#and delilah came and whispered in her ear

[erogenousmind]

Cocksure

Delilah had butterflies in her stomach. What if this didn't work? What if it did? After all these months. So many nights and mornings and lazy afternoons working up to this moment. To finally have what she'd always wanted. To be what she'd always wanted. To be a slave to his cock.

The anxiety would have been more than she could stand if he wasn't so damn confident. Hell, she'd have never believed it could work to begin with if he hadn't been so sure of himself. Of what he could condition her to be. And as he stood before her now, Delilah could feel it, could feel that same confidence. It was going to work exactly how he said it would. She would behave exactly as he had trained her to.

And train her he had. He started with Delilah's head of course. The commanding tone he took with her sometimes was already enough to put her in a submissive headspace, but formalizing the process with spirals, and flashing lights, and leading her methodically into deeper and deeper layers for trance until she couldn't think anymore and all she could do was listen and obey and it always felt so wonderful... Yeah, she had been a very good subject for him. She learned to drop at his command, to forget at his command, to act at his command. And she took to suggestions so easily when he took her deep, dropping her over and over again.

When he was satisfied that Delilah's mind was open for him, he began to make the necessary changes. She vaguely recalled words whispered in her ear as she fell asleep, or stirring briefly in the night agreeing with whatever her sleeping mind had been told. Then one morning he had woken her early and simply commanded that she be completely blank. The next thing she knew, she was waking up the next day. Satisfied with her progress, he moved on to the next step.

And that meant controlling her pleasure. Training her to edge. Teaching her that she could only climax with his permission. Delilah remembered the feeling of vibrators and his fingers and his tongue and his cock pressed against her and pushing inside of her. The sensation withdrawn when he decided. Getting her so close and then pulling away again, leaving her desperate and wet. And she found that the more she edged for him, the more powerful trance felt, the more suggestible she became. He began training her when she was right on the edge, telling her open and vulnerable mind new truths that it readily absorbed.

Delilah felt the flush in her face remembering that beautiful torture. The way he held her right where he wanted her. And he knew that she wouldn't fall over that edge. She couldn't. He was in control. And that confidence always made her so wet. And now, staring up at him, she saw the certainty in his face. He knew what was going to happen, so Delilah knew it would happen exactly as he wanted it to. She wondered briefly when she had fallen to her knees. It must have been since he came into the room, but she didn't remember him saying anything. And then his hands moved to unbuckle his belt, and that was the only thought in her head.

That had been the most exciting part of the training for her. Learning to respond directly to his body. Followed closely by her training to orgasm at his command. Satisfied that she couldn't find release without his permission, he had decided to take complete control of her pleasure. That meant more edging, which just made her weaker and wetter. And more trances where her mind could just switch off and feel the pleasure he described to her. The first time he had her moaning and writhing in ecstasy while sitting calmly on the other side of the room was a memory she would always cherish.

With her pleasure under his command, it had been time to condition the response they both wanted. That meant building associations in her head and in her body. His cock meant pleasure. It meant trance. It meant desperate arousal. He would take her deep and have her stroke or suck or just stare, eyes and mind wide open. Learning him, learning his pleasure. Learning every inch, every vein, the meaning of every subtle twitch and shudder. Her empty mind absorbed that knowledge like a sponge. Took it in until it was her whole world.

Then there was the pleasure. Her body already responded to his every word, so it was easy to make her feel exactly as he desired. To feel him inside of her. Inside her mind. To double and then triple the pleasure. To let the feelings fuck her mind and her will away.

His belt was undone now. Delilah's eyes kept darting between his face and his crotch. She felt so unsure, but so hopeful. Every look up to his face reminded her that he was in control, that everything was working the way he desired. Every look down reminded her how desperately she wanted him to be right. His hands had stopped moving, hovering. Teasing at the last button that stood between her and the culmination of everything they had worked towards. She felt so desperate. But Delilah would wait, just as she had been trained.

Trained to be docile and obedient. Trained to submit. To accept him whenever and however he desired. First he would wake her from trance to the sight of him hard right before her eyes, forcing her eyes and mind to focus completely on his member. Then he would wake her from a deep sleep to the feeling of him sliding into her mouth, which in turn set off all those wonderful pleasure responses he had programmed into her, leaving her bleary eyed and eagerly sucking on him as her mind sank back down. Or resting his manhood on her face, causing her eyes to cross as they focused on him and her mouth to fall open, tongue hanging out in unconscious desire.

And then he had begun to deny her. From getting her off until she couldn't walk straight, waking her in the night to ravage her, mind and body. From overwhelming her senses with the sight and smell and feel of his dick, to nothing from one day to the next. He still dropped her, still teased her, still whispered in her ear as she drifted off to sleep. She still edged frequently and at his command. But she couldn't cum. Couldn't see him. Couldn't touch him. Couldn't taste him.

And it was in that maddening state that he had approached her today. Denied to the point where his cock was all she dreamed about, where she found herself drifting off in the middle of the day, fantasizing about the next time she could feel her hands around him. Or her lips. Or her tits.

And now he was here. It was here. It was so close, Delilah could have sworn she could smell him. Or maybe that was her own desperate arousal. Even after everything that had happened, it still didn't feel real. She couldn't believe the moment was really here. But she didn't need to believe it. He knew it, and Delilah couldn't help but be infected by his confidence. She sucked in a breath, trying to find words to share, to break the silence of this moment. But then his hand moved again, and he was exposed. Delilah's eyes widened, and then everything hit her at once. She would never be sure if her first climax had started in that moment, or if it would wait the few seconds until he commanded her touch, but right now all she knew was pleasure.

It was everything she had hoped it would be, or everything she had been brainwashed to hope it would be. He was so powerful, hanging before her eyes, that it wiped her will away. So captivating that it wiped her mind away. So beautiful, that all she wanted was to please and serve and surrender.

Delilah's mind switched off then. As it would every time from now on that she got to see or feel or taste that mesmerizing cock. It had enslaved her. And all Delilah knew was pleasure.

[tanith-rhea]

That I may be weak with you

"Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test." - Alain de Botton Dorothea Delilah Darcy is a woman in her mid to late twenties, struggling to find her place in the world. A recent job opportunity as a guidance counsellor at Nevermore Academy seems like a godsend, and she could not miss it for the life of her. Still, perhaps more problems will arise than she expected. Between bubbly, extroverted students and an uncharacteristically reactive principal, she'll be forced to overcome the limitations of her abilities or separate herself entirely from the place she'll grow to call home.

Author's note: Poor Larissa, not knowing how to deal with Wednesday after all... that. She was such a badass before but now she almost died and how's she supposed to go back to normal with her? If only there was someone to help her get a grip 👀

Chapter Three

“I see her pure, pale aura shine, piercing, sweet Sharp as death, or sin” — Marya Zaturrenska

“We’ve established what I was doing outside, but could I ask the same about you?” you looked at her reflection in the window, hoping to hide your eyes long enough that she wouldn’t mistake your awkwardness for discomfort.

You caught her eyes glancing quickly towards you, catching your white-knuckled fists for a quarter of a second before returning to the road, schooling her expression into something serene if a bit serious.

“I had a meeting with the new mayor. Given everything that’s happened in the last three months I didn’t have much time to schedule the Academy’s yearly events and my relationship with Noble was…” she stopped as they approached the school gate, “Let’s just say he was an intelligent man, and his world view suited my plans well enough.”

Sounds ominous, “And the new mayor’s view?” you chanced. Larissa sighed.

“She’s less inclined to cooperate.”

You were on time for dinner, and it was spent pleasantly talking with some of your colleagues. Ser Barnabas didn't even notice your absence, but after filling his fluffy bum with food he decided to worry a bit about the unmoving lump that was your body over the bed sheets.

“What? The window isn't as comfortable as a living mattress?” you groaned at him settling on your stomach.

He looked wholly unimpressed as if he knew you were grateful for his warm weight on you. Hell, he might feel your spirit purring.

You finally cracked after a few seconds with him looking at you. You knew you were only projecting, but Ser Barnabas was more than accustomed by now to being your excuse to talk to the air.

“There was this student today. Very bright young girl…” he kneaded your ribs a little, “What, too bony for you now?” he didn't seem fazed.

“Anyway; she was lovely, but far too energetic. It's been a while since I talked to other people extensively and she caught me by surprise,” you sighed, feeling the strain of all your muscles at once, “…I think this is going to be hard.”

Ser Barnabas started kneading again, this time purring as well as he came from your stomach to lay on your chest. Sometimes you thought he understood you far better than you gave him credit for.

“Thank you, dear,” you whispered and petted him behind the ears until you fell asleep, which didn't take long with the familiar pressure over your heart.

From: Larissa Weems <lweems@nevermoreacademy.org> To: Dorothea Delilah Darcy <ddarcy@nevermoreacademy.org> Sent: Wed, 13th September 2023 16:00:00 (GMT-4)

Dear Miss Darcy,

As the end of your first week as a guidance counsellor approaches, I’d like to invite you for a chat. Nothing too serious, only a short meeting regarding your impressions, your feelings on your work volume, and any other comments you might have. Feel free to bring notes, suggestions and the like. Nevermore has previously favoured the services of an outside therapist for further counsel, so your role is rather new and I hope to facilitate it as much as possible. I expect you on Friday at 18:10h.

Sincerely, Larissa Weems Principal Nevermore Academy (802) 555-0811

You hadn’t checked your e-mail the last two nights, but as you looked through your inbox now the memory of Larissa driving you both to Nevermore came again, as it had done over and over at dinner.

You realized Larissa wasn’t one to attend dinner when reaching the end of the week you’d failed to see her even once. The staff seemed to have adopted the left corner of the expansive hall for themselves and there were always a few vacant seats; hers persistently amongst them.

You had a theory that she was likely locked in her office buried in work, most likely non-urgent things she simply refused to leave for the next day.

The fact was that Principal Weems was not a cold woman. Of all your interactions she had been nothing but pleasant and even playful with people around you and yourself. But she was also the woman who gave you a lift after school hours back from a very school-related appointment and proceeded to part ways with you at the entrance claiming she had “just a few more documents to sort through before coming to dinner”.

As stated previously, she did not attend dinner.

You didn’t have too many things of note to say, though. You liked everything and everyone so far. Of course, there was the small matter of… the incident, but after a good night’s sleep and some getting used to, you were sure this would only help you understand yourself and your abilities better.

“MEOW!” a tail manifested itself in front of your nose as Ser Barnabas got fed up with being ignored.

“Hush, you’re only jealous I have other things to worry about besides brushing you,” you placed your phone back on the nightstand and searched the drawers for the little imp’s brush. The sun streaming through the window was just perfect to warm a chilly morning; maybe you’d have breakfast outside today.

As your last student left — an adorable little guy whose parents were 10/10 on damage control after trauma — you glanced at the small table clock for the nth time that day. It lazily displayed 17:43. Of course, it wasn’t lazy, it was a clock, but time did seem to be dragging itself onwards today.

You didn’t dare look too deeply into your eagerness to see the principal, but that she had an aura of oddness to her satisfied your mind well enough. It was simply that the air seemed electrically charged wherever she stood; she couldn’t see the hairs of your arms standing but under all the layers you could feel it.

You had almost half an hour to organize your notes and papers. Nothing too profound or insightful, just markers on which students talked about what and how they carried themselves in general. If they were more buoyant or sober, cynical or earnest.

Although everyone went through the terror of a pointed attack, some were closer than others to the whole ordeal, and some had even formed a relationship with their assailant. Of those closest, you had only met Enid and Eugene, but you knew of at least two more who had been into the thick of it. That is when you looked only at the students. The fact that Principal Weems was working barely a month after nearly dying only added to your insatiable workaholic theory.

After a good twenty minutes, everything was neatly filed, and you left the office with your head full. Maybe you should reach out to some students and invite them for a chat. Not everyone seeks comfort on their own, and Wednesday, for instance, didn’t strike you as a person willing to emotionally expose herself.

“Stop meddling in my life,” a cold voice came from the turn of the hall, seeming near the principal’s office. “We are not allies, we weren’t before and nothing has changed. I know there are other rooms and I’m filling out this form,” the voice sounded positively icy by this point, “Don’t try to delay this, it’s my decision.”

When you met eyes with the furious person you weren’t surprised to find Wednesday’s beady black ones. She was leaving Weems’s office, closing the door with a resounding sound. If it was the sheer size of the enormous wooden thing or Wednesday’s strength that produced it, you weren’t sure.

She didn’t say a word, she barely paid attention to you as she stomped past, fuming.

You stood frozen for a second, stunned motionless while processing the end tail of the conversation — or argument — that you had witnessed.

You wished you had worn a watch today, just to check when was appropriate to knock on the door while still being on time. As it was, you didn’t know if it was already 18:10, so you just took a deep breath and braced yourself before softly knocking three times.

After a beat, an even voice said “Come in.”

Weems’s eyes were trained on something on her laptop screen, her expression starkly different from any other you had seen, brutally serious. When she glanced up to find you at the doorstep a shadow crossed her eyes before she schooled her features into something resembling serenity.

You’d have been convinced if you couldn’t feel her heartache from across the room.

“May I-“

“I said come in,” her voice sounded soft, if a bit raw, but quickly normalized as she continued, “I thought I still had a few minutes before you’d appear.”

So you could have waited.

“I wasn’t sure of the time, so I figured it was better to be a bit early than late,” you shrugged sheepishly while making your way to the leather chairs in front of the principal’s desk.

She nodded with a small smile.

“Well, thank you for coming,” she followed your movements as you sat, “I know it seems early for a check-in, but as you’re the first on-site counsellor the school has it’s my priority to make your work as smooth as possible.” She smiled again and leaned her face to the side, looking overwhelmingly kind. It was incredible how her eyes shone in a way that made you believe she wanted nothing more than to be supportive of you.

You choked on air, coughing a bit to recover. What was happening?

“Ecch- hm-” right, very eloquent Dotty, “I mean, sorry…”

Weems’s brow furrowed, “Are you all right?” she sounded unsure and you almost wheezed hiding your face in your hands.

“Yes, I’m perfect, thank you. I just…” you wished for the floor to swallow you, “I’m just a bit emotional, I guess, you know how it is,” you stop hiding, took a deep breath and straightened up to look at her again. Still overwhelming, noted.

“I wouldn’t, but I understand it must be quite something coming from an empath.”

You only nodded, munching on your lower lip.

“I met Eugene today, very lovely child,” you hoped that’d be enough explanation. It seemed to work.

“Ah, yes.” The principal smiled fondly, “He may come across as naïve, but I think he is wiser than we give him credit for. His moms may be the cause of that.”

“Right? Talk about good parenting, those women have it all figured out-” You stopped in your tracks, excitement was the way of crisis, “But we’re not here to talk about that… You said you had questions for me?”

You felt her fondness creeping up your spine and held your breath. Why were you such a mess all of a sudden? Why could you feel her almost seven feet apart?

“It’s all right, I must say I’m glad you met some of the easier ones. Teenagers have a tendency to be a wreak, hell we’ve all been there, but more so after Ms Gates’s… uh- well, the attack.

“Yes…” you hoped your face was closer to sympathy than pity towards the woman. It was very impressive how hers gave away nothing while you felt her restlessness. “So what would you like to know?” you decided to move on.

Weems seemed to agree with your decision, “The first thing I’d like to ask concerns the volume of students you are talking with. I was informed you have already talked to fifteen.”

You nodded matter-of-factly.

“That is a concerning number, I won’t lie.” She closed her laptop, not looking at you for a few seconds while putting it aside, “Do you think you can manage? I’m afraid resources aren’t as abundant this year with a number of parents deciding to forgo their children’s education for a year until the dust settles; so I won’t be able to hire much in the way of assistance.

“Of course, that would be remedied by adjusting your workload.”

You weren’t thinking so much about her question but the caring hum of her words, it was as if her voice adjusted to soothe your worries, and you knew that was possible, you studied it, but it never worked on you before. With her talking like that, you felt like you could handle anything.

You knew you were a people-pleaser, but when you said “I’m sure I’ll manage,” you felt confident.

“Most of them didn’t even reach out because of the last year’s occurrences,” you made yourself comfortable on the chair, “Six or seven wanted to talk about exam anxiety or insecurities relating to their abilities, some danced around the subject they want to broach although I’m fairly sure I know what it is about, and others are just bringing random problems to another person for advice.”

The principal nodded, worrying her upper lip in concentration while she listened.

“And how many came because of Laurel?” the decisiveness with which she said the name gave you pause. Before, she could barely reference her and now she broadcasted protectiveness like a jasmine-filled room.

You inhaled, “One, and I think it was the only one who has it under control.”

She nodded, “Eugene?”

You mimicked her nod. You waited a beat before asking, “How’s Wednesday?”

Larissa Weems had a lot of feelings. You could tell she was near when a foreign sentiment made its way up your limbs, and they never were anything close to uncertain or hesitant. However, when you asked, the cold grip of doubt circled your ankles and made your bones hurt, like the chill of winter on uncovered feet.

“I don’t know what do to with her,” she confessed, “She saw things a young person like her shouldn’t see.” She saw me dead, you could almost hear, it was such a strong emotion you thought it was whispering to you.

“Do you think she’d want to talk to me? Seeing as I wasn’t involved.”

The smallest sniff of hope caught your senses, and you gave her your most sympathetic, understanding smile; the one a bit tight-lipped that made people nod slowly and fight to stop crying because there was someone looking out for them.

“You’re welcome to try. I’d certainly be grateful.” She was telling the truth.

She smiled at you, and you knew you’d do whatever to earn that smile again.

That one took a while, huh? Sorry @alder-saan, hope you like it

[quietblueriver]

Somehow turned a drabble about Iffodola's charm into more than 6k words of Southern Gothic fluff.

In which Imogen can't sleep and finds herself thinking about the Raito charm and her own convictions. Well, one conviction, related to the woman who's humming and sewing in the bedroll next to her.

Read on AO3 or below.

-

Imogen should be sleeping, but her mind won’t let her. Not all that unusual—she’s always been prone to overthinking, ruminating and holding tight to problems she knows she can’t solve. Add in the red storm and everything she knows now about her mother and, well. It’s no surprise she sometimes has trouble falling asleep, even when the Hells run themselves ragged. 

Laudna’s still awake next to her, shifting to reach for something from her pack before settling back against the low limb behind them, ankle resting on top of Imogen’s. 

Unlike Imogen, she’s awake by intention. She likes to take time to wind down when the rest of the group is quiet, did the same when it was just the two of them.

It was one on a long list of things that Imogen wondered about early into their time together, because she was always awake when Imogen fell asleep and up before her: Might not need sleep? Eats things other than food? Ears covered? Delilah?

Imogen wanted to ask, but in those first days, she was terrified of sounding like one of the awful people Laudna had to deal with so often, wanted so badly to be the safe place that Laudna was for her. 

