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vinedvengence · 4 months

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Spores and Stars

Chapter 1 - Acclimations

Chapter CW's: mentions of trauma, physical assault, potentially distressing trauma-related dialogue, night terrors/trauma related nightmares, grief, choking/asphyxiation (in a dream but still lol) A/N's in tags for background info

Vrisryn was irritable, to say the least. It had been over a hundred years since the elven druid had last felt any anxiety or fear even remotely close to the levels of stress which they’d endured throughout the last 24 hours. Circumstances beyond their control had become a theme in their life long before this, but a being abducted by mindflayers while on a routine stop in the city only to awaken on their crashing nautiloid? That definitely warranted a top 3 spot in the stories of unfortunate events which had become such a trademark experience for them.

Surviving the nautiloid crash and escaping illithid captivity was only the start to their newfound troubles. Other discomforts and concerns took form in the shape of discovering the fate that awaited those who become infected with illithid tadpoles, as well as the strange companions they had reluctantly picked up along the way—the abrasive but adept githyanki, Lae’zel; the untrusting & mysterious half-elf cleric, Shadowheart; the seemingly clumsy but endearing human wizard, Gale; and the pale, snide high-elf Astarion, who Vrisryn couldn’t help but notice hosted unnatural fangs and two inauspiciously placed puncture wounds along his neck.

How subtle, they had thought to themselves when his dagger pressed along their neck–right before they rightfully headbutted him off of their person. Vampirism and the undead were not completely unfamiliar subjects for a druid of the Circle of Spores, and while the potentiality of being in proximity to such undead didn’t particularly phase the wild-elf, they couldn’t say for certain that the other party members would be as unbothered as they were by such a discovery. They chose to act oblivious to the matter for the time being. A notion for him to share and a trouble for another day, they figured after he had agreed to travel with the group.

Vrisryn was not fond of being close to people, and traveling with others was a foreign concept altogether. Circle of Spore druids were particularly known for their preference of solitude, and even among their circle, Vrisryn was considered a recluse. Despite the wild-elf’s natural charisma, socializing was NOT something Vrisryn found enjoyable—let alone comfortable. They considered such things a necessary nuisance. Between the circumstantial & personal risks that forming close bonds carried for them and the fact that they had spent roughly the last century relatively alone in the wilderness, they had little reason to welcome any opportunities to grow close to people. Any form of socializing or interpersonal connection was something that they had learned to allow only when absolutely necessary.

Vrisryn had no interest in close bonds with others. The bonds they had forged with nature and the wilderness had sustained them more than well enough the last century. Companionship with people was not something they had sought for since their youth; connection and intimacy had long-since been cast out of their mind and heart, believing that such frivolities to have been privileges long-since spent from the past. Even when it came to acquaintances within their Druidic Circle or work, they kept most exchanges to solely business-related matters; where they could name many associates, they would be hard pressed to claim any being as something even remotely akin to a friend–short of potentially Psilofyr, whom they refused to acknowledge as such.

No—the druid had not felt any sense of true connection or understanding since the few years they had spent recovering from and adjusting to their spellscar in a myconoid colony. They had found themselves in the care of the strange creatures and the mad-mushroom deity after the traumatic loss of their prior life to the Spellplague which infected their homeland during the Year of Blue Fire. Where it stood now, they had grown to prefer solitude, and worked intentionally to maintain that detachment from others. It was a choice that had served them well both in their heart and with their druidic work.

They didn’t see it as a sacrifice, but rather, as an act of acceptance of their own fate. Death had made it clear where they stood in the story that was their life. And who were they to disrupt nature’s holy balance by protesting death’s decision, let alone for the sake of their own selfish emotions or desires? The bitter acceptance of their circumstances had taken a long time to adopt after they had recovered from their creeping madness, but once it settled into their soul, they found them disconnected from the reverence they once held over the living, as well as life itself. Being invested in other people was a luxury and a distraction that Vrisryn could no longer afford. They had come to find that their indifferent attitude towards subjects such as death, violence, or tragedy—as well as their general interest in the macabre—tended to fend off most that dared to seek connection with them, anyway. It was easier to remain on the outskirts, misunderstood, and drifting along nature’s intended course.

Now, these damned tadpoles and their ability to psychically link any fellow infected threatened all of the security and familiarity Vrisryn had previously found through isolation.

So: irritable would be one way to describe Vrisryn’s mood as they settled into camp. The first day of traveling with others had been treacherous and wearing. Between the tadpoles themselves, the forced acquaintances (not to mention the subsequent bickering amongst them–who knew less than a handful of strangers could find one another so disagreeable), the skirmishes within the decaying temple, and the literal skeletal withered freak that had crawled out of the sarcophagus in the crypt underneath? It was safe to say that exhaustion had crept up on the druid faster than ever.

Vrisryn was also clearly weaker than they had been when they were kidnapped; the effects of their newfound tadpole infection wiping away much of their prior strength and stamina. Some cantrips and basic first level spells were all the druid could manage to produce at the moment, and it was a miracle that their Spellscar wasn’t already rearing its head given the circumstances. By sunset, a migraine had seeped its dreadful way into Vrisryn’s skull. Whether it was from their Spellscar, the tadpole’s squirming, or sheer stress and exhaustion was unclear—but it had become disorienting enough that the druid had demanded they make camp for the evening far earlier than they otherwise would wish to.

Thankfully, reprieve was found nearby at a scenic spot along the nearby river. The druid had felt suddenly lighter upon finding the idyllic strip of land, and its vantage point and the stretch of woods separating it from the main roads made it easy to feel safe within. As safe as one could hope to feel given the circumstances, at least. They had begun the work of setting up a firepit and bedrolls before any further input from their traveling companions could be made, short of an abrupt noise of displeasure from Lae’zel. Such expressions had become white noise by that point due to the frequency of such exclamations.

Vrisryn adorned a smug look while taking in the sight of their traveling companions settling into camp for the night, recalling how much they had each begged them to move on and away from the scene while they searched desperately for their own headpiece and armor once outside of the decrepit temple. Each companion had exclaimed that the search was for naught, and each had shut their mouth as Vrisryn continued to procure bags and effects that belonged to each of them. In true nature, they had found their belongings last, after four hours of increasingly frantic searching – three hours past finding Lae’zel’s, Gale’s, Asterion’s, and Shadowheart’s own possessions. It was always satisfying for Vrisryn to watch others eat their own words around them.

Afterwards, Vrisryn wandered aside the river, leaving without a word in search of a shred of privacy as their exhausted party members hitched tents, organized camp supplies, and unpacked their personal belongings from bags nearby the fire.Hiding behind the mass of rock that separated this stretch of the river from the eyes of the rest of the camp, they stared into clear water at their own dirty, knackered reflection. The druid ran a hand against the top of the cold, calm river, just barely grazing it as they said a tender thanks to the universe for the reprieve of the nature around them. Vrisryn could hear the muffled, occasional banter and bickering of their traveling companions nearby; but it was mostly blocked out by the gentle babbling sound of the river mixing with the stream of thoughts bombarding their mind. Everything felt incredibly raw after this day, and they found themselves overwhelmed with the unfamiliar sensations and the sheer weight of the emotions of it all. Their lungs and stomach felt tight and tense, and the migraine had become nothing short of excruciating. They weren’t adjusted to feeling so strongly about anything these days. Their anxiety built as the implications of the current circumstances sank into their reality.

It was most common for them to experience the symptoms and side effects from their Spellscar at night, particularly after stressful days. That being said, resting within the eyes and ears of others tonight was a huge risk. Despite their fatigue, Vrisryn worried over whether they’d be able to find any rest this evening. Typically, they were still able to restore energy from trancing as any other elf; but ever since they had retained their spellscar, they had discovered that their body required the type of sleep that human and half-elves needed. Often, this would occur after their more arduous travels, unnerving experiences, or grave wounds. They hoped to the hells and back in spite of the obvious odds that their body would not require such deep vulnerability tonight, equally fearful of if they’d even be able to settle enough to trance. If they did find reprieve only to wake their newfound companions with any of the side-effects of their Spellscar, who knows how those around them would react to such a thing? Especially given the events that had already unfolded through the day—they found it easy to assume that the best case scenario in that situation would result in being abandoned.

