CW:

Okay, SMUT CHAPPY! But also rough chappy. So sex wiff lovers and all that entails! Then and later spirit attacks and death of a spirit. Forced experiencing of memories of cruelty and enslavement of another.

We don’t go to talk with Undreka right away.

“Let the big girl simmer for a bit, think past some things. Maybe even get a touch nervous and like… be filled to bursting with answers.” Awnya had clarified.

That makes sense. I guess?

“And… In the meantime we’ll keep to our plan.” Tretion added. “Observation, and considerations of your soul and mantle. These have been horribly stressful and busy days and we all should try and stabilize.”

And… What that meant was lots of just… waiting. Watching. Mostly with Awnya and Tretion and our Jellyfish but often Raska and… well…

My Fae Family.

They had an eternity of questions. Most I couldn’t really answer well, and we all agreed that it might be best to avoid telling them about Undreka or… or my Jellyfish.

Who their other mother is.

But they know about the Fuzzy Spirit I’ve adopted, and that there could be others bubbling up, and… and to let me handle it. Let the Manor do things too. Mostly just… keep back and sing helpful songs and like… yeah.

They both really wanted more. Even got upset when we skipped over important bits. My mom especially. Even shouted once, but apologized soon after. We… Is it that I don’t trust her? Usete I don’t, and probably won’t ever fully trust again but… I mean…

Should I?

Tretion and Raska seem to think not doing it is a good idea. And while Awnya seems bothered by it too… She can only sigh and agree with them. Only later finding the words to explain her soul's settling worry.

“It’s not just that they betrayed you, girl…” She murmurs, sitting close while we relaxed and waited for our Tretion to come back. “It’s… kinda who they’ve sung themselves into. What songs they’ve been gobbling up. It’s… Why I didn’t do better back before. Was listening to melodies that didn’t have the notes for a girl like you or what you were going through. Took me leaving and putting my everything toward this place and Tretion to see what I should be doing.”

I try to kinda tackle and hug her into understanding how perfect she was and how none of what happened to me was her fault but… she’d only laughs with those gorgeous Amber-Gold eyes glimmering.

“Not a matter of fault, Beloved.” She rolls us and takes to straddling me, pinning arms and bumping foreheads. “But… what I knew, and understood. I wasn’t ready for you, and… I think it’s smart to wait until they seem more settled. More open. Today was actually kinda perfect for that. They were so worried. Yuna was bursting with anxiety that she was about to lose you again, and… that’s sad but also kinda important? She hadn’t really absorbed that before.”

I murple some replies. Sort of nibbling at understanding but… Well, she’s on top of me and very distracting.

Showing me in her every movement and snuggle and hug and wibble of Amwella just… how much she missed me too. Was worried something would happen to take me away during my containment. Then her lips are at mine, gentle and soft and warm and bubbling with our songs.

And after what is probably forever but also only a few minutes, Tretion's back. Wrapping us in her arms and tendrils and kisses.

Too long apart. Too long afraid. Too long… starved of touches and affections beyond just… the little that was safe and the stressful first rest together.

I can’t remember the last time that happened.

And as always, they are nothing but soft and gentle and just… perfect. For me. Radiating their hornii love and hungry schemes while we nuzzle close.

Soon I’ve wriggled free in a moment of joined distraction as they share a kiss and I’m moving to just… tackle the closest one with flesh and soul tendrils. Pinning Tretion after she’s finished tumbling backwards. Moving teeth across soft scaled skin as my fingers push aside her really soft robe, finding wonderful hips and tummy and breasts.

Our Watcher’s head noodles begin to reach down to nuzzle me, but find themselves scooped up by a hungry Fae as Awnya moves to sit above her head. Leaning down to gift Tretion a quick kiss before adjusting to begin work on her caught prizes.

Because Tretion’s tendrils are REALLY sensitive, and Awnya is really good at finding all the perfect places to mupple this Watcher’s everything with just a few squeezes or caresses or nibbles.

