#Consumer Redressal

[lloydlawcollege]

Understanding Consumer Rights: Insights from the Consumer Protection Act 2019

The Consumer Protection Act 2019 ensures consumer rights, offering mechanisms for resolving grievances about defective products, unfair practices, and poor services. It empowers consumers to seek justice through structured forums and commissions, promoting accountability and transparency among businesses.

[insightfultake]

E-Commerce Complaints Surge in India, Raising Questions on Digital Consumer Trust

In recent years, India has witnessed a surge in online shopping. From smartphones to groceries, more people are buying products and services through e-commerce platforms. However, with the convenience of digital shopping comes a growing concern—an increase in consumer complaints related to faulty products and non-delivery. According to new data released by the Consumer Affairs Ministry, disputes in e-commerce and online sales have now topped the list of consumer complaints in India.

[rightnewshindi]

जिला उपभोक्ता विवाद निवारण आयोग ने एलआईसी पर लगाया 50 लाख का जुर्माना, 30 दिन में भुगतान के दिए आदेश

Kerala News: केरल के कोट्टायम जिला उपभोक्ता विवाद निवारण आयोग ने भारतीय जीवन बीमा निगम (एलआईसी) पर 50 लाख रुपये का जुर्माना लगाया है। आयोग ने बीमा कंपनी को पॉलिसी प्रीमियम भुगतानकर्ता के परिवार को 30 दिनों के भीतर 9 प्रतिशत ब्याज के साथ रकम भुगतान करने का आदेश दिया है। एक आधिकारिक विज्ञप्ति के अनुसार, लंदन स्थित प्रवासी जेमन ने जनवरी 2020 में 20.72 लाख रुपये का प्रीमियम देकर एलआईसी से जीवन उमंग…

[fozmeadows]

there is no ethical consumption under capitalism

Years ago now, I remember seeing the rape prevention advice so frequently given to young women - things like dressing sensibly, not going out late, never being alone, always watching your drink - reframed as meaning, essentially, "make sure he rapes the other girl." This struck a powerful chord with me, because it cuts right to the heart of the matter: that telling someone how to lower their own chances of victimhood doesn't stop perpetrators from existing. Instead, it treats the existence of perpetrators as a foregone conclusion, such that the only thing anyone can do is try, by their own actions, to be a less appealing or more difficult victim.

And the thing is, ever since the assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, I've kept on thinking about how, in this day and age, CEOs of big companies often have an equal or greater impact on the day to day lives of regular people than our elected officials, and yet we have almost no legal way to redress any grievances against them - even when their actions, as in the case of Thompson's stewardship of UHC, arguably see them perpetrating manslaughter at scale through tactics like claims denial. That this is a real, recurring thing that happens makes the American healthcare insurance industry a particularly pernicious example, but it's far from being the only one. Because the original premise of the free market - the idea that we effectively "vote" for or against businesses with our dollars, thereby causing them to sink or swim on their individual merits - is utterly broken, and has been for decades, assuming it was ever true at all. In this age of megacorporations and global supply chains, the vast majority of people are dependent on corporations for necessities such as gas, electricity, internet access, water, food, housing and medical care, which means the consumer base is, to all intents and purposes, a captive market. We might not have to buy a specific brand, but we have to buy a brand, and as businesses are constantly competing with one another to bring in profits, not just for the company and its workers, but for C-suites and shareholders - profits that increasingly come at the expense of workers and consumers alike - the greediest, most inhumane corporations set the financial yardstick against which all others are then, of necessity, measured. Which means that, while businesses are not obliged to be greedy and inhumane in order to exist, overwhelmingly, they become greedy and humane in order to compete, because capitalism encourages it, and because there are precious few legal restrictions to stop them from doing so. At the same time, a handful of megacorporations own so many market-dominating brands that, without both significant personal wealth and the time and resources to find viable alternatives, it's all but impossible to avoid them, while the ubiquity of the global supply chain means that, even if you can keep track of which company owns which brand, it's much, much harder to establish which suppliers provide the components that are used in the products bearing their labels. Consider, for instance, how many mainstream American brands are functionally run on sweatshop labour in other parts of the world: places where these big corporations have outsourced their workforce to skirt the already minimal labour and wage protections they'd be obliged to adhere to in the US, all to produce (say) electronics whose elevated sticker price passes a profit on to the company, but without resulting in higher wages for either the sweatshop workers overseas or the American employees selling the products in branded US stores.

When basically every major electronics corporation is engaged in similar business practices, there is no "vote" our money can bring that causes the industry itself to be better regulated - and as wealthy, powerful lobbyists from these industries continue to pay exorbitant sums of money to politicians to keep government regulation at a minimum, even our actual votes can do little to effect any sort of change. But even in those rare instances where new regulations are passed, for multinational corporations, laws passed in one country overwhelmingly don't prevent them from acting abusively overseas, exploiting more desperate populations and cash-poor governments to the same greedy, inhumane ends. And where the ultimate legal penalty for proven transgressions is, more often than not, a fine - which is to say, a fee; which is to say, an amount which, while astronomical by the standards of regular people, still frequently costs the company less than the profits earned through their unethical practices, and which is paid from corporate coffers rather than the bank accounts of the CEOs who made the decisions - big corporations are, in essence, free to act as badly as they can afford to; which is to say, very. Contrary to the promise of the free market, therefore, we as consumers cannot meaningfully "vote" with our dollars in a way that causes "good" businesses to rise to the top, because everything is too interconnected. Our choices under global capitalism are meaningless, because there is no other system we can financially support that stands in opposition to it, and while there are still small businesses and companies who try to operate ethically, both their comparative smallness and their interdependent reliance on the global supply chain means that, even if we feel better about our choices, we're not exerting any meaningful pressure on the system we're trying to change. Which means that, under the free market, trying to be an ethical consumer is functionally equivalent to a young woman dressing modestly, not going out alone and minding her drink at parties in order to avoid being raped. We're not preventing corporate predation or sending a message to corporate predators: we're just making sure they screw other worker, the other consumer, the other guy.

