Archive of Our Own

So this is the Owl Lady.

They let out a low whistle.

Not just because she’s gorgeous, red dress clinging tight to her body, but also to put some vibrations in the chains above her head. One abomination wrist bound to flesh, restrained high above her head, forcing her to stand on just her tiptoes.

Always a good entrance for the Head Bard. Just a hint of their true power.

She towers above them like this, their eyes barely come up to her chin. Her thick grey hair tied in a sharp ponytail, still so tall and intimidating. She’d be downright terrifying anywhere but here, bound up in the castle dungeon. In the harsh, low candlelight she looks… oddly tiny. It shrouds the strength they know lies beneath that… alluring facade.

She shudders a fraction at their whistle, her gold fang glinting in the candlelight of her cell.

“So I hear,” They begin, “That the Infamous Owl Lady has been running around with a group of rebels. Highly wanted criminals, at that. Care to share? I’d sure love to hear where your little group has been meeting.”

It doesn’t matter that her eyes are covered with a sleek black blindfold. A smug smirk covers her face, her lips pressed tightly together.

“But of course, you’re not much of a talker, are you?” They set down their bag on the long table beside them.  “No, you haven’t said a peep since you got here, have you? My coworkers are saying they’ve had some rather interesting encounters with you. Poor Sinthia is still recovering from that death hex."

Her lips twitch up, amusement coloring her pale, pretty face.

“So many ways they’ve tried to get information out of you. Other witches might even use a whip to get you to open up,” They add casually, watching the quick, subtle flinch that runs through her. “But they sent me for better reasons.”

Still the stubborn witch keeps her mouth firmly closed.

Well, they can fix that.

“They sent me to make you sing.”

What a sweet sound she makes, a sharp inhale as her muscles go stiff.

Bard magic was always designed to affect the emotions of whatever patrons might be listening to. Whether it invokes the highest levels of elevated joy or desolate sadness, it’s done in a way that can, occasionally, manipulate the listener on a deep level.

It can be done in a way that brings pleasure. It can ramp up arousal to the point that it becomes unbearable.

And that, they’ve learned, is a perfect way to get what they want. All they have to do is give her a few good feelings in return.

“That’s right. All you have to do is listen to my voice.” They croon, testing their voice before settling on a firmer timbre. “Let it cloud your mind until you feel like opening that pretty little mouth.”

Still, her smirk remains, only shaken slightly. Flattery will get them nowhere with her.

“Doesn’t that feel good? Don’t you want more of that?” They suggest, lowering their voice level to something deeper, thicker. “I can do so much more if you tell me where the rebels are. I can make you feel so good. ” 

Her scarlet red lips pull at the shift in intonation. The slightest downturn before righting itself.

“You’re not even resisting. You want to tell me, don’t you? You want to spill all your little rebel secrets until there’s nothing in your head but pleasure.”

A low, rumbling growl from the back of her throat. Maybe she’s more feral than anticipated. They grin.

“How long can you hold out, Owl Lady? They made me head of the Bard Coven for a reason. I can keep going aaaaall night. For as long as it takes.”

Her hands flex, and a slight, helpless pout drifts over her face.

What is bard magic for, if not to watch that pretty face twist, turning just a little redder?

“I know it’s right on the tip of your tongue. I know you’re just dying to tell me so we can keep doing… this.”

The Owl Lady tugs on her binds, almost imperceptibly. But they notice. When it comes to her, they’ve learned to always notice.

“I can stop once you tell me about the rebels,” They goad. “But I don’t think that's what you’d like, huh? I think you like this. I think you like being taken apart, I think you like being given pleasure while you just stand there looking pretty.”

Maybe she’d deny it if she opened her mouth. Maybe it would look convincing if she didn’t shift from side to side, nonchalantly scanning for any means of escape.

“You’re not even denying it. You’re hanging on every word, every sensation when you don’t even know how good I can really make you feel.”

A sweet, tiny whimper slips out her mouth.

“I can give you that.” They encourage. “All you have to do is say the word.”

Her lips press into a thin line, fang poking into her bottom lip. Emboldened, they take a step forward.

“Doesn’t that sound so nice? You don’t have to think at all. Just let the words slip out and I can make you feel even better.”

Her thighs squeeze together and she grunts.

“You act like a big bad rebel but you’re falling apart. All because of a little bit of magic.” They chide. “That doesn’t sound so powerful to me.”

Such a shame too. All that height over them and she shakes from head to toe. Her position raised the hem of her dress up a few inches, and from this angle, they can see how she rubs her slick thighs together.

An image comes to mind of just what they could do between those, and they smother it quickly.

“You’re just a powerless little princess, aren’t you? A cute little prisoner who just wants to be spoiled.”