And soon our Tretion is a wriggling mess beneath us. My mouth and teeth and lovemaking at her chest and breasts while our Fae plays at her writhing head noodles and face and lips. Letting me hug both their souls and feel all the little titters of enjoyment.

Awnya’s teasing affections are perfectly in tune with her humming melody. Easily able to… to let my soul titter and sing along with her.

And just like all our times together before since I first was brought back to them…

No Curse’s sting.

Like… I’m not singing. My mouth is too busy to probably do that, especially as I move my kisses down and along her tummy and hips and squishy thighs and dribbling second lips. Tasting our Beloved Bound’s wonderful flavor and soft flesh and bubbling sounds of enjoyment. With every moan, her fingers dance through my hair alongside tittering words and whispered things of love perfectly timed with our song till she’s full to bursting.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Then our Watcher erupts in body and Amwella. Mushed between her lovers as we both nibble with lips and Amwella on her soul, leaving Tretion a panting mess as we both move to cuddle and snuggle about her. Letting the final notes of the song wibble to an end for–

But then Awnya’s pulling me into such a long kiss that fills us both with Tretion’s flavor and… and then she’s pushing me down into the sheets. Pinning me and dancing lips with mine and… and the song begins anew. Eventually bubbling up to more intense notes as my lower parts feel wiggly tendrils and Tretion’s cold lips and… and she’s biting gently and wonderfully and moving to the center of my hornii mess.

They could very easily pull me into a quick and sudden eruption, but… Our Watcher takes her time. Teasing with lips and tongue and tendril. Eventually finding that perfect slow rhythm where she slides her really bumply tongue deep into me before pulling up and out and over my clit and… and then around and back in and seems to rumble with a bit of laughter as my writhing moans are smothered by Awnya’s kisses and… and I… it’s…

“Please…” I whisper. Clearly and perfectly. And… more than once. “Tretion… Awnya…” With only a little stammering a few times.

And eventually I’m just… growling at Awnya. Wordless demands for her to move. Slide up.

Let me taste you before our song’s end.

And just like our first morning together, she giggles with delight and moves to sit astride my face. Letting me quickly and almost desperately pull her down to smush second lips into my mouth and enjoy her fresh dribbling alongside our Watcher’s left-over flavors.

I… try to tease. To take my time. But she just… tastes so good and their souls are bubbling with not just affections, but Awnya’s incoming orgasm and… and… I just can’t stop myself from pressing deep into our Fae and dragging her to this song’s climax while Tretion does the same to me.

Closing my eyes and sinking into a twined eruption of soulfire and tasty body things and our Watcher’s bubbling delight.

Only really understanding outside parts again after we’re all snuggled close and breathings steady while murmuring soft loving things to each other. My words are a mess again, but… so are Awnya’s. So I’m not too worried.

Sometimes words can’t squeeze themselves into the right shapes to express how much we love each other. Especially after really wonderful and needed sex.

And after that… we rest more. Focus on trying to find a routine. Sleeping well and often in the embraces of those that bubble with nothing but love and hope.

And... It's three days before the shadows bubble again.

Early in the morning, as I sit at the edges of my mother’s Grove, I hear snarling screams and know from the Fuzzy Spirit’s reaction that they’re coming from within.

It’s all angry, and filling the mebe parts of my soul with itself and its fury. But… waiting.

“Try not to attack, unless it seems hostile.” Tretion had asked. “I’ll always trust your judgment, but know that each spirit could carry valuable information. And even aid, if they seem trustworthy.”

“And worse case, your Fuzzy headmate can drive them off.” Awnya added.

No Reaver instincts flaring up. Which is a good sign. Means it's not as scary as you. I consider, and my Fuzzy Spirit agrees wordlessly but… still seems ready to pounce as the shadows gather and bubble and fizzle and wribble and…

Fire.

But… also ash?