All of which is to say: while I'd prefer not to live in a world where shooting someone dead in the street is considered a valid means of redressing grievances, what the murder of Brian Thompson has shown is that, if you provide no meaningful recourse for justice against abusive, exploitative members of the 1%, then violence done to those people will have the feel of justice, because it fills the void left by the lack of consequences for their actions. It's the same reason why people had little sympathy for the jackass OceanGate CEO who killed himself in his imploding sub, or anyone whose yacht has been attacked by orcas - it's just intensified here, because where the OceanGate CEO was felled by hubris and the yachts were random casualties, whoever killed Thomspon did so deliberately, because of what he did. It was direct action against a man whose policies very arguably constituted manslaughter at scale; a crime which ought to be a crime, but which has, to date, been permitted under the law. And if the law wouldn't stop him, can anyone be surprised that someone might act outside the law in retaliation - or that regular people would cheer for them when they did?

[absurdthirst]

Fruits of Passion {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN!!!! War, dubious consent, talk of whores, sexual repression, masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Comments: Sent to wage war on your kingdom, Marcus seeks to minimize bloodshed as do you as your realm's queen. So you feed him fructus voluptatis, which he finds has a very strange affect on him and his army.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Marcus sighs as he strides down the marble hallway, his sandals slapping and making a noise that echoes. He has been summoned to the emperors and he is reluctant to hear about their latest whim. He nods at the guards on duty and enters the ostentatious room. "Ah General. Welcome. Welcome." Geta coos while Caracalla smirks at a woman who is redressing. Both men are handed a cup of wine by the woman before she leaves. "She is available if you wish to indulge." Caracalla smirks and Marcus rocks his jaw, "I am fully satiated, thank you Caesar." He bows his head slightly and Geta wraps his robe around him and takes the cup of wine from Caracalla's hand. "We want you to conquer more land for Rome...in our name." He says after he has a sip. Marcus frowns a little, "but I just returned." The men look at each other and laugh, "and you shall return again. With more land." Caracalla says, tilting his chin. Marcus knows there is no argument. He must leave. "I shall gather my men." He bows his head and Geta grins, "may Mars bring you home victorious." 

**** 

You stand on your balcony, staring out across the land that your ancestors fought for, that your grandfather and father fought hard for. Heavy is the head that wears the crown and you know that intimately. Their riders kick up dust and you can see the cloud coming closer to your kingdom. "They will be here before sunset. No doubt they will set up camp and rest before they attack. Let us prepare to fight." You turn to your general who nods and bows his head. Once again, you must fight Rome for your home.

The sounds of war are nothing new to Marcus, as wearisome as the sound may be. The whistling of arrows as they slice through the air or the sounds of men screaming as they lay broken on the fields to rot and fall silent. And yet - he has never encountered an army with as much skill and determination as the one he leads. Not an inch of ground has been taken, not succeeded by the ruler of the lands he wishes to conquer on orders from his emperors. Tactics that he had never imagined before used to repel his advances and he is sustaining more losses than he had calculated.

You watch from your balcony as your men fight for their independence. They are trained well, trained by their fathers and their fathers who knew these days would come. "I want to be out there with them." You tell your advisor, Cyrus, who stood alongside your late father. "You are well trained but these men would not hesitate to take you, to brutalize you and use your body as an example to all that refuse Rome. You are where you are supposed to be. Leading from afar so the men have a home to return you, a queen to return to who will offer them glory and reward." You nod, biting your lip as you prepare for losses and to console the wives of those whose husbands fell under your sword.

The siege has lasted for weeks, Marcus sighs wearily as he stares up at the fortified city. He has to commend the generals of this army, they have trained their men well. While he believes this is foolish, he must succeed for his emperor’s. “Raise the flag.” He commands. “I wish to talk to their generals.”

You are surprised when Cyrus enters your chambers and declares that the Romans have asked for a truce. You stand up and adjust your robes, "they shall have their truce but I wish to meet their general. Have an adult discussion." You command and Cyrus nods, bowing his head as he leaves your chambers.

Once Marcus learns that the generals are willing to meet to discuss terms, he takes the time to bathe, wanting to give the appearance of a leader who has nothing to worry about. Dressing in the impressive armor, shiny and oiled, he strides out of his tent to meet the party.

Cyrus is among the men meeting the Roman general and his men. They journey into no man's land and both groups stand opposite each other. "Shall we take this as your surrender?" Cyrus calls out and his men laugh while the Roman's clench their jaws, frustrated by the length of this conquest. They should've been returning home to their warm beds by now. "We are not surrendering." Marcus replies, his voice strong as he steps forward from the lineup. "I want to meet your infamous queen. The one whose name echoes across the Empire." He declares and Cyrus steps forward, "she wants to meet you. Only you." He adds after a pause.

Marcus glances at the general and the men flanked at his sides. He can feel his own men bristle at the suggestion but he holds up his hand. “Very well.” He decides, reaching for the belt that holds his sword. “I will come meet your queen unarmed.” He tells them, “but if I am taken captive or killed, my men will destroy this city by fire.” He warns.

You watch as the food is laid out, meats and cheeses alongside fruits. Copious amounts of wine...it's a feast for your enemy. You know the General will be suspicious of your generosity but that is how your father taught you politics. "He is here, my Queen." Your guard announces and you nod, "send him in." You order and the doors open to reveal the Roman General escorted by Cyrus. You stand straighter and prepare to face the man representing the enemy. "Welcome, General." You greet him coolly, holding your hand out to him.

Surprised by the apparent feast, he takes your hand and bows over it slightly. Unsure of what to call you in these circumstances since he would not call you his queen. “I have heard tales of your courage and beauty, but I find them to be under-exaggerated.” He says, looking up and wondering how you have not already been conquered with a face as beautiful as yours.

You tell him your name, "I do not care for titles" you say as you offer him a smile, lowering your hand from his and you nod to Cyrus, letting him know you will be fine. "And I have heard many stories of the great General Acacius of Rome. You have conquered many lands. but mine will not be one of them. Come, I am certain you are hungry after your battles with my men. I fear my mother would turn in her grave if I was not a good host." You gesture to the table as Cyrus closes the doors, leaving you alone with Marcus.

Marcus appreciates your plain speaking after dealing with the subterfuge and double entendres of Roman society. Especially in the emperors’ palace. “Marcus.” He tells you, giving you his first name. “Unfortunately, we will take this land because my emperors wish to claim it for their glory.” He sighs. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement so that not too many of your people need to die.”