Eventually, though, they became comfortable, eased into each other in big and little ways. Laudna told her, bedroll close enough for whispers to carry, about her ears, silent tears rolling down Imogen’s cheeks. She’d moved closer, opening her blanket in offer, and even in the dark, Imogen could see the shock on Laudna’s face, the sharp lines of her cheekbones and jaw shifting, already wide eyes growing inhumanly wider. She pulled the blanket higher, whispered, “Only if you want. I just thought…” 

A cold body pressed to hers and she sighed, settled in, fell asleep to Laudna’s humming and the accompanying music of her mind. 

She learned that Laudna’s body processed food and keratin and other things differently, that she herself wasn’t entirely clear on how any of it worked but often let her instincts guide her. 

She’d added, absently, as she sat gingerly in a half-broken chair and prestidigitated some dust from the table in the little hut where they had decided to make camp, “And of course spending so much time alone made it easy to do things that I wouldn’t have with company. Pate never minded when I ate a fingernail so it became habit. And now…” 

Imogen could almost see her mood turn, the frown and the duck of her head that hid her face behind a dark curtain, shocking white breaking so that her profile was just visible. 

“I’m sorry, Imogen. I know I’m already off-putting, even without…”

Her head shook, a tiny motion, and the thoughts of self-loathing and shame and embarrassment came on as a wall, the force of them so strong in Imogen’s mind that she was moving on instinct, on her knees in front of Laudna, hand brushing away black strands to meet her eyes, ichor pooling more than usual and beginning to drip slowly down her cheeks. 

“I know what you are, Laud. You’re kind, even when you have every reason not to be. You’re funny. You’re real good at mending and making and taking things no one wants and turning them into something beautiful.” 

Imogen pulled her hand back to remove her glove, watched Laudna’s eyes get wider, ichor spilling, as she took in the scars. She’d seen them before, of course, but never for long and never like this. 

Imogen offered her hands and Laudna took them, cold fingers feather-light against her skin until she nodded at Laudna, answered the unasked question. She explored in earnest then, taking one of Imogen’s hands between her own and tracing scars. 

“Y’know, I’ve always been ashamed of them.”

Laudna’s neck snapped up with too much speed, the crack of bone familiar enough now that Imogen barely reacted, just pressed out a sound of concern between her teeth and let her unoccupied hand land briefly on the space below Laudna’s ear. 

“Imogen, they’re beautiful. You're beautiful.” 

And that thought hit her just as hard as the shame had earlier—earnest and fervent and tinged with an affection Imogen couldn’t quite believe. 

“They made a lot of people at home scared. They make other people stare.”

Laudna’s face softened as she realized what Imogen was doing, thoughts drifting back into a familiar music, though the affection remained. 

“I like you , Laud. As you are, okay?” She thumbed away a bit of ichor, wiped it on the back of her wrist just between where Laudna’s fingers wrapped around her hand, black on purple. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You’re my favorite person.” 

The words were true, even if they were scary. They hadn’t been together that long, in the scheme of things, but Imogen could’ve said those words, and meant them, after maybe two weeks. Granted, she wasn’t the best at making or keeping friends, but Laudna was the first person in a long, long time she wanted to spend more time around, and she counted herself lucky, for once, that Laudna seemed to want to be around her. 

“Imogen.” Her cheeks were dark, and Imogen felt a dangerous sort of pride at having done that. “You’re mine, too.” 

Finally, one morning when she woke before the sunrise to find Laudna already bustling, she rasped, concern and affection mingling, “Laud, do you ever sleep? Do you need to?” 

Laudna startled and offered, amused, “Well, good morning, dearest.” 

“Good morning.”

Her voice was a little clearer now, but her tongue was still heavy, words slow. Laudna came back to the bed, a surprise in their hut-of-the-week that they had prestidigitated to within an inch of its life, and sat next to Imogen, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Is that a serious question?” 

She didn’t lie to Laudna, and she was in it now, so, “Yes.” 

“I see.” Her lips turned up at the corners, one canine sneaking out to press into the fragile skin, careful enough to avoid breaking it. That wasn’t always the case, but even when it turned Laudna’s lips black with ichor, this was a smile Imogen loved particularly because she was almost sure it meant Laudna thought she was doing something endearing. “And how long have you been wondering this, exactly?”

Fondness in her words and her thoughts, growing as Imogen admitted sheepishly, “You remember when we stayed in that farmhouse with the daffodils out front?”

Laudna’s eyebrows rose. “That was our second week together.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I noticed you were always up when I fell asleep and when I woke up and I wondered…well…” A shrug. 

“So, months.”

“I guess. Yeah.”

Laudna laughed then, loud and unselfconscious. “Darling. Why did you wait so long? And why do you…I know you’ve seen me sleep. I was asleep last week in the back of that wagon.”

Imogen’s chest warmed at the term of endearment, something relatively new that she couldn’t let herself spend too much time thinking about, and her brow furrowed as she thought about their time in the wagon. Laudna had been quiet sure, but her eyes had been wide open, staring into the fields and forest.

“Your eyes were wide open.”

Laudna’s lips pursed. “Were they? That’s odd.” She closed her eyes, as if testing that she could, and then opened them again and shrugged. “You know my body. It does as it pleases sometimes.” Her hand squeezed at Imogen’s knee where it lay under the covers. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s quite disturbing. You’re free to close them, of course, or maybe I could wear a blindfold at night…but then if we’re outside I don’t want…” 

She drifted off into conversation with herself, gaze lost in the middle distance, and Imogen wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here, to Laudna apologizing for something entirely out of her control and pondering increasingly bizarre ways (she was certain she’d heard “clothespin”) to solve a problem Imogen didn’t actually think was a problem unless it hurt Laudna somehow. 

She needed to take the reins back in this conversation, so she covered Laudna’s hand with her own and squeezed, which brought Laudna back to her. 

“Laud, you’re not puttin’ a clothespin on your eyelids. It doesn’t bother me unless it hurts you. Like if your eyes get dry or whatever. I don’t know, point is, don’t worry about it. I was just curious because it seems like you’re always up later and earlier than I am and I…” Her cheeks heated as she admitted what now sounded a little ridiculous. “I thought maybe you didn’t need to sleep.”

Laudna’s head tilted as her lips pulled up again, a small drip of black starting where the point of her tooth hadn’t been so effectively managed this time. 

Imogen wanted to wipe it away herself but knew it would make Laudna self-conscious, so she didn’t, folded her hands in her lap to keep them busy. 

She was determined to work her way into that kind of closeness, to make Laudna feel as comfortable as she could. She had already made great progress and they hadn’t even been together half a year yet, even if it felt sometimes like they’d been together for much longer than that. 

It made sense—they spent all their time together and were both a little desperate for the other after so many years without a real friend. But it was more than proximity and some rare kindness. That crooked head and crooked smile made Imogen feel like she was home, and she wanted Laudna to feel the same. She was willing to work for it. 

As she kept her hands to herself, Laudna licked away at the ichor, a habit so ingrained she didn’t even think to be self-conscious, and then she took a deep breath (“is it habit or does she need to breathe? how often?” also featured on her list of eventual questions) and began to talk. 

“I don’t know how much sleep I need, but I do need it, yes. When I was alone, it wasn’t always safe, you know, to leave myself vulnerable that way. Now that I know my eyelids don’t always stay closed…that would’ve been handy, I think.” 

She smoothed the cover over Imogen’s knee and let her eyes settle there as she said, “In any case, it wasn’t smart to sleep for long periods, then. I experimented and found that I could do with very little if I was willing to suffer some unpleasant but manageable consequences. In the balance of things, a few headaches and a few more joints out of place were small prices to pay for my life.”

A familiar fury crackled through Imogen, power sparking in her hands and building behind her eyes. She tried to keep it to herself, because this was about Laudna and she wanted to keep it about Laudna, but of course she’d already noticed, black eyes tracking and reflecting the flashes of light moving from her wrists to her fingertips. 

She was smiling, though, really smiling, as she looked up to meet Imogen’s eyes. 

“It’s different now.” She squeezed at Imogen’s knee again, emotions so loud Laudna must have been sending them on purpose. Gratitude and affection and admiration, and that heat was back in Imogen’s cheeks. Laudna’s expression was delighted as she moved her hand to Imogen’s face, cooling her blush. “I’m not alone anymore and,” her gaze turned pointedly to Imogen’s hands, “you’re quite capable.”

Imogen brought her thumb and pointer finger together and pulled a little bolt between them, fiddled with it for a moment before closing her fist. 

“You know I’ll do everythin’ I can to protect you, right? I want you to be safe. I want you to feel safe.”

“I do.”

“If there’s anythin’ I can be doin’ to make it easier for you to sleep, I want to. Seriously, Laudna. Lemme help if I can.”

“You do. More than you know. I sleep more now than I have in a long time. It’s just that…well. Part of it is habit, the staying up, and part of it is…I was always odd, even before.” A hand moved to her neck, fingers tracing what Imogen knew now to be a phantom noose. “I often played alone as a child, and I enjoyed my own company, even if I sometimes wished for others to play with me. 

“But after I came back, I learned very quickly that being alone was dangerous, a reminder that nobody…I had to be careful everywhere—in the markets and on the road, near fishing spots and around any group, no matter how small. Because one might run from me, but there was always a chance that three wouldn’t. And so my solitude wasn’t a choice or a brief interlude. It was my whole life.”

“Laudna.” It was the kind of honesty that Laudna usually saved for the darkness, and it made Imogen ache for her, stomach tight as she thought of the first time she’d seen a cleric come at Laudna, the look of resignation on her face as he began to chant at her.

Imogen wanted to touch, to soothe, and she let herself this time, running a hand down Laudna’s arm, stopping to wrap fingers around her wrist before tangling their fingers together and pulling them into her own lap. The look Laudna gave her was full of affection, and Imogen squeezed her fingers as gently as she could, just enough pressure that Laudna could feel it. 

“That’s how Pate was born, as you know.” Her free hand hovered at her belt and Imogen worried for a moment that she was going to bring him out, but she dropped it to her lap instead, gathering and smoothing a stretch of fabric in her skirt. “And I suppose, I wasn’t totally alone when…” Her hand moved to her temple, two fingers tapping. And this Imogen didn’t quite understand still, but based on what she did know, she hated the woman in Laudna’s head something fierce. 

“Anyway, I set up homes and sewed and saw beautiful things in the forests and on the road. But it was sometimes difficult not to think about how alone I was. And why. What exactly I had become, on waking up in Whitestone after…”

The currents of shame and disgust rose to the surface and drifted into Imogen’s mind, and she squeezed at Laudna’s hand again. She hesitated a moment before saying, careful, “You don’t have to talk to me about it, y’know. I wanna hear everything you wanna tell me, but I never wanna make you feel like you have to.”

She took a moment to consider, something Imogen appreciated as she was almost certain Laudna often made choices based on what she thought Imogen might want. With a tilt of her head, she continued, “Thank you. It feels good to tell you about it. As long as you don’t mind, that is. I know it’s…”

“I want to hear.” I want to hear.

The mental echo was instinct and emphasis, and it was becoming such an easy thing, to talk to Laudna over their mental connection. For the first time in her life, Imogen wasn’t scared or ashamed to use her powers that way. 

“Sorry for interruptin’, I just…I really like knowin’ about you. You’re not too much for me. Okay?”

Imogen heard it, though she wasn’t trying to, Laudna’s reassurance to herself. I am not too much for her. She hasn’t left yet. She’s telling the truth. She wants to know. 

She knew that if she pressed deeper, she’d find the thoughts Laudna was pushing back against, Laudna’s  own and whatever that spiteful woman who shared her head fed to her. 

I am tellin’ the truth. I promise, Laud.

A pause. 

Sorry. I heard on accident and I just…

Laudna interrupted this time. Don’t apologize. It’s helpful, to have someone reassuring me here, too. 

She heard then a chorus of needy, disgusting, too much, she’ll leave but felt Laudna press it down. It’s not always the kindest place, my mind. 

I think it might be, for everyone but you. You deserve what you give to everyone else, you know. 

Black eyes blinked at her, almost an evaluation, and Imogen held steady. I mean it. All of it. I don’t lie to you. 

She answered aloud, a move back to their earlier conversation that Imogen followed, and her voice was warm, her face opening as she smiled again. 

“We’ve reached the best part of the story anyway. The part where I meet you.

“And I wasn’t alone any longer. It took me some time, nothing to do with you, of course, dearest, you’re very wonderful and trustworthy but you see…”

“I get it, Laud. Promise.” 

“Of course you do.” 

There was pride in her tone. Imogen wasn’t quite sure what to do with Laudna’s ability to turn nearly anything into an opportunity to give Imogen a compliment. It was such a foreign experience to her, to be praised at all, much less with such frequency, that she was sometimes shocked into silence. She shook her head just a little but thankfully Laudna moved on quickly. 

“Once I realized that I wasn’t…that you weren’t…that I was safe, I found it suddenly easier to sleep. Still not as often as I once did, but more than I had been. And the times when I couldn’t sleep, after you’d drifted off, and when I’d wake up in the morning, I realized I didn’t mind being with myself in those moments. 

“I even enjoyed it, quiet time to focus on my crafts or…again, darling, nothing to do with you, you’re excellent company…”

Laud. 

Right. 

“Right. Yes. Well. Now I find that I even look forward to taking those moments with myself. It’s something I’m…taking back, I suppose. The peace of solitude. 

“And it’s nice to remember that I’m still who I used to be, mostly, where it counts. I’ve grown in some quite positive ways, actually. I’ve been changed by what happened to me, of course,” she waved her free hand in the air and then up and down, gesturing at herself, her nails growing longer, “but it’s not all that I am. And not all of those changes are bad.

“I suppose that’s a very long way of saying yes, I do sleep, but I like being alone in the dark sometimes as well.”

She dropped her hand and raised her shoulders, a sort of what can you do that Imogen found painfully endearing. 

“Can I give you a hug?”

It was the first thing she thought so it was first thing she said, because her filter didn’t always function correctly around Laudna, but she couldn’t regret it, especially in the face of the pleased surprise in Laudna’s eyes as she nodded, separating their hands and leaning forward and into Imogen. She was cold and small, the press of her shoulder blades against Imogen’s forearms disconcertingly sharp. 

She pulled back and said, hands coming to rest on Laudna’s biceps, or what remained of them, “You’re very brave, you know? Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. And kinder, too. I’m real lucky to know you.”

“I don’t know about that, dearest.” 

“Well. I do. And if I recall correctly, you were just tellin’ me about how capable I am, so I think you should trust me on this.” 

“That’s very clever and very unfair.” 

“Capable, I think you mean.” 

“Oh, hush. Look, I found some blackberry bushes not far into the forest. There are brambles but I thought you might be able to get around them with a little telekinesis.”

She sometimes closed Laudna’s eyes after that, if she was sure she was asleep and the weather was too much one way or another or their fire was burning particularly hot. They often popped right back open again, but it was always worth trying. 

Anything was worth trying to protect Laudna. 

Over their two years together, she grew used to falling asleep to Laudna’s quiet rituals—stitching or crafting or making tea, cleaning Pate, reading—usually accompanied by humming and occasional quiet words to herself. 

In those days where she lay still and quiet, colder than normal and eyelids frustratingly cooperative, Imogen hardly slept. She pressed her warmth into the chill of Laudna’s body and tried to recreate her rituals, hoping it would comfort them both until she was able to bring her back. She hummed to herself, cleaned Pate, read some of Laudna’s favorites aloud, murmuring into the darkness.

And after they got her back, it seemed like Laudna had forgotten, too, how to comfort herself in those ways. So Imogen had done it for her in that short time before they were separated, making tea and cleaning Pate and pulling a book while Laudna lay quietly in bed. 

That night back in the Windowed Wall, after their reunion and the market, she came up from helping clean the kitchen to find Laudna bustling, pulling sewing materials from her bag and humming to herself. Not healed, but healing. Caring for herself. Imogen had nearly cried. She kissed her instead–somehow, impossibly, able to do that now–and Laudna had blushed and kissed her right back.

Now, Laudna’s working on a cross stitch of bright little mushrooms and forest creatures, a gift for Fearne that she uses to help herself wind down. The colors are always a bit of a surprise, because she uses her darkvision as often as not. The threads are drawn randomly from a small bag at night, sometimes gathered on a theme and other times an assortment of what she had leftover from other projects. For this, she’d chosen flashy purples and bright blues and greens, shocks of orange and yellow that she was planning to enchant to glow. Things right at home in the fey wild and in this realm, on particular kinds of dangerous creatures and plants. It’s perfect for Fearne and perfectly Laudna. 

The needle moves rhythmically back and forth through the fabric, the soft swish swish pleasant and familiar. Laudna’s elbow occasionally brushes Imogen’s arm and their legs are pressed tightly together now, Laudna's ankle having shifted, a little mismatched with the height difference and Laudna’s position. She always appreciates this kind of closeness, a reminder that she’s here.

She hums lowly under her breath, something she’d always done but that Imogen appreciates especially now that she wears the circlet. Tonight it’s upbeat, Laudna’s finger tapping her small hoop where the song calls for percussion. 

The tempo is disarmingly cheery but she knows the lyrics Laudna’s not singing; they’d learned it together in traveling with a group of artists who let them hitch a ride for a few days in the back of their wagon, largely unbothered by Laudna’s presence and kind and upfront enough not to activate Imogen’s headaches too terribly. At night they sat around a fire, Imogen and Laudna prestidigitating paint-splattered clothes as the small crew sang and taught them songs, fed them roasted vegetables and begged Laudna to bring out Pate. 

This was a favorite of theirs, the lament of a man whose spouse was lost at sea. Verses of mourning and missed chances, a list of all the things they’d left behind.

As Laudna taps twice agains the hoop, her mind turns to Iffodola and the Raito charm. Their convictions and their fate in that cave. 

She wonders if their family knows what happened or if they’re still waiting, trapped in the hope that Iffodola will come home. It will be good, to get the charm back to them if they can, to give them closure and something from the person they loved, something that shows how close Iffodola kept them to their heart. 

Hopefully it’s less complicated than her own locket, for those Iffodola left behind. At least it seems more honest. 

My love of my children. My guilt over my father. 

There were so many pieces of a life, etched into that stone. Beautiful and difficult things sharing space. It’s not something she’s used to, seeing the hard things admitted openly, given space next to the bright, expected emotions that strangers can understand. It makes it easier for Imogen to believe they meant all of it, seeing guilt and love and commitment and fear there together. A whole person, not a set of platitudes. 

And anyway, from what she’d seen, trying to ignore those more complicated feelings only wore away at the others. 

The better halves make a better whole.  

Maybe her mother and father had believed what they engraved on that locket, once. But her mama left, stayed gone and didn’t have any interest in coming back. Gave her life to something that seemed more and more like it wanted to suck the life from Imogen for its own power. To someone who was trying to make that happen. 

And Imogen certainly didn’t grow up thinking her daddy thought she was anything other than broken—not whole, not good, and definitely not better . She’d never felt like enough for him, and when her powers first started flaring and she would hear his deeper thoughts on accident, couldn’t control anything yet, what she heard about herself nearly broke her. 