Usually the druid would be thankful for a chance at abandonment and its promise of sweet isolation, but the circumstances were too dire to take such risks right now. Despite their longings for solitude, they needed all the brainpower they could get if they wished to find help with this whole tadpole problem and refrain from turning into a mindflayer. There was power in numbers. Still, they all had little reason to trust one another, and these new associates would likely see no reason to stick around with someone who held such baggage and risk.

It could potentially even be fatal to show such vulnerability; particularly, in the case of the blade-happy githyanki who would likely mistake the unfamiliar Spellscar symptoms as proof that Vrisryn was transforming into an illithid and react far before clarification could be given. Astarion had all but started their introduction with a blade to Vrisryn’s throat, so they couldn’t imagine he’d be particularly willing to stick around at any sign of further risk or burden either. Though, they also felt he could be just self-absorbed enough to completely overlook any effects they’d endure through the night. Shadowheart and Gale seemed the most fond of the druid at this point, and while they had sensed a kindred spirit of sorts in each, they by no means felt they knew either well enough to place even the slightest bit of trust in their character. Abandonment was still far more likely than acceptance, and despite their nature, their wisdom of the daunting odds stacked against them made it impossible to justify any permanent disbanding from their companions for the foreseeable future.

It’s also not as though Vrisryn could fault their companions if they did react that way in that event. The druid wasn’t particularly fond of this newfound situation either, nor trusting of those embarking on the journey with them–they too would be equally willing to cut off or cull any signs of danger or unneeded weight among the others at this point. Though, that could be the exhaustion speaking more than their actual beliefs or morals. They weren’t squeamish to the idea of violence any more than they savoured such measures. But any way they spun it, they found themselves at the same conclusion that these were still far too dire of circumstances to throw caution to the wind.

Vrisryn cupped their hands beneath the cold water, splashing it along their face as they stared out across the river, still lost in thought. The scent of vittles cooking in the fire wafted from nearby had grounded them back to the present somewhat. The sky was darkened now, with only a sliver of burnt orange-daylight left along the horizon as the speckles of stars and a bright, full moon washed across the sky overhead. The elf exhaled before stripping from their scale mail armor and washed themselves off quickly in the river, dampening their hair in the process but not bothering to clean it. Afterwards, they slipped into simple, comfortable threads that had been picked off the belongings of those they’d fought earlier in the day. Death’s blessing serves life’s purpose yet again, they thought to themselves reverently. Blessings be to the eternal cycle; may the spores of rebirth favor the fallen.

Turning from the corner of the rock, Vrisryn all but jumped out of their skin at the unexpected sight of the aforementioned skeletal enigma they had freed from the dank crypt earlier in the day standing nearby. The undead's blackened eyes stared intently at the druid, obviously having something he wished to say. Oh hells, they thought tiredly as they shook their head and sighed once more, approaching the creature with their arms crossed and a lifted eyebrow.

“We meet again, as predicted,” the undead greeted in its strange diction. “I shall be here in thy camp, for whenever thou hast need of my services.”

“Not to be rude, but… what exactly are you?” Vrisryn replied somewhat wearily.

“There are many answers to that question. None are important.”

“It’s important to me. Nature has an order, and while I have no issue with undead… Skeletons aren’t supposed to be able to talk.”

“Correct.”

Vrisryn squinted in displeasure.

“…Are you going to explain further?”

“No.” His response was firm, with a tone cautioning to not press the matter further.

Vrisryn narrowed their eyes at the undead before letting the subject drop with a roll of the eyes, too exhausted from the day to press the matter. He clearly wasn’t any threat, at the very least.

“What kind of services can a skeleton even offer?”

“Should thou or any of thy compatriots perish, I will cleave soul to body once more.”

This piqued Vrisryn’s attention immediately. A flicker of something between hope, excitement, and dread settled into their stomach at the prospect of such magic. The ability to retether the dead to life again, despite the circumstances? It was frowned upon within their circle to seek such channels, as it was considered an offense akin to stealing food from the mold and mycelium they worshiped. Yet, a part of Vrisryn’s heart had always hoped to find one capable of such skills… after all, if one was capable of such a feat, was there a chance that he could…?

“That’s incredibly powerful magic. Why is it so easy for you?” They questioned, failing to mask their obvious intrigue.

“Because it is my calling,” the withered man in front of them retorted matter-of-factly. “There is little else to explain.”

“You mentioned a cost. What is it?”

“A matter of coin, 200 gold, to be precise.”

“Could you… revive others, besides the companions I carry now?”

An unreadable expression passed over the wrinkled, misshapen face in front of them. Something between disappointment and understanding, perhaps even pity–though, Vrisryn themselves could not decipher the look.

“No. The threads of fate have already woven thy story; I shall only offer aid to thy chapters' future, not those of thou’s past.”

Reality quickly settled back in where the flicker of hope had taken hold moments ago. Disappointed but not surprised, Vrisryn’s expression sobered again. They nodded curtly, wincing as their head pounded harder with the motion, tadpole squirming behind their eye, before walking away from the undead man and back towards camp. There was nothing else to say on the matter, and the being didn’t seem privy to share much else at the moment anyway.

Returning in search of food, Vrisryn found Gale was standing in front of the campfire, clearly brooding. Each companion had set up their personal spots rather efficiently. To the side, Lae’Zel had somehow managed to create or procure a whetstone and was sharpening her blade, visibly irate in her own right. Shadowheart seemed deep in a prayer or perhaps meditation, and Astarion had buried his face within some large, dusty book. Vrisryn approached Gale first, though they had only done so to obtain some of the food nearby, not for conversation.

Just as they came from behind the wizard, he let out a deep exhale, and spoke:

“Go to Hell.”

“And a good evening to you, too.” Vrisryn answered sarcastically, bemused by the unexpected greeting as they reached for a serving of their supplies.

“Hah! You’re a good sport,” Gale responded, before beginning his tirade.

“Go to Hell. An everyday expression. So trivial, it’s almost meaningless—but we’ve seen Hell. It’s real. And it isn’t trivial.”

Vrisryn watched the flames in silence, taking a bite of the roasted sausage and carrots they’d obtained, unsure of what to say or where this exchange was leading. Still, they stood watching and listening to Gale intently, enticed by his sullen remarks.

“Devils, dragons, mindflayers — they used to be abstracts. Pictures on a piece of paper… What a difference a day makes. Now, we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti,” Gale turned now to face the druid, heavy and worried brown eyes locking with theirs. “That’s not abstract.”

There was a profound sadness and lethargy in the man’s expression that Vrisryn could tell was borne far before the illithid experiences they shared. Despite this, the flickers of orange from the nearby fire across his face painted the wizard in a charming light, Vrisryn noted. He had a comforting, charming visage, in spite of his pessimistic words and downtrodden aura. At least everyone in this little entourage is easy on the eyes… they thought shamelessly. Little victories, I suppose.

“We’re in deep shit, Gale; I can’t argue with you on that. Brooding will get us nowhere. Action will,” they finally offered, unable to spare any words of real comfort or reassurance at the moment amidst the waves of pain shooting through them. There was a moment of weighted silence between them once more as they both stared at the fire.

“This ballet of flames invites reflection,” Gale replied after some time. “But point made; you’re right. Let’s be up with the lark – find a healer before the wee one gets hungry.” He tapped his head with a smirk, emphasizing exactly who the wee one in question was. Vrisryn winced again as their tadpole squirmed almost in response, causing further tension in their sore skull. They felt dizzy for a moment from the pain, but if Gale had noticed anything, he made no sign of it. His back was now turned to them as he cast his thoughtful gaze silently towards the fire.