You sit down and stare at him from across the table. "I would like to counteroffer. You leave now and Rome will not lose more of her soldiers. No doubt your Emperors wish to expand their lands across the sea, I do not understand what my lands have to offer other than territory." You don't mention the natural resources your lands have, it's a well kept secret among your people and why you are so defensive. "I think the easiest solution is you return to your emperors, inform them that my lands are not for the taking, but bring good news that the losses were fewer than anticipated so you have more men for your next conquest." You smile, picking up the pitcher of wine to pour him a cup before you pour your own, setting the pitcher down then you pick up your cup to take a sip.

Marcus watches as you take a sip, wary of a poison that you would offer him. Furrowing his brow when you swallow and smirk at him. “Unfortunately, my emperors would not accept that.” He admits. “They would just send another army, three times the size of the one with me.” He takes his own sip of wine and has to admit that it’s delicious. He sets the cup down and waits to see if it will have any ill effects on him, settling back in the comfortable chair. “You could always surrender now, I would be willing to negotiate fair terms for your people.” He pauses. “And you, as Queen.”

You tilt your head, watching him as you take another sip of wine. “I have told my men to offer food to your troops. I know you have traveled far from Rome and I am certain your supplies are dwindling. You did not anticipate my people to hold out so long. I’m sorry to disappoint, but we will not surrender. I will not surrender.” You declare, “but let us not discuss battles when I am certain you are hungry. Please, eat.” You gesture to the table.

He doesn't know what kind of game you are playing but he watches as you start to pick and choose items randomly from the table to eat. Obviously proving that the food is safe. "Why would you feed my men?" He demands. "It will just allow us to linger here longer. Fight harder."

“Our culture.” You explain, “it would be remiss to not feed a guest, no matter how unwelcome they may be. My ancestors fed their enemies. It is tradition.” You explain, “and I will follow tradition.” You reach for some bread, wanting to show him that you aren’t poisoning him. “This is our local fruit. A delicacy here.” You declare as you pick a piece up and pop it in your mouths humming in content.

He is curious about the fruit, never seeing such a thing before. It looks like it is juicy and sweet, making him hesitate for only a moment before he reaches for the fruit. "Local, you say?" He asks, inspecting it closely and admiring the vivid pink coloring of the fruit's skin before he pops it in his mouth. The emperors would want to try any local resources that they do not have in Rome.

You watch him chew on the fruit, picking up your cup of wine. “Tell me, General, how is your camp? Are you comfortable? Are you served well? Serviced by whores?” You ask nonchalantly, tilting your head and licking your lips as you reach for another piece of fruit.

He nearly chokes on his tongue by the way you ask about his sex life. Managing to swallow the sweet fruit, he reaches for the wine again to wash it down so he doesn't cough. "No." He admits, with a shake of his head. "I do not use the women that frequent the camps." He never has since he had gained rank and privilege.

You hum, letting your eyes trail along his form, covered by intricate armor that has you admiring his strong form. “I imagine they are very upset by that slight. Do you partake in your fellow soldier?” You ask, curious about the General and his tendencies.

His brow arches up at your boldness and he takes another sip of the wine and sets it down before plucking another piece of the fruit from the tray. "No." He chuckles. "I satisfy my own needs when they become urgent." He tilts his head. "Are you always so concerned with the sexual appetites of your enemy?"

You chuckle, leaning forward in your chair, “to know a man’s sexual appetite is to know how he fights on a battlefield. It is easy to ascertain your weakness and you’ve just told me yours, General.” You smirk, licking your lips as you pluck a grape from the tray and place it in your mouth.

He snorts, unsure of what kind of thought process that is, and he shrugs. "So what did I just tell you?" He asks curiously, wondering what you could possibly get from not fucking camp whores.

“That you’re pent up. You haven’t fucked a woman since you have been on the road for many months. You’ve been camped outside my lands for weeks. You must be aching. Yearning for a release, to bury your cock in a woman and find some mind numbing bliss in her. You’re mentally foggy. Frustration can do that. A man with empty balls has a clear mind. He’s not preoccupied with the need to relax, he’s not distracted. That’s your weakness and distracted soldiers make mistakes. You’ll make a mistake.” You finish and cross your arms together to push your breasts up.

He knows the blatant attempt to make him look at your breasts and he smirks as he does just that. He has control, even if his cock twitches under his armor at the soft swell of flesh on display. “Who says my balls are full?” He decides if you speak as crudely as a soldier, he should not temper his own words for the sake of propriety. “My hand can provide a release when needed and I do not have to deal with a whore thinking that because a general ruts between her thighs that she runs the camp.”

You chuckle, leaning back in your seat, and you reach for your cup of wine once more. He’s smart and handsome. If he weren’t the enemy, you’d definitely have him between your thighs for the foreseeable. “You may think the men run the camp but those women work harder, fight harder, than any soldier. They fight to survive in a world that has their death warrants signed. So your hand suffices and you come here now, ready to accept my surrender and then what? You’ll return to your uxor?” You raise your eyebrows, “are you loyal to your wife and that is why you are satisfied with your hand?”

You are impressive and smart. Beautiful and brave. It’s a fascinating combination and if he did not have to conquer your lands, he would be interested in seducing you. “I am not married.” He reveals. “No uxor waiting at home, no lover.” He shrugs. “I will go home and see what next campaigns the emperors would send me on.” It's almost a dreary existence, but he has no choice right now.

You scoff, “they have everything they could ever wish for. Riches beyond imagination. Gold, wine, medicines. Yet it’s never enough. They are greedy and they will be the downfall of the Empire.” You declare with a scoff, “you are not like most Romans. Many would’ve come in here with a concealed weapon to try and kill me. I've had others try. All have failed.” You warn the General and you pick up another piece of fruit, “have another piece. It’s our greatest asset.” You order as you bite into the fruit.

Marcus helps himself to the tasty fruit, reminding him of a sweet cherry, but it’s slightly tart. Delicious and juicy, it makes his mouth water when he eats another. “What is this fruit called?” He asks. “I will have to bring a wagon full back to my emperors.”