She wonders what would have been different, if they’d talked about what was going on—her mama feeling trapped, her daddy feeling overwhelmed, Imogen being the reminder of all the ways they were failing. If they’d stopped pretending long enough to be honest with each other, things might’ve…

Well. People don’t often tell the truth, even, maybe especially, when it matters. She knows that more intimately than she wants to and has for a long time. The locket is the rule, the stone a beautiful exception. 

Her thoughts move to Laudna, as they often do. 

A beautiful exception. 

She’s suddenly overcome with the strength of one of her own convictions, has to be sure Laudna knows, so she brings herself up slightly, just enough to press the rest of their bodies together as they lean against the same sturdy branch. 

She casts dancing lights, close and dim with an eye to the others. When she’s sure they’re asleep, she turns back to find Laudna smiling at her even as she tilts her head in confusion, raising an eyebrow as Imogen catches the purple of the lights dancing back at her from black mirrors. 

Hello, darling. Am I keeping you up with the humming? The hoop? 

The smile turns to a frown, and she begins to tuck away her hoop before Imogen catches her wrist, running a thumb along the fragile bone. 

No, not at all. It’s nice. 

The frown remains, so Imogen carefully places the hoop in Laudna’s lap and brings the wrist to her mouth, pressing a kiss against the spot where her sluggish pulse raises her skin a few times a minute. 

Promise. I just wanted to…to talk real quick. I’m sorry to interrupt. 

Laudna leans closer at that, tucking a strand of Imogen’s hair behind her ear and squeezing her bicep before tangling their fingers between them. 

Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing than talking to you. A beat. Well… She stops short and there’s darkening of her cheeks in the low light. Imogen can’t help but raise her eyebrow and smirk. It’s still new, this part of them, and they haven’t had much opportunity to explore, really, what with everything happening, but they’ve been able to have some fun. She’s eager for more and she’s a little proud and a little smug that Laudna feels the same. 

Laudna rolls her eyes fondly. Yes, yes. I find you to be unbearably attractive. 

Imogen kisses her quickly, Laudna humming against her lips, and as she pulls back, she’s even more determined to have this conversation. She isn’t sure of much, anymore, but she’s sure of this. Of her. 

Two years of learning each other on the road and now their months with the Hells and all she wants is more time with her. 

She thinks of the ring, of the blood pendant, of the shell in her pack. Of the gaping chasm in her heart after Otohan brought that sword down, the fear and panic after the solstice. 

It comes out in a rush, less eloquent than she’d hoped, but Laudna won’t mind. She’s better at untangling Imogen’s thoughts than anyone. 

I was just thinking about, well about you, first. About travelin’ before we met the Hells. You remember how I thought maybe you didn’t sleep? Anyway, I was thinkin’ about how much I cared about you, right from the start, and how you always felt like home and how I want you to feel safe with me and home with me, too. 

And then the song, it made me think about Iffodola. About whether their family knew what had happened and the children and the promises and how nice it was, how powerful and…and rare it was that they wrote down more than just the easy things, how much it mattered that they were honest. How my parents weren’t but you always are and I want to be, too. With the world maybe but always with you. How I want you. 

She takes a breath, closes her eyes, is grateful that Laudna seems to know she isn’t quite done. When she opens them again, she reaches forward to trace her thumb over glass-sharp cheekbones and wades into the black pools of her eyes. 

Laud, you know you’d be on my stone, right? Front and center. She takes another deep breath, steady, and dips her head under the water, happily lost in the black. My love for Laudna. 

Imogen. Something lights up in her at the breathlessness of it. Can I kiss you? 

Always. Please.

It’s hungry, when Laudna leans into her, kisses her as fiercely as she can while they’re trying to keep quiet. A hand buries itself in her hair and tugs with enough force to make Imogen gasp into the mouth pressed to hers. It’s muffled but Imogen has no faith in her ability to stay quiet if Laudna does that again, if she keeps touching her and kissing her like this.

Sure enough, another tug, this time with the sharp points of Laudna’s shifted nails against her scalp, and a whimper breaks free as Laudna’s lips move to her neck, teeth just grazing skin before a cool tongue soothes. 

Baby. The others. 

Can you be quiet for me, darling? 

I’m not… Laudna reaches her collarbone, sucks and then sinks her teeth in enough to bruise, but when Imogen opens her mouth to cry out, she feels the cold, smooth skin of Laudna’s palm come to rest against her lips, pressing intently. Then, and Imogen genuinely might die, the hand folds in offering, two fingers resting gently against Imogen's bottom lip. 

What if I help?

Laudna looks up at her then, a brow raised in question, and Imogen nods and then takes them into her mouth and sucks, tastes bitter, perfect ichor and Laudna’s skin, fallen leaves and home.

Turns out, though, the fingers do not have the intended effect, because as soon as Laudna presses down, her lips busy at her pulse point, Imogen moans so loudly that she’s certain she’s alerted not just the Hells but every creature within a mile as to what they’re doing.

Laudna pulls away and looks at her with heat that makes Imogen’s stomach tight and then, rudely, with amusement. 

Well, then. She sounds not unlike Imogen’s grade school teacher, chiding them for getting too muddy or failing to complete their work. She chooses not to engage with why that feels the way it does. I guess that’s a no on being quiet. 

Imogen blushes furiously and, eyes squinting and intent on revenge, bites gently and licks at Laudna’s fingers as she takes them back. Laudna’s face moves from smug to pleading in a moment, and she whimpers. 

See? Not so easy, is it?

Laudna rolls her eyes but kisses her again—gentle and perfect. When she pulls back, they both take a look around the room, and miraculously, it looks like everyone is still sleeping, or in the case of Orym, might just be polite enough to be pretending. They can deal with it later, if they need to. 

Their eyes meet again, and Laudna presses her lips to Imogen’s forehead, to her cheeks, her chin. Her palm cups Imogen’s cheek as she puts some space between them. 

Imogen. 

She takes Laudna’s hand, kisses her finger over the ring she put there back before she understood exactly what the depth of her feelings for Laudna meant. 

Sorry I couldn’t keep quiet. 

Don’t be. I’m frankly quite proud. 

Imogen huffs a laugh, already-warm face getting hotter. You should be. 

Laudna looks for a moment like she might press Imogen back against the bedroll, and Imogen has already decided she won’t object when Laudna clears her throat and shakes her head lightly. I’m sorry, darling. You were saying such lovely things and I turned us in, well, another direction. 

She lets her eyes drift down Laudna’s body shamelessly. Hopin’ to go that direction again real soon. 

Imogen. 

Right. Yeah. Sorry, darlin.’ 

Laudna raises a brow at her, tiny smirk escaping to lessen the force of what Imogen is sure is meant to be a stern expression. She thinks yet again of Ms. Billing and fuck, guess that’s something she’ll be thinking more. But for now: You’re right. I’m not sorry. But I will stop.

They settle back against each other, tucking Laudna’s hoop back into her pack, not too disturbed by their shuffling. Laudna is tucked into Imogen’s body as she leans against the branch, and Imogen’s fingers run across Laudna’s shoulder, her other hand clasped in Laudna’s against her stomach. 

I know I was ramblin’, before. I just wanted to…I was thinking about the charm. Laudna nods against her chest. It’s been real hard to keep any convictions, these last few months. But this one’s easy. A deep breath. Laudna knows, of course, but Imogen’s stomach still flips, her heart still beats faster, to say it like this. I love you. 

Darling. She breaks away to press up and into another kiss, over too quickly. At Imogen’s pout, Laudna’s thumb comes to rest on her bottom lip, and Imogen, because she has no self-control,  kisses it, tastes ichor and fights a moan. Laudna pulls it back, replaces it with her lips once more. I love you, too. 

She scoots them both back down into the bed rolls, and they shift, turning so that Imogen holds Laudna tight against her, their hands together over her stomach, Imogen’s head pressed to the cool skin of her neck. Her lips graze the skin left uncovered by her sleep shirt, aimless and wandering for a moment before she settles, squeezing gently at the fingers between her own.  

Laudna’s voice echoes in her head as she closes her eyes. Sleep well, darling.  

She drifts off without any trouble this time. 

-

The Chetney figurine is beautifully crafted and absolutely horrifying, which feels right. The curve of his nose presses into the pad of her finger as she traces it absently, thinking about her own convictions, which she tries to scribble quickly on a piece of paper Laudna hands her from her journal. 

She starts with what’s easy. 

My love for Laudna. 

But she thinks of Iffodola and doesn’t stop there. She has so many complicated feelings–about trust and commitment and guilt and power. She writes some fraught and some inspiring words about herself and her friends and her family. Convictions and priorities. Goals and regrets. As many weights as buoys. But she’s confident. It’s real. It’s honest. 

She looks up to find black eyes already on her, one side of her mouth tilted up, pen poised above a familiar journal. She moves closer to bump her shoulder into Laudna’s. 

Nervous, darlin’? 

The expression expands into a real smile, full and beautiful and hauntingly wide, her teeth gone a little sharp the way they do sometimes when she expects trouble or is feeling particularly protective. Imogen wants to kiss her, so she does, presses her lips to Laudna’s shoulder. Surprise quickly melts into affection, and she smiles that smile she saves for Imogen. Her tooth pierces the skin of her lip and draws black fluid to the surface. 

Imogen tucks the lead into her pocket and then wipes it away. She does not suck her thumb clean, though she wants to. Instead, she presses it to the paper, examines the whorls of her fingerprint. Laudna tucks her hair, fallen around her face as she looks down, behind her ear. 

Never nervous with you, my love. You’re very capable.

Imogen lifts her head with a smile and folds the paper into her pocket, holds Laudna’s hand as she gets ready to jump. 

[silkylovey]

false reputation?

Rafe Cameron is the typical frat boy with blond hair and blue eyes. His reputation was known everywhere on campus. Cocky, an ass but he was amazing in bed. Every girl that got the ‘chance’ to sleep with him always gave him a good review as if he was a sex worker.

Y/n on the other side was just a calm student, who worked during her free time. Her family was not poor but not the richest. She worked in a restaurant and spend most of her hours there with her friend and also her co-worker Brook.

She was walking up to her class when she noticed Rafe being dabbed up by his friends after one of his other hookups that were a stupid bet by his friends.

Y/n thought that made she should feel what the hype was about and if he could fulfill her sexual desires.

---

Y/n and her friend Delilah went to the Halloween party of Rafe’s frat. Y/n and Lilah matched in their sexy bunny costumes. Today was the day that Y/ would try to get laid by Rafe.

She and Lilah went to the kitchen. Topper eyed Lilah up and down and that was Lilah’s queue to leave.

“Friend ditched you?” a dark voice invited itself in her ear. Y/n turned around and she was met with Rafe Cameron.

“Yeah, wanna dance?” she didn’t know from where this confidence came maybe from the booze. He grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor. Around them people were making out, sniffing coke, drinking, and grinding on each other.

---

Y/n

You started rolling your hips and pushing your bum into him, you could hear him groan in your ear.

“Wanna take this to my room or are you going to keep teasing, princess?” he asked with a lot of lust.

You told him to show you the way and not even 5 seconds later you were thrown over his shoulder. His friends started cheering when they saw who he was going to shag. When you entered his room, he put you on your feet and started kissing you and you greedily accepted.

He then led you to his bed where he started taking off his clothes and your clothes. He was well built and his dick was aching.

He didn’t do foreplay, he just positioned himself in front of your entrance and he started pounding in you. He kept kissing your neck leaving love bites and hickeys but he couldn’t get you over the edge. You were almost there but you thought that he would maybe touch your clit but no. He just kept penetrating you and kept whispering dirty words in your ears.

Why was he overhyped if he couldn’t make you cum?

His orgasm came quite quickly and you wanted to leave this house as soon as you could.

After he washed you up and kissed you, he went back to his friends downstairs. You decided to put your costume back on and just leave.

He saw you leave and he also saw how you looked disgusted and shocked. He wanted to run after you but he wasn’t that type of guy.

If people saw Rafe running after a girl, they would make his reputation go down in a bad way.

---

Rafe

A few days after I hooked up with Y/n, people started to look at me funnily as if I had a mustache drawn on my face.

Topper came up to me and said “So you couldn’t make a girl finish, never expected that from you.”

What? I could make every girl finish, doesn’t matter what she liked.

“Who?” I asked him.

“Y/n”

I’ve spent my whole day on campus trying to find her, I even skipped my classes just to have a chat with her.

I finally did find her in an empty classroom.

---

You looked up to see Rafe looking at you with a glare. “What?”

“So how was the sex?” he asked bluntly.

“Do you want my honest opinion or just a lie?”

“Please be honest with me”

“Okay well, what we had at your party wasn’t sex. I didn’t even cum, after I left the party I went home and made myself finish. I never thought that the sex king could not make a girl cum,” you made air quotes when you said sex kind.

“Tell me what I did wrong, please tell me.”

“Well for starters there was no foreplay, and then you didn’t even touch my clit once,” I told him and he looked disappointed in himself.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“No, you had your chance.”

“Do you not want to experience a good orgasm, doll?”

Yes, you did so you just gave in.

He got on his knees and leaned forward towards your jogging. He grabbed the waistline and pulled it down. He was met with your red lace panties. He could come at sight.

Rafe hooked his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulled them down. “Fuck, how could I have missed out on this? I bet you taste amazing.”

And with that, he dove into your pussy, licking, nibbling your clit. Fucking with his tongue and boy was he good at it.

He started fingerfucking you and you felt close. “I am close baby,” you told him and he just went harder. You were so close that you started grinding against his face and he let you.

After your orgasm, you stood up to take your panties but you were pulled down by Rafe who has taken your place. His pants and underwear were long forgotten.

He pulled you down and inserted himself in you and then he started trusting upwards while rubbing your clit with 2 fingers.

“You close, baby? Squeezing me so tight fuck.” You just nodded being overwhelmed by your second orgasm. He kissed your neck as you were cumming around his dick and a few seconds later he milked out in you.

“Let me take you out on a date?” he asked while he was still inside of you.

“And if you don’t like it then we won’t ever go out again. But if you do I promise to fuck you like this and even better.” He smiled in your neck.

“Okay, Rafe.”

[vaxxy-after-dark]

Thinking about a world where Vax met the Briarwoods before he met Percy, maybe while on a job for The Clasp, and they had a one night stand with him.

They were surprisingly sweet and gentle, but also clearly supernatural and possessive.

Maybe they even tried to convince Vax to abandon his sister and The Clasp to join them? But Vax refused to.

He enjoyed the night he had spent with them, but he could never betray his sister like that.

And The Clasp would hunt him down if he just vanished, that and their deal with Vax would become void and put Vex in incredible danger. Vax just can't let that happen to her.

So they go their separate ways, but Vax never forgets them.

He often dreams of them, even years later, and he misses the way that they touched him.

The way that they spoke to him, whispering praise into his ear as they pulled moans from his mouth with little effort.

The threat of being bitten, sharp kisses teasing his sensitive skin as he squirmed.

He sometimes hopes to run into them randomly again, to steal another night with them.

.

.

.

Then Percy tells him and the others all about the people who came to visit Whitestone and launched a full-scale uprising.

He recognises the sketches Percy pulls out, the goatee and the fancy necklace and the smiles and the eyes and the poses and the bloody teeth.

He has a panic attack realising who they are, his mind reeling in horror over the thought that he not only slept with these people but had even - for just a second - considered running away with them to absolutely fuck knows where, probably the kingdom they took over.

He's utterly horrified.

When the others finally get Vax to calm down and breathe again, he shakily recalls how it was he had met the couple.

Percy is quiet for a moment, for too long a moment perhaps, before he apologises to Vax.

From then onwards, the two have clear tension between them that will only grow.

.

.

.

When the Briarwoods arrive for dinner in Emon and Vax sneaks off to their room to gather any evidence he can find, luck would have it that they end up leaving dinner early and catch poor Vax red handed in the act.

They immediately recognise him, Vax freezing in fear.

Delilah mourns the now-lost 'innocence' of their past affair, while her husband bemoans killing someone so 'sweet'.

Vax begs for mercy, vowing to betray Percy if they let him live - he would never, they know it as well as he does, but they couple give pause and listen.

"And, pray, why should we trust you, little thief?" Delilah would ask, smirking as she toys with emeralds draped from her neck as she looks Vax up and down.

Sylas would chuckle, "We have no ire against you, but your little friend is a pain in the neck that we must get rid of."

Then, scared and trying to get out of this alive, Vax proposes a redo of their past encounter.

The Briarwoods accept maybe a little too quickly for his liking.

.

.

.

When it's over and Vax leaves, alive and with some evidence, he can't help but hate himself.

He already kind of did before this, but he definitely does now and it burns him deep inside.

How he ever looks Percy in the eye again? He doesn't know.

Though he's pretty sure that Percy knows, if the random glares Percy throws his way for the next few weeks is anything to go by - Vax doesn't blame him one bit, he would do it too.

.

.

.

By the time the Briarwoods are dead, the tension between Vax and Percy is so thick you could cut it with one of Vax's knives.

Vax is, understandably, scared of the gunslinger at this point.

The man had been harbouring a demon inside of him all of this time and had almost killed all of them when said demon was unhappy about Percy failing to be the one to kill the Briarwoods in the end.

The fact that Vax had been momentarily charmed by the Briarwoods and forced to fight his friends hadn't helped things, now Percy can't look at Vax with glaring or growling.

Vax really doesn't blame him, but it makes him feel small.

His sister and Keyleth both try to help them sort out their feelings, but it just leads to Percy exploding in anger.

He accuses Vax of so many things, Vax feels dizzy and has another panic attack in reply.

It ends with Vex slapping Percy as Keyleth sits Vax down and helps him do some breathing exercises to calm down again.

But the damage is done.

After that night, the twins pack their things and leave once everyone else has gone to bed.

Vax never truly heals from his experiences, but Vex is there to look after him from now on.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: chapter thirty-four

see my masterpost for what came before this.

Tiny pebbles dig into Keyleth's palms as she holds herself up. She'd been thrown to the side as Percy, in the fastest movement Keyleth has ever witnessed, snatched his gun up from the cavern floor to finish Delilah Briarwood once and for all. Her ears still ring with the sound of the weapon's firing, but as her hearing slowly starts to come back to her, she hears a sound sweeter and more beautiful than the most dulcet tunes: her baby's cries.

She shoves herself off of the ground, launching herself at Vax. "Oh gods, oh gods, let me see her." Vax quickly shuffles Vilya into her arms, and for the first time in a week, Keyleth is holding her daughter. She is crying and laughing and hyperventilating all at once, eyes roaming over each inch of the squalling baby in her arms to verify, yes, two hands, two feet, all the fingers and toes, nose and ears and dusting of strawberry blonde on her head, just like Keyleth had when she was a child. She is curled over Vilya, making half-hearted attempts to calm her—a tall order when she can hardly calm herself—and she feels a pair of arms circle around her. She sinks into Vax's chest, Vilya nestled between them, and finally, finally, her little family is together again.