Behind them, Vrisryn noticed that Shadowheart had stood up from her prayer at some point during their conversation. The half-elf was eyeing the two of them suspiciously, though she turned her head away as soon as Vrisryn went to meet her eyes. Putting aside her seemingly aloof and untrusting nature, Shadowheart had earned Vrisryn’s trust the most thus far. Clearly the feeling wasn’t yet mutual, but Vrisryn wasn’t particularly bothered by that. Maybe it was the druid’s bias for clerics due to the deep gnome–Smilvi–who had helped nurse them both physically and emotionally, during and after their creeping madness in the Underdark.

Favoritism for clerics aside, Shadowheart had proven fairly trustworthy and sound of mind with strong, individual morals that the druid could respect. Regardless of her icy exterior, they had gotten the impression that Shadowheart harbored a secret softness, as well as some sense of care or favor for them. At the minimum, she had at least been kind & respectful. She had gone as far as to show concern over Vrisryn’s well-being when the decision to recruit Lae'zel was made. Even if it was only due to their help on the nautiloid or a need to not face the odds ahead alone, the consideration was welcomed. Plus, they could understand her wariness and respected her obvious affinity for privacy.

Vrisryn walked in the cleric’s direction despite the beckoning of the nearby bedroll they’d laid out for the night. They figured they might as well make a round along the camp to check in with all of their company before settling down for the evening. At the very least, doing so reduced the risk of being bothered by one of them with questions or concerns later. Vrisryn doubted they’d be particularly understanding towards any disruption of the limited rest they’d be getting tonight.

“What were you two talking about?” Shadowheart probed in an accusatory tone as they approached.

“What do you mean?” Vrisryn replied, slightly taken aback by the cleric’s tone. That wasn’t a question they were expecting.

“You and Gale.” She clarified, casting a scowl toward the man’s direction. His back was still turned to them, lost in thought near the fire.

“We were just discussing the next steps.”

“I see,” She said, pausing for a moment to cast her glare back towards the wizard. “I’d be careful with Gale.”

“You don’t trust Gale?” Vrisryn asked, an eyebrow raised in question. The man hadn’t particularly struck them as fallacious or deceptive by any means, let alone given them any reason for concern.

“He’s a wizard. All they care about is power.”

“Well, I wasn’t confiding in anyone. I was just talking,” the druid replied defensively, shifting their weight and placing a hand against their hip with a look. The abrasive and negative attitude radiating off each member of their party was beginning to wear on their already thin patience, and they didn’t care for others questioning their judgement.

“So am I,” Shadowheart retorted coyly. “If we’re to survive, we need to trust each other… You seem reliable. I think you know how important it is that we find someone who can cure us. Best if we focus on that.”

“Let’s not abandon all caution,” Vrisryn warned. “This is unfamiliar territory, and there is power in numbers, Shadowheart.”

“Caution is a luxury we don’t have,” Shadowheart sighed. There was a glimmer of approval and understanding in her eyes at the response of Vrisryn’s words, however. “Let’s rest and wake up at first light.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Vrisryn replied as they walked away, shifting their attention now towards the pale elf with his head buried in a book. As they approached, Astarion clapped the book shut and tossed it on a nearby pillow.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” he started.

Oh, here we fucking go, Vrisryn thought, sighing and preparing themselves for this nights next batch of draining social interaction. Couldn’t they just get a short, simple exchange with one person tonight? Whatever was coming from this exchange seemed to hold promise of being particularly tiring, even more so than Shadowheart’s distrust and Gale’s sorrowful droning. Not to mention that they still had Lae’zel to check in with.

“And I think there’s something I should tell you,” Astarion continued in a lulling tone. “Nothing big or terrible, just a… small, little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.”

The pale elf moved his hands and shifted his weight in nervous contrast to his inflection as he talked, flourishing the words with his body language. Vrisryn assumed it was an attempt at either some sort of seduction, or perhaps just some form of self-soothing. His anxiety was palpable, and Vrisryn could tell he was struggling to figure out how to approach this matter delicately. If they hadn’t been so exhausted and irate, they likely would have provided more in the way of encouragement or support. It was obvious this wasn’t comfortable for him, but Vrisryn was far too spent to offer such grace to these strangers tonight. Instead, they stared directly at the elf with a firm gaze and a growing annoyance while awaiting his confession, wishing for him to get on with it and spit it out.

“It’s just that I happen to be a — ah, what’s the best way to put this…? …A vampire? A-ha!” His gray-white eyebrows were raised and pinched in anticipation, and an almost shy smirk accompanied his nervous laughter. His eyes looked similar to those of a cornered animal, waiting to see if they needed to bite.

“Well… yes. Obviously.” Vrisryn replied dryly, expression appearing unwaveringly detached and disinterested. Astarions eyes widened for a moment, brows raising, clearly taken aback by the druid’s indifference. He cleared his throat before dropping the expression and replying:

“R-right. Well. Glad we got that out of the way! So… Was there anything else?”

“Hmm…” Vrisryn pondered for a moment, looking up and to the side as their mouth pinched to one corner in thought. They fiddled with the ball of their lip ring between their teeth as they thought.

“I’ve read some texts on vampirism while studying within my circle, but I’ve always wondered how much of it was accurate. Many of the script on the subject is either riddled with obvious bias, or baseless smut. So, I’m curious – how does one become a vampire, exactly?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Astarion drawled, still fidgeting around in those oddly flamboyant, fluid-like movements as he spoke. Something about the motions amused Vrisryn.

“Just find a vampire that will drink your blood and turn you into a vampire spawn: their obedient puppet. In theory, the next step is to drink their blood. Once you’ve done that, you’re free and a true vampire.”

“In theory?” Vrisryn probed.

“People think that the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake,” his eyes shot to Shadowheart with a look of distaste before locking back to Vrisryn’s topaz and green eyes.

“It’s not. The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. They’re scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts,” Astarion bent at the waist here, leaning in towards Vrisryn at this point. His red eyes lowered and appeared hungry, as if to further illustrate his warning, and his arms spread around him in a sort of shrug as he continued.

“So, why would any vampire give up control over a spawn to create a competitor? Trust me. It doesn’t happen.”

“Interesting… Tell me some more about yourself.” Vrisryn demanded, their interest suddenly whetted by the first bits of vulnerability offered by any of their companions that proved to be a distraction from the tadpole still thrashing in their skull.

Astarion was entertaining to speak to so far, and somehow Vrisryn found that talking to him didn’t unnerve them as much as talking to the other party members did. Possibly, it was just a side effect of the high-elf’s apparent comfort at hearing his own voice in social exchanges–or, it could simply be because vampirism was also particularly intriguing to Vrisryn. Vampires had always seemed to them to be a new, potentially even superior form of being that tiptoed between nature’s lines of both life and death. They had been curious about the conditions and effects of vampirism since they first read about it long ago, and Astarion’s willingness to share with them had pushed aside their usual reluctance for conversation for the moment. However, Astarion’s tone had shifted apathetically and defensively at their probing.

“What’s to tell? I was sired by a vampire named Cazador. Everything before that is so long ago it’s ancient history. And everything that came after? Well, I’d rather not reflect on it.”

“You must remember some part of your life before that?” Vrisryn questioned, unsatisfied with his lustlacker response.

“I was a magistrate, working to keep the peace in Baulder’s Gate. Imprisoning trouble makers– that kind of thing. I can’t remember much, truth be told. Centuries of torment will do that to you.”

Vrisryn had scoffed internally at the idea of this man as a judge; it was certainly believable given his attitude. Their judgment quickly resided though, as they related all too well to that last statement, and nodded once in response before continuing with their questions.

“How were you turned?”

“I was attacked. A gang of vagrants-a tribe of wandering ‘Gur’— took issue with a ruling I’d made. They beat me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me; to give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.”

Astarion looked down at the ground, his mind seeming to trail off somewhere else as he continued.