You smirk, plucking another piece for yourself, "it's called fructus voluptatis and I am certain it would be wasted on your emperors. They would not appreciate its lingering sweetness." You shake your head, having heard rumors about the indulgent Roman Emperors. "Tell me, Marcus, why do you fight for them?"

Marcus knows that it would be foolish to admit the truth to you, it could get back to emperors, but he is tired of fighting useless causes. Tired of sending men to die. “Because I serve Rome and her people.” He sighs, picking up another piece of the fruit and eating it eagerly. “They are the will of Rome, so I serve them.” He does not say that if he refuses he would be killed, but he’s certain you know that. “If I am leading the army, perhaps I can send a few more sons and husbands back to their families.”

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes slightly, “you are not what I expected, General.” You declare and he chuckles, wiping his lower lip with his thumb, “and what did you expect?” You hum, trailing your fingers along the tabletop, “a beastly, pompous, prick who would do anything to destroy my people and take our land. You are…definitely not beastly. You are here with me when most men would’ve picked up that knife and held it to my neck already.”

Marcus watches your fingers, the image of them trailing over his chest and wrapping around his cock springing to life in his mind and making him shudder. His half hard cock twitching and he coughs slightly and shifts in his seat. “I have no wish to harm you or any of your people.” He admits. “I am a violent man by trade, but not by nature.”

You hum, trailing your finger along the rim of your cup, your eyes looking at him from under your lashes, “I can tell that you are not blood thirsty. You do not take pleasure in your kill so I ask once again what’s your pleasure? Your hand? Do you not want more?”

Marcus feels your question humming through his veins, lighting up desires and needs that he has spent a long time burying under duty and a strict sense of propriety. The emperors may indulge themselves in whatever and whomever they please, but Marcus wishes to treat the people under his direction with respect. He snorts. “Of course I want more.” He grunts, cock twitching again and thickening to the point where it’s tenting the tunic in his lap. Head already weeping with need like he’s been drawing out his pleasure like he sometimes does. It seems to take the edge off for longer. “But I don’t want a woman to crawl into my bed because she feels she has to, or to gain some favor by being my whore.” He admits. “I would have found a woman to enjoy my time with while I was in Rome, but the emperors were too eager to claim your land for their own.” His tongue is surprisingly loose and he frowns as he reaches for another little fruit. They are addictive.

“You’re a handsome man, General. I imagine most women would only be too eager to fall into your bed, give you pleasure like sucking your cock, letting you use their bodies for your frustrations. Without payment of coin. Simply because they want to.” You smile, licking your lips as he chews on the fruit

He shifts again as he swallows, wondering if you think that seducing him will send him on his way without your lands. Shivering again and shaking his head slightly as he reaches for his wine to wash away the way his mouth suddenly waters slightly. He had watched you lick your lips and wants to taste the fruit from them. "I have had my share of lovers." He admits, his voice raspy. "I believe they were all satisfied."

You notice his eyes darken and he fidgets in his seat. You smirk and watch him struggle, the effects of the fruit hitting him. “I’m certain they were. You seem like a capable lover. Nothing worse than a selfish leader. It doesn’t bode well to success. You, General, would be a force to be reckoned with in bed…as well as the battlefield.”

He feels his face flush at your compliment, something that never happens to him. He doesn't fluster easily, but his entire body seems to warm through. "Then you know you should surrender to me." He grunts, imagining you submitting to him in bed rather than surrendering your lands. "I will treat you fairly."

You scoff, shaking your head, “I will never surrender. I would sooner die alongside my people than allow Rome to take my land.” You say as you trail your fingers along your collarbone. “Are you feeling okay, General? You look flushed.” You comment, pouting slightly.

Marcus clears his throat, swallowing again at the excess saliva filling his mouth. "Fine." He rasps out, nodding as if that would make it believable and he downs the rest of his wine quickly before setting the cup down. His eyes slide along your skin with your fingers, watching the innocent move with a hunger to trace that same path with his lips.

You giggle, noticing how affected he is, and you reach for the clip that keeps your robes together. You smirk, seeing his eyes widen as your breasts are exposed to his eyes. “It’s so hot in here. Are you heated, General?” You ask, picking up your fan to try and cool yourself down. “Forgive me for my nudity, I am a little dizzy.”

Marcus chokes out your name, ripping his eyes from your tits even though he wants to touch them. His hands curl into fists so that he doesn’t reach for you. “Is that- do your people just strip down when the heat overcomes you?” He asks tightly, his entire body on fire now and he is starting to sweat.

You continue to fan yourself, leaning back in your seat, “when we are overwhelmed. Of course.” You shrug like it’s nothing and your tits jiggle with the move. “It’s best to have some cool air on your body instead of sitting in silence and suffering.” You coo, “you look overheated.”

He is. He’s so fucking hot right now, so fucking hard. He wants to strip down so he can sink into your cunt and fuck you until you are screaming his name for your entire realm to hear. “Thirsty.” He reaches for the pitcher of wine to pour himself so more, trying to keep his eyes off your breasts.

You smirk, leaning closer and you set your fan down before you cross your arms to rest them on the table. “Drink as much as you want, General. We have plenty.” You see how his chest heaves, the sweat on his brow, “you need more, don’t you?” You guess, knowing how the fruit can take effect.

“Yes.” He croaks out, pouring a large goblet full of wine and starting to down it like a man dying of thirst. “More.” He gasps when he drains the cup and still his body is on fire. His cock is throbbing and he shudders as he shifts in his seat as the fabric of his tunic brushes over the sensitive skin.

You watch how he shudders, “you can touch yourself. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’s our secret.” You wink and cup your breast, “I’m overheated too.” You murmur, moaning softly as you pinch your nipple.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” He groans quietly, swallowing as you palm your tit and moan yourself. “What did you poison me with?” He accuses, glaring at you and clenching his hand into a fist.

You giggle, “it’s not poison. It’s the fruit. It has…lusty effects. You are hard, no?” You ask and he nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You need release. You will not be comfortable until you touch yourself, General.” You slide your hand up until you’re palming both tits. “You need to cum. That’s the only way to stop this feeling.”

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes and hisses softly as he tries to control himself. “You- you planned this?” He asks breathlessly. “You ate the fruit as well.”