As she holds her daughter, she can feel that she is lighter than she'd been before she was taken. Worry twists her stomach into knots. "Vax," she murmurs, and he pulls back to look at her. "I think she's lost weight. I don't know if they've been feeding her."

Vax nods, face drawn. "Right." To Pike, he says, "Heal Percy as best you can. We'll be back." Then he ushers Keyleth to the shadowed edges of the cavern, where they are out of sight from the others.

Keyleth immediately settles herself on the floor, back resting against a stony wall, and begins to feed Vilya. It takes a minute or two for Vilya to remember how to feed, and in that time panic spreads like hoarfrost across Keyleth's skin, worry that she will struggle to eat when she is so clearly underfed, but then the baby latches, and Keyleth has long given up hope of stemming the tide of tears streaming down her face. Vax slides down to sit next to her, kissing her cheek and playing with Vilya's tiny foot.

"We did it, Kiki," he whispers, pressing a kiss to each of Vilya's toes. "We found her."

Keyleth's finger is trapped in Vilya's impossibly small fist, the baby's own fingers curled tightly around it as if she is terrified to let go. "I will not breathe easy until she is home in Zephrah, until Pike and Nel both confirm that she will be alright." She tips her head onto Vax's shoulder and lets her eyes slide shut. This has been the longest week of her life, and she is so very tired.

They let Vilya eat as long as they dare, but Keyleth knows they need to move before any new threat comes their way. Vilya gurgles, disgruntled, when she is moved back into her father's arms so that Keyleth can right herself, and then the family returns to the others, who have been joined by the three women Vax freed from the cage. The eldest of the trio looks a bit worse for wear, with a massive bruise along one side of her jaw and scorch marks in her clothes, but they are all alive. The teenage girl is helping Vex pull Percy to his feet; he, too, has clearly seen better days, but Keyleth can see the evidence of Pike's magic at work in the closed hole in his jaw and lightened bruising around his neck, though drying blood still cakes his face and hair. Keyleth immediately wraps her arms around him, whispering into his ear, "I'm sorry. Thank you, and I'm so, so sorry."

Percy squeezes her tightly. "I told you, there was nothing I wouldn't do to bring Vilya home. I was not joking."

"We ought to move," Vex says, gripping her bow tightly. "I don't know what other cronies the Briarwoods might have had in their employ, and I would very much like to get the hell out of this city."

Keyleth is not going to argue that point. The group begins its trek out of the tunnels, emerging onto the edge of the Parchwood after navigating through the underground unimpeded. Vex starts to lead the way toward where Scanlan and Grog were told to go with Cassandra, but the three freed women pull in the opposite direction.

"We'll head back into town," the eldest one says, now being supported on either side by the other two. "We'll spread the word of the Briarwoods' demise, and of your return, Lord de Rolo."

Percy stiffens, pale in the white light of the moon. "I...would ask that you not make any promises in that regard. My situation is...complicated, and I don't wish to let the people of Whitestone down any more than I already have. Please, go to the abandoned tea shop in the Northern Ward. Chancellor Desnay is hiding there. He will lead until..." He sighs. "Until more permanent arrangements can be made."

The three nod, and then Keyleth has an idea. "I think I can help you spread the word." She stretches her hands up toward the night sky, an inky blue blotted with wispy gray winter clouds, and begins to twist and curl her fingers. She can feel the moisturize in the air, though it's dry this time of year, and pulls on it as one might threads of a tapestry. She weaves the invisible strands around and around, pushing and pulling until the clouds have coalesced into a shape she remembers from the buttons of the tattered coat Percy arrived in all those years ago: a broad tree surrounded by a half-circle of stars. The de Rolo crest.

A hand grips onto Keyleth's shoulder, and she turns to see Percy gazing up at the symbol with tears in his eyes. "I...Keyleth..."

Her arms drop. "Whether or not you return to Whitestone to lead your people, they should know that the de Rolos have not been vanquished by the Briarwoods—and that Whitestone itself hasn't, either."

Percy pulls her into a hug. It is such a relief to hold him, to feel his chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm of his heart. She is glad that she will not have to tell her daughter stories of the man who died to save her life, that she will grow up knowing that man herself.

The Zephrans bid farewell to the three women, and then Vex leads them through the woods, having little trouble tracking Grog's large footsteps even in such low light. As they walk, Keyleth leans heavily into Vax's side, his arm around her shoulders. Vilya has been returned to her arms, and Keyleth barely watches where they walk. She can't take her eyes off of her baby, the miracle nestled into the crook of her elbow. Now that she holds her, that she knows by her gentle wriggling and curious coos up at the world around her that she is very much alive, Keyleth can release the levee that had been holding at bay a tidal wave of doubt and fear. She can admit to herself all the skepticism she'd been harboring since she left Zephrah, how sure she'd been that they would be too late, that they would not be enough, she would not be enough to save her daughter's life. The force of it nearly sends her to her knees, but she keeps walking, knowing each step brings her closer to proving herself wrong once and for all.

It is not hard to miss the mountain that is Grog when they come upon him. Once the two groups are in sight of each other, Cassandra darts forward from behind the goliath, calling, "Percy?" Percy takes a few long, lanky steps forward, and Cassandra gasps. "What happened?"

Percy merely gathers her into a hug. "I'm alright, I promise. We're going to get out of here."

"But what of the Briarwoods? Of Whitestone? Are we safe to—"

"Cass." He puts his hands on either side of her face. "There are a great many things to discuss, to figure out. And I promise you we will have those discussions, but not here. I must get you and the princesses to safety in Zephrah."

"But that's days away."

"It's not." Keyleth carefully shuffles Vilya back to Vax—both of them are so reluctant to give her up, so eager to have her back again—and steps forward to the mighty pine tree that Scanlan and Grog have selected. It's perfect for the job. "I can get us there tonight." She hopes; she's expended so much energy this night, and this task will cost her more yet. She settles her palms against the tree. "We will have very little time, so please, hurry through."

Vax kisses Vilya's forehead before passing her over to Vex, who nods and moves to the front of the queue gathering before the tree trunk. Cassandra begins to speak—likely to ask what in the hells is going on—but Percy merely steers her behind Vex, murmuring instructions for her to run forward when Vex does. Grog takes a gnome in each arm and lines up behind Percy, and Vax comes to stand just beside Keyleth, the last one through before her.

Keyleth bows her head and focuses on the cherry tree beside the cottage back in Zephrah. This time of year, the leaves are long gone, the branches bare and reaching, fingers clawing up toward the heavens. Her mother is buried there, her memory enriching the soil for the tree and the grass and the little girl who will someday climb those branches, just as Keyleth did, once upon a time. She wants nothing more than to be on that rolling hill, to see the home she has built with her husband, the castle from which she will someday rule hazy in the moonlit distance. She concentrates on the want, and the bark beneath her hands begins to hum. She does not need to open her eyes to see when, a moment later, the trunk has twisted and cracked open into a doorway.

The Zephrans know what to do, spilling one after the other through the portal. Keyleth can feel the energy being sapped from her body. Her limbs shake with the force of keeping the gate open. Vax's hand leaves its spot on her back, and a heartbeat later, he calls, "Come through!"

Her eyes snap open. She releases the tree and bolts through the hole in the trunk just as it seals shut behind her. She tumbles into Vax's arms, and she has to blink to realize that the party, now on the mercifully familiar grounds of the Zephran castle, is surrounded on all sides by the points of swords. There is shouting and chaos, the Royal Guard clearly spooked by the sudden appearance of so many in the middle of the night, but then Vex barks, "Lower your weapons, you fools! You threaten the princesses!"

One by one, the swords fall, and then the door to the cottage opens. Illuminated by a single candle, Lady Allura appears, relief coloring her face. "Oh thank the gods!" She scurries up to the tree, gives a half-bow, and says quickly, "We weren't sure if you'd be returning to the castle or to here, so we've been watching both places. Is—have you—?"

It's clear that Allura doesn't know how to ask the question, but Vax gives her the answer anyway. "Vilya is with us." He nods to his sister, who is still holding her. "We found her."

Allura clutches her chest. "Thank the gods."

Keyleth is so exhausted she can barely stand. "Lady Allura, please, go wake my father. He will want to know that we have returned."

A strange look crosses Allura's face. "I...Your Majesty..."

"I know he can be cross when woken, believe me, but this is clearly a special circumstance. I promise, he will be overjoyed to know that Vilya is home safe."

"I...we should...gods above..."

Annoyance prickles along Keyleth's skin. "I'm serious, Lady Allura. Please, I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I must see my father before—"

"Keyleth." Vax's arm is tight around her now, and there's a note of something dangerous in his voice. Keyleth looks to him, and his eyes are wide, staring at Allura in disbelief. Something passes between him and Allura, and Keyleth's annoyance melts into confusion.

"What's going on?"

Vax swallows. "I...we ought to go inside. Please, let's just get inside the house."

Keyleth wrenches herself from his grasp. "What is going on?"

Just then, it hits her, a realization as sharp and quick as a viper's strike. Your Majesty. No one has ever called Keyleth that, and no one will, not until—

"Where is he?" Keyleth doesn't recognize her own voice, twisted and haunted. She watches the circle of guards turn their faces away from her. Bile rises in her throat. "Where is he? Where is my father?"

Tears drip down Lady's Allura's cheeks, glittering like diamonds in the candlelight. "Your Majesty...he is gone."

The sorrow on Allura's face is the last thing Keyleth sees before her eyes roll back in her head and she swoons back, collapsing into total darkness.

[masterqwertster]

Hurt/comfort prompts - # 17 or 31 for Ashton. He cares so much now about his found family. Bells Hells needs to be there for him the same way when shit hits the fan.

So I already did Ashton for 31 here in the C2 Class Swap AU. So I'm going to skip on repeating that one. I'll do 17 and set this one in the C1 Class Swap AU, just because I can. 17 "You don't have to be alone anymore."

"You know, we have a whole group of friends back there who are, by and large, willing to hear and help with your problems," Laudna offers, having shifted from the rangy wolf that tracked him down back to human. "You don't have to be alone anymore."

Ashton snorts.

"I'm never alone. I've got Me, Myself, and I." And they bamf out one of their star-strewn clones to prove their point. Ironically, the one to appear is the non-genasi one in Hishari leathers. The true Ashton scowls at the version of them that isn't.

"That's only three names. You've got four versions," Laudna patiently points out.

It's clear she's going to have to work at getting Ashton to open up about what's wrong. Though she can guess. That fucking museum had real deal Hishari leathers in it, and they obviously mean more to Ashton than being a style on one of their clones. He did steal the helmet after all.

"This fucker's grzgkgh," the 'name' coming out in a sharp, stony clatter that Laudna presumes is some variation of self pronoun in Primordial.

"Right. Well, I'm sure they're all good listeners, but it doesn't hurt to need someone who can talk back. You have us, if you want," she presses, fingers toying with one of the mushrooms on her staff.

"What's there to fucking talk about?" Ashton harshly questions.

Laudna gives a little shrug, trying for innocence. "I think you know why grz-" She's cut off with a hacking cough. "You know what? I can't pronounce that name. That one," she points to the Hishari dressed clone. "I think you know why that one looks the way it does and you're... freaking out? disturbed? ...unsettled. Yes, unsettled to find the actual outfit in a museum. What the fuck is up with that?"

Ashton lets out a heavy sigh, head thunking back against the tree he's sitting pressed up against.

"I told y'all before that 'that one' still made sense to me because I was soft once," they slowly explain.

Laudna silently nods, encouraging them to continue.

"It's- I knew this had to be however warriors dressed in wherever I came from originally. I mean, I'm pretty sure if things hadn't- Well, I'd probably still be there instead of ending up in Greymoore and shit. But I don't- I don't remember a lot about back then. Not clearly. Fuck, this fucker's basically the clearest memory I have of that place. And they're not even a real memory. Just the fucking echo of what could have been," Ashton haltingly lays out.

"And then we got a name, a bit of history, in the museum," Laudna gently offers.

"Yeah," Ashton morosely agrees. "Yeah. Apparent-fucking-ly, I was born into a fucking cult. Isn't that nice to know?" He gives a toothy grin that's more sarcastic than anything.

Laudna eyes Ashton, trying to find his angle, the point he is hung up-

"You want to know about where you're from," she says, no question present.

They look sharply away. "Is that wrong, when it was a fucking cult?"

"No, not at all," Laudna says softly, gently. "If I didn't have to go through Delilah herself or someone just as terrible, I'd certainly want to know why I'm alive like I am. Undeath is generally considered unnatural, yet here I am, a druid. If I thought I could get answers without horrible risk, I would try."

Ashton watches her, her sincerity. Weighs it.

"...Thanks, I guess. For listening, and talking back. You... you are better than Me, Myself, and I, and grzgkgh," they settle on, something softer in their eyes.

"I would hope so. Because I'll tell you a little secret: Paté is wonderful, but talking with Imogen was definitely a step up," she whispers into his ear.

And Ashton's laughter echoes through the swampy night, bringing a smile to Laudna's face as well.

[leet911]

Waiting

Imogen sends two messages for Orym to Keyleth.  The first is a plea for help, an all too short update on their situation.  The second is a coded phrase, as it sounds perfectly mundane, followed only by their location.

The response is immediate.  “Sit tight.  I’m on my way.”

And Imogen allows herself to hope.

—

When the Voice of the Tempest arrives the next day, Imogen understands the reverence Orym gives her.  She enters unannounced, as a gust of wind through an open window, but the wind forms into a person and she drops gracefully into the center of the room.  She stands like a commander.  Like Ratanish, or Otohan, Imogen can’t help but make the comparison.  She is of average stature and slender build, not imposing like those other two, but she carries herself with the same air of power.  Her mantle is a resplendent masterpiece of colours, and the shifting leaves are hypnotic as she moves.  The face is young, seemingly the same age as Imogen’s, but the eyes are hardened, belying her true wisdom.  Imogen has heard the stories from Orym.

The halfling falls into a deep bow.  “Tempest.”

“Show me.”

Orym points to where Laudna lies next to Imogen, coins still covering her eyes.  Keyleth approaches and passes her staff over the body and the light of her magic bathes Laudna.

“Can you help us?”  And it’s Orym who asks, because Imogen’s heart is in her throat.

“It’s Delilah,” Keyleth starts.

“Briarwood.” Orym finishes with her, and Imogen thinks there might have been a shudder from the Voice of the Tempest.

“I need to confer with the others.  You were right to call me.  Wait here.  I’ll send instructions as soon as I can.”  And she starts heading back towards the window.

Imogen can feel herself screaming internally.  What are we doing?  We can’t keep waiting!  It’s Laudna!  What do we do?  Her mind reaches without thinking, looking to divine the thoughts of Keyleth.  Imogen has to know.  She has to be sure.  Because if Keyleth of the Air Ashari, Voice of the fucking Tempest, can’t or won’t help them, Imogen will find someone else who will.

As soon as their minds make contact though, Keyleth turns to look at her, green eyes boring into Imogen.  For a moment, there is a glimpse of a mountaintop city, a green grove, a tree’s branches covered with ravens, but then it’s gone, a mental wall slamming into place and pushing Imogen out.

The Voice of the Tempest stops then, looks around the room at the haggard bunch before her — this effigy of Vex'ahlia, lying in state, ears covered with golden tips; this gnomish blood hunter, scarred from battles, with lycanthropy in his veins; this wheeled automaton full of magic, and potential, but also anger and violence; this fey creature, smiling politely with inscrutable motives; this green genasi, swishing their hammer around as though it were threatening instead of arrogant bravado.  And finally, this purple whelp of a girl, lightning marks on her arms, powerful beyond comprehension, but heartbroken and torn.

Keyleth’s eyes settle on Orym.  “These are the ones you travel with?”

“They’ve saved my life.  Many times over.”  He gestures towards Laudna, and now he stands up tall, meets Keyleth’s eyes in a way he hasn’t done since she arrived, even if he’s only as high as her waist.  “They saved me instead of her.”

There’s a pause for a few seconds, but the tension is too much for Imogen.  She starts speaking, because it’s the only thing she can do.  “I…  I’ll help you.  Anything you need from us, I’ll—”

Keyleth holds up a hand to stop her.  “This is bigger than you, or I even.  I just need a few days.”  Her voice softens, not quite to a whisper, and Imogen almost feels like the next words are spoken only for her.  “I understand your pain.  I pleaded for my beloved once too.”

Then she leaps up, transforms into a raven midair, and leaves the way she came.

Imogen lets out a sob.

[cherrycola27]

Styx and Stones

Part 8:

"And even though I'm unsure about most things in life, I am certain that I love you and will continue to love you forever." -Hedda Hare

Rooster sighed as his early morning alarm went of. Delilah snuggled closer to him... well as close as her nine month pregnant belly would allow her to get. Rooster skimmed his hand over her bump and hummed contently to himself. Delilah is due in two weeks with their son or daughter. They decided to keep the gender a surprise but made sure to have a name picked out for both.

Delilah let out a groan as she sat up. "What's wrong baby?" Rooster asked settling his had on her lower back.

"You child is playing soccer with my spine." She huffed out. Rooster began to massage her lower back for her. "Oh that feels so much better... thank you honey." Delilah sighed and kissed him.

She pushed herself off of the bed and stretched her arms above her head. Rooster stayed on the mattress a few more minutes admiring the sight of hus pregnant wife.

Delilah was one of those woman who was made to be pregnant. She had done nothing but glow throw the entire thing and took everything with stride. She never once complained about her morning sickness or how parts of her body began to swell. Rooster supported her through the whole thing from rubbing her tired feet and ankles to midnight craving runs. This pregnancy had been surprisingly easy on them... which scared Delilah to death.

But Rooster always reassured her that everything was fine. The more her belly grew, the more he worshiped her in all aspects of their relationship, especially in the bedroom.

Something about her carrying his child made the man insatiable. He would frequently praise her for it while he was buried deep inside of her.

"Maybe you should take a picture it will last longer." Delilah teased snapping him back to reality.

Bradley laughed and grabbed his phone and did just that. He looked at the image and it was perfect. She stood there in an oversize shirt and a messy bun, the sun just peaking through the curtains and her hand resting on her bump.

"Oh this might be my favorite one yet!" Rooster smiled as he showed it to her. Delilah snorted out a laugh and went to turn the shower on. "Are you going to join me or do I need to call Maverick and tell him the reason you are late for training is because you can't stop oogeling his niece whom you knocked up?" She joked before heading back into the bathroom.

Rooster shook his head and joined her in the bathroom. Delilah was already under the hot spray of water when Braldey slid open the shower door. He came up behind her and cupped her stomach in his hands and gently lifted it up.

"Oh that is nice." Delilah moaned out sinking back against him.

