he said snidely. “It’s a perfect opportunity to unveil the new statue of the Saviors in the square.”

“An egregious waste of money that Tav has said repeatedly she had no interest in,” Rolan grumbled.

“A fundraiser is a start.” Florrick nodded, “a good way to show the Lower City they haven’t been forgotten.”

“Yes, I’m sure reading about the lavish ball thrown by the Dlusker’s in the gazette will be of comfort,” Rolan bit out. “They can enjoy all the details of what imported silk Duke Caldwell was wearing over a lovely breakfast of stale bread in their all but demolished homes.”

“Rolan,” Florrick shot him a look. “If you have a better idea, I’d like to hear it. I brought you into this discussion for your input, not to watch you and Exeltis come to blows.”

The problem was that even after the Elderbrain, the nobles had holed themselves up in Wyrm’s Crossing, sending their families away while rebuilding happened. They never set foot in the Lower City, except to campaign for seats in the new Council of Four or Parliament. A fundraiser was well and good, but it still felt like a hollow grab for good press. If they wanted unity the city needed to mingle.

Rolan had an idea, he hated it, but it was something.

“Ramazith’s Tower will host the fundraiser. A public event in Bloomridge Park.” He said, regretting the words as he spoke them.

“Public?” Exeltis scoffed.

“Yes,” Rolan said slowly. “If you need to be reminded of the definition of unity, it means to be joined as a whole . Upper city and lower city residents, together, raising funds for the most vulnerable in The Gate.”

“And how does this appease the nobility?” Exeltis asked.

“Highest donors get access to a banquet hosted at the tower, which will be attended by its master and guest of honor: The Savior of the Gate.”

“And she will agree to this?” Florrick asked.

He had a headache already, not trying to hide his irritation as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt bad about promising Tav to them like this, but as he was constantly reminded: they had many responsibilities now. Something needed to be done, as rebuilding in the Lower City had all but ceased. People were still going hungry, were still homeless and jobless. There was only so much he and Tav could do with the funds from the shop alone.

“If you can guarantee that the Lower City will finally see some aid, I will make sure she will be in attendance.”

If he was honest, she would do it just because he asked. If that weren’t enough, she would certainly be onboard because it could possibly do some good. His Tav was always willing and ready to do what she could to help. Hosting an event with him and attending a stuffy dinner with nobles would be nothing to her. But he wasn’t going to let the sharks at the table ruthlessly dive for Tav’s bleeding heart, if this had to be done, he would make sure it was on his terms. The terms in which Tav was safe from promising too much for too little in return, and safe from being taken advantage of.

She had stood between him and the Shadowcursed Lands; he could stand between her and the ambitious nobility.

“The families will be generous,” Exeltis finally said, “they are not the cruel caricatures you think they are.”

“That remains to be seen,” Rolan deadpanned, “I hope they prove me wrong.”

Baldur’s Gate was coming quickly into view. Tav turned to her group, all of them still intact give or take a few cuts and a wrapped arm. Geraldus glanced at her with a smile, before going back to his conversation. Jaheira had placed him under her command for this journey to ‘rebuild’ his confidence, and Tav would be happy to report he was turning out to be a fine second in command.

Her first journey for the Harper’s had been a success. It was simple, nothing more than pushing back against some Thayans that had taken up residence along the coast. Baldur’s Gate was still weak, the threat of an infiltration was always under the surface, and for now Tav and her team had stemmed the attempt.

She was bruised and cut up, but she was pleased with herself. After Gale and Astarion left for Waterdeep, her mother and sister had gone home soon after. For the first time in a while, Tav was without any of her companions or her family, who until recently had been the closest to her in her entire life. It felt strange and new, both exciting and deeply heartbreaking.

The comfort of her remaining friends, along with Cal, Lia and Rolan had softened the blow quite a bit, but it was an adjustment. Jaheira had been having her oversee the rebuilding, or working with Nine Fingers to ensure a huge crime wave didn’t overtake the city while it was vulnerable. Not to mention giving her council on how to gather and manage her own web of informants amongst her new friends and allies from the fight against the Absolute.

As they made it through Rivington, the rest of the journey was to be done through Harper channels. They got off of the cart they had hired and made their way under the bridge to row in on a small rowboat. Once in the city, most of the Harper’s went their own way, her and Geraldus stayed behind to debrief Jaheira.

The walk to the tower was long, and she was tired and excited to see Cal and Lia. A good part of her time away had been spent missing her and Rolan’s bed, his warm body next to her as she slept and the gentle kiss to her forehead he gave every morning when he inevitably woke before her. Most days she woke up just enough to smile at him before slipping back to sleep, other days she whined and tugged him back to bed despite his insistence he had to start the day. She was very excited at the prospect of a good night’s sleep in their bed.

Sorcerous Sundries was busy, loud and full of summons as usual. She dodged a splatter from the lava elemental easily, and came up to the counter where Cal and Lia were going over the books.

“Welcome to Sorcerous Sundries!” Rolan’s projection began.

“You’d think he’d enchant this thing to recognize me,” Tav shook her head, ignoring the continuing speech from the slightly transparent apparition of her lover.

“You’re back!” Lia grinned as she came around the counter. “Welcome home.”

“Thank the gods, he’s been unbearable,” Cal muttered as he wrapped Tav in a tight hug.

“Sulking, is he?”

“More than sulking. You’re in so much trouble,” Lia smiled mischievously.

“What could I possibly have done?” Tav said, “I’ve been gone for two weeks.”