“I did, but I have a tolerance to it. We eat this regularly.” You are a little heated but not overwhelmed like he is. “You need to touch yourself. You will not feel better until you do. You’ve eaten a lot. You will die if you do not touch yourself. Your heart will only take so much.” You reveal with a smirk and chuckle when his eyes widen.

This has to be some kind of trick. To make him embarrass himself. He shakes his head. “If I die, your kingdom will be razed to the ground.” He reminds you. “You would not put your people in danger.”

You smirk as you stand, letting your robes fully drop from your body, and you step out of the pile gathered at your feet, “your army was given a generous sample of fruit. I’m certain they will be fucking each other senseless by now while my men remove their weapons from under their noses.” You giggle, swaying your hips as you make your way over to the bed behind the silks, eager to touch yourself after having the fruit. You’re still affected somewhat by its power.

“Gods be damned.” You have effectively crippled his army. He knows that if they are half as afflicted by this fruit as he is, they will be balls deep in each other and every available whore in the camp. A veritable orgy. Marcus can barely see you behind the silk and he grips the edge of the chair before he stands, giving into his need to see what you are doing. To see your body again.

You moan as you lay down on the bed, stretching out, and your hands slide along your body, unashamed of your form, and you look up when you see Marcus slide past your silks. "Like what you see, General?" You tease, squeezing your breast.

His breath is ragged, panted out as he struggles for control. “How- how long will this last?” He groans, cock twitching and bobbing heavily under his tunic. He still doesn’t touch himself, but he watches you.

"Depends. If you refuse to pleasure yourself, it will be a slow death. If you find pleasure, it will leave your system in hours." You hum, pinching your nipple and you are soaking wet as you trail your eyes down to the tent in his tunic.

Marcus grapples with the issue at hand. He could not believe you, but why would you lie? You are lying naked on a bed, touching yourself. He groans as you press your thighs together and then spread them to let him see your curls wet with arousal. “Fuck.” He swallows harshly as reaches for the ties of his armor.

You watch him as he starts to strip his armor. He's so broad and it's not just the armor that fills him out. He's strong and although his stomach is softer than younger soldiers, he has your folds dripping wet as you watch him expose his body inch by inch. "Touch you. I want to watch you touch yourself." You demand, adding a moan when your fingers slide through your folds.

He raises his chin defiantly, but he knows that he needs to touch himself. His cock is dripping onto the floor and he hisses as he watches you revel in the pleasure of your own touch. Spitting into his hand and reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock with a relieved groan at just that simple touch.

You watch him with lust filled eyes. You never intended to touch yourself, you wanted to watch him fall apart before you, but he has intrigued you. You slide your fingers up to rub your clit, "you are magnificent, General."

He just holds his cock in his hand, squeezing it to relieve the pressure. “You are perfect.” He counters. “Wars would be waged over your beauty, your hand being battled for to the death.”

You hum, pleased by his reaction, and you pull your hand away from your cunt, shifting onto your knees to get a little closer to him. "would you fight for me, General?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes.” He breathes the admission out without a second’s thought. Groaning as his cock twitching in his and he rocks his hips forward just a fraction of an inch, jerking himself into his grip. He wants to bury his tongue in your cunt while he strokes his cock to see if you taste like the fruit you has tricked him into eating.

Pleased with his answer, you grin as you slide your hand down your body until you’re rubbing your clit again. You moan and watch him as he fists his cock, “stroke yourself. I want to watch you take your pleasure.”

It's like he cannot deny you. Marcus throws his head back and hisses quietly as his hand starts to move. Slowly and achingly sliding up and down the length of his cock as he stands with his feet braced apart. Right now your soldiers could come in and strike him down, but he doesn't care. The pleasure from the slow, tight stroke is too much.

​​You watch him, smirking in satisfaction at the way his jaw drops. He looks so blissed out and you haven’t even gotten started. “That’s it, General. Touch yourself. You look so good like this.” You hum, continuing to rub your clit as you kneel on the bed. “Does it feel good?” You coo, shuffling a little closer.

“So good.” His nostrils flare as he pants out breath, losing control over himself as the need consumes him. His eyes are fixed on your bare body and his hips lurch forward into his grip, as if propelled closer to you, but he barely manages to stop from stepping forward. He will not have you accuse him of attacking you. “This- it hurts.” He groans, a spurt of liquid dribbling from the tip of his cock. “And feels so good.”

“I know. I know.” You nod, pouting slightly in sympathy. “It will get better. You need to spill your seed. Can I - I want to touch you.” You declare, shifting a little closer, “can I touch you, General?” You ask, continuing to rub your clit.

Marcus gnashes his teeth together, but it can’t repress the whine that comes out of the back of his throat. He should say no, he would say no if it were for the burning need that is clawing under his skin, humming through his entire body. “I- I am your- your guest.” He pants out. “You can do anything you want.”

You grin, loving his answer, and you shuffle closer, kneeling on the bed after pulling your fingers away from your clit. “You’re so gorgeous.” You murmur. You want him, want to taste him. You lean forward to take the head of his cock into your mouth when he squeezes his cock.

He chokes out your name, unable to believe that a queen has his cock in her mouth. That you are touching him in such a way. His stomach heaves and he’s embarrassed by the next spurt of pre-cum that leaks out, flooding your mouth, although he’s not even close to orgasming yet.

You moan around him, shifting your weight onto one hand to cover his hand with yours, squeezing him at the base as you take him a little deeper into your mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum has you humming around him and you watch his neck clench as he twitches in your grip.

He should pull his hips back. He should redress and go warn his men about eating the fruit, although he knows they most likely already have. The soldiers are always eager for any fresh fruits they can get their hands on, so it would have been readily accepted. He moans and lets go of his cock, reaching for your cheek and his hand is gentle as he caresses it.

You moan around his cock, taking him even deeper, and you love the way his broad chest heaves. Your other hand caresses a scar on his thigh and you watch him as you hollow your cheeks, sucking on his thick length.

It’s been a long time since he’s received this kind of pleasure. He hisses when your tongue presses against the sensitive head. His fingers curling around your jaw and applying the slightest pressure to it to lift your eyes up to him.