“It was only afterwards I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

“Well,” Vrisryn responded somewhat uncomfortably. The air had turned a bit too vulnerable for their tastes now, and the bitterly sad expression on the pretty spawn left them feeling unsettled.

“I appreciate your transparency. It, uh, may be best to keep this between us for now though, yeah? I had already figured that to be the case, but I don’t know how the others would react to the news of a vampire in our camp right now… everyone seems on edge tonight, and tomorrow will be even longer than today. We can discuss it more later; for now, let’s just focus on recharging.”

Vrisryn walked away without waiting for a response, eyes locked instead on the nearby bedroll and campfire awaiting them. However, just past the promise of reprieve, Lae’zel’s eyes burned disgruntled holes into Vrisryn’s person, causing them to shudder ever so slightly. There was no denying the gith’s menacing and intimidating aura. With another forlorn sigh, they moved towards the githyanki and prepared themselves for (hopefully) the last interaction of the evening. Vrisryn could already assume what the exchange would entail: complaints about the decision to make camp, an urging to hurry along to this crèche she kept mentioning, and a heavy dose of criticism over anything perceived to be unaligned with the githyanki’s desires.

“A monster forms inside us, and you think to be idle?” Lae’zel began to chide. “I knew your kind to be fragile, but I didn’t foresee the severity. Cease your chatter and be quick about your rest. We must locate a crèche.” “This crèche notion of yours - are you sure it’s our only option?”

“You would doubt me? I do not trust a common healer to extract a ghaik tadpole without killing its host. At a crèche, a ghustil may cleanse us - SAFELY.”

“Still,” Vrisryn countered, too tired to question what in the realms either a ghustil or crèche was.

“We’re hardly going to turn while taking a rest… are we?”

“The parasites inside us do not rest. Even as we speak, they defile our brains and warp our bones.” The strange, yellow-green irises paused for a moment, taking stock of the seemingly fragile elf in front of them before begrudgingly accepting that their alien companion indeed would need rest before they would be able to prove themselves to be of any further use to the githyanki. She flicked a hand as if to discard the thought from the air between them.

“Take your rest. I will stand watch. Should a single tentacle split your skull, I will not hesitate to end you.” Lae’zel retaliated.

“Well, thank Ao for that.” Vrisryn muttered as they strode wearily towards the bedroll by the fire, settling into it and laying their cloak across them as a blanket. They were thankful to finally be alone with their thoughts as silence settles into the camp around them, leaving only the sounds of nature's ambience filling the cool night air.

At least no one has to worry about being bitten by the local oversized-mosquito tonight with Lae’zel keeping watch…

Vrisryn had anticipated restlessness and insomnia when they finally laid in the bedroll, especially with Lae’zel’s promise of taking watch resulting in a perpetual feeling of being watched by a predator among the rest of the camp. The druid had turned back and forth uncomfortably for hours, the tadpole exasperating the pain in their head. However, exhaustion had ultimately won over both their anxiety and the tension of their migraine. The conversations with their party had drained them far more than initially anticipated, and their body slipped easily into a meditative trance once the comfort of the campfire and stars moving by overhead lulled their eyelids shut.

In their partially-awake state, the day’s events replayed themselves clearly and precisely. The disorientation and confusion upon awakening on the strange, fleshy nautiloid ship. The struggle to land the crashing monstrosity amongst devils, mind devourers, imps and illithids which they encountered alongside Shadowheart and Lae’zel. The intensity of the crash after; a mindflayer’s burning, hateful eyes the moment before they fell from the ship and were knocked unconscious; Shadowheart’s strange reluctance to share any information about the strange artifact she clung to. The exchange of finding Gale stuck in his portal, and the simple amusement that had stemmed from snarkily slapping his hand before helping him out of his portal; freeing Lae’zel from the tiefling’s trap, despite her refusal to thank them; exploring the abandoned temple on the hillside, and the fight with those who had taken hold within. Then, the experience of meeting Astarion.

Unbeknownst to Vrisryn, their enervation had caused them to slip into a full slumber by this point. While their mind replayed the event, their subconscious twisted from a mere trance into a full sleep as a dream subtly wrapped around their mind.

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain-things cornered!” Astarion called out from the cliffside in their dreamstate. “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

“Kill it yourself - you look capable enough.” Vrisryn felt their lips form dryly, mouth parched and chapped from the dehydration and stress of the day, the scent and taste of smoke from the crash overpowering their other senses. They were still wounded from the last three “brain things” they had encountered in the ship below and didn’t feel particularly inclined to help any more stragglers along the road. They were hungry, thirsty, lost, and irritable, and had shrugged carelessly at the pale elf before they turned to continue along the path in the opposite direction. As they moved, they thought to themselves how the dirt looked suddenly and unnaturally fluid; strange. Different. Wrong… What’s happening?

“Oh, and I was so hoping for a kind soul. Well, not to worry!” Astarion spoke snidely.

In a blink, Vrisryn felt a cold arm hook around their neck and yank them in a swift motion to the dirt alongside the stranger. They struggled against him with a grunt, head panging from the impact, and attempted to sit up as a dagger was pressed near their throat in retaliation of the movement. The rouge had used a knee to pin down their weight near their calf, locking them firmly and uncomfortably in his grasp. Vrisryn glared from under him nastily as they felt the same flash of panic overtake their whole body as it had earlier; this sensation was familiar, and while few would be calm with a blade pressed to their throat, Vrisryn had a uniquely personal reason to feel anxiety at the situation. The thought crossed their mind that this seemed far too vivid of a sensation for a normal trance, but before much more could be considered on a subject, they were pulled back to the dream.

They felt their head cloud with the sudden flashback to the last time they’d been in this situation; this was a stranger, but then, it was someone important. Someone close. A swell formed in their throat, which began to close around itself as their heartbeat quickened and a cold sweat broke across their flesh, body shifting into fight-or-flight. The slightest noise akin to a whimper left them as they struggled against him, attempting to roll out from underneath him quickly; but their movements were too frantic, too predictable. Astarion pressed them down more firmly with a hushed “Tsk!”, bringing his face closer against their lowered, pointed ear.

“Shhh, not a word. Let’s try to keep that lovely neck of yours in one piece, hmm?” He lulled, his breath and lips brushing ever so slightly above their ear.

“And YOU - keep your distance,” he spat towards Gale and Shadowheart, who were watching the events unfold with their hands atop their weapons. “No need for this to get messy.”

The events began to warp here; and deeper in Vrisryn’s subconscious, they felt the offputting sense that this was no longer simply a trance’s replication of their day, but rather something else entirely. If it had still been a trance, Shadowheart would have interjected here before Vrisryn inevitably headbutted the vampire off of their person and discussed things more civilly. Regardless, the subconscious awareness that this was not how the events had actually transpired did little to rouse Vrisryn from the distorted sleep. Instead, the pale elf in their mind nicked a part of Vrisryn’s neck, causing a pearl of blood to trickle down their throat as the features on the pretty elf’s face began to blur and morph unnaturally.

“Though, making a mess seems to be your specialty, darling. And to simply give you freedom is certainly more generous you’ve been towards others, isn’t it? Even death would be far too merciful for you, you wretched traitor.”

Vrisryn’s heart sank as their eyes attempted to focus on the shifting presence over them; Astarion’s curled, white locks had changed shape, sprawling far past his shoulders, morphed and shifting to a familiar walnut shade; his red irises now became amber, and previously palled skin was tanned and peppered with freckles and thick, plush fur. The voice speaking to them had shifted as it spoke as well. It was familiar, but different – deep, loud, and certainly not Astarion’s.

Treolam, their mind cried in realization. Their dream self had formed the name around their mouth to speak it at the same time, but no noise came out with the movement. Wetness pricked at the inner corners of their eyes, and their blood ran cold.

“What could you possibly have to say to me, my sweet slaughterer; my corrosive consort! Come back to tell me how my elders were right about you and your allegiance!?”