"Won't be much longer until the little guy or girl is here and I won't get to do this until the next one." Rooster whispered in her ear. "Next one?" She questioned him.

"Baby, you know how fucking sexy I think you are like this. So swollen and round and full of me. You really think I can only experience this one time?" He asks as his voice drops an octave.

"Well can we at least get this first one out before we work on number two?" Styx shoots back.

"Sure thing baby. Now let me take care of you."

Before she can ask what that means, Rooster is sitting down on the wide shower seat and pulling Delilah into his lap. He hard cock easily slips between her folds. Being this pregnant makes it hard for Delilah to do anything other than cling other her husband while he moves inside her.

Minutes later the shower is filled with the cries of their collective high. The pair finally emerged as the water begins to cool.

Rooster gets ready for his day in the sky while Styx opts for something she deems cute yet comfortable.

"Don't fly too hard baby... remember I'm bringing you lunch today on base around 12:30." She reminds her husband before a pain twinges through her stomach.

"Honey are you okay?" Bradley asks rushing to her side. "Yeah, the baby is just kicking pretty hard today is all." She waves him off.

"Are you sure it wasn't a contraction? I can call in today..." Rooster is filled with concern.

"I'm not due for another two weeks Bradley, everything is fine." She reassured him before sending him out the door.

A few hours later Delilah made her way onto the Naval base. She waddled down the hall towards the briefing room, ignoring the cramps she had felt all morning.

When she walked in Hangman, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy, and Maverick where all there observing and listening to the training exercise. Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob were giving the new class of pilots hell in the sky.

"Hey there is our favorite baby mama!" Coyote exclaimed getting up to hug her.

"Kid still sitting snug on their perch just like their dad I see" Hangman joked while helping Styx into a chair next to her Uncle.

"Hey there sweetie." Maverick greeted her and kissed her temple. "Care to listen in and provide some feedback?" He asked handing her a headset. Styx quickly took it and put it on. While she couldn't be in a plane she was eager to help.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the is Lieutenant Comander Styx Bradshaw speaking and I can see that my husband and his partner are putting you through it right now." Styx said into the mic.

"Honey? You're hear early." Rooster called back smiling.

"Got bored and wanted to see how training was going. Have you made anyone puke yet?" She asks him

"No but I have!" Phoenix joins in.

"Miss um Styx ma'am..." one of the new pilots asks her "Yes....Stormy..." She starts as Mav informs her of the pilots call sign.

"Is it true you have 8 confirmed kills? Rooster talks about how amazing his wife is all the time and how it's a shame we couldn't fly with you because of your um... condition." The pilot says trying to be polite.

"Yes sir, 8 confirmed, but don't let him fool you... Rooster is an Ace himself!"

Just then a loud explosion is heard.

"What the fuck was that?" Styx asks

"Rooster is on fire!" Phoenix yells

Delilah and everyone hear him trying to put out the fire, but it's too late. The sound of Maverick yelling at him to eject filled her ears.

"Rooster! Rooster! Bradley come in! Rooster!" Delilah wails as the coms go dead. Everyone in the room is looking at each other not sure what to do. Delilah let's out another loud scream and almost collapses on the floor. Hangman and Coyote rush over to catch her.

"Del, everything is going to be okay. They saw a parachute its going to be fine." Jake tells her helping her back to a standing position. She looks down and clutches her stomach, her worst fear confirmed.

"I'm not so sure about that" Delilah pants out. "Why not?" Coyote asks her while he and Jake are still holding on to her.

"I think my water just broke" She tells them with wide eyes as another contration rips through her body.

"Fuck" Jake mumbles under his breath as Deliah grips her stomach.

"Everyone, get your asses in gear now and get Lieutenant Comander Bradshaw back here right the FUCK now! His wife is in labor and I will be damned if he misses that!" Jake screams at everyone in the room. People began to move like their asses are on fire at his words.

Maverick jumps up from his seat with panic all over his face. He heads for the door ready to go hop in his own F-18 to join the calvary out looking for Rooster but Delilah stops him before he can leave "Uncle Pete, please don't leave, I need you..." while reaching out for his hand.

Pete grabs her hand and helps her into a chair. "Fuck, it hurts Mav." She grits through her teeth. "I know honey, let's get you down to the infirmary." Maverick tells her. "Payback, Fanboy, help me get her to the infirmary." Maverick commands the two men who are still in the room.

The duo come up on either side of Delilah as she flings an arm over each of their shoulders and help her up.

"Think you can walk Styx?" Fanboy asks her. "Yeah I think I ca....no... no... no I can't" She breaths out as the pain hits again. Not wasting anytime Payback scoops her up bridal style and beings to carry her while Fanboy races ahead to let the doctors know she is coming in. Maverick has to sprint to keep up with Payback while he carries her down the hall.

When Payback bursts into the infirmary with Styx in his arms and Maverick on his heels Fanboy directs them to a room that is waiting. Payback gently deposits Delilah on the on the bed.

"You got this Styx. I'm going to go see if I can help get Rooster back." He says before he and Fanboy take off.

Delilah is quickly changed into a hospital gown while several monitors are hooked up to monitor both her and the baby. Maverick sits beside her holding her hand.

The OBGYN on base Dr. Nelson quickly exams Delilah to see how far her labor has progressed. "Lieutenant Comander, it seems like you are about 8 centimeters dilated. I know you must be in pain but you have progressed so fast we can't give you an epidural now." She tells her. "It won't be long until it's time to push. I heard about your husband... I'm terribly sorry. Hopefully they can get him here in time. Dr. Nelson finishes before exiting the room.

"I can't do this without him Mav." Delilah tells her uncle as she starts to cry. "I can't, I won't." She breathes out and squeezes Pete's hand while another contraction rips through her body.

A nurse come in and tries to help her get more comfortable but nothing the staff or Maverick does helps her. Delilah is desperate to have her husband with her.

When the doctor comes in an hour later Delilah is fully dilated and is almost ready to push, there is still no word about Rooster.

"No, no, no!" She screams when Dr. Nelson asks her if she is ready to push. "I won't have this baby without him. I won't do it! Rooster is supposed to be here! It wasn't supposed to happen like this." She cries holding onto Maverick.

Dr. Nelson sighs and asks to speak to Pete alone for a moment.

"Admiral Mitchell... I understand that your niece is upset about her husband, the distress is probably what sent her into labor, put if she doesn't start pushing soon, she or the baby could be in danger and then we would have to perform an emergency c-section, and I don't want to do that. Please try and speak to her." She tells him as Pete shakes his head.

"Rooster!" Bradley hears Hangman yell across the mountain side as the Navy helicopter finally came to pick him up. "Hangman!" Rooster yells back as he runs towards his friend and the waiting aircraft. Both men hauled inside before Bradley can speak. It had been about three hours since he ejected and he was glad he had finally been located.

"Jake.... is Delilah okay? I know me ejecting must have scared her and with her being so far along I've been worried." Rooster asks him. But the moment Rooster saw Hangman's face he know something was wrong.

"Roos, Styx is not okay she..." before Jake could finish Bradley's heart dropped.

"Oh my God she is in labor isn't she." Rooster's eyes went wide as Hangman nodded back to him

"Fuck! No! I can't miss it.... oh my God no!"

"Rooster calm down! We are going to get you back to base. I promise you won't miss this!" Hangman reassured him as the helicopter became airborne.

"Delilah you can't wait much longer. You are going to have to push soon or you risk putting yourself and the baby in a position where the doctor is going to have to do an emergency c-section." Maverick told her as she tried to fight off her labor.

"This isn't right. It wasn't supposed to be like this." Delilah cried into her uncles shoulder. "He is supposed to be here.... they are supposed to be here" She sobbed.

"Who?" Maverick asked looking back at her.

"Mom, and Dad, and Goose, and Carole. They should be here with you... with me..." She cried more.

"I know kid. I know it's not fair. But listen to me... this baby is coming one way or another. Bradley wouldn't want you to put yourself or your child in danger. Del, this isn't an enemy aircraft honey.... you can't fight it." Maverick told her kissing her hair.

"I'm right here. I know I'm not Rooster but I promise I won't leave you until he gets here. Now Delilah Grace, you have to push." Pete told her.

She looked back at him taking in his words.

"Okay." She responded before sitting up slightly and trying to push. "Roooooster." She called out her husband's names as if she could will him to materialize.

Roosters boots hit the ground as soon as the helicopter landed. He sped past the medical team waiting to check on him and ran straight for the infirmary.

"Lieutenant Comander Bradshaw, my wife she is in labor... where is she?" He panted to the poor nurse at the station who looked at him stunned when he burst through the doors.

"BRADLEY!" He heard his name being yelled. "Nevermind I'll follow the screams." He said running down the hallway

"Ahhhh.... I can't do it... I can't do it... I need him Pete" Delilah cried flopping back down on the bed closing her eyes and crying once again.

"Delilah! I'm here! Did I miss it?!" Rooster called plowing into the room and taking her hand that wasn't in Maverick's.

"You're here....you're okay!" She cried out seeing him.

"No you didn't miss anything Lieutenant Comander... we are all glad you are here and safe." Dr. Nelson told him.

"Delilah I need you to keep pushing. I can see the head. You can to this." The doctor told her.

"What do you need me to do baby. I'm here now." Rooster asked. "Can you get behind me like we did in birthing class please?" She asked.

Rooster quickly hopped up behind her as Maverick got up from his seat to leave.

"Pete.... where are you going?" Rooster asked looking confused.

"You're here now Rooster. She doesn't need me." Pete replied. "Yes I do Mav. You can't leave me now! Not when your grandchild is almost here!" Delilah groaned through another push.

"Grandchild?" Mav asked about to cry himself. Before Delilah or Rooster could say anything else a huge contraction rocked Delilah's body. Maverick returned to her side while Rooster supported her from behind. Both men gave their girl words of praise as she pushed with everything she had.

After a final push that Delilah was sure would kill her the cry of a health baby filled the room.

"Congratulations Mom and Dad... and Grandpa... it's a boy!" Dr. Nelson exclaimed as the infant was placed on Delilah's chest for skin to skin contact.

"Oh my God look at him." Delilah cried as the baby calmed and looked back at her with golden brown eyes that were definitely from his father.

"Oh baby he is adorable. I'm do proud of you... you did so good." Rooster whispered against her hair line as the held both Delilah and the baby from behind.

"You really did do good kid. He is a cutie... what are you going to name him?" Maverick asked

"Nicholas Mitchell Bradshaw... after Goose, Dad, and you Maverick." Delilah told him. "It wouldn't be fair to name him after just two of the best dads around we had to do all three... that why Mitchell for his middle name." She explained to him.

"Thank you." Was all Maverick managed to choke out while holding back a sob. "He truly is beautiful honey, but I know you need your rest. So I am going to go tell Penny the good news, however tomorrow I expect to be the first to hold him." Maverick joked sending the couple a wink and leaving.

"He looks just like you babe." Delilah said turning to face her husband. "Not fair that I carried him for nine months just for him to be your twin! Good thing I think you're so handsome." Delilah teased. "He is like 2 hours old he doesn't look like anything right now!" Bradley defended himself, but he knew his wife was right. He looked down and saw his eyes and nose. Baby Nicholas even had a dusting of his golden brown hair on his head.

Rooster smiled down at his little family holding his wife and son tightly.

In his head he whispered a silent prayer to thank those above for bringing him back to his wife once again and for bringing their son safely into this world. He vowed in that moment to protect them with everything that he had.

The Bradshaws enjoyed their moments of happiness and when their daughter Caroline was born two years later, they felt the same happiness yet again.

What a shame that all good things must come to an end...

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @callsignmuse @shanimallina87

[tangent101]

An examination of the Imogen/Laudna dynamic

Recently I came across a dissection of the dynamic between Imogen and Laudna that had some… interesting interpretations of events that happened in the game. Unfortunately, the further into the game I got, the more I started realizing that the person was critical of the actress playing Imogen rather than with the character herself (with what they said about the character of Jester - mind you, I've not watched more than a dozen episodes of Campaign 2 so I have no strong feelings about any of the characters in question so I'm not rising in defense of a character, just that this comment colored how I interpret their views of other characters by Laura). Rather than respond directly, I figured I'd examine specific points and my own views on these points.

First, they commented on how comments by Imodna shippers had basically turned Laudna into Imogen's "carry-on" which is… an odd view. It's fairly clear that Laudna is and has always been her own character. While Imogen and Laudna were introduced together and have frequently been by each other's sides, this has more to do with their backgrounds and how Marisha and Laura crafted their characters together, rather than how the characters interact. About the only real thing that I see that might be interpreted along those lines is how protective Laudna is of Imogen… and this works both ways with Imogen showing new powers to protect Laudna in turn. And a good part of this lies with their back stories and how they work together: essentially, both Laudna and Imogen were isolated for many years and only found solace and companionship when they met.

No doubt there are fans who view the characters this way and that's a shame! Characters are more than their ships, and the actresses and actors involved are going to tell their own stories (even as Matt throws monkey wrenches into the works). That said, there is a problem with going the other way and intrepreting characters (and their actresses) through personal biases. (No doubt the same could be said for me but I have a horrid memory for voices and names, to the point for decades I didn't know Mark Hamill had played Luke Skywalker despite seeing the first three films in the theaters.)

So. One comment was on how Laudna was the "Giver" and Imogen the "Receiver" in the relationship between the two, and honestly… for a long time I was a Giver. I was the friend who felt so persecuted that she felt unloved and unwanted and thus would give gifts to friends in "thanks" for their being friends. And while there are shades of that in Laudna, those same shades can be seen in Imogen. And the one time Imogen strayed from this significantly when under the influence of the Gnarlstone… she was under the influence of a malignant cursed magical item. And when Delilah deliberately destroyed it, it was in an effort to drive a wedge between Laudna (who was becoming increasingly stubborn and intractable thanks to Imogen's influence) and Imogen.

On one side, a person is recovering from addiction to a cursed item. On the other side you have a woman who has a poisonous voice whispering in her ear telling her that she will only ever be alone. Given those influences I'm surprised that they rectified things as quickly as they did… and Thull murdering Laudna happened soon after they were patching things up!

This may very well help explain how devastated Imogen was in losing Laudna. But what's more, it could easily be misinterpreted as Imogen constantly taking from Laudna and being unsure what to do now that this pillar of support is gone.. rather than a woman whose best friend was murdered before her eyes by someone who deliberately chose her friend because of their relationship and thus felt personally responsible for what had happened. In short, this is guilt over what happened to Laudna, and what happened to all her friends.

So. Does Imogen prioritize what Laudna wants to the same level as what Laudna does for Imogen? All we have to do is listen to what she said to Laudna when they were bringing her back. She told Laudna "I'm not going to tell you to come back, I'm not going to try to compel you to come back, because that choice, Laudna, is yours now. No one gets to control you anymore, all right? Just know that I love you, and I'm here."

Honestly… how is that not putting what Laudna wants above her own needs and desires? She told Laudna that she is not going to tell Laudna to come back or compel her, because the choice is Laudna's, not hers. This is after she and her friends descended into the Shadowfell and fought Delilah Briarwood to free Laudna from Delilah's influence. This is stating "you owe us nothing and can choose your own fate."

So, let's look at the romantic aspects of Imogen and Laudna's feelings for each other. I think they have been quietly in love with each other for two years now. If Ludinus had fallen down a flight of stairs and broken his neck a decade ago and all his plans fell apart as a result, then in all likelihood they would have slowly continued to grow together until finally they realized that their feelings were something more than friendship. But even if they are falling in love with each other, that does not mean that theirs will be a sexual relationship.

Laudna has been compartmentalizing for some time. And I think she pushed her feelings of desire into her Pate de Rolo persona because she felt so unlovable. Meanwhile… I think Imogen may very well have mixed feelings about sex because she's had a lot of trouble blocking people out. What's more, for all that she delves into people's minds regularly, I'm not sure she would look to see if Laudna feels that way toward her… and would just repress those feelings in herself. In short, Imogen and Laudna are a slow burn and if they ever do

come into culmination it will be after another several dozen episodes. Besides, they have a world to save. ;)

[vividfriend]

Laudna has never been particularly good at waiting.

Ah, ah, ah! Wait until after dinner, Little One, her mother would say with a fond smile when Laudna would try to sneak sweets in the afternoon, grabbing with all the gumption and confidence of a six year old.

Gods, at least put on some shoes! Her father would call after her when she would speed out of the house barefoot, crossing the farmland and into the woods, desperate to find more crafting materials.

When the letter came that she and her family were cordially invited to a great feast at the castle of Lord and Lady Briarwood, she was excited.

She remembers it felt like sitting on pins and needles the entire day leading up to the feast.

She remembers the night before as she sat by candlelight, fingers twitching with nervous energy as she braided and unbraided her long brown hair. Anything to do something, to release the energy bubbling inside.

She remembers the first time the darkness came. How she fought back against the ravens begging for her to slumber. How she never rested. Couldn’t. She had no patience for it. Something in her knew this wasn’t right, that she was meant for something more, something greater.

She remembers waking up swinging gently in the breeze. How she struggled and clawed at the rope around her neck.

Death is but a waiting game, Delilah whispers into her ear now as she’s surrounded by the ever-darkness once more.

No, Laudna has never been particularly good at waiting.

But she’s played this game before.

[oh-three]

1, 7, 22, 31

Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Anything with angst/hurt-comfort. Especially whump. They're fluff to me.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

The hangar ceiling breaks the contact between them and the harsh twin suns, bringing relief from the heat and from the piercing light outside. It feels easier to breathe, now, out of public view, back in his own private sanctuary. Away from prying eyes, at last.

What little tension remains in Djarin's defeated posture eases away, and he exhales.

- From this.

Honestly? I love the flow of it, the structure. The implication of people being as exhausting as weather extremes.

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

This might be cheating, but I don't have a copy-pasteable version of the original and have already rewritten this scene. So, here's a rewrite of a rewrite (second on is the new one):

As the pets settled down to sleep, a low hissing sound caught their attention.

Chance raised his head, curious, for the noise didn't sound like it came from Sassy. He'd never heard a cat hiss like that before. He caught sight of a scaled, twig-like body slowly slithering across the floor of the rainforest in their direction.

"What is that?" He asked, though he wasn't too keen on getting up to sniff the creature. Instead, as he rose to his feet, be backed off a few paces.

He'd learned that the hard way, back with the porcupine on their first venture into the wilderness. If he tried to remember hard enough, he could still remember the pain inflicted by the creature's quills. Definitely not something he'd wish to repeat again.

"It's a snake." Shadow replied, as wise as ever. "We should get away from it, it may be poisonous."

"Well, what are we sitting around watching it for?" Sassy asked pointedly, springing off the log she had perched herself on.

Delilah bounded after her, Chance on her tail. Shadow followed the trio at a slower pace, for his age did not mix well with the exercise the wilderness required of him.

.

As he’s settling down among the ferns later that night, a low hiss catches his ears. He perks up, because it does not sound like Sassy. Not in the least. And Chance is pretty sure that Shadow and Delilah could never make such a noise.