You moan around him, loving the dark look on his face as he watches you suck on his cock. Your hand trails along your stomach and down to your pussy, cupping yourself before you start to rub your clit while you bob your head.

Marcus grips the back of your head, growling incoherently. Enjoying the way you touch yourself without apology. If you weren’t sucking his cock, he’s sure this room would be filled with your moan. “Gods.” He hisses, his body sweating and throbbing with need.

You hum around his cock, loving how he twitches in your mouth. You’re dripping wet as you slide your fingers through your folds, and you close your eyes when he rocks his hips, pushing his cock a little deeper.

His body is so tightly wound, so primed, that the next time your throat closes around his shaft, Marcus is cumming. With a shout of pure relief, he starts to spill down your throat in hot ropes.

You swallow him down, humming around his length, and it’s too much that his cum starts to slide down your chin. When he finally stops twitching, you pull off of him with a gasp, trying to catch your breath and you know you look messy with his cum dripping off your chin.

You look gorgeous covered in his seed. Thoroughly debauched and still his hard cock aches for more. His fingers slide through his cum to grip your chin. “Let me fuck you.” He demands roughly. If you say no, he will have to stroke his cock again, the fever still spiking his blood.

You grin, shifting to lay down on the bed. You slide your hand along your chin to gather his cum so you can lick it from your palm. “Come and fuck me, General. Take me how you want.” You demand, spreading your legs to show him how wet you are.

Your cunt is dripping, glistening in the light of the day and the torches on the wall. Even though his cock is twitching to be buried deep, he lunges forward on the bed, kneeling between your thighs and he dives into your folds face first, his fist around his cock and his moans being breathed into your sex.

You cry out, moaning as his tongue slides through your folds. You didn’t expect him to do that and his mouth is wet and hot as he laps at you. “Fuck, General, you are eager.” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his damp hair.

He is eager. It’s been so long since the taste of a woman has been on his tongue that he is ravenous. He doesn’t pull away to answer, simply groaning into your folds as he doubles down on his efforts to make you cry out again.

You moan breathlessly, arching your back slightly as you lift your leg onto his broad, strong shoulder. You’ve had many lovers and no one has been this ravenous when lapping at your cunt. “General. I need - oh gods.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.

He’s not been so long without a woman that he doesn’t remember what drives them crazy. The little nub of flesh that puffs out from between your lips is so sensitive to his attention. He groans when your fingers tug at his hair and makes his scalp burn. His hand around his cock starts to pump his length as he sucks.

You hear him pumping his cock as he sucks on your bundle of nerves, making you throw your head back and fall apart. Your moan turns into a cry as he pushes you over the edge and your thighs tighten around his head.

You are falling apart, squeezing his head between your thighs and soaking his face with your release. Making Marcus groan as he moves down to lap it up eagerly, wanting to see if you taste as sweet as the fruit you tricked him with.

He works you through it and you whimper, tugging on his hair as he laps at you until it’s too much. The fruit has affected you too and you’re desperate for him but you won’t let that show. You drag his face away from your cunt and he groans, shifting onto his knees, your slick shining on his face. He’s pumping his cock as he shuffles closer and you shake your head, reaching down to cup your cunt. “I want you to beg for it.” You smirk, wanting to see him struggle.

He clenches his jaw, his lips firmly pressed together in annoyance that you would deny him now. You had caused him to be in this state by feeding him that fruit and he hates how he wants to beg. It’s on the tip of his tongue but he can’t do it.

You chuckle, keeping your hand in its place. “I can take care of myself, General. I have many times after eating the fruit. Can you? Your jaw is clenched. Your brow is shiny with sweat. Your cock looks like it’s throbbing, dripping with need. You can touch me. Fuck me. Take what you want. All you need to do is beg.” You coo, shifting your leg to slide your foot along his thigh.

He bites his lip, nearly breaking the skin. “Let me fuck you.” He groans, continuing to stroke his cock. “You want me. You want my cock. I see it in your eyes.”

You giggle, sliding your foot across to press against his cock. He groans and twitches under your touch and you press harder. “Not enough to give in so easily. Beg more. I want to hear you whine.” You demand, wanting to hear him.

Marcus hisses in anger but his body betrays him. Hips rocking up to grind against your foot. “You wish to humiliate me?” He growls. “Show your power over me?” He knows that’s what you want, but he is rapidly forgetting why he cares. “Fuck me then.” He compromises. “Ride my cock for your pleasure.” He groans. “Use me.”

Smirking, you slide your foot from his body and shift to kneel. “Lay down.” You order and he growls but follows your demand, laying down beside you. You shift to straddle him, batting his hand away to grip his cock. “You’re impressive, General.” You hum as you lift up and position him at your entrance, keeping your eyes on him as you start to sink down onto his length.

Your cunt is hot and tight around him. Making him groan and his hands bruise your hips with their hard grip. He grits his teeth, the urge to flip you over and hammer into your soft body barely resistible. “Gods.” He hisses out.

​​You pant as he stretches you out. It’s been a long time since you’ve taken a man this thick. “Move.” He demands through gritted teeth, and you chuckle, reaching for the hands on your hips. He reluctantly lets you release his grip and you lift his arms over his head, pushing his wrists into the bed as you start to rock on top of him.

He’s vulnerable like this, you can stick a knife in his ribs before he could react. Right now, he’s not worried about that, occupied by the way your cunt squeezes around his cock as you roll your hips. A queen is fucking him, using him for your pleasure, and he’s groaning while watching your tits bounce in his face so he lunges up to wrap his lips around a nipple.

You moan when he sucks on your nipple, your walls clenching around him, and you close your eyes. He could easily overpower you, he’s strong, but you have him entranced by your cunt. “Oh gods, General. You - you fill me so well.” You compliment him breathlessly as you rock down on his cock.

He hums in agreement, biting down on your nipple and sucking again when you moan in pleasure. You are wanton and sensual, swiveling your hips and grinding down on him as you chase your pleasure. “Touch yourself.” He grunts against your breast. “Cum on my cock.”

You pant, letting go of his wrists and you balance yourself on your palm as you reach down with your free hand to rub your clit. His deep voice has you shaking above him as you use his body for your pleasure. “Fuck. I- I am going to -" You cut yourself off as you fall apart on his cock, clenching down around him.