The apparition spoke harshly, but it sounded crude and particularly corrupt among the warm, playful, almost loving tone of the satyr’s voice. Tears began to spill from the druid’s eyes at the sight of him–in the dream as well as the waking world–and they struggled against the grasp atop them, reaching in an attempt to place a hand along the man’s bearded face to no avail. The pressure atop them was sharp and heady, and Vrisryn made a pathetic gasp as the blade cut a bit more into their neck, leaving little rivers of blood spilling from their skin. Suddenly, a thick ooze began to crawl across amber eyes above them in twisting, thorny patterns; first appearing as a bright-blue but then shifting to black, darkening them. A warped, wide smile was plastered on his otherwise pained expression.

“I thought you wanted to see me again, Vris! Do you know the trouble I went through to find you here? Amuremsis bet me I couldn’t find you again, and I bet you thought you lost me again, huh? Oh, little love, I told you before! So long as the fey runs wild, I will always be able to find a way back to you.”

Vrisryn choked at the reminder of these words; the precious and private promise he had sworn them in their youth was now being twisted and contorted in a foul meaning by this apparition. Yet, it felt so real; he felt so real. Vrisryn could smell the woody musk of him, feel the wirey yet plush fluffs of fur on his arms, limbs and torso against their flesh, see every freckle and callous against his leathery skin. Their heart ached to hold him, to kiss him, even in spite of his cruel words and the blade against their throat.

“Treolam, I–”

“Shhh shshsh, you have to listen, little lamb, NO SPEAKING,” he interrupted, dropping the blade in favor to wrap both his hands around Vrisryn’s neck in a chokehold that silenced them with a whimper. The placement of his grip threatened to block and even crush their airways completely, lest they remain still where they laid in the crook of the satyr’s elbow.

“It’s so important you follow these instructions! You don’t want to lose me again, do you? You still want and trust me, DON’T YOU?”

The entirety of his eyes had glazed over with a slick blackness now; tears of blood streamed down his face and dripped along Vrisryn’s cheek as he placed himself directly atop them, pinning them fully into the earth beneath them, which had become the consistency of a thick fluid and sank beneath their weight. It had the same sensation of sinking into mud or quicksand. He removed one hand which now was smeared in Vrisryn’s blood, replacing it with the dagger once more before issuing his commandments.

“You can never forget me, you can never forget what you did. YOU killed us, all of us! You left me, and you failed to protect anything you loved. You always will, you know this. STOP LYING TO YOURSELF THAT IT WAS OUT OF YOUR CONTROL! You killed us all–your kin, your clan, your home. You broke us! You destroyed us! You ABANDONED us! You let me and Amuremsis go–you should never forgive yourself for what happened. You can never escape this. We will haunt you fore-”

Suddenly, the crackle of a firelog buckling into the embers of the dying fire back in reality jolted Vrisryn from their slumber. Their eyes shot open, and for a second they remained still and rigid, as if the apparition from the dream still had them in his chokehold. Cold air highlighted the wet tears streaking their cheeks, and their chest moved with heavy, short breaths. After just a moment they realized that it had been a nightmare, and their hands shot towards the sides of their head frantically; feeling for the all-too-familiar halo of the static, icy sensation which they’d come to associate with the activation of their spellscar. Their fingers met only flesh though, and they exhaled the breath they had subconsciously held with relief before glancing around camp to get their bearings. Lae’zel was still up, keeping watch as promised, though she had been turned towards the surrounding woods rather than towards the party at the moment. No one else was awake yet.

Luck is on my side tonight, they thought.

They couldn’t have rested for more than three hours. Typically, they would want to trance for another hour or two to feel fully rested–but despite the nightmare which always accompanied their body’s affliction with sleep, they found themselves fully awake. Their migraine had faded to a dull, hazy feeling, which was uncomfortable but bearable. Their body still felt heavy, though Vrisryn felt that had far more to do with their nerves about being in the company of others and the tadpoles in their head than anything else. The others were still asleep, and based on the coloring of the sky and the stars’ placements, dawn was not far off–two hours at most.

Regardless, Vrisryn knew rest of any sort would be lost to them now, and they opted instead to take this chance for some well-deserved solitude before their companions awoke and their adventure began once again. Pulling the sack of camp supplies close, they reached for another log to add to the dwindling fire, as well as some bread and cheese to curb their appetite. They wiped the remnants of the nightmare induced cold sweat off with their shirt before switching back into their armour and walking to where Lae’zel stood watch.

“Do githyanki not need sleep? I can watch until everyone else is up, if you want to rest a little.” Vrisryn offered genuinely, their raspy voice morphing into a yawn at the end of the question. Though it was extremely subtle, Vrisryn could detect the faintest expression of exhaustion on Lae’zel.

“Tch’! There is no need for rest in the astral plane–sleep is considered a triviality in a realm where time ceases to exist.“ A small sigh escaped her mouth after the claim, giving proof to her own exhaustion.

"Though I admit that it seems my body will need sleep in this Fay-run. I accept your offer; but do not think me to be vulnerable. Even in sleep, I shall wake to tear you from navel to neck should you provoke such a need.”

“I don’t think anyone here wishes to raise your ire, Lae’zel. Go - rest. I’ll just be scouting the area nearby.” The druid shifted into wild shape before Lae'zel could respond, assuming the form of a red-coated wolf.

Lae’zel had looked befuddled for a moment, and Vrisryn considered that they may have never witnessed someone use wild shape before. Regardless, she walked away with another “Tch,” before settling into a bedroll within her tent. Vrisryn was starting to become more and more unbothered by the githyanki’s mannerisms and threats, figuring it was just the only way that she knew how to communicate. She was not the first gith Vrisryn had encountered, and what little Vrisryn could recall of the Githyanki’s alien culture was not for the weak of heart or stomach. The others the druid had met first hand were far more provokable and venomous than Lae’zel seemed, at least.

It would be unfair to expect their companion to be anything but what they are. As they had told Shadowheart at the start of this, dangerous company was exactly what you needed in a fight – and Vrisryn had no qualms with the blunt or brutal nature of their companion, given what they appeared to be up against. It would just take time to grow accustomed to such aggressive reception, especially during such early hours.

The elf turned their attention now to their surroundings, sniffing the air in their new form. The heightened senses from the wolf-shape flooded their mind with various sensations and impulses. No danger, though; nothing but prey. The instinct of their wolf form took over, and the higher parts of their mind figured they’d earned some down time to enjoy the canine form. It was comforting to be in wild shape, blending into nature fully and thoughts of tadpoles, illithids, healers, and the uncertain road ahead blurring as a new purpose took over: a hunt. The wolf was easy to be lost to, and Vrisryn particularly favored this form when they felt the urge to run.

It was the perfect form to take for this morning, where the need to vacate their current surroundings and the company inhabiting it had itched as uncomfortably under their skin as the tadpole did from behind their eye. Even in wild shape, they could feel it; though, the instinctual pull towards the hares, boar, and deer inhabiting the woods around the camp and the hunger in their stomach helped to detach from the sensation and its accompanying thoughts. Wide, heavy paws hit the ground in a full sprint and hot air panted from the canines mouth. A flood of scent washed in, and in spite of the worries that Vrisryn hosted, the wolf version of them hopped around delightedly, a playfulness taking over the form they now inhabited.

The druid spent the next hour and a half hunting in the woods surrounding the camp; though, they released each prey they caught. They felt no hunger for food, only for relief this morning. In wolf form, it was easy to let worry melt away and enjoy the innately optimistic nature it offered. They had nearly lost track of time frolicking with a fawn when they noticed the orange sunlight creeping halfway up the horizon. With a whine and a yawn, they shook their thick coat and stretched their form lazily. They allowed themselves a quick roll in the dirt, and after a few playful sneezes as well as a friendly nuzzle against the fawn they'd been playing hide-and-seek with, they began their trek towards camp. For the first time since they'd embarked that morning, they took their time walking along the woods.