“You haven’t been checking in!” Cal said, sounding like he was also ready to scold her. “He’s been worried sick.”

“Oh, great,” she sighed.

“He’s upstairs, we have work to do,” Lia waved her away as a customer came up to the counter. “Dinner at the Elfsong, don’t forget, you two can’t hole up there all night.”

“Okay, okay,” Tav shook her head.

She needed a bath and a nap before braving the Elfsong. It was rowdy on a slow night, chaotically loud on a busy one. She made her way up the stairs and past the enchanted suit of armor that guarded the door to the new portals. First she had to see her beloved, grump of a wizard and assure him she didn’t need to check in once a day.

In the study, Rolan was at his desk. He seemed very intent on his work, so much so that he didn’t look up when the portal spat her out with its usual signaling sound. There were mountains of paperwork, more than she had ever seen before, and she wondered how he had time to be so sulky when he was this busy.

“Lia, there’s too much preparation to do, no more distractions. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Tav crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll just see myself out then.”

His head snapped up. If she was honest with herself, she had imagined this reunion. It was only a short time they were separated but it was longer than they had been apart since the fall of the Elderbrain. At night in her bedroll, she had let herself fall asleep to visions of him grinning at the sight of her, dropping everything he was doing to kiss her or take her into his arms. Fanciful and silly, absolutely, something he would certainly tease her about if he ever knew. But even though she knew it would not be some grand thing like in a storybook, she hadn’t expected him to look so angry.

“You.” He said sternly.

“Me?”

“You have a sending stone for a reason,” he stood and made his way around the desk, “it’s been days. I didn’t even know you were on your way back!”

“Rolan, I just got home, don’t —“ she stopped when his hand came gently to her chin, and tilted her face up. He looked her over, amber eyes discerning. “What are you doing?”

“What’s this from?” He thumbed softly over a scabbed cut on her cheek.

“Telekinesis spell threw me straight into a bramble,” she said. “Our cleric got most of it, but,” she shrugged, “can’t waste all the magic once it’s just a few cuts.”

“Anywhere else?”

Tav smiled a little as he visibly tried to calm himself down despite his frustration with her. She shrugged off her coat, showing matching scratches, small and mostly harmless all over her arms. “It was a pretty big bramble,” she admitted sheepishly.

Rolan took a very slow, very deep breath, eyes closed. “You have to be careful.”

“I know, love,” she placated, her hands coming up to cup his face. “I saved the world once, a bramble isn’t going to get the best of me.”

“I’m sorry,” he put his hands on hers. “I’ve been so — it’s an adjustment. I’m not used to it yet. I like it when you’re here, not risking your life.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” she promised.

He frowned, he had done the same when she had said those words to him before leaving. A hard promise to keep, she knew, but she intended to make it anytime she left for Harper business.

“Next time just, please, use the sending stone.”

“I’ll try,” she nodded, “if you try to have a little more faith in your gallant hero.” Gently she pulled him and pressed her lips to his, “you’re such a grump.”

Rolan didn’t have a response, just kissed her again. Her lips, her cut cheek, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in to kiss the top of her head when she melted into him. He took a deep breath, and then spoke, she could hear the smile on his lips.

“You need to bathe,” he muttered.

“And you need a break.”

He sighed. “I can’t. We’re hosting a fundraiser for the lower city.”

“Oh,” she raised her eyebrows, “are we?”

“Yes,” he shook his head. “I’ll give you the details — it’s the only way the nobles will even try to be involved. Exeltis is an arse, Florrick’s too diplomatic and Dlusker just wants to be socially relevant — there’s so much to plan, I’ve never even thrown a party let alone an event this size —“

“I’m here now,” she shook her head. “We will figure it out.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have signed you up for this, but you didn’t check in and I thought you might need to focus or there might be trouble,” he frowned.

“I’ll do anything you need.” She assured him.

“I know,” he winced. “That’s the problem.”

“Not a problem,” she laughed. “I’ll forgive you if you come upstairs with me. We have a big beautiful bathtub and I’ve missed you terribly.”

Rolan looked like he wanted to protest.

“Rolan, I’ve been away for two weeks – take a break with me.” She pouted dramatically, “you’re not going to leave me naked, wet and all alone up there, are you?”

“That would be absolutely unforgivable of me,” he said, fighting a smile.

A whoosh and a clank, and one of the enchanted suits of armor stumbled through the portal. It ambled its way over to them, a letter in hand, holding it out to Tav. She took it, looking at the scrawling writing of her name. Not anyone’s handwriting she recognized.

“Must be urgent if they sent him up,” Tav said distractedly as she opened it, her eyes flicking over the lines of script.

“Bad news?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s from Withers.”

Rolan shook his head, “come on, Hero, you were just promising me a bath with my beloved who has been gone for two weeks.”

Tav tore her eyes away. “Right, of course, sorry.”

She tucked the letter away, letting it drift to the back of her mind for now. She went to walk out of the study, but Rolan grabbed her and with a blink and a tug of the weave she felt herself thrust through dimensions and suddenly in the bathroom.

“Wasteful use of a spell, Master Rolan, we have perfectly fine feet to walk on.”

“What’s the point of being a wizard if I can’t get you into my room and naked as fast as possible.”

Tav shook her head with a laugh and kissed him again. It was good to be home.

Fin.

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me!

#rolan x tav #holy rolan empire #bg3 fanfiction #rolan smut #olly writes

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