She snorts. Weak, unconvincing, and infuriating.

They frown. They step closer, close enough for her to feel their breath on her neck. 

She shudders, and they pause there for just a minute, letting their hot breath fall as a reminder of what's to come, before leaning up into her ear.

“You act so big and bad. But I think you just want to be a good girl for me.”

They stress their voice just a little, so thick in contrast to their regular voice, and she spasms.

“Mmph-”

“Oh?” They tease, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes level with theirs. “Are you finally ready to talk?”

They rake their eyes down her body. Goosebumps raised on her skin, her face pinched up and so conflicted. Her nipples point through her shirt and they grin.

By now they know her cunt is throbbing.

“F-f-”

Their eyebrows raise, a smirk slowly gathering-

-only for her to kick her foot clear towards their face.

They catch it easily. They frown and grip her ankle tight enough that they’ll be a bruise.

“Fuck you.” She struggles, trying to pull her leg back but they keep a firm hold around her ankle.

“Ah ah ah, ” They chide, clicking their tongue. “That’s not what a good girl does.”

“Ngh.” She pants, sweat dripping down her forehead. “Don’t you dare-”

They bend her leg, pushing her knee up high and she groans. A quick circle in the air, and another glowing rope materializes around her knee, holding it aloft. Her calf dangles there useless as she kicks it.

She wriggles fruitlessly, trying to regain control of her legs. No such luck, as she struggles to regain balance. 

“Besides,” They say, eyes raking down her body. “All you’re doing is giving me a fantastic view.”

The position forces the hem of her dress up, and they feast their eyes on her thick, creamy inner thighs. Stretch marks point between her long, spread legs. Thick, soft gray hair that fades into tiny feathers near the top of their thighs.

And a dark, wet stain over her lacy red panties.

They take a deep, shaky breath.

“Sweetheart, give me a color.”

Eda heaves. “G-Green.”

They breathe a sigh of relief, and lean in to kiss her nose. “Thank you. Safeword?”

Her face scrunches up so cutely and it's a struggle to keep from doing that again. “Viola. You dork.”

They ignore that, cup her ear and press their lips against her opposite cheek. “Are you okay to keep going? Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

One more kiss on her lips, and they linger for just a second before stepping back. 

“Still don’t want to talk?” They ask, with a slight note of disappointment. “I suppose we’ll have to take a different approach then.”

The Owl Lady freezes, distress written across her face even as she pants.

Without the sound of their voice in the air, all rings throughout the room is silence.

Their heels click against the floor. 

Up close they can see just how well they’ve already done with her. She's bitten her lip enough times to make that red lipstick smear, how her mouth hangs open in a pant, exposing that sharp gold fang.

They step around her, tracing their eyes on the long curve of her back. Her ponytail swings back and forth as she tries to settle, to regain some balance, some control. But while she does that, they instead feast their eyes on the curve of her hips, the bend of her spine, and the cinch of their waist they’d be ever so pleased to run their hands across.

They circle around, and find themself more delighted by all they see. Not unlike a bird of prey, and the irony makes them chuckle.

Her head swings back and forth, trying to follow their step across the room however fruitless it is with that blindfold.

From up close, they can see the sweat dripping down her forehead, dotting the fabric and gathering at the sides of her dress.

They whistle a catcall. No magic this time, but still a lovely blush comes over her face.

They reach a hand up as far as they can, and wrap their fingers loose around her wrist. They squeeze, enough for her to feel the strength there. They drag their hand down slowly. Feeling the gooseflesh it brings. They pull their hand away just as it reaches her taut shoulder.

She shivers. But she keeps her mouth defiantly closed.

They reach out a hand for a caress over her raised inner thigh, palming at the flesh. Just as deceptively soft, as soaked with slick as they were hoping for.

She jumps and twists quickly, trying to keep track of them but they’re gone in a flash, returning to circle around her.

A hand ghosts down her side, over her ribs, down to squeeze one of her hips too quick for her to flinch away.

“W-what are you-”

A light smack on the ass and she yelps.

Finally, they come to a stop just behind her. They wrap their arms around her waist, feeling all those miles of pale skin tense up under their touch.

They frown at the high-necked collar of her dress, keeping them from seeing the pale skin of her neck, but find that their lips fit nicely in the few inches the dress leaves exposed.

And they know their lips are talented, so it doesn’t take much before the Owl Lady begrudgingly rolls her head to the side, bearing more skin for them to mark.

They dig their teeth into a spot under her chin and suck. The thought of her wearing their marks for days is unfathomably exciting. The most powerful witch in the isles. Putty in their hands.

Her breathing rags, quick and keening.

Her stomach is taught with her hands stretched upwards, finding the bumps of her ribs even through her dress. They feel the muscles contract as they rub over it.