Everyone back at camp had woken and began packing their belongings, eating, and bickering once more. Vrisryn's wolf-heart panged with an urge to run away, to return to the solitude and comfort of the woods nearby; but their higher logic still won in spite of it. As they returned towards their belongings, Shadowheart caught sight of them first; and to Vrisryn's surprise, the cleric gasped, grasping at one of her hands suddenly and looking utterly... frightened.

Granted, Vrisryn did forget that not everyone was used to wild animals just walking up on them. They shook themselves out of the wild shape, lifting themselves from the dirt and brushing off the debris before locking eyes with a now very-relieved Shadowheart.

"Sorry - I forgot you hadn't seen me in that form yet. I always forget that most people are intimidated by the presence of wild animals," they contended.

Shadowheart threw her gaze up and to the side, thick plaits swaying behind her shoulder with the movement as she scowled.

"It's fine, though I almost sent an arrow your direction. Best warn me next time you intend to take such a form."

Vrisryn nodded, and moved towards their bag to organize their supplies for the day and begin planning what direction they would embark in next. Lae'zel was rushing them each to hurry up, and Astarion was complaining loudly about having to start traveling so early. Gale was barely awake yet, sleepily munching on food and seemingly tuning out all else.

It appeared it was going to be a long day indeed.

to be continued...

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #bg3 tav fanfic #uhhh honestly i have NO idea how to tag this so LMAO #bg3 #vrisryn #my character #my writing #idk why i'm adding tags for anything other than my own blogs organization but i'm doin it anyways #bg3 vrisryn #^ usin that tag just incase something crazy happens n people actually read this or sumn lol #A/N this was extra fun to me bc the whole astarion confessing to being a vampire on the first long rest ACTUALLY fucking happened to me lma #A/N it was very clearly a glitch and happened on my reload (my og run w vris corrupted) but it humored me so much i finally was like #A/N alright fine i'll fucnk write this shit!!!! fine!!!!#A/N i've wanted to start actually posting my work about vris somewhere for a hot min now so i figured i might as well throw it here #A/N like ahhh yes a sideblog dedicated to vris the perfect place to infodump into the void #A/N who knows maybe one day someone other than me will read it too lol #A/N also i like the idea that lae'zel did actually notice that vris was like crying/distressed in their sleep #A/N but she ignored it thinking it was simply like a show of weakness and was disgusted by it rather than thinking it was the tadpoles LOL #my posts #spores and scars #spores and scars ch1

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coconutdays · 6 months

Text

going crazy

s. your boyfriend, handsome and secure suguru geto, doesn't get jealous

w.c. 4.8k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: based on my seat taker biker!geto au! also I feel this does not live up to seat taker! but I tried my best! so I hope you can still enjoy! likes reblogs and comments r always appreciated to know y’all liked it!!!

your boyfriend does not have a single jealous bone in his body. it’s convenient you suppose?

you’ve heard nightmares of insecure men who have to know where there girlfriends are every second of every hour, the direction they’re even going to utter a breath in. the occasional story of a girl who can’t speak to any men whatsoever because her boyfriend will berate her for doing so.

although you do always keep suguru in the loop about what you’re doing and don’t really talk to guys because at the end of the day, more often than not, they always do not plan on just being your friend, he never expected those things out of you. It was a silent form of showing your respect for him. and he did the same out of instinct too, first too.

but aside from that, he doesn’t show any jealousy.

there was a time he even tried to set you up with toji zenin when he was still crushing on you.

your boyfriend is a little peculiar, you’re very well aware of that, but you find his confidence in himself sexy. because you couldn’t look anywhere else if you wanted to. he was handsome, his face chiseled so prettily it was painful. his smooth voice that always had you reeling to get him to talk more. and his spine tattoo that always made you blush at the sight of it befriending your scratch marks after a particularly rough night,

so you don’t care about the way you dress, because he won’t control what you wear. in fact, it’s one of the things you both love about each other, a recent discovery now that you’ve been dating for a month. suguru is an avid fan of the way you dress, relishing in what new outfit he’ll see you in whenever he sees you that day, and if not possible, asking for a picture. and you love how he loves it. appreciating the fact that he loves when you wear booby shirts to campus or dates with him or particularly tight jeans that attract eyes aside from his, but are worn for the sole purpose of serving cunt–and riling your boyfriend up.

it all comes together to why you wear the dress you do tonight to go clubbing with him and some friends. it’s honestly the hottest thing suguru will have seen you in so far. yes, your previous halloween costumes were something alright, but this…was different. halloween was like a month ago and the outfits for those events were meant to be slutty, purely slutty. this look was meticulously planned by you the moment you ordered the dress online. the sheer dress and its sparkles had been running across your mind that entire week of shipping with the perfect sultry way you planned to do your hair and makeup.

you

hey can we carpool later tonight, my dress isnt motorcycle proof :/

suguru

sure princess. can i get a peek?

you

don’t feel like it hehe wait for it sugu <3

suguru

tease

any other time, he would’ve more than likely have gotten his peek at your outfit, you are weak to his demands naturally, but this was something he genuinely would have to wait for. pictures would not do you justice and you wanted to catch your boyfriends raw reaction when he saw the look for the first time .

and you were right.

when he went up to your apartment to pick you up and you opened the door, the reaction was worth the wait. the constant warmth your boyfriend’s gaze always held fell the moment his eyes landed on you and took a moment to breathe you in.

you saw his pupils dart to your cleavage first, staring for a hard second, then to the tightness against your waist and hips bringing attention to your figure. the small quirk of his eyebrow seconds within that let you know he spotted the thong hugging your body under the sheer dress. he did a once over of your legs, looking at what shoes you were wearing, before he brought his eyes up to look at your face again.

he doesn’t say anything, instantly moving forward and getting rid of the space between the both of you to take your head in his hands and plant his lips on yours. you press a hand against his chest when you feel him swipe his tongue across the top of your mouth so hungrily.

“you’re going to kiss off my lipgloss sugu.” you giggle, heaving a little as you press your forehead against his, blinking up happily at him.

his stare is firm as his blown up pupils stare back into you, “sorry pretty girl, couldn’t help myself.”

“and why’s that hm?” you bite your lip through your smile, eagerly waiting for his answer, still forehead to forehead with him, his hands still holding you in place.

his hair is in that half up half down duo you go so feral for, you realize this detail when he says, “you know why.”

“no I don’t,” you drag on, a teasing lilt in your voice

“because,” he drags one of his hands down to caress your neck softly with his thumb, you can see a slight crease in his eyelids at your playfulness, “my girlfriend is trying to get away with first degree murder right now.”

“you like the dress?” you give him a toothy smile and you can slightly catch his gaze turn hungry at the sight of it

suguru suddenly raises you up by clasping his arms behind you, below your butt and on your thigh, so you’re above him when he looks at you lovingly, “like is an understatement.”

“well i like your hair today,” you compliment him, still giggly

“yeah?” he smiles, “i’m glad.”

it’s your first time ever going to the club with suguru, so there’s some sort of powerful feeling lingering when you enter the loud building holding hands with him. you’re going in belonging to someone and so is he, as opposed to other people going in and hoping to catch a body tonight or at least a good grind on the dancefloor–satoru cough cough.

the white haired maniac’s influence gets all of you a vip table with liquor already waiting for you and when you get there, suguru sits and plants you on his lap, arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

It’s when you look forward, you see toji zenin give you a quick once over from where he’s seated near satoru. and you ignore it, you always do. he’s never made an advance on you ever since you and suguru became a thing, he’s respectful of the relationship, but his eyes can never lie, he’s into you. it’s why you’ve never uttered a word to him and why he doesn’t either. and you can’t really blame him if the purpose of tonight's look was to turn all heads, not just your boyfriend’s.

“you smell good baby,” suguru mutters into your ear as he brushes a hair away from your face, “are you using the perfume i got you?”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders when you respond with a nod of your head and, “yeah. I finally ran out of my old one.”