He hopes it’s nothing like the hairless dogs back in San Francisco.

The strange noise persists, and he whines low in his throat as he shifts where he lays. Because Shadow’s snores can’t even drown it out, he lifts his head and peers into the darkness. A pair of familiar eyes glow back at him. Despite knowing it’s only Sassy, he almost doesn’t stop himself from flinching. Her ear twitches, and he tilts his head.

“What’s that sound?” Chance finally whispers. “It’s not you, right, Sassy?”

“No.” She says, lowering herself into a crouch. He thinks she might be as puzzled as he is- and that thought certainly makes him feel a little better.

Something moves. Chance leaps to his feet even before he sees the giant worm at the center of their gathering. He chances a bark at it as he shrinks away, fur bristling at the unfamiliar scent; he hasn’t forgotten how chasing such a lead had gone the last time. “What is that?”

“What’s what?” Shadow growls, awoken from his slumber. Delilah’s head has risen, too, though she appears more concerned than irritated. “For the last time-”

The creature lunges at him, and the sound that tears from his throat as he scrambles out of its path isn’t unlike the one that Chance had made just a moment before. His wise old eyes peer at the twiggy thing as he settles back down.

“You’ve never seen a snake before?” He sounds incredulous, but Chance can’t find it in him to be ashamed by his lack of knowledge.

He tilts his head. “Should I have?”

“You know what? Nevermind.” The old dog huffs, shaking the dust from his fur. He looks uneasy where he stands, as if the thing might disappear. "We should get out of here, it might be poisonous."

"Well, what are we sitting around watching it for?" Sassy grouses, arching her back as she rises to her feet. She springs from the log she’d taken to for the night and begins to bound away, leaving them to follow. And they do, Shadow trotting along as if to convince himself he’s not quite as frail as he is.

31. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Both! It just depends on what feels angstiest to me in the long run of the character's narrative.

[your-enby-antihero]

Whitestone is for Friendship

Summary: Imogen isn’t having a great time in Whitestone without Laudna. Ashton decides to do something about it.

Content warnings

>Implied Potential Hypothermia  >Panic attack? >Laudna’s backstory  >Implied past hanging

also available on ao3

——————————————————————-

It was cold in Whitestone, the air was crisp and snow blanketed the roofs on each house. Imogen hadn’t realized that the nipping air had turned her nose red until Ashton’s had draped a coat over her shoulders. Her eyes fixed on the tree that they had just travelled through.

“Your going to fucking freeze, come on Letters said they needed you for something.”

She nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t move from her place. She just stared at the branches, new growth and healed bark shined like a symbol of the city’s healing throughout the years. She was haunted by a phantom. Laudna’s body hanging, dangling from a fraying rope. 

She pictured what Delilah was doing with Laudna at that moment.

“I’ll take her with me,” she threatened, the voice of Delilah Briarwood was steeped with venom and malice. Imogen could only picture Delilah with her hand around Laudna’s neck and shoulders whispering in her ear with a wicked grin.

Then,Imogen suddenly felt her feet lift from the ground. And when she returned her focus to the present moment she was hoisted over Ashton’s shoulder.

“Hey! Hey! Ashton what the hell are you doing! Put me down,” she yelled.

Ashton simply yawned and kept walking towards the castle getting sizable punches to the back along the way. As they approached Fearne and Fcg were chatting with a guard at the front of the castle. 

It was hard to make out the words but Imogen could faintly hear inquiries as to where her location was. She tried to listen closer to the conversation as they approached but before she could hear anymore Ashton shouted.

“Found ‘er!”

Fcg and Fearne perked up and looked in their direction. Fearne immediately bolted towards them whilst Fcg said a quick farewell to the guard. Ashton had now transferred her into more of a princess carry situation as if they were presenting her to the group like a blanket or tapestry.

“Imogen,” Fearne exclaimed, she ran up to her.

Fearne immediately grabbed her hands feeling for the cold and seeing the red fingertips. Her face twisted with worry as Fcg rolled beside.

“You're freezing,” Fearne said, her hand gripping tightly around Imogen’s, “Ashton you should take her inside.”

Ashton went to salute but realized that he was still holding Imogen and stopped. They nodded and started marching into the castle. As he left he shouted for Fcg to let Orym know that they needed a quiet place to warm up.

Imogen hadn’t really gotten to explore the castle very much. Since they had arrived, Orym and Laudna’s body had been whisked away by a man with powder white hair and golden framed glasses and a woman with greyed dark brown hair, along with the Tempest and Chetney had gone with Orym just in case. Imogen hadn’t stayed in the castle for long, the tall chambers and bustling staff was just a bit too much for her to handle at that moment. As she took in all the high ceilings and paintings of children and family hung from the walls Ashton received a message from who Imogen could only guess was Fcg. Ashton marched her into a cozy living room with a roaring fire and sat her down on a plush sofa and slung a blanket onto her lap.

“Exandria to Imogen. Hey are you good,” Ashton inquired, their face cut with an underlying concern.

“Yeah, just kinda lost, I mean we’re back in Laudna’s hometown where you know she was- well- killed by that bitch. And we don’t even know if these people can save her and everyone in this fucking castle is just too much right now. I can hear it all Ashton, and I can’t turn it off,” Imogen sputtered, her breath increased into more gasping than breathing and tears started to pool in the corner of her eyes as she continued, “and it’s all my fault that Otohan came after us, and I know Fearne and Letters couldn’t do anything about it but why her. And that fucking bitch Delilah can’t do anything so what’s her use to us. And with us bringing Otohan to Estheross and Orym’s husband and his home. And Fearne’s parents and Fcg’s history and whatever the hell Chetney had going on and you and your memories. And why’d it have to be her? Why couldn’t it have been me, I dragged y’all into this and it’s my past and that fucking moon that are haunting me and-”

“Breathe,” Ashton commanded, Imogen hadn’t even noticed that they stood in front of her gripping her shoulders.

“Imogen you gotta breathe. I know it’s a lot right now but we are getting Laudna back and we’re fucking dealing with this bullshit moon fuckery but not if you fucking die from hypothermia or some shit. You and Fcg helped me out with my weird head shit and we’re all going to help you and Laudna and Orym and Fearne and Chet and Letters and Estheross. But you have to chill the fuck out.”

Ashton stared deep into her eyes with an intense sense of calm. Ashton was solid and real and didn’t scream their hatred in their head for her to hear, even though Imogen knew that he had plenty to be angry at the world for. Ashton trusted her enough to let her into their head. Ashton had listened when she had screamed at him to carry Laudna. They had saved her life on multiple occasions. She trusted him with her life. 

In that moment she just collapsed into Ashton for a comforting hug, the exhaustion of the whole Laudna-Otohan situation finally taking its physical toll. She had been afraid to sleep the last few nights, afraid that Ruidus and Otohan would haunt her dreams.

As she felt Ashton release her and set her head down on the cushion, “fuck I’m cold,” she shuttered.

“I’ll get us some food or something. Or maybe let Orym know so he can grab it. That one rich prick, Lord Percival de fuckface said we were free to help ourselves but I’ve been told I’m ‘abrasive’ and would ‘send a bad impression’. Like fuck Chetney your one to talk,” they said, a playful smile pushed through the tough stone exterior of Ashton.

“Thanks Ashton,” Imogen sighed, as she let herself melt into the heat of the room.

[eulcgizeme]

OPEN TO: @gcldenhcurs for delilah barlowe MUSE: cade dyer, forty-one. cult leader / one half of the most chaotic duo that is house of dioscuri. jake gyllenhaal fc. PLOT: the upside down pineapple sequel.

Cade couldn't remember whose terrible idea had been to think up retirement, but the goal had been that a little bit of settling would reignite the fire needed for a new round of innovation in a few years. The clubs meanwhile ran themselves, and their founders still remained in control the second they decided to pick up the reigns. They simply needed to play house as a means of dusting off their image and appealing to a new wave of investors. As far as he was concerned, a rock on Delilah's finger should have been enough but they needed more, and so they added a fence, a quiet neighborhood, and even an SUV parked in the driveway with the promise of expansion. They just didn't need to know it was meant to bring equipment reserved for a back room. The rumors started first, of course. Many believed that Cade and Delilah were no more than an affair that had moved to higher ground, and then Cade's personal favorite that they were a government lead social experiment. There was a flash to them, a glistening that didn't quite fit the neighborhood despite the fact that they hadn't done anything to the property. Inquiries came up to their door as soon as curiosity brought onlookers forth, and soon they planted the seed to draw out the quiet desires of those around them. It was sour in thought, but a little pondering made it sweet. It wasn't fully ripe until the invitation was given to lie between them at night, and it sprouted to life soon after. All it took was one trip to the grocery store to end their mundane plans and it was placed right on its crown to demonstrate to all if they wanted, they simply needed a small gesture to show it. "As much as I like Sheryl, I hate her fucking husband," Cade whispered into Delilah's ear as he joined her on the lounge chair by the pool. The canvas scratched his every move aloud, the hand placed between her legs simply for comfort not an exception. Wednesday always marked their weekly get togethers, and there were more than usual this week with field trips to the local fair. The perks of a small town were that they excused you early from work for wholesome reasons, but their cou-de-sac took advantage of it. Meredith three streets down, Kathy from Lakeview, Justine from five blocks south all seemed eager to take on someone else's responsibility and everyone else took advantage of their freedom. "Do you know much of those two by the grill?" He asked her. "They've come before but I wonder if he really thinks we're just here to get use out of the pool."

[jbjonesxdomme]

Public Displays | JB and Delilah

Discord para.

Who: JB Jones and Delilah Pierce @delilahjanepierce​

Where: D/s Club, Lima, OH

When: March 4

Notes: JB and strangers play with Delilah at the bar.

TW: none, but be advised there’s strong sexual language and some consensual name calling

Delilah Her heart was pounding as the lights of the short drive into town flickered past. Delilah had convinced her Domme to let her surprise her tonight, making plans to meet JB at the bar instead of going into town together. She’d planned her look very carefully, and she wanted the thrill of JB seeing it for the first time somewhere public - somewhere she could immediately be shown off by the gorgeous Domme. Nerves bubbled in her belly though. What if JB didn’t like it? What if it was too much? Biting the inside of her bottom lip, she let out a shaky breath as the Uber pulled to a stop in front of the bar. Delilah chirped a thank you to her driver, gathering the long trench coat around herself as she entered the place. Her big blue eyes scanned the place, seeking out the woman she was there to meet. Only when she spotted her did she sigh in relief and slide out of her coat, handing it to the attendant near the door. She could feel eyes on her as she strutted across the bar - but she only had eyes for JB. The micro mini she had on bounced against her ass, showing off the straps of her assless panties under each plump cheek. Silver chains slid against her bared belly, and the sheer top she had chosen left nothing to the imagination. The thin material clung to her generous breasts, the deep pink of her nipples easily visible - along with the clamps pinched on the stiff buds. Delilah felt a thrill run through her. JB still hadn’t turned from the bar yet, so she came up behind the Domme, pressing sensually against her back, hands coming around to crawl along her thighs, ruby red nails lightly scratching. “Are you looking for some company tonight, Miss?” She asked in a breathy whisper, already feeling her skimpy panties dampening with how aroused she was just from the situation.

JB JB was still confused by Delilah’s request of arrival, but regardless, JB travelled to town alone to meet with the girl. She knew she’d need easy access, so she went with a simple black, silk cami, black pleated skirt and thigh high leather boots. To be fair, no one was going to be concerned with what JB was wearing. Entering the bar, JBs eyes scanned the sea of scantily clad patrons, looking for the familiar blonde. She leaned against the bar to order herself a club soda and a drink for Delilah whenever she would find her. It was then she felt the heat of a body come behind her and heard the familiar voice which resulted in a bright smile across JBs face. She turned to say something, but every word and breath was caught in her throat as her eyes set on the blonde. “Holy shit,” she gasped, looking the girl over for the first time. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing at this point, unable to pull her eyes from Delilah. “Oh my God, babydoll,” she moaned, her hand placed on Delilah’s hip, exploring back to her ass under the barely there skirt. “You’re beautiful,” she moaned against the girl’s ear, pressing a kiss to her sub’s cheek before pulling back. “This is amazing. I’m not sure I wanna share you now,” she chuckled, tapping her lap for Delilah to sit as JB slid onto a barstool.

Delilah JB’s reaction was everything she wanted. Delilah grinned, happily leaning into the Domme’s gentle, possessive hold as she was drawn closer. She hummed sweetly, pushing her ass back into that familiar touch. The praise made her shiver and whimper, both of her hands resting on JB’s thighs. “Thank you, Miss, it’s all for you,” she whispered back. Giggling, she climbed up onto her Domme’s lap, leaning into her happily. “Mm, you say that now but just remember how much you liked what happened at the party,” she teased. Reaching up, Delilah played with one of JB’s loose locks, winding her fingers playfully through her soft hair. “You really like all this, Miss? I don’t look too… much?” She asked, hungry for the praise to fight off the lingering traces of nerves. JB "All for me, hmm?" she hummed against Delilah's ear again as the submissive settled against her lap. "I did very much like what happened at the party," she agreed, softly running her palm against Delilah's exposed thigh. "No way," she said shaking her head, "You look completely amazing dollface. Feels a shame to mess it all up," she chuckled as her hand slid further up Delilah's thigh and settled between her legs, against her hot sex before pushing a finger slowly inside her.

Delilah She nodded, eyes shining. She loved thinking that she was all JB's - being owned by the Domme was the best feeling. "I could tell," she teased again, tugging gently at JB's hair. Delilah hummed, pleased, absolute satisfaction settling in her belly knowing she'd pleased her Miss. She let out a shuddering breath though, biting her lip as JB's finger slid between her thighs and into her very slick hole. "I want you to mess me up though, Miss. Your dirty little doll," she crooned, arching her chest, the fabric of her shirt catching on the nipple clamps and making her whimper. JB Part of her didn't want to leave this barstool. Having Delilah so close to her, scantily dressed on her lap and Delilah's eyes focused slowly on the Domme - it brought a happiness to JB she wasn't used to. And one she was so afraid to lose. But for now, she could focus on the scene itself and let them both enjoy it for the night. "Oh I know that's what you want," she agreed, filling Delilah with her finger before starting to work it in and out of Delilah's wetness, "And I'll happily mess you up. I does make me a little sad though, such a pretty little doll is going to get so messed up," she growled. Her free hand held Delilah's body, in an effort to keep her from falling. "C'mon, baby doll," she growled against the other's ear, "You're gonna have to be louder than that if you want one of these fine men fucking you senseless." Delilah Delilah whimpered sweetly under JB’s touch, holding onto the beautiful Domme. “I c-can make myself pretty for you again, Miss,” she whispered, her thighs spreading as much as she could manage. The mini skirt slid up, exposing her and just how JB was touching her to anyone who cared to look. The Domme’s growled comment made her moan, painted lips parted and wet. “Want you to pick who fucks your doll, Miss,” she groaned, definitely gaining attention now with her lusty sounds.

JB "Or I could make you pretty again," she whispered back. "Ohh, I get to pick," she hummed, adding another finger into Delilah's core, "I do like that. Now, where do we start?" she teased, her fingers still working deep into her while JB's eyes scanned the room. There were a few who weren't going to be helpful, already deep in their own excitement. Very quickly a tall, muscular man came within eyesight, sauntering up to the bar near the two girls. JB noticed him, noticing her, and offered a wink to the man to gage his interest. "She's pretty hmm?" she offered, pulling her fingers from Delilah briefly in order to slap her hand against Delilah's wet core, bringing a shriek from the blonde's throat. The smirk on the man's face made his interest clear as he turned towards them. "That's a pretty sound. Can she make more like that?" he asked, and JB gave a few more slaps to her core before pulling roughly at the clamps on her nipples. "Oh, she makes all kinds of pretty sounds. Want to give her a spin?" she asked, taking a look at Delilah's face to make sure, "Follow my rules and you can play. You don't get to make her cum, but you can make her beg for it. And if I tell you no, then it's no, we clear?" she asked the man, who seemed to completely understand and gave JB a nod she knew well. She removed her hand to give the man room to explore Delilah himself, the submissive turned to lean back against JB's chest, and JB pulled the blonde's thighs further apart atop her lap.

Delilah Delilah nodded eagerly at that. “You, Miss,” she agreed, always wanting JB to make the choice as to how she looked when she was in this headspace. As her Domme looked around to choose the man lucky enough to take her, she leaned into JB and lost herself to the feeling of her strong fingers inside of her, pussy dripping down onto JB’s thigh. The slap came without warning, eliciting a shriek, her eyes wide. Delilah took in the handsome man in front of them, licking her lips without thinking. Her head spun, lusty moans and whimpers pulling from her with each slap and tug to her body. God she was aching, her cunt hungry for something inside of it, either more of JB’s fingers or her cock or his cock - just something. And then the man was stepping in, fitting between her thighs, his thick fingers pressing into her dripping hole. “Oh my god,” she moaned, gripping onto JB’s thighs. “Can I have his cock, Miss, please?” she begged, humping down into his touch.

JB "Patience, babydoll," she moaned against the other's ear, her eyes focused on the man between delilah's legs, his fingers toying with her. JB pulled at the string on Delilah's sheer shirt so it fell open, displaying the chains and clamps on her body. The man took a few minutes to feel inside her as JB pulled at the clamps, listening to Delilah moan as she writhed and wiggled on the Domme's lap. The man took a moment to shread his tshirt and unzip his pants, exposing his impressive length. "Mmm, such a big cock for a tiny little slut," she moaned in Delilah's ear. She nodded to the man as he prepped himself, putting his cock at her opening. "Love you," she whispered quickly to Delilah as the man slid his thickness deep into the submissive and JB pulled taught at the clamp. "mmm, does my little slut feel that big thick cock inside her?" she teased with a giggle.

Delilah It was always odd to think that she could feel so beautiful like this. Dressed like a whore, spread out and being touched by a stranger, with her Miss holding her and torturing her like this… but she felt so treasured and gorgeous, especially hearing JB crooning to her so perfectly. Delilah looked down and moaned in anticipation, the man’s length thick and long. Her hips wiggled eagerly, the tease of his cock against her needy hole wringing a whimper from her. “Thank you, Miss, love you,” she gasped back. A high moan ripped from her throat, the pleasure from the thick length inside her mixing perfectly with the pain of the clamps tugging at her nipples. “Yes - so good, Miss, thank you, Sir,” she babbled, leaning her head back against JB, her eyes slightly unfocused as she looked at the handsome, gorgeous man drilling into her cunt.

JB JB loved to watch Delilah like this, and always found it even easier when someone else was fucking her. It allowed JB to take the time to watch every movement, every reaction to her face. "Such a big cock in a tiny pussy," she moaned as the man began his thrusts into the petite girl, banging and rocking her against JB's lap. "Such a little whore, moaning like that for a cock. You'd do anything to get nice and fucked wouldn't you?" she teased, her fingers scratching at Delilah's thighs between thrusts. The man groaned feverishly as his arousal clearly built inside him, his muscles starting to glean with sweat. "Cum in her," JB ordered when it was time, "Fill the little whore up."