“I didn’t know the Owl Lady was so ticklish.” They hum against her neck, and they can feel her shudder, even without their magic.

“I-I’m not-

Their hand fits nicely under the back of her knee, and even as her muscles tense they dig their fingers into the lovely softness of her inner thigh.

They stroke down her thigh, rubbing up and down slowly, drifting closer and closer to-

A sweet little gasp, so quiet that they wouldn’t hear it if they weren’t a master musician.

“You like being touched here? You like having someone play with these cute little feathers?”

“N-no…”

“I don’t believe you.” They smirk. “Princess.”

Brushing against the crux of her thigh, against the edge of her panties, they can feel just how much she’s seeped through them. They run their fingers along the lace, feeling the edges of tiny feathers mixed with gray hair, before moving to her center. 

The Owl Lady grits her teeth and huffs.

They let one hand play there, rubbing so gently over her panties that they know she can’t get any real friction like this. The other drifts up slowly, caressing her ribs before drifting over her chest.

They cup her breast tentatively, testing the feel of her in their hand before palming the flesh. 

No bra, and that’s a convenience. Easier to squeeze, brush their fingers over her nipple and feel it harden under their touch.

“O-oh-” 

“Sensitive here, are we?” They ask, gripping harder instead of letting her answer.

She contorts like she can’t decide whether to try to squirm away from the touch or lean back into it.

“I should bring in some photographers. So everyone can see just how soft-” They punctate with a sharp pinch to her nipple, delighting in her squeak. “The Owl Lady really is.” 

“Y-yel-”

“Or,” They backpedal quickly. “Maybe I’ll just keep you alllll to myself. How does that sound?”

A quick nod from her and they continue.

“When was the last time one of your little rebel friends touched you this good?”

They punctuate with a soft stroke over her cunt, grinding the fabric against her entrance.

“Nngh- ”

“Must’ve been a while, then.” They click their tongue. “Well that just won’t do. Not when you look so pretty and desperate to tell me what you know.”

So wet. They’re almost proud of themself.

“How about this,” They offer. “You tell me the information, and I’ll fuck you whatever way you like. Sound like a deal? ”

They punctuate by slipping inside her underwear, fingers poised just below her clit.

“Ngh - never!”

She bucks against their hand, one last attempt to keep them away. They click their tongue.

“But doesn’t that sound so tempting? Doesn’t the thought of feeling good make you lose your little mind?”

They circle her entrance, the tips of their fingers slipping in her slick and just brushing over her clit.

She hisses. 

“O-oh.”

“Such a shame, you do have such a pretty voice.” They say. “Imagine what noise I’ll have you make if you just tell me what I want.”

“N-uhhh.”

She moans as they lean into her neck, hot breath tracing up from her shoulder to her neck, and finally settling to licking a stripe behind her ear. 

“I wonder if you can get off like this?” They say idly, pressing the pad of a finger against her clit. “If a big bad rebel is just that sensitive.”

She jolts, crying out.

“No, that’s not enough for you, is it? Not enough for the little rebel princess?”

They grab her face, pinching her cheek.

“How about this, then?”

She growls, baring her teeth-

Immediately melting into a moan as they suddenly push inside.

It's one thing to know her cunt is throbbing and another to feel it for themself, her slick walls clenching around their fingers.

Her back arches, hips grinding against their fingers without abandon.

“Fuck!”

They grin, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her back against their chest.

They drag their fingers in and out slowly, testing to see what makes the Owl Lady squirm.

And she does, her aloft toes curling when they drag against her front wall, as they push their fingers in deeper, as they ever so gradually speed up their thrusting.

She whines, and pushes against their firm hold, to no avail.

They move their thumb to circle her clit, still so agonizingly slowly.

“Mmmn-” 

“Is this what you like? You want to get off so bad?” They murmur against her neck.

She hesitates. Then nods.

They crook their fingers and she jolts.

“Then you know what to do.”

“Mn- M’not-”

“Yeah, you are. If you’re going get what you want, you’re gonna tell me exactly what I want to hear.”

They prod their fingers a little further, searching for the spot that makes her-

“Fuck!” She pleads, throwing her head back. “Oh, oh, please there-”

Her breath quickens, like an approaching crescendo.

“Last chance, Owl Lady. Tell me where the rebels are, and I’ll really make you feel like a princess.”

They punctuate with a firmer stroke to her clit, and now they can feel the way she dances on the edge. The way all her nerves are on fire, how lights flicker behind her eyes as she comes oh so close to finishing.

“N-n- nuhhhplease-”

“Look at you begging.” They mock. “Look at you whining. You really are some spoiled little thing.”

They lean in close to whisper in her ear.