“good girl.” he smiles appreciatively before placing a tender kiss on your neck

the softness of it makes you giggle a little and crane your neck a little, suguru pinches your side to tease you for it.

it’s when a certain lullaby of a song comes on that your ears perk up and your boyfriend observes the reaction, looking up at you and rubbing circles into your waist, “what’s up baby?”

within an instant all the girls at your table begin to get up and rush to the dance floor and you turn to suguru, already starting to unwrap his arms from your waist.

“i have to go dance this babe,” you say hurriedly, like a little kid leaving their mom the moment they see the bouncy castle go up.

suguru can say nothing before he watches you run off to join the other girls on the dance floor, eyebrows raised in amusement at your antics then in reaction to your immediate inclination to start dancing.

you look pretty, he thinks as he reaches over to serve himself a glass of whiskey.

and he continues to think it as he ‘talks’ to his friends, nodding and giving small mhms when all he’s really doing is watching you live it up at the center of the club.

you’re ethereal, the only star in that murky puddle of bodies. maybe your dress is part of the reason for all that shine and glow you’re giving off, but nothing beats the pretty little smile on your face that says you’re having a good time. it’s turning him on to be honest. he always wants to shove himself inside of you when you bear that toothy smile at him.

and other people think the same, he notes.

he’s always seen the stares, he knows you’re a sight to behold. there hasn’t been a day where he isn’t aware that so many other people want you. he knew it when you were merely the smart, hot girl he had a crush on his lit class, with so many other guys obviously paying a little more attention when it was your turn to speak, and he knows it even more now with your male following on social media and the way he constantly gets sized up just for being next to you. for fuck's sake he's heard toji zenin talk about how bad you are before he knew about your thing with suguru at the halloween party, hell, he still catches the frat president unable to control the way his eyes eat you up when you're near.

“done already?” satoru asks haughtily when he sees all of the girls that went to dance come back heaving a little

it’s been an hour since they all left at the start of that first song.

“y/n’s still there though,” one of them breathes, taking satoru’s drink from him, “she does not stop.”

“yeah, she doesn’t,” suguru laughs a little, looking back at you, still as energetic as when you first got there.

fuck, you're beautiful.

speaking of before,

he’s painfully more aware of it when he notices the number of eyes gravitating towards you from the dancefloor, tables, and the bar.

it’s like a bunny in a room full of wolves. or those scenes where scooby and shaggy are in a dark room and a thousand red eyes pop up to blink at them. the eyes to you ratio is beginning to get a little mind boggling now that he sees it in a real life setting. this is not the handful of guys checking you out when you go to the library with him or the nth guy staring at you when you walk past with your boyfriend next to you. this is a huge club with you in the middle and catching the eye of almost every guy in here, most of whom come to this place with plans of taking a girl home or putting moves on her.

the thought manifests itself when a blonde frat bro walks up to you and tries to dance with you. suguru’s heart stops a little for some reason. he’s seen guys come up to you before, actually talking to you and trying to get your number, so he shouldn’t feel this irked when he knows the guy is going to be disappointed by your answer. he actually wants to go up to the guy and beat his face in.

the surge of pride that courses through his body is immense when he sees you put a hand between you and the guy and you make an annoyed face, all before strutting off and making your way back to the table.

he manspreads a little more for you to sit between his legs, draping one arm on your thigh, the other holding onto his whiskey.

“a guy tried to dance with me,” you huff when you sit down, reaching for suguru’s drink, which he hands over without a second thought, now using the other free hand to fully hug you.

“I saw,” he says, perching his chin your shoulder, watching as you take a sip of the whiskey and cradle the cup in your hands.

“dance with me,” you turn to look at him and pout, “i don’t want guys coming up to me.”

“but you look so good rejecting them.” suguru teases, smirking a little at you

when your face deapans, he laughs and hugs you tighter, “we’ll go in a bit. rest your pretty feet for a second, don’t want them to tire out.”

“okay,” you slump into his hold, pouting

and suguru did keep his promise, like always. he took you dancing after a few minutes of rest and letting you drink the rest of his whiskey.

he protected you from any other guys trying to come up to you, evident in the way no guys even dared get close from a ten feet radius.

he kept you close and let you dance with him, hands appreciatively holding onto you when you pressed your body against his. it was much different to the dancing from that first time at satoru’s party, he was really holding onto you this time. his hands always found your ass, your hips, even the underside of your boobs during every second of every song.

and suguru isn’t a jealous guy, so it was a little weird to you when you saw him notice a guy oogling you and he immediately pulled you in to makeout with him on the dancefloor. it was unlike any other makeout session you had ever had with him before. he was gripping your ass while his other hand held your neck, that wasn’t new, he always did that, but his energy about it was so…all consuming.

all you know, is that instantly had you horny and you couldn’t help the mewl you let out after he squeezed you in his hold.

“let’s go,” he spoke a bit tensely into your ear so you could hear him past the music.

and you were never one to go against him because everything suguru did always made sense and worked for you, so you nodded mindlessly and said, “okay.”

when you got to suguru’s apartment, he immediately pushed you against the door and resumed the makeout session he had started at the club. one of his hands was planted against the door while the other roughly gripped your waist to keep you close to him.

“If you ever see toji, i want you to run the other direction,” he spoke ominously against your lips

the command had you furrowing your eyebrows, you mean of course yes you'd do that, but you never would’ve thought he’d ask it from you. he never really cared to address your actions when it came towards other guys. suguru wasn’t ever jealous…nonetheless, you agree meekly, taken aback by his roughness, “okay.”

all your boyfriend did in response was let out a gruff sound of acknowledgement before pressing his body further against yours and beginning to tug your dress off. he started by pushing down the straps, then pushing the upper half down, including your strapless bra until your tits popped out.

he pushed both of them together the moment they peeked out and then let a glob of spit drop down onto one of your nipples rather obscenely before he went down to mouth at that same breast. it had you keening, you could feel your thong becoming nonexistent with the way you were starting to drench through it.

a bite from suguru had you squeaking before he continued his ministrations on your other breast while his hands worked on pushing the rest of your dress all the way down, even your thong since it caught onto the tight material of the dress.

you were left completely naked in front of him now and he manhandled you by suddenly picking you up and pinning you against the wall next to the door. he let one hand hold one of your legs to his waist, while the other went under and quickly swiped a finger across your folds with ease due to the wetness

“so easy baby,” he muttered against your lips before plunging a finger all the way in and curving it upwards

“you’re being mean,” you complain, feeling completely flustered at his brash actions

“what’s so mean about making you feel good hm?” he leans back to get a good look at you when he plunges another finger in and starts to push them in and out quickly, watching as your eyebrows knit and you start to mewl, “atta girl.”

“nothing,” you mumble, brainless as you wrap your arms around his neck and hook him in closer with your legs, “ow!”

he started adding a third finger when he felt like you were starting to open up more, however your small complaint started dying into a moan when he increased his pace with the third finger.

“that’s a lot sugu,” you heave through delirious breaths, flustered at the fact that he was staring so intensely at how you were sucking him in

your comment had him finally looking up at you and you dont know if you’d rather he go back to staring at your pussy, because he was giving that same intense stare to you now. the all heavy pressure of his gaze was entirely being directed at your own eyes now, and how could you meet that same gaze equally when he was three fingers into you and making you moan like a slut.

suguru might have granted you a quick mercy when he leaned against you, quickening the pace of his fingers so you could get louder, and breathed into your ear, muttering lowly, “my cock’s a lot more than three fingers but you always cream all over it.”

the dirty sentence has you pulling suguru closer to you, and trying to trap him where he was so you wouldn’t have to look at him in the flustered state he put you in. but your boyfriend didn’t have it, forcing himself out of your grip, and craning his neck back to go back to looking at you.

he pulled out all three of fingers just to land a sharp slap across your pussy before plunging all of them into you again, “let me watch you baby. be good for me, okay?”

he honestly expects you to be able to answer him when three of his very large fingers are stretching you wide open and curling on that one spot that always has you crumbling, you know he expects you to because he turns his head a little when you don’t answer and lands another slap before going back to fingering you.