Twisting and fibbling more like water would as it twists and pulls free of the muck. Then forms into a more… bug shape? Lots and lots of legs with an upper body with more people shaped chest and three arms and all of it like some really pretty sculpture formed of ash and cracking scarlet flame. Long hair that seems to both fall like normal, but also smolder like smoke.

“H– hi.” I say as softly and nicely as I can.

Trying to ignore the hissing memories of sadness and pain and... and itchy burns that this thing remind me of.

The spirit shakes themselves, then glances up to regard me. Sort of also glancing about but… I’m the focus. My core and tendrils and little wibbling Jellyfish.

Words pulse from the flame and ash, weird and wibbly hard to understand but… Huh? Questions? Greetings?

“Um… My n– name is L– lyra. Y– yours? W– words for you? Sh– she? H– he? They or it? O– others?” I ask.

The spirit bubbles with things. An odd… twisty mess of ideas and words and sparks and ashes and–

But Reaver instincts flair as the spirit leaps at me. Soot and flame skipping over distance like thoughts can slip from wonderful to horrid. Enveloping a tendril and clawing for my core and my Jellyfish.

Howling demands to submit to what I now understand is–

An endless sea of soot blankets all these ones can see. There are oddities, but they rarely last long. Burning the wretched growths that use the Dead Cinders is something all furious Sparks adore.

But this… ehehehe.

This new thing moves. Breaths. Titters with warm STOLEN FLAME THESE ONES WILL RECLAIM AND–

I’m pinning them between gnashing Naranggas. Hissing and squeezing and biting the stupid spirit who thought I was just another weak thing to be eaten and used and–

The malething fought well. In both flame and flesh. But he is young and bursting with the ambitions of those that have not felt real pain.

But he will learn.

These ones smirk with his lips as he whimpers and mewls and tries so very hard to reclaim control of his body. But we simply consume him agai–

Fuzzy Spirit tears at these one's throat while I go for the heart and my Jellyfish hiss and spit and chew at the edges. Tearing the spirit to shreds just like how we killed the last Godthing of Thera–

The body adapts to the changes we demand, and its Cinderkin’s spirit has long broken under the weight of these one’s will. Submitting mind and service as befits a slave. His Amwella a wellspring offered freely now. Too afraid of these one’s punishments and displeasure, and eager for approvals and rewards.

He guides us from the Rift of Dead Cinders. Shows these one’s the path he took to burn his way through to a nearby Rift as it drifts past. And now sits quietly as these one’s stride through the bustling streets. Returning to his enemies to begin consumption and considerations of how best to burn–

The spirit is gone, torn to shreds, and I sit shivering and shaking as the memories bubble through me. Flashes of cruelty and horrid hungers that make me giggle as they spark up, only to weep openly as I fall from their wretched embrace.

Jellyfish nuzzle so close though. Radiating their own soft songs of comforts and worry while the Fuzzy Spirit does the same and–

These ones have found refuge within Theradas. A wretched waste of sand that reminds these ones of the Dead Cinders. Stirs the old hate like no other Rift. Boils the Amwella within and even the slave to writhe in spite. Shared memories and lessons working as sparks to ignite it into Function as needed. Old memories and habits and wayward thoughts slowly Embered to useless ash beneath these one’s wishes.

And such oddities to consider and consume here. The Godling is a thing that interacts little with their Rift, and from gathered words and consumed memories… they’ve set a burrow deep beneath the city. Paranoid and allowing very few to bask in their flame’s glow. The mantle they bear buckling their mind and spirit beneath its he–

My mother finds me curled upon myself. Shivering while humming a little song along with the family within and about my soul.

Using the Curse's sting to help keep me grounded.

Has an eternity of questions, mostly if she should call my Beloveds, to which I nod while crawling up into the embrace she’s offering. Letting me cry and sing and endure the curse's sting so quietly as I hate myself for the cruel memories that feel so real to me. Fill me to bursting with fear at the future I worry bearing this mantle will mean.

Not just for me, but those I love.