“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”

One last flick over her clit, and they pull their fingers out

Her skin is so hot it clings to theirs, sweat and slick sticking to them as they pull their hand out of her underwear.

“No!” She shrieks, pulling hard in her chains as she chases them away, before throwing herself back against them. “Nonono -”

They wipe their fingers on the front of her dress.

“Aww, is this too much for you? Were you too close?” They coo. “And here I was thinking the Owl Lady was some big bad bad villain. But you’re just mewling like a little kitten.”

They return to groping her breasts, squeezing and playing as she squirms. Only the barest bits of pleasure as they thumb her nipples, a stark contrast to her near-peak. 

“Isn’t it so hard holding onto those big thoughts? Too big for a little dumb thing like you. Maybe I ought to help you let go of some.”

“F-fuck y- oh. ”

Their hand slides down her chest, over her stomach, and returns to cupping her.

But not moving. 

She bucks, desperate for friction but they wrap their other arm around her waist, press her back firm against their chest.

“I’m right there for you.” They turn their head to kiss under her ear. “All you have to do is say the words.”

She grinds her teeth. “Ngh. Please.”

“So polite!” They tease, rewarding her with a flick over her clit. “But, no. You know the word, Owl Lady.”

They rub her firm over her underwear, just brushing over her entrance.

They let their other hand come up to her back, skimming across her shoulder blades. They trace over the thin, lean muscles of her back, and the way they tense up over their touch.

“You know, I have been doing some reading up on your curse.” They say casually, reaching for the zipper on her dress. “And how it does some… interesting things to areas where feathers would be.”

A little jolt of realization goes through her as they down the zipper all the way, and get the first hint of the dust-soft skin of her back.

“Oh titan-”

They pull the two sides of the dress away, fully exposing the expanse of her pale back.

Littered with scars, a few scattered tattoos. Just as soft, and enticing as they anticipated. They eye the small outline of feathery bird wings, falling just below her neck. 

After years of musical training, especially on the strings, magic is as embedded in their hands as their fingerprints. They focus on it, gathering up the jittery energy in their fingerprints, before tracing the little inked prints.

The Owl Lady shivers, and whimpers.

They smooth a palm down her back, dragging their nails and scratching lightly. Just enough for her to feel it.

And feel it she does, leg kicking in the air as she pushes her hips back, pressing into more of that delicious feeling.

Her thighs clench as much as they can, firm around the hand between her legs, as she bucks back and forth.

“Haa-agh.”

They’ll allow that, for now, her gathering just a little pleasure as they keep their hands away from her inner folds. 

Not unlike playing an instrument, fingers along the body, and listening to the sweet sounds she makes, hitting all the right notes. Tracing the area around her scars makes her stutter, her hips bucking out of rhythm.

Their fingers wind up on the space between two identical, vertical scars-

“Is that chirping?” They tease.

“N- oh.”

She cuts herself off with a moan, as they surge to press their mouth against her back. They lave their tongue over the apparently sensitive spot and press an open-mouthed kiss there.

“Mn– ngh-”

“You know,” They press one more kiss there to feel her buckle under their assault. “You do make such pretty sounds. If only you’d make the right ones.”

Their hands pause for just a moment, then trace the outline of their name.

Not permanent of course, but it makes something in their stomach flip.

“Ah-hh-h f-fuck-”

She whines and thrashes.

They snort, just short of a full, mocking laugh. The only thing left pale on her, the tips of her ears, turn red and twitch, and tears begin streaming down her face.

They press their other hand against her entrance finally and she gasps, so ready for that action but they stay only long enough to soak their fingers in her slick, before pulling away again.

They raise their hand up to her mouth, devilish smirk covering their features.

“Open up, princess.”

She snarls and lunges for their hand, sharp teeth flashing in the light.

They yank their hand away just in time. Heart pounding, they frantically check their fingers before breathing a sigh of relief.

“Tut tut, Owl Lady. As Head Bard, it’s rather important that I keep my hands intact.”

“Go -to - hell.” She sobs angrily, punctuated by a heavy breath.

“So vulgar.” They cock their head. “But then, maybe you’d prefer if I didn’t use my hands at all?”

They pull away from her completely. 

“N-no…”

They can hear the don’t go written in her tone clear as day. Their hand reaches out before they know what they’re doing. They pull it back immediately.

They take a half step back, and draw a circle in the air. Something heavy drops into their hand.

“Any guesses, princess? Or is that too hard for a dumb little thing like you?”

She says nothing, only light sobbing and the clink of her chains shaking.

“Don’t worry. You’ll find out.”

A light buzzing fills the room.

The Owl Lady goes rigid.

“Wait-”

“Oh, it’s much too late for that.”