“speak up princess,” he orders so easily and so sweetly, like he’s not torturing your body right now

and you do your best to force the words out of you, legs quivering and resisting the urge to writhe in his grasp when you gasp, “ok–okay.”

“good girl,” he almost groans with a snarl as he suddenly stops fingering you open and hoists you over his shoulder, a squeal leaves your mouth at the action.

he’s walking you both to his bedroom, you notice from the path of his hallway made out from your view, and the realization doesn’t last long before suguru brings you down again, then pushes you down and bends you over his bed. he lands a slap to your ass and you can makeout the rustle of him getting naked when he says softly, “grab the pillows and put them under your stomach angel.”

and you listen, reaching easily for both of his large and fluffy pillows, and putting them under your abdomen.

you feel suguru’s heavy length press against your ass and bare pussy when he presses up against you, gripping onto the crease between your thighs and ass, and starts mouthing hot and heavy kisses across your spine. you whine a complaint at the fact that you feel so good, but you know you could feel so much better if he just put it in already.

“what?” suguru notices the pitch that you always make when you’re complaining, continuing his line of affection down your spine

“put it in,” you pout, wiggling your ass for emphasis and hissing a little when you feel his cock graze your lips at the action

suguru gives a last kiss to the bottom of your spine before coming back up and grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your head up so he could look at you, “how bad do you want it?”

“really bad sugu.” you mewl, feeling gratification from the sting of his hold on you

“you want me to fill up your little hole? even when we both know you’re gonna start crying that it’s beating your pussy up, yeah?” he questions cruelly

“mhm,” you nod pathetically, “even if i do.”

his lips twitch a little at your admission and he yanks on your hair a little harder when he lands a sloppy kiss on your lips that has a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths when he pulls away.

he stands back up and lands another stinging slap across your ass, groaning, “my pretty fuckin ass.”

as if he couldn’t get any dirtier, suguru then grabs either of your cheeks and spreads them apart to get a good view of your sex, the sudden exposure of which makes you feel even wetter. that last fact seems of no use to suguru when you feel a large glob of spit land and run down your hole.

you suck in breath when you feel suguru start to rub his tip across your folds.

“sloppy little pussy,” he mutters before pressing into you. and you both groan when he starts to inch himself in even further.

the moan you let out when he completely pulled out and slammed back in was sinful and the noises that followed when he started doing that again and again at a faster pace without mercy had you outright screaming.

you felt like you were constantly breathless, constantly trying to breathe. he hadn’t ever been this hard on you before.

and you thought you knew what hard was from him before.

“i know, i know,” he whispered against your neck when he pressed himself down against you and started jackhammering even closer to your cervix, so on point with your gspot too that you felt your orgasm starting to build up

a particular gutteral squeal from you had him breathing a “so cute” while he never relented his brutish force against you

“sugu–sugu,” you reached around for one of his arms, heaving, grabbing onto it while he violently moved the both of you, “i’m gonna–mmm–i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum!”

the confession had suguru suddenly changing positions, hooking his arms up and under your armpits to pull you up to stand flush against his body while he slammed up against you ferociously. it unexpectedly had your high crashing against you after a graze of your gspot.

“that’s it baby, that’s it.” suguru consoled when he felt you twitch in his hold and your juices dripping all over his abdomen and cock, “such a good fucking girl.”

all you wanted to do was fall down and rest, but the most you could muster was letting your body go limp in your boyfriend’s unrelenting hold, letting him use you as he pleased.

“ ‘s too much sugu,” you whined as the overstimulation started kicking in

It didn’t get him to stop at all.

“remember what you said earlier hm?” he brought up, breathing heavy as he lifted a foot up to plant it against the edge of the bed. it was leverage for the scream worthy pace he started forcing on you now.

tears started to fall down your cheeks at the overstimulation. it was so good, too good. It was all so sinfully good.

you felt your walls start to flutter again at your second nearing orgasm when you sniffled from the tears. and although your boyfriend still evilly abused your pussy, he leaned down and moved your face to the side with one hand so he could be face to face with you.

you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he started licking your tears off.

it was the catalyst for your orgasm and you thrashed rather hard against suguru, who you could feel suck in a breath at the sporadic clenches of your pussy.

“fuck,” he breathed harshly, pulling you even tighter against him to more easily meet his thrusts and you could feel his cock twitch as a symptom of his incoming orgasm.

that, and he started to speak up filthily.

“Mine–mine–mine–mine.” he reiterated quickly, punctuating each time with a thrust, “fuck ‘s all mine. god can’t get enough of you pretty baby. so fucking slutty and pretty. fuck–fuck–next time i see toji giving you heart eyes im gonna pump my cum inside you so he can see it running down your fucking legs. fuck–you like that baby? what–a–good–good–fucking–girl. tell me you want that baby.”

scrambling for any piece of sanity just to tell your boyfriend what he wants to hear, in hopes of spurring his lust, you moan out weakly, “i want it sugu i want it.”

“yeah? you want him to see me dripping out of your pretty fuckin pussy? god–i fucking–want–it. he’ll never get to fucking know what it’s like to cream this little hole.”

“so–so dirty sugu,” you moan sheepishly at the embarrassing realization that he might just make you cum a third time because of the added spur of his pussy drunk words.

“pussy’s fucking dirty,” snarls back at you, pulling you closer to him, “can feel you clenching around me. know you fucking like it.”

the shut down of his words had you shaking in attraction to his ability to shut you up like no other.

“never–forget–you’re–mine,” he thrusts through, “ ‘s fucking pussy, your ass, your tits, your body, your pretty fucking face, ‘s all mine. you don’t need anybody but me. i’m yours i’m yours i’m yours. ‘s dick ‘s all yours, everything, baby. take it–take it–take it.”

his breathing was starting to get heavier and you could feel his abs start twitching against you, a sign of his orgasm building up just as yours was all over again.

so it surprised you when suguru pulled out and threw you onto the bed, your legs hanging off the edge before he picked them up and slanted them up against his body by hugging them close. “come here, come here,” he quickly let one arm go for a second to guide himself into you again before wrapping it around your legs again. he repositioned the one leg of his back on top of the bed for his leverage and leaned forward a bit to go back to his brutal thrusts.

“wanna see your face when you cum again.” he muttered as he stared at you squealing and moaning lewdly at his ministrations

suguru started kissing and mouthing at your calves while keeping you in a deadlock of eye contact. his cheeks and ears were tinged pink and his hair had fallen out of the half up half down do he had it in earlier.

the worshipping of your legs and eye contact had to have been the last straw for you, because after a certain lick of your skin, you started crashing, feeling yourself let go across the entire lower half of your boyfriend, resisting the urge to cover your face in embarrassment because he recently made it a point that he really really liked seeing your face when you came.

the point was proven when he followed soon after you, thrusting half haphazardly into you as he blew his load inside of you in time with every squeeze of your cunt. it was accompanied by a litter of painful bites across your calves and heavy breathing from your boyfriend. he looked like he came hard, it felt like he did, considering how every spurt of his cum was sharply thrusted into you, making you wince in pain every time his tip kissed your cervix.

both of you were breathing heavily after, especially suguru, his skin covered in a thicker veil of sweat than you, who was simply taking all of that force he was exerting. he was still holding onto your legs, resting his forehead on the bare skin of your foot that wasn’t covered by your heel.

his eyes were closed and he licked his lips, a bit tired, as he spoke, “i think i do get jealous after all, i’m sorry.”

his confession made you slightly clench around him, making him suck a breath in at the sensitivity while you breathlessly giggled, “that’s okay, i never said you couldn’t.”

suguru lazily bit your calf again as a sign of retaliation, "you could sound less excited."

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