Delilah She could only whimper in agreement. Every thrust of his cock, every rough bounce of her tits, every dirty, whispered comment in her ear just served to to drive her further into the headspace she loved. A complete and utter doll for JB, obsessed with pleasing her Miss and taking whatever cock or pussy she commanded. "Yes, yes, Miss, need it so bad," she whined out, shamelessly loud. Delilah cried out when she felt the man thrust deep inside of her, wet heat suddenly pulsing inside of her, overflowing to mix with the mess already on her thighs. "Ooh, thank you, Sir, thank you for filling up my Miss's whore," she moaned happily. JB JB scanned again, noticing they were certainly catching the attention of other patrons in the bar, already planning for new ideas. The man was well on his way, groaning loudly as he finally emptied his sack deep into the blonde. "Shit that was good," he panted, finally pulling himself from her, gently putting some stray hair behind Delilah's ear in thanks before moving on. "That's a good girl," JB moaned, her fingers playing with the sub's elated skin as another man approached them. "Hey there," JB said, talking with the man for a bit to tell him her rules again. "Let's get someone a little more comfortable first," she said, helping Delilah off her lap and leading her by the chains on her nipples towards another part of the bar where there was a couch. "Get on the couch on all fours, whore," she ordered, once Delilah complied, JB sat in front of her, lifting her skirt to expose her own sex to the blonde. "Get your mouth on my pussy," she ordered, watching the new man stroke himself behind Delilah, already getting the idea. "Alright, go ahead and fuck her. You keep that ass up whore. And your mouth does not leave my pussy, understand?" she growled, feeling Delilah's hot mouth against her.

Delilah Delilah sank back into JB, closing her eyes happily and just reveling in the gentle touches and innate knowledge that she was being her Miss's good toy. The hot drip of the stranger's load dripping from her cunt was incredible. She let her mind wander as JB spoke to their next interested party, only coming alert when she felt JB urging her down. The tug on her nipples had her shivering, and she couldn't even be bothered by the obvious mess sliding down her thighs. SHe climbed onto the couch, pushing her hips up in the air and licking her lips at the sight of JB's exposed pussed. "Yes, my Miss," she purred, groaning happily once she was allowed to taste JB. Delilah eagerly licked at her, tongue wiggling against her folds to drink every drop. The pressure of the next man sliding into her had a high moan muffled against JB, but she didn't stop, focused on pleasing the woman she loved with her tongue and lips.

JB JB moaned loudly as Delilah's tongue licked over her, the supple lips sucking along her bundle of nerves. "Oh that's my sexy little doll," she moaned, her hand pulling on Delilah's hair roughly. Delilah's moans buzzed against her core as the man fucked her from behind, grunting with each hard thrust. "Fuck, this pussy is so tight!" He growled. "Oh, isn't it? My little doll has the tightest pussy for such a little cock whore," she moaned, crying out as Delilah at her furiously.

Delilah Giving JB head was possibly the best thing she could imagine. As much as Delilah loved getting fucked or played with, she felt so good knowing she was giving pleasure without getting any of her own in return, getting wet and needy just like her Miss liked her to be. Her tits swung with each thrust, the plug in her ass glinting in the low light of the bar every time the man behind her pulled back. Hearing JB brag about her so filthily made her shudder and moan louder. Her lips pursed around the Domme's clit, sucking and flicking the sensitive bud with her tongue before her mouth slid down to fuck her wet muscle into JB's slick entrance.

JB "Oh shit, baby doll!" she cried, holding the girl's head tight to her cunt as she felt her arousal build. Her lust blown eyes went up to the man behind Delilah, who was also well on his way to exploding. "Cum all over her ass," she explained, "paint this whore's ass with your cum." She could barely get the words out before her own orgasm tore through her body, moaning and crying loudly amongst other moans and cheers from those who had started to watch them. "Oh fuck yes!" she screamed, pressing Delilah's face hard into her core as she drenched the sub's face with her own arousal. "Oh such a good girl," she moaned, watching as the man stroked himself all over Delilah's ass. "Such a dirty little whore all covered in cum."

Delilah Her fingers clung to JB's thighs, desperately licking at her to make sure she got as much of her taste as she could, and drew out her orgasm as long as possible. The need of her own body was almost secondary, though her cunt was dripping like a faucet around the man's cock, even more as he pulled out and shot all over her ass. Eyes blown dark, Delilah looked up at JB, her lips and chin dripping with the Domme's juices, makeup smeared to all hell. "Your whore, Miss, love being your messy whore," she moaned, wiggling her hips like she was already dying for another cock to fill her pussy, or her ass, or whatever hole her Miss wanted to be used.

JB "That's right my messy, dirty little whore," she hummed, looking over the girls' lust blown face. "Let's see, we've got cum in you, on your ass," she mused, thinking through her other options as a sexy domme with a thick strap already ready came closer. "Mmm, looking for a turn?" she hummed, speaking with the Domme for a minute, going over the rules and she seemed perticularly interested that Delilah wasn't allowed to cum. "Oh, the little slut doesn't want to cum, does she?" JB asked, looking down at Delilah again. "Well, we haven't used her ass yet," she hummed, tossing Delilah onto her back roughly, lifting her legs to her chest. JB slowly pulled the plug from her ass and watch the opening gape for a moment. "Here, you take her ass," she hummed, moving back towards Delilah's head, sitting on the couch and placing the girl's head in her lap. "And you," she said to a man stroking himself nearby, "she's going to suck your cock," she ordered as watched as everyone got in position to make Delilah completely full and crazy with cock.

Delilah Delilah perked up when another woman came close, her cunt clenching in anticipation of taking the thick toy. Honestly, she would take whatever JB wanted, and she could hear people commenting on her nearby, almost like they were waiting their turn. Her attention snapped to the conversation, and she shook her head. "Not until Miss says," she chirped. Delilah moaned happily, spreading her legs and folding herself in half, trembling in excitement at the thought of someone using her ass. Her eyes almost rolled back though as JB called over another man, overcome at the thought of being so stuffed. "Thank you, Miss, thank you," she babbled. A breathy moan pushed from her as the other Domme slid her cock into her tight hole, the man taking advantage of her open mouth to shove his cock between her lips. Delilah's eyes closed in complete bliss, one hand reaching to find JB's. Though her lips were working at the cock in her mouth and her hips lifted into each thrust into her ass, her head simply floated, spinning in total ecstasy at how she was being used for her Miss.

JB "Such a good little doll, isn't she?" JB smirked, making conversation with the other Domme as if Delilah wasn't even listening. "Ooh, look at how excited the doll gets with an ass full of cock," JB moaned, her own core burning one again as her girl moaned needily in her lap. JB focused her fingers on Delilah's skin and pulling at the clamps while her ass was pounded and the other cock pushed into her mouth.  One of JB's hands found Delilah's as it searched, intertwining their fingers in case Delilah needed to single a stop. But for now, the submissive was clearly enjoying herself. Voices surrounding them moaned and gasped at the thoroughly used girl, moaning and gagging with the cock fucking her throat.

Delilah Nothing else mattered but taking every cock, licking any pussy that JB ordered. Her body was a mess of sensation, pleasure, pain, taste, smell, everything overwhelming her in the most perfect way. Her moans sounded like sobs, muffled by the cock fucking deep into her throat, the man's balls slapping against her chin. The other Domme's nails bit into her thighs as she pounded Delilah's ass, and her tits jiggled and tugged on her clamps. All the while, she dripped constantly, her core swollen and soaked with how aroused she was and had been. The man fucking her mouth groaned deeply, shoving in to finish in her mouth. She swallowed as best as she could, but cum dripped from her lips, leaking down her chin and messy lips. Pushed beyond words, Delilah looked up to JB, her eyes watery and bright.

JB "What do we say to the nice man for using your throat, doll?" she hummed as Delilah looked up at her. The other Domme growled and moaned as she continued, working the girl's ass beautifully. JB reached forward, using her fingers roughly into Delilah's open cunt, to feel both of her holes filled deeply for a bit. "Oh god, this pussy wants to cum," JB moaned, pulling her fingers away and returning to keep Delilah's head on her lap. "Alright Doll," she said as another man stepped up, "Beg him to suck his cock and cum all over your tits. They're very bare and need some cum, don't you think?"

Delilah Words were so hard to form in her spinning head, but she did her best, looking up to the man. "Thank you, Sir," she managed, her voice hoarse and breathy. Delilah almost screamed when JB plunged her fingers into her gaping, aching hole, arching hard against the intense wave of pleasure that raged under her skin. Whimpering, she blinked up to the new man, his long cock already so close to her lips. "Please, please let me suck your cock and cum on my tits, please, Sir, ple-" He cut her off, shoving his dick into her mouth, and Delilah moaned, her eyes rolling back at the feeling of being so full again.

JB JB giggled as Delilah was interrupted by another cock in her throat, just in time for the Domme to be cumming. JB suddenly wished she had brought her futa dick and she could have added to the cum in and on her submissive. JB slowly slid out from under Delilah's head to be able to settle further down the couch. She laid on her stomach, wrapping her arms around Delilah's thighs and breathing slowly against the girls drenched, leaking folds. She slid her tongue up Delilah's slit and over her clit, teasingly flicking at the swollen, throbbing nub.

Delilah Panic tickled in her stomach briefly when she felt JB moving, a little whimper muffled in her throat. But she relaxed as the Domme settled between her legs, holding onto her thighs. Delilah screamed again, the sound garbled around the cock fucking her mouth. JB's tongue on her aching core made her feel like she was on fire, tears streaming from her eyes as she struggled to focus on the dick between her lips. It wasn't even that she wanted to cum - it was just so intense, the wet pressure on her incredibly swollen and sensitive clit.

JB The man clearly got excited as the moans from Delilah's moan vibrated against his cock and he began fucking her throat even more roughly. He was clearly about to blow, and JB reminded him about painting her tits. As he came, JB looked up from between Delilah's legs to watch as he painted her tits and stomach with his seed. "Mmm, look at my beautiful little whore," she said, pushing two fingers into Delilah's pussy, while the other hand returned the plug to her ass. "My doll is so nice and full now. God, look at this cunt gush!" she growled, licking the spilling arousal from Delilah's slit. "Look at this needy little clit. When's the last time you came, whore?"

Delilah Delilah sobbed through the pleasure of feeling cum spill heavily on her tits, barely able to stammer out a thanks to the man who made her into a bigger mess. She cried out, lifting her head to look up at JB. "Ten... ten days, Miss, ten days ago," she managed to whimper out, trembling and shaking under the attention. "Wanted to be good... your denied little whore," Delilah moaned, her admission drawing some gasps and chuckles from their audience.

JB "Ten days," she teased against the girl's folds, "definitely enough to keep you completely on edge." Her fingers picked up the pace, fucking in and out of the girl with lewd wet sounds echoing. As Delilah moaned and cried, sobbing in pleasured frustration, onlookers were cheering her one in between their own orgasms. Moans filled the room, the smell of sex and sweat swelling throughout the bar. JB sucked at Delilah's clit hard, scrapping her teeth against it as she teased her. "Beg me, whore," she said, another teasing lick against the clit, "beg me to let you cum. I wanna hear your screams echo off these walls."

Delilah A scream ripped out of her when JB bit at her clit, hips trying to buck though JB's strong grip kept her in place. She sniffled, crying openly at this point, her voice thick. "Please, please, please, Miss, please let your whore cum, your doll, please, Miss, please!" she babbled out between rough cries, barely able to draw in a breath with how worked up she was, her stomach tightly wound and aching for release.

JB JB smiled against Delilah's core as she listened to the girl cry and beg for release. JB spent another moment sucking against her clit, juices dripping down JB's chin and she continued hungrily. "Who do you cum for whore?" she asked, "Tell me while you cum," she said simply, her finger working hard as she licked and sucked wildly, bringing Delilah to the orgasm she so desired.

Delilah "F-for you, Miss, only for my Miss, only for you!" Her voice broke off on a ragged scream, the pressure in her stomach finally cracking. Delilah's eyes rolled back again as she came, squirting all over JB's face, her body shaking wildly from the intensity of her long awaited orgasm. It went on for so long, she didn't even know if it ended, her nerves all feeling like live wires, twitching restlessly under her skin long after the tension in her muscles eased.

JB JB pressed hard to her core as Delilah writhed and wiggled against her and the couch. The onlookers erupted in cheers and hollers as Delilah came. JB continued to lick and suck her until her body finally started to calm and JB slowed her movements before finally letting go. "How are you doing Doll face?" she asked crawling over the girl's body, hovering over her. "Because, fuck you look amazing right now."

Delilah Delilah's eyes blinked open slowly, still not quite focused, but the sound of JB's voice filtered into her ears and through her melted brain. She swallowed a few times, her mouth opening and closing, trying to find words and failing at first. "Miss," she whispered hoarsely, reaching up with weak arms to press her face into JB's neck.

JB JB studied over the girl's face, and suddenly felt Delilah bury herself into JB's neck. JB held the girl close for a moment, before switching their position a little and pulled Delilah into her lap to wrap her arms around her tighter. "Tell me where you're at, dollface," she whispered across Delilah's ear, "Everything okay?"

Delilah She curled against JB, face still hidden in her neck as she tried to comprehend everything that she felt. Words still were hard with how overwhelmed she was, but she nodded. She was okay. There was just a lot happening, and she was so sunk into her dollspace that speaking felt impossible.

JB JB breathed softly, rubbing at Delilah's back after getting the nod notification. "Good girl," she hummed quietly, keeping their connection close. "We can just stay right here, until you're ready. No rush," she promised, happy to wait until Delilah was ready.

Delilah Delilah clutched onto her, trying to catch her breath. She could still hear the sounds of people around them, lost in their own intimacy. But all she knew was JB, her strong arms and sweet voice. After a few long minutes, she brushed a kiss to her neck, nuzzling into her. "Can we go home, Miss?" she asked in a soft whisper.

JB "Of course," she whispered back, "Let's get you home and cleaned up in a nice bath, hmm?" she offered, helping Delilah up and draping her coat around Delilah's shoulders. "Such a good girl for me," she smiled, pressing a kiss to Delilah's forehead, "my good girl."

Delilah Her legs felt shaky, but she leaned into JB, trusting her Miss to take care of her like she always did. "Your good girl, Ma-Miss," she corrected herself, shaking her head slightly, afraid to admit the name she'd used for JB in her head when she'd sunk this low.

JB "mmhmm," she agreed, clocking the slip, but not knowing what it could mean. So instead of focusing on it, she walked with her arm around Delilah out the door and into a ride share to make their way back to the school.

[delilahjanepierce]

insatiable || 6.16

with @stevie-evans-dom . Delilah’s worked up her courage to explore some more, and Stevie’s happy to indulge.

Delilah was definitely feeling more herself. It was like getting back into the swing of exploring things was bringing back that insatiable part of herself she was just beginning to discover before going to the slave house. And it was blatantly obvious when she was making her way back to her room after a leisurely workout, freshly showered and dressed up. Delilah spotted Stevie and grinned, her heeled sandals clicking along the sidewalk to catch up with him. "Hi Daddy!" she chirped, sliding her hand into his and pressing up against his side so she could press a kiss to his cheek. "Doesn't it feel so nice outside? I love summer," she sighed happily.

Stevie was excited to be outside, glad that with the warm weather came more excuses to just walk around and explore. Which is what he'd been doing when he heard a loud click of sandals coming behind him, followed by a familiar voice. His smile instantly grew to cover most of his face as he turned just in time to see the beautiful blonde running up to him. "Well hello my Darling," he replied. "It's very nice outside. Even nicer now that I'm joined by my beautiful girl." He eyed her up and down. "I love the outfit, I've said it before, blue is very much your color."

Stevie's attention always made her preen, and his eyes as he drank in her outfit just stoked the heat she couldn't seem to quench low in her belly. She pressed up tighter against him, deliberately moving to press her chest against his arm. "Thank you, Daddy. Blue is my signature color, and I feel... much better dressing like me again," Delilah admitted. "What do you like so much about my outfit?" she asked playfully.

Stevie wrapped his free arm around her, holding her possessively close. "I'm glad you're getting more comfortable, Darling. That makes me so happy." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Oh, well that's a very loaded question. I suppose if I had to name a thing or two, I'd have to say so enjoy your exposed shoulders, because I can easily just lean down and press a kiss to them," he did just that to punctuate his words. "I also like the skirt. Because I could just bring you back to my suite, slide my hand up there and have my way with you. Once you're comfortable with that, of course. No rush."

She squeaked happily when he drew her close, eagerly pressing up against Stevie. She slid her arms around his shoulders, playing idly with his curls as he spoke. The way she shivered in his arms when he kissed her shoulders had to be obvious, and Delilah couldn't help but bite her lip against a moan when he added more. "Well um... what if you didn't even have to bring me back to your suite, Daddy? Would you want to do that... somewhere closer?" she asked,her voice soft and curious.

Stevie noticed her moans, her shivers. It was like pieces of her were coming back and it was so hard to hide his own excitement. "Are you asking me if I would want to play with you in public, Delilah? Because if so, the answer is yes." He looked down at her, eyes already blown with lust. "I would want to do that very much. In fact, I can think of about a handful of places I could take you to right now and just have my way with you." Leaning in close, he whispered in her ear, "Put you on your knees and make you suck my cock, and then bend you over something while I slide my fingers deep in you. Is that what you want?"

She nodded, her curls bouncing against her shoulders. Delilah swallowed hard. It never failed to drench her panties when he spoke like this, her breathing visibly speeding up. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting on a soft moan when he leaned in, and she couldn't help how she brought his hand up to her chest without thinking, aching for his touch. "Please, Daddy, yes please," she whispered back. "Want that so much. I want you."

Stevie smirked, he could tell how his words were affected Delilah and he loved every second of it. "Good girl. Should we go to the courtyard then? I bet there'll be tons of people there just dying to watch you get used." He placed his hand on the back of Delilah's head, softly petting the nape of her neck.

"Could it... could it be somewhere that's maybe a little private but not... totally private?" she asked, biting her lip again. "I don't know if I'm ready for everyone to see me but um... it might be fun to get caught," Delilah admitted, her lips curling in a shy smirk.

"Hm, so public but not public?" Stevie pretended to think for a moment as if he didn't already have a place in mind. "How about a classroom? Nobody's in them right now. We could leave it unlocked...that way someone just might come in, but chances are they won't."