With that, they grasp the fabric of her underwear and pull, ripping and leaving her cunt bare and fluttering in the cold…

And shove the vibrator against her clit.

The Owl Lady screams.

“And just think, all this could’ve been avoided if you’d just told me what I wanted to hear.”

But it’s unlikely she can hear them know. Not with all the shrieking, the clanging of the chains as she swings back and forth desperately, searching for any way to relieve herself.

Their other hand sinks into the plushness of her thigh, steadying the wand against her clit at an angle they know is brutal. A spell circle pressed hard enough to indent, and a pair of straps materialize to keep it there, so completely out of her reach.

They step back once more, this time crossing the room for a chair.

Though not, they note, without grabbing a firm handful of her ass.

The Owl Lady throws her head back and wails, as the vibrator leaves her dangling just on the edge of yet another peak, stopping only enough to let the edge slip out of her grasp before starting again.

“Well,” They mutter, more to themself than for her. “Isn’t this a lovely show?”

The interest between their legs catches their attention.

Sure, she can’t see them, but they spread their legs all the same.

They let an exaggerated moan fall out of their mouth, but not without a bit of true pleasure in it. Hard not to be turned on when a gorgeous woman is struggling for them, when they’ve been able to touch every inch of her as much, and lavishly, as they want.

Her ears flatten down against her head, and she whines deep and guttural.

They could really make better use of her mouth if they just undid those chains and bent her over-

They dart their hands between their legs to distract themself.

Some light stroking and they know it’s not going to take long, not while they watch the Owl Lady twitch and scream, hips bucking as if there was something, anything there to satisfy her.

Are they imagining it, or is there a choked, cut-off version of rainstorm in between her cries?

They listen intently but it’s drowned out by sobbing.

She yanks her arms violently, pulling hard on her wrists. She strains again and again, her whole body trying to wrench herself free.

No such luck, and the vibrator clicks off once again.

“You’re pretty when you struggle like that. Making this so easy.”

They sigh, pleased as they find their own rhythm. Slow and firm, letting their pleasure build without a rush. 

The Owl Lady squirms, heaving as she once again tries to escape the stimulation before succumbing once again. Another flood of slick hits the floor and she whines.

Her hands flex and claws appear as if that's going to help and oh, this isn’t going to take very long at all, is it?

The neck of her dress slips a little down her shoulders, exposing the tops of her breasts and they eye the motion hungrily.

Really, The Owl Lady is something to admire. All those tales of exploits have nothing on her strength here. All that pleasure and still she holds her ground. They’re certainly not going to tell her that now, not when their leg shakes as they speed up a little.

She keeps such secrets and it’s incredible to test her limits and find her so stubborn on the other end.

But what is it going to take, then? To get what they want?

Her hips roll, desperately seeking out friction but finding none.

They do the same, finding the perfect, exquisite pressure of their own hand, and bright, white light sparks blot out their vision. 

It’s bright and pulsing, euphoric colors whiting out their consciousness as they come, set to the lovely sounds of her whining and crying.

And yet still, they can’t help but wish it was a different hand, with long fingers and sharp nails between their legs instead of their own-

They take a deep breath, and then another before grasping the side of the chair to pull themself to their feet.

Their legs shake, ever so slightly, before they regain their balance.

Her crying is suddenly less hot after their climax, and a lot more… gut twisting. Her head hangs down in front of her chest, hips still gyrating weakly. How she’s still standing, they have no idea.

They frown and stand in front of her. 

How can someone so mighty look so wrecked? Makeup smeared with sweat and tears, running down her cheeks and splattering on her dress. Her arms shake, from exhaustion or arousal they can’t tell, but slick runs in streams down her leg, gathering into a puddle on the floor.

But still, they can’t help but find her so dangerously alluring. Something in them longs to grab onto that thick silver ponytail and pull, get her down on her knees and watch her cum from a different angle. But alas, they have a job to do.

They settle their hands on her waist, heavy over her hips, and feel her jump.

“How many is that by now? Too many to be worth holding onto your pride.” They let their thumbs play along the bottom of her ribs, and hear her breath hitch just a little more. “But here we are.”

“Pleas-se.”

They grab the sharp point of her chin, slick with tears and she squeaks.

“Say it.”

“I c-aan’t” She hiccups. “Pleasepleasepleaase I can-ngh-t.”

“Sure you can.” They encourage, perhaps a little too soft, a little too encouraging. “I know you can.”

More tears spill down her face, her mouth drops open in a long, excruciating gasp.

“Breathe, E-Owl Lady.” They catch themself. “You… you’re no good to me if you’re passed out on the floor.”

“I nee-ed-”

They wince, force their hands away from her. “You need to tell me where the rebels are. I won’t help you until you do that.”