Marcus groans, his body tensing and he uses the moment to flip you into your back. Growling your name as he plants his knees as starts to fuck you. Needing to feel it again and again, even as your cunt spasms around him. “Fuck.” He hisses. “Cum again.”

Your cry echoes as he fucks you hard. He looks dangerous above you, his eyes black as he pushes into you like a man possessed. Your hands scramble to cling to him, knowing that all you can do is hold on.

You cling to him rather than pushing him away, spurring him on. His hips snapping forward sharply and making your entire body jolt as he drives into you. Groaning in pleasure at the way you yield to him, submitting to his need. He’s close, the fever in his system driving him to thrust harder and harder.

“You can fill me up. I have a tea to make sure I don’t - not with child.” You promise, wrapping your legs around him to push your heels into his ass. “Fuck. You feel so good.” You moan, your whole body bouncing with his thrusts.

Your words tip him over the edge, body going taunt and the vein on the side of his neck bulges as he buries his cock deep. Throbbing as he paints your walls with thick ropes if his sticky seed while he moans your name.

You watch him as he falls apart, filling you up, and you whimper, “you are a force to be reckoned with, General.” You love how hot his seed is as it paints your walls and his cock pulses inside you.

His eyes, closed as he rides out his high, open and focus on you as soon as the last spurt of his seed has been spent. He’s still achingly hard and his need for you burns under his skin. “Not done.” He growls, starting to move again as he lunges towards your lips for a kiss.

Moaning into the kiss, you cup his stubbled cheek and eagerly tangle your tongue with his as he takes control. You rock your hips up, needing more and he gives it to you. Rocking into you a little faster and your pussy squelches around his length as he pushes his seed out.

“You have to need to cum again.” He grunts, pulling away to kiss along your jaw. “Want to hear you cry out again.” He huffs out a reluctant chuckle. “Brave and bold, afflicting yourself with the same need.”

You nod, “yes. Yes. I need it. Give it to me.” You demand, clenching around him and he almost bends you in half to get deeper, achieving his aim as he hits something incredible inside of you. “Fuck. Oh yes. Fuck. Do that again.” You cry out your demand.

Grunting and smirking, Marcus repeats the action again and again, loving how you moan and squeal for him. He feels that you are close to falling apart again, body drawing up and starting to tighten. “Cum.” He orders.

You understand now how so many men would follow him into battle, his voice and his authority is intoxicating. You moan, unable to deny him as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him as you fall apart beneath him.

Marcus growls, loving how you soak his cock as he rocks into you. Fucking you through the orgasm that is making you shake underneath him. “Gods.” He hisses, continuing to hammer into your squelching cunt.

“Fu-uuu-ck.” You moan breaks and continues with each thrust to push you through your pleasure and your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. “Oh my - fill me up, General. Please. Want - I want it.” You demand, needing to see him fall apart above you again.

His teeth snap together harshly, lips curled up as he ruts into you. “Fuck!” He hisses, knowing that he’s close but he continues to fuck you with abandon. His hands are hard on your body as he finally stiffens with a shout that is equal to a war cry, throbbing and spilling inside you again.

You know he’s going to leave bruises but you love it. You moan, caressing his chest as he looms over you, “that’s it. That’s it.” You coo, watching him as he ruts through his ecstasy.

Marcus is panting as he finally stops moving, collapsing on top of you and pinning you to the bed as he tries to catch his breath. “Fuck, fuck.” He breathes out, finally feeling like he can breathe without wanting to fuck.

You hum, smiling against his chest, and you hear his heart pounding. You lower your legs from his hips, feeling your pulse race as you try to catch your breath. “It was a pleasure fighting against you, General Acacius.”

He snorts, shaking his head when he finally lifts his head and looks down at you. Knowing that you have bested him and he is honor bound to admit defeat. “My army will withdraw in two days time.” He tells you. “They will need a day to recover from their…activities.”

You chuckle, caressing his cheek and you lean in to kiss his lips softly. “As I said, it’s been a pleasure, General.” You murmur and kiss his chin. He sighs and pulls out of you, letting you spread out on the silk sheets and smile in bliss. The burning sensation in your belly satiated and your people protected. You’ve done what you set out to do.

**** 

True to his word, the Roman army starts to pull back, packing wagons and animals with supplies and the army, still a little sore from the orgy from days before, begins the long march back to Rome. Marcus states at the walled city, wondering where you might be right now, frowning slightly. Retreat and defeat are foreign concepts, but he was a man of honor. He would take his punishment from the emperors when he returned to the capital.

**** 

You sigh as you set your scroll down, looking out at the expanse of your lands. Prosperous and free since you sent the Roman army packing. Your people are thriving, they love their Queen and you have protected them from invasion. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when your advisor enters, head bowed. “There is a General here to see you.” You frown, “where is he? Take me to him.” You demand and your advisor escorts you to where he is waiting. You know who it is. You often wondered if he’d ever return and you expect he has his army waiting instructions. You enter the room with your head high, “General Acacius. What an unexpected surprise.” You hold your hand out towards him, your stomach twisting with arousal at the broad shouldered soldier standing before you.

It has been four years since he left these lands. Four years of jabs and comments from the emperors. Feigned disappointment and foul treatment of him by the spoiled brats until the people of Rome had turned on them. Disposing them and installing new leadership. Leaving Marcus with a decision to make. “My lady, your highness.” This time he uses your honorific and bows his head. “However, I lied to your advisor.” He admits. “I am no longer General Acacius of Rome.”

You frown, “then who am I speaking with?” You ask, shaking your head when your guards stiffen. “I am simply Marcus Acacius.” You nod in understanding, certain that he’s lost everything because of your deception. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, “I don’t doubt that you’ve had a difficult time from your Emperors.”

“The emperors have been overthrown.” He informs you. “The current emperor has no interest in your lands, your highness. Peace has been offered and I have brought you a promise of that.” He reaches into his tunic and slowly pulls out the scroll when the guards reach for their weapons.