She nodded happily at that, pleased that he hadn’t been upset with her wanting a little privacy. “Mm. Yes please, Daddy. Maybe you can um… take my panties off before we go in the room though? In the hall?” she asked, tugging on his shirt as if to urge him towards the building.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," he replied, trying not to sound too eager. Leading her into the building, he grabbed her hand tightly as they stopped right before a hallway of empty classrooms. Pressing her against a wall, he looked her up and down before smiling and sliding down her body, hands reaching under her skirt to grip the panties she had on. He quickly removed them from her, having her step out of them as he placed them into his pocket. "Safe keeping," he said softly before ushering her into a classroom. Stevie wasted no time pressing her against the now shut door, immediately kissing along her neck.

Delilah’s heart was pounding but the way he slid her panties off where anyone could see just made arousal thrum harder through her. She giggled at his comment, following him into the classroom. The moan she let out when he crowded her against the door was far from quiet. “Mm, Daddy,” she whined, arms wrapping around him and tugging at his shirt as if to try to get it off.

Stevie continued to press kisses along her neck and shoulders, alternating between soft and rough. He reached down for her hands, pushing them away from his shirt and pinning them to the door. "Clothes are staying on today, Darling. At least for now. You're the one who's going to get undressed. Understand?" Lacing their fingers together, he smiled. "You can safeword at any time, okay? If you get uncomfortable or feel like you need to move to my suite, you just say the word."

Delilah pouted for a moment but nodded, melting under his handsome smile and the way he linked their fingers. “I know, Daddy. I’ll be ok. You’ll keep me safe,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss his mouth sweetly. “Will you undress me? Or do you want me to?”

"I'll always keep you safe, I promise." He finished his sentence with a gentle kiss to her lips. "Oh no, I'm going to undress you. I've been dying for this for weeks now." A bit slowly, Stevie pulled away, hands moving to Delilah's neck to untie her top. His leg kept her pressed against the door as the shirt fell to the floor. Hands began to roam her top half, taking in the soft skin that he'd missed so much. "You're perfect, my perfect girl." His hands moved down, hooking into the hem of her skirt and pulling down in one soft motion, finally leaving her bare before him. As much as he wanted to dive in, he took a step back, just taking in her beauty.

His assurance just made the last of her nerves melt away, and she giggled again as he insisted he was going to undress her himself. "Weeks? You've been missing me that much?" Despite not being as nervous, she still shivered as he slowly stripped off her top and skirt, nipples already firm and peaked from arousal. Delilah kicked her dress away, letting out a slow breath as she stood in front of him, naked aside from her heels and jewelry. "Perfect, Daddy? All of me?" she asked, arms crossing over her stomach, craving his sweet praise.

"Weeks," he confirmed. "I missed you from the second you said you needed time. But I knew what needing that time meant. I've been there. Hell I'm still there sometimes." Stevie bit his lips before shaking his head, trying to get out of his own head as he stepped close to her again, moving Delilah's arms from her stomach. "Every single part of you is perfect. Your insides and out. I can't believe how lucky I am that I get to be able to see you like this. So beautifully vulnerable, yet wanton at the same time. Are you wet for me?"

"I missed you too, Daddy. I missed being with you," she confessed, letting out a slow breath as she draped her arms around his shoulders. His comments had her squirming both with how sweet they were and how they stoked the fire in her belly. "M'all yours right now, Daddy. Your girl. Maybe you should... find out if I am?" Delilah suggested playfully, easing her thighs apart as if inviting him to touch.

"That's right, Darling, all mine." The thought of just her belonging to him immediately sent a rush of blood to his core, and he was grateful to be clothed because he wasn't ready to be exposed just yet. "Maybe I should," he teased as he cupped his hand between her legs, feeling the warmth and wetness immediately on his hand. "Such a good girl, already wet and I've barely touched you. How is that even possible, hm?" Stevie began to circle her clit, using his free hand to cup her breast. "You're soaking...I don't think I've ever met someone who gets so wet."

Delilah bit her lip against a breathy moan, pressing into his touch. God, she'd missed this. She'd missed him fiercely. "I - I... I'm a needy girl, Daddy, I can't help it," she whispered, trembling under his touch. She clutched his shoulders, rocking her hips against his teasing fingers. "That's... you like that, right, Daddy? It's not bad?"

"Very needy," Stevie confirmed as he continued to run his finger along her clit. "Delilah, I promise you, there's nothing bad about this. The fact that you can get wet just from me undressing you in an empty classroom makes me want you in ways I can't even explain," he answered her with a kiss. "No more worrying, okay? You're such a good girl."

Her legs were already shaking just from his finger on her clit. Delilah sighed and nodded, relaxing against the door, trapped between him and the hard wood. "Your good girl," she agreed, leaning in for another kiss. "I like this. Being here and... and you touching me. I feel like... like a slut," she said with a giggle, clearly pleased with the term when it was on her terms.

Stevie returned the kiss, softly pressing his lips to hers. "I'm glad your enjoying yourself. Is that so? Is that something you like? Being a slut? Or is that more for you?" Waiting for her answer, Stevie began to place kisses along her neck once more, this time sucking in between. "Are you okay with fingers inside, Darling?"

She nodded, sighing happily. "I like it. I'd like if... if you called me that, when I'm like this? Just not meanly,"Delilah added. "Not that i think you would but... just... saying." A moan slid from her lips at just the thought of his fingers inside her. "Yes, Daddy, please?"

"I'd never be mean to you." Stevie assured her. "Well if you're going to take my fingers then, maybe we should move you to a more comfortable position, hm?" He teased as he grabbed her hand, taking her over to the table and helping her onto it. Laying her down, he spread her legs apart, finally getting the chance to look at the wetness that was between her legs. "I'd almost forgotten how beautiful your pussy was, Darling. So wet and pink..." he got onto his knees, a position he wasn't used to. Leaning forwards, he pressed a line of kisses up both her thighs leading up to her core, keeping his eyes locked on hers for any change in comfort, before finally pressing a finger inside of her. "Oh...so tight, so warm and tight."

The click of her heels felt so loud in the empty room, and her pulse raced when she realized the table he'd picked was right in front of a window. But still, she spread her legs, leaning up on her elbows to watch as he kissed her thighs so sweetly. "You get me that way, Daddy, always," she whispered. Her lips parted on a moan, body clutching around his finger. "More please, Daddy?" She shifted slightly, her legs spreading wide to rest her heels on the table, completely exposing herself to him for however he wanted to touch.

Stevie continued to work his finger inside of her, twisting and pulling it in and out. He looked up when she asked for more, but quickly shook his head. "No. You get what I give you. If I choose to give you more, then you get more. Okay?" Pressing his thumb against her clit once again, he worked in tandem to give her more pleasure. "You don't ask for more with me. Not unless I ask you to beg."

The way he was fingering her was driving her crazy, breath coming in sharp pants between her moans. Delilah whimpered when he said no, but nodded her understanding. "Yes, Daddy," she said, the words almost a squeak as he started to play with her clit, her pussy dripping around his touch and onto the table.

Stevie worked her over for a few more minutes, just watching as she dripped around his fingers. Adding a second finger was easy once she was loosened up more, and the stretch made his cock twitch inside his pants as he imagined himself inside of her. "So good...such a pretty slut taking my fingers. How does it feel, Darling?"

Delilah keened happily when he slid in a second finger, licking her lips. She never knew it could feel so good to be like this, to be so exposed and played with, and she didn't want it to stop. "So good, Daddy, it... it feels so good to be a slut for you," she breathed, flushed.

"You're such a good slut too, you were made for this, Darling." Releasing a heavy breath, Stevie moved closer and finally replaced his thumb with his tongue, now circling Delilah's clit with his mouth. He flicked her clit as his fingers began to move faster inside of her, the sounds of her juices making him wet, and he knew he'd have to remove his pants soon.

"Mm. For you, Daddy," she whispered back. Delilah's mouth dropped open when his mouth landed on her clit, a loud moan pulsing from her at the feeling. Her thighs were starting to shake, hips tipping up against his mouth and fingers, sounds getting louder and louder. "Daddy, I... I can't... I need to..." she panted out raggedly.

Stevie realized what Delilah was trying to say, her body was tightening and she was shaking as she neared her orgasm. As much as he wanted to taste and feel that on his tongue, he pulled back, just in time. "Not yet, Darling. We're just getting started, hm?" Stevie moved onto the table, leg pressing tight against her pussy as he kissed her, pushing his tongue inside of her mouth so she could taste herself.

A louder whimper pushed from her when he pulled away, though she loved how close he'd gotten her and left her aching for more. She clung to him, unable to keep from rutting against his thigh when it pressed to her core. At the moment, she didn't care who might see them - being trapped, naked and dripping under him, was one of the most freeing things she'd ever felt.

He pulled away from the kiss, but stayed hovered over her. "You're so needy, aren't you. You're practically humping my leg," he chuckled as he mentioned her actions. "But that's okay, I like that." His hand moved to run through her hair. "You know...watching you like this, hearing your sounds and tasting you has made me incredibly hard and wet. Do you think you could help me with that?"

Delilah nodded and licked her lips. She was a needy girl right now, his needy slut, and she loved every second of it. At his question, she nodded eagerly, running one hand down his stomach towards the front of his pants. "Yes Daddy, I want to suck you. Make you feel good," she murmured.

Her fingers moving down him so eagerly made him want her even more. "Darling, I want that so badly. And I've gotten more comfortable with my body too. If you'd like to do more than suck me, if you'd like to use your fingers, I'd like that very much."

She hummed happily. "Yes, Daddy, just want to make you feel so good," she promised, working to undo his pants, eager to get her hands and mouth on him after so long.

He laughed a bit at her eagerness as she undid his pants. "Let's get into a bit of a more comfortable position, hm? I think me straddling you won't make for an easy blow job." Climbing off of her, he stood to the side of the table and offered his hand to help her sit up. "Now, how about we switch? I sit on the table and you kneel?"

Delilah just giggled at that, carefully climbing off of the table. She couldn't help but lean in for another filthy kiss, one hand sliding into his pants to touch him through his underwear. "Tell me again what I should do, Daddy?" she asked playfully, indulging in a bit of a brat moment.

Stevie sat down on the table once she got off, resting his palms behind himself. "Mm, playing coy? Or did you just forget what Daddy likes?" He moaned as her hand touched him. "I want you to suck my cock like the good little slut you are. Make Daddy wet, and then you're going to use those pretty little fingers and put them deep inside me and make me cum. How does that sound?"

His words made her shiver, fingers rubbing over him through the thin fabric. "Perfect," she hummed, sinking down onto her knees in front of him. Delilah slid his pants and underwear off, moaning at the sight of him hard and wet in front of her. She leaned in without a thought, wrapping her lips around his cock, tongue pressing to him firmly as she sucked.

Stevie never got nervous around Delilah anymore. Having his underwear removed just meant that he was about to be pleasured, and her presence left no room for anxiety. Especially when her perfect mouth instantly wrapped around him, making him place a hand in her blonde hair to hold her steady as she worked on his cock. "Oh, fuck. Such a good girl...That's it, Darling, just like that."

Her legs spread a little where she knelt, the cool air on her heated core making her shudder. It felt so good to be doing this - to be naked, sucking her Daddy's cock, where anyone could catch them. Delilah moaned against him, both hands rubbing along his thighs , her head bobbing against his groin slightly as she sucked him eagerly.

Stevie sat forward, placing both hands on Delilah's head, running his fingers so gently through her hair. He'd missed his perfectly she felt around him. "So pretty, my pretty little slut." His cock twitched in between Delilah's lips, and a pool of wetness began to drip between his legs. "Use your fingers, Darling..."

The name had her whining and squirming, arousal dripping down her thighs with how turned on she was. She slid her hand under her chin when he told her to, one finger pressing inside of Stevie to bring him as much pleasure as possible. Nothing mattered except pleasing her Daddy.

As soon as her finger pressed inside, he let out a loud moan. He pressed her face against his cock a little harsher, desperately needing the contact. "Oh fuck!" It was still such a new experience. He'd only let himself and Buck so far do this, and now Delilah. But he loved it, loved having the closeness and intimacy of having her press inside of him while sucking him off.

Delilah moaned against him again, happily sucking him deeper into her mouth, tongue pressing more firmly against his length. The sounds she was making were probably obscene - but she didn't care. Her hips arched up as she leaned in more, hungrily working his cock with her mouth and her fingers inside him, aching to hear Stevie fall over the edge.

Stevie felt a tightness forming in his stomach, his cock twitching even more as his orgasm got closer. He freed his hand from her hair and began to smooth it down her back as he moaned and thrust against Delilah's face. "Gonna cum, baby..."

Hearing his warning, she only gave more, fingers curling inside of Stevie to try and hit all of the best spots inside him. She could feel him dripping around her fingers, some of it falling to land on her breasts, making her feel even more deliciously dirty than she already did.

As soon as he finished speaking, he felt himself tighten around Delilah's fingers, his orgasm hitting him hard as he came around her. "Oh fuck!" Stevie rocked his hips forward a few times, the sensation of her mouth on him while her fingers worked inside giving him the most intense orgasm he'd had in so long.

Feeling his body clutch around her fingers wrenched another moan from her. Delilah stilled her fingers but kept sucking and licking, aching to draw out his pleasure as much as she could. "Mm, thank you, Daddy, so good," she breathed, licking around her fingers to get every bit of his taste that she could, even arching her chest forward so he would keep dripping over her tits when she eased her fingers out of him.

Willing his eyes open, Stevie watched as Delilah licked and fingered him through his orgasm. When she pulled away, he saw his own juices covering her chest, and he couldn't help the proud  smile as he reached for her to pull her up. "Looks like Daddy made a mess of you, hm? Should I help clean you up? Or would you like to keep that?"

Delilah got to her feet, her head pleasantly fuzzy and keeping her smiling. "I like being a mess for you, Daddy. It makes me feel dirty," she hummed. "Can I keep it? I um... I like how it makes me feel. And that other people might see it."

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, running his thumb along her collar bone where some of his juices had collected. "You can, my Darling. I think once you get dressed, I'll have you pull your top down just a little so people can see how shiny your chest is."

She wiggled happily hearing that. "I can tie it so it's super low, Daddy. I want to show off for you," she crooned, leaning into him, searching for a kiss. "Will you keep my panties too?"

Stevie kissed her back, smiling against her lips as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Oh Darling, you don't even have to ask that. I was planning on keeping them."

Delilah giggled at that, heat crawling all over her skin in a way she'd never felt before. "You can take others too, if you want. Like you did today," she whispered against his mouth.

"Oh yeah? Well I appreciate that offer, Darling." He continued to hold her close, her body still warm against his own. "You know, I was thinking...I believe you've earned an orgasm."

She looked up at him hopefully. "I did? Mm, thank you, Daddy," she purred, kissing his cheeks and lips. "Where do you want to play with me more?"

"You did, Darling." He chuckled at the kisses she gave him before gently pushing her away. "Hm, how about standing up? Against the window and you can straddle my face while I'm on my knees?"

Delilah bit her lip, looking out the window. It wasn't terribly busy outside, and she couldn't deny she felt a thrill go through her when she noticed someone looking back. "Yes, Daddy, i like that," she agreed, bouncing over to her place. "Should I face the window?"

"Good slut," Stevie responded as he got off the table. He walked over with her to the window and knelt down. "Yes, I want you to see people as they walk by, and if they look at you, I want them to see your pretty little face while Daddy eats you out."

She blushed but turned towards the window, her legs spreading for Stevie without a second thought. Her thighs were slick with arousal already, core aching for release.

Stevie looked up, the perfect view of Delilah's wet pussy above him. I'm an almost animalistic way, he leaned upwards and began licking at her swollen folds, moaning at the taste and at how soaked she was.

Delilah squealed when he all but attacked her core, clutching to the windowsill. Her thighs trembled already, but she wanted to last as long as possible. Her sounds had caught the attention of a student passing by, and she blushed as he smirked at her, stopping on the path as if to watch the show.

Stevie took the girls sounds as a sign to continue, which he did. He licked long stripes up her entire area leading to her clit before finally attaching his lips to it, sucking on the bundle of nerves. His fingers went to work on her folds, taking over for his tongue and working their way inside.

her eyes slid shut, a chorus of moans and whimpers filling the classroom. She rocked back into his touch, a gush of fluids dripping around his fingers as he sucked so perfectly on her swollen clit. "Oh god, Daddy, yes... p-please don't stop," she whined. "S-someone's watching, Daddy, he's... mm, he's touching himself," Delilah whispered to him, looking down to Stevie.

Stevie moaned as Delilah told him what was happening on the other side of the window. He was so pleased that she didn't want him to stop, that she was comfortable enough to continue. Pulling away for a moment, he spoke softly to her. "He likes watching you, Darling, he likes knowing that you're being tongued open like a little slut."

It did make her a little nervous, but she knew Stevie wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. His words made her shiver and look back up, gulping as she noticed he'd opened his pants to properly stroke his cock. "Your little slut, Daddy," Delilah moaned, rocking her hips.

"That's right, Darling," he assured her before returning to her clit, flicking it with his tongue. Inserting two fingers now, he scissored them inside her, stretching her open just a bit, letting her get a feel for what that felt like.

Her toes curled inside her sandals, mouth dropping open as his fingers moved inside her. She'd never quite felt anything like that, the stretch just making her shudder and drip even more fiercely. "Oh my god... Daddy, I... I'm close, Daddy, please," she moaned.

Stevie managed a nod against Delilah's wet pussy, letting her know she had his permission to finally cum. He continued his work against her, flicking his tongue on her clit as his fingers began to push even deeper inside.

Delilah whimpered, shaking and clutching the window. Her audience seemed to be close himself, but she couldn't hold off any longer. She let out a loud cry, her orgasm hitting so hard it was a miracle her knees didn't give out. She leaned over, bracing against the windowsill as she panted hard.

Stevie grinned against Delilah, helping her through her orgasm. He wrapped his arms tightly around her thighs, supporting her weight as she braced herself. Licking her folds, he cleaned her up, gathering all of the juices she left behind. "Such a good slut, Darling. Did your little friend enjoy?"

Every gentle stroke of his tongue made her shiver. The boy watching tucked himself away, spent, and winked at her before continuing on his way. Blushing, she looked down at Stevie, still trembling. "He did... he f-finished while he was watching, Daddy," she murmured.

Stevie stood up, running his hands along Delilah's back lovingly. "You did so good. How do you feel? Do you feel okay?"

Delilah leaned back into his arms with a happy hum. "Mm. I feel really good, Daddy. Thank you," she whispered, turning around to kiss his neck lightly, snuggling into him.

Stevie tilted his neck to the side a bit, allowing Delilah to have access. "i'm glad. I'm so proud of you, Darling. I know that was a lot of new things for you."

"It was... but I know you keep me safe, Daddy. You wouldn't let anything bad happen," she murmured.

"That's right, Darling. I wouldn't." He pulled her close as he spoke, still running his hands along her back. "I promise you that I will never let anything bad happen to you."

She leaned against his chest, sated, content and still fuzzy happy. "It's 'cause I'm your girl, right, Daddy?"

"That's right. My sweet girl." Stevie pressed a gentle, loving kiss to her forehead. "My girl."