Don’t touch don’t touch don’t do it Whispers-

“I need-” She hiccups, jerking her torso. “ P-p-ple-”

She cuts herself off with a choked cry.

She needs… she needs. And they’re just standing there, watching her while she’s helpless. She’s tormented and their heart twists so violently they swear there’s a crack.

She’s heaving and crying, oh so desperate and gorgeous… and theirs.

They take a sharp breath, and it doesn’t help hide their moan.

 “Oh, Eda.”

“Y-you’re b-br-e-”

“Fuck the scene.” They breathe, and drop to their knees.

The fastest spell circle they’ve ever drawn in the air, and her raised leg drops down limply. She thrashes, kicking her legs in a desperate attempt for friction, swinging back and forth in the air.

They grab her thighs, shove them apart. It forces a new, harder angle on her clit and she cries out.

“R–Raine-ple-oh!”

They pull their hand away from her thighs and thats torture but only for a second to make a sharp, piercing whistle.

The cold stone walls of the chamber fades away, and witch lights blink all around the two of them, drifting against warm wooden furniture and sputtering out over the nest a few feet away. So much warmer, and the change in temperature washes over them both.

Their room.

They pull away the vibrator and Eda spasms, writhing back and forth.

“Nono please-”

“Please let me take care of you. Please, Eda, I can’t take this anymore.” They look up at her pleadingly. “Viola, whatever, please. ”

“Yes! Titan-”

They waste no time, pushing the straps down to the floor and throwing her legs over their shoulders, hands on her ass to pull her dripping cunt to their face.

The position gives her a little leeway, and the muscles in her stomach contract as she tries so hard to hold herself up.

Her cunts so swollen and red, they think for only a second, before burying their face into her folds.

Never in their life, even with all the times they’ve been between her thighs, have they ever heard her make that noise before, a cry so relieved and yet so desperate.

Her thighs clench thigh to either side of their head, and it's the strength there that makes them moan into her cunt. Even after all the time dangling there, all the torment she’s still so strong, so intent on keeping them right there.

It’s tight enough to choke them and oh, what a blessing that would be.

Time for pleasantries and reassurances will come later, as they lick a firm stripe over her clit, listen to her cry out and do it again, again, again. 

“ I-inside! Ple-ase I n-ah!”

They haul her up a little more so the angle is right to press their tongue against her entrance before licking inside. 

They moan into her entrance and the vibration makes her kick her legs wildly. 

They know all her spots like the back of their hand and pretending otherwise irritated the edges of their ego. So they press their tongue against her front wall and drag. Their nose bumps her clit and she mewls, still so wet with her tears.

They shift one hand to her lower back, the other coming around to stroke her clit with two fingers. Just the pressure, just the speed she adores, her favorite way to be worked all the way to completion.

Hovering just on the edge, she begins trembling wildly.

“R-rain-ssstormmm please!”

They pull her so close, pull her folds against their mouth and suck.

She gushes as she comes, soaking their face, and hands, and dripping onto the floor with a loud, piercing cry.

“Raine!”

“I’m sorry, you want what ? ”

Eda wiggles her eyebrows. “You heard me.”

“I heard- um-” They stutter, can already see the rims of their glasses going foggy. “I- I was expecting you to say you wanted a human trinket or a day without the kids or… something else."

“I mean, the kids really do need to be gone for it-”

“Eda!”

She snorts, not a smidge of the embarrassment they know is flooding their own face.

“C-can you just explain?”

“What’s there to explain? I want to roleplay. I want you to tie me up and torture me into submission. Maybe even…” She shivers happily. “Humiliate me a little.” 

They sputter, and with all their bard training, no words come to mouth. 

She has to see that and she smirks.

“I think it’s hot. Head Bard and the Owl Lady, hmm? Seeing what secrets you can get outta me. What do you think?”

They’re no saint, but they always have a soft spot for the soft, sweet, adoring vanilla sex with her. They like looking in her eyes, watching her pretty face twist in pleasure as they make her feel good.

But still, there’s something… interesting there.

And she’s got to see that, with that evil glint in her eyes. She slides up next to them, shifting a hand to rest on their thigh.

“Isn’t it kinda hot? Having me all tied up at your mercy?” She leans her head onto their shoulder, an innocent gesture compared to what comes out of her mouth. “All that power over me, you can do anything you want. And I know you love touching me-”

They squeak, hands flying to cover their face. 

She moves a leg up, throws it over theirs, and moves to straddle them.

“And you know what I like.” She says, ignoring them. “You know what I don’t like. I like the idea because I know you’ll make me feel good. I trust you, Rainstorm.”

That makes something bloom warm and bubbly in their chest, even if she’s asking for something so, so filthy .

“I’m … uh, I’m open to it. If you’re sure that's what you want.” They decide, face still scarlet. “But what are the boundaries here? Power is a two way street Eda. I need to know what’s on and off the table before we do anything.”

They’d only worn a muffle for her once, but the idea of not being able to talk, not tell her what they like and praise her for what she’s doing… they were not a fan.

“I mean, I don’t want you to hurt me-”

They suck in a sharp breath. “Eda I would never-”

“I know.” She blesses them with a brief kiss. And then another. And another. “I wouldn’t either. And that’s not what I want.”

“So… um…” Their mind wanders at her roaming hands, feather-light across their shoulders, raking down their back. “W-what is it? That you want?”

Eda hums, leaning into their neck. She places one sweet kiss over their shoulder, over their sleeping clothes. Then one next to that, and next to that, until she trails up under their ear and they shiver.

She leans into their ear, and lowers her voice to a sweet sultry whisper.

“I want to see what you do to break me.”

They kiss the side of her knee. 

“Happy birthday.”

She twitches, tears still pouring down her eyes.

“R-r-rai-”

They stroke gently over her outer thigh, long touches up and down.

“Just breathe, baby. That’s all you gotta do.”

She shudders, her entire torso shaking with her hiccups and effort. Her face, her chest is red and splotchy, and her tears track down her neck.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re all done.” They soothe, manipulating their bard magic once again, albeit this time in a calming, gentle way. “Can you tell me what your name is?”

“Eda-” She sobs, sucks in a breath. “Cl-Clawthorne- Whi-s-pers.”

“Mhm. Good job.” They reward her with another kiss, this time over her stomach. “And what’s my name?”

“Raine C-Clawthorne-Whispers.” She takes a few more deep breaths. “My Rainstorm .”

“Perfect, Calamity. Let's get these off you.”

They stand, undo her from the binds on the ceiling. Without the support, she goes fully limp. Her knees buckle.

They catch her easily, shifting her head to the top of their chest.

“Raine -”

“I know, I know.” They soothe, sinking down to their knees. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Still, she sobs, shoulders heaving.

“Rainstorm.”

Something in their heart clenches. They reach around her gently, pull at the tail of her blindfold, and pull the silky fabric away.

Teary sun and moon eyes stare back at them, pupils still blown wide from her high.

They smooth their hand around her head to cup her cheek. She leans into it instantly, her sobs quieting only slightly.

Their hand grows wet from her tears, and they wrap their arms around her tight. One hand buried in her hair, the other splayed over her back.

They stroke her back gently, rocking back and forth.

“Baby? Can you tell me if these are happy tears? Or overwhelmed ones?” They ask cautiously. “That’s all you gotta do for now.”

She nods, shakily.

Their heart twists.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me.” They press a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

They get one hand under her knees to lift her and she winces as they jostle her sore arms and legs. They stand, Eda curled protectively in their arms, and carry her over to the nest.

They’d bought extra pillows to pad the thing, and as stupid as Eda thought that was, she limply sinks right down into them with no complaint. She rolls onto her belly, arms snaking around a pillow before clutching it against her chest.

They reach for a box they’d prepared earlier, pulling out a bottle of water. “Look up for me, sweetheart. We’re not finished yet.”

She whines, pressing her face into the pillow.

“I know, I know, you’re gonna get to sleep so soon. But first I need you to drink this for me.”

They press the straw to her lips, rubbing soothing circles into her back as she takes slow sips.

They keep their voice warm and syrupy, thick with magic and adoration. “That’s a good job, Calamity, there you go. Let's get this off you.”

They pull the straps of her dress off her shoulders and guide her to lift her hips so they can tug it off her body. 

Even after all that, it’s still a nice sight, so they take a few seconds to appreciate it as they reach over the side of the rest for their own large sweatshirt. It takes a bit of maneuvering to pull it over her head and guide her arms through the shirt holes, but worth it as she buries her face in the soft fabric and sighs.

“Do you want your prosthetic off?” They ask gently.

Drowsily she shakes her head.

“Okay. I’m gonna clean you up now.” 

“Mhm.” She mutters, turning back to the pillow and dozing, and for now, that’s enough. 

They pull a wet towel from the other side of the nest. Nice and gentle on her inner thighs, stroking only enough to clean up her mess.

Still, her cunt is so violently red and swollen in a way that has to hurt. Their face twists in guilt, and they reach to clean her off-

She kicks her heel, albeit with much less force than last time.

“I know, too oversensitive. But you’ll feel so much better-”

She whines, flopping onto her back and rolling away.

“Okay, fine.” They sigh, tossing the rag away. “But you’re taking a shower tomorrow morning.”

Her lips crack into a smile, eyes peeking open. “R’you… gonna… joy me?”

Their smile grows huge, and they lean over to plant an ecstatic kiss on her lips.

 “There’s my Calamity.”

In contrast, their own clean-up is minimal, shucking off their clothes and magicking away the remnants. They shuffle to lay beside her, pulling the covers up over her shoulder. They wrap their arms around her waist, her head beneath her jaw.

“Just rest for a few minutes. I’m staying with you, not going anywhere.” They kiss her hairline. “Rest and then we’ll talk.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, as her eyes roll back, her eyelids fluttering shut.

Could be an hour, could be just a few minutes as they watch her sleep. She snores like a slitherbeast, and they could say that's what keeps them from joining her in a nap, but really they’re just so enamored with the way her nose twitches, her ears flick every so often.

They begin to mumble something like a lullaby, thick and sweet and nonsensical. Something for pleasant dreams.

Their eyelids droop under their own song until they’re only aware of the soft rise and fall of her breath ghosting their chin, the distant rumbling of her snores, the thick lulling nonsense their song has become.

Eventually, she shifts slightly, curling a little more into their arms. They awaken just in time to see her face wrinkle up, and press her head deeper into the pillow like she’s annoyed at the world for waking her up.

A familiar thought and there’s a surge of gratefulness, they get to wake up to her. And of all the witches in the worlds, she wants them there. Right next to her at her most vulnerable.

They lift their arm, and drape it heavily over her shoulders to massage, gently kneading the knots out of her muscles. It’ll ease some of the soreness tomorrow, and right now it makes her purr.

They murmur into her hair. 

“Talk to me, Calamity.” 

She pouts, voice ragged and hoarse but oh so adorable. “You broke.”

Raine blushes.

“I’m sorry. You were just so- I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” She rasps. “I was about to call it too. That was a lot.”

“It was intense,” They agree, grabbing the water and passing it to her. She takes it gratefully. “Are you okay? Did you still get what you wanted?”

They might’ve made her see stars but something shrivels and dies in their chest at the thought of ruining her birthday.

“Are you kidding?” She picks her head up quickly, too quickly and her head bobs lightly. They brace one hand on her cheek. “Raine, that was incredible.”

Somehow, somehow she still makes them flush red, even when their face between her legs had her screaming.

“R-really?”

“Really.” Eda takes another swig of the water bottle, before tossing it off to the depths of their room. “Titan, Raine, that was hot. Unbelievably hot. Your voice…”

She shivers.

“I’m glad. I uh, I thought it was really… yeah.” They admit.

“Aww,” She cooes, and presses a quick kiss over their lips. “How on the Titan are you still shy after that?”

They bury their head in her hair, half for her comfort and a half so she can’t see how red their face gets.

“S’not hard. You’re stunning, Eda.”

If they’re going to be redfaced, so is she, titandamned it.

“It was… really hard to not give you everything you wanted.” They admit. “Listening to you standing there, crying out for me… honestly I’m shocked I lasted as long as I did.”

She snorts. “So, you broke before me?”

“Eda!”

She laughs, full-bodied even in her raspy voice. 

“Just don’t let it go to your head.” They warn.

Like she isn’t already so spoiled by them. Like she isn’t wrapped up in their arms so constantly, being doted on as if they’d rather die than be doing anything else and they both know it.

Eda hums, squeezing them a little tighter in her arms, intertwining her legs with theirs.

“Well, you do owe me a new pair of panties.” She grins. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

They chuckle, bashful. “I didn’t either.”

“Nice surprise.”  She leans up for a kiss. “For my birthday.”

“For your birthday.” They agree and kiss her one more time. “Is there anything you didn’t like? Why did you call yellow?”

Eda snuggles down against them and buries her head in their neck. “Don’t like other people involved. Even if it’s just the idea, I don’t…”

She hesitates. Hugs them a little tighter.

“I understand. I won’t do that again.” They tangle their fingers up in her hair and get their hand up against her scalp to kiss her forehead. “Anything else?”

Eda leans her head into their hand and they take the hint. They scratch lightly against her scalp.

She sighs happily, going languid in their arms.  “Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

“Very, very sure.” She sighs, snuggling into their chest. “Anything weren't into?”

“No. That was… that was perfect.” They ease her hair out of its messy ponytail, sweeping the hair out of her face and over her shoulders. They pet down the top of the thick, tangled mane, burying their fingers in the strands. “... you’re perfect.”

Eda's breath begins to even out and they feel themself doing the same.

But maybe… just one last thing…

“You know,” They say slowly, not meeting her eyes. “If there was something else you wanted to include… or something you wanted I wouldn’t be opposed to… we could maybe… try again? I’ll do better next time. If you want a next time.”

Eda sleepily grins.

“Two months til yours, Rainstorm.”