You hold your hand up to get them to stand down before you take the scroll. You unravel it and scan the words, your eyes widening, “they have assured me that our lands are no longer wanted. We will be left alone.” You are shocked and pleased, looking at Marcus, his brown eyes soft as he watches you. You hand the scroll to your advisor just as footsteps echo down the hall. “Mama! Mama!” You hear your son as he runs towards you, arms open as his nanny runs behind him, trying to keep up with him. “Hello my love.” You coo, picking him up, and you cuddle him close.

Marcus watches as a child, a boy of no more than three, hugs you and presses into your body and kisses your cheek. “I missed you, mama.” He pouts, frowning fiercely at you and it makes Marcus’s heart pound in his chest. He knows, without a doubt, this is his child. He had planted his seed in your womb when you had drugged him.

You can tell he knows the truth and you hold your son close. “I really did take a tea. It was never my intention to become with child. With your child.” You promise him, “and I am sorry for any deception. I had to protect my people. You can go. No one will harm you.” You promise, “and I thank you for the news you have brought.”

Marcus might have attacked your realm on orders from his emperors, but he had no ill will towards you or your people. Watching his son look at him curiously and finding that the boy has his eyes and the edges of his ears curl like Marcus’s does makes his choice easy. “I have nothing in Rome to return to.” He tells you. “No wife, no family, no army.” He might add that to make you feel a little guilty. “I had also come to provide you with another guarantee that Rome would never attack you.” He tells you. “I wish to serve you. Help guard your people.” His eyes are on his son but they shift to you. “You have been my only defeat in war - in life.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You never imagined that he’d return alone. Perhaps he’d return with an army to defeat the woman who bested him but he wants to serve you instead. “I- wow. This is - quite a shock. But you are welcome here.” You promise, “you shall have a room in the palace. You will be honored as the father to the next king. You have my word that no one will treat you poorly. I wish to have you here.” You add, knowing that you’ve thought about him every day since the day he left with his army in tow.

Marcus never expected you to agree, to want him close. He nods. “I will serve you faithfully.” He vows, wanting to reach out and touch you. You have been on his mind since he had left, remembering your wit, and your body with a desire to see you again. The senate had known of his unhappiness in Rome and had released him from his commitments to her, knowing he would come back. He had left a piece of himself here, more true than he had realized.

You offer him a smile, “Marcus, this is your father.” You introduce your son for the first time. “He went away but he’s back now.” You explain simply, “and he wants to meet you.” You shift the little boy in your arms whose eyes widen, “papa?” He asks and turns to look at Marcus. He wiggles in your grip and holds his arms out towards his father.

Marcus’s eyes widen, surprised that you had named your son after him. He has not held many children in his life, but he is immediately reaching to take the boy. Amazed at how trusting he is as little arms wind around his neck. “Marcus.” He murmurs, looking the boy over in wonder and holding him close. “That is my name as well.” He tells him. “How old are you, son?”

Your son ducks his head, suddenly shy, until he looks at you and you nod, smiling at him. “Thwee.” He answers, still speaking with a slight lisp as he tries to get his pronunciation of words. “Marcus is your name too?” He asks and Marcus nods, “it is.” You rub your son’s back, “this is your papa.” You remind him and Marcus looks at the older man, “papa.” He grins and cuddles him.

Marcus swallows harshly, choking up slightly at the easy acceptance from his son. “Son.” He hums softly, rubbing the little boy’s back as he glances back at you. “Do you like to play with wooden swords?” He asks, knowing that he had watched young children play like that. “I do.” He pulls back and gives a wide grin that Marcus can’t help but copy. “We will have to play together. I play with wooden swords too.”

Your smile widens when your son nods, “yes, papa.” You rub his back for another moment before you squeeze Marcus’s shoulder. “I’m sure you are tired after your travels. Please, take a room and we will bring you food and you can go to the baths to clean up.” You tell Marcus, who nods, “thank you, your highness.” You tut and shake your head, telling him to call you by your name. Your servants rush around after your words to prepare everything for Marcus.

Soon, Marcus is groaning as he relaxes in a hot bath of fresh water, clean and feeling refreshed. Amazed that he hasn’t been turned away and even more amazed that he has a son. The wine next to the bath has been half drunk, but he hadn’t eaten any of the food that was sitting on the tray. He would rather talk to you first.

You look up when there’s a knock at your door, calling out for them to enter, and you sigh when you see Marcus walk into your quarters. “General.” You tease, standing up as he walks towards you in a tunic, looking fresh after his long journey. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, stepping towards him.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Marcus shifts slightly, eyes roaming over you as you look up from something you were reading. “I - Marcus-“ he falters slightly. “Will I have a role in the boy’s life? Help train him, or would you prefer that not happen?”

You nod, “you’ll be his father if you wish to be. I have no desire to keep him from you or not let him know his father. We are not Rome, we are not Roman. We do not cast aside our people because of marriage or birth. Our son will be the next ruler of these lands and I wish for him to be skilled in fighting, in tactics. Together, I believe we can raise a fine King for my people.” You offer Marcus a smile, “and I want you to be there for every moment. I’m sorry you’ve missed so much. I truly did not intend to become with child after our coupling and I took the tea but our son…he’s stubborn. I did not know where to send word about his birth. I didn’t want the news to get into the wrong hands.” You explain, hoping he understands.

Marcus nods, understanding even if it was disappointing. “Have you taken an uxor?” He asks softly. “I must confess that I have thought about that day, about you, every day since I left in defeat.” He knows you could laugh, or send him away, but he needs to be honest with you, you have been honest with him.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I have not taken an uxor since the man I imagined being my uxor left with his army to return to Rome.” You confess, caressing his cheek. “I know we barely know each other. How could I possibly love a man I don’t know? Yet I do. I know you must be angry with me for my deception but I want you if you will have me.”

“It was war.” He reminds you. “Deception is called for, and expected. It also kept more bloodshed from happening.” He covers your hand with his own. “Are you sure you would like a former Roman general as your lover? Surely men must vie for your hand.”

You scoff, sliding your free hand to his chest, “the men of my lands might vie for my hand but too many of them are eager for power. They wish to become king, take power from a ‘feeble woman’. You are here to serve, not to conquer me. You would not just be my lover, you’d be my companion, my confidant, my advisor.” You promise, “I want someone to support me as I lead our people. I want a partner.”

Marcus thinks on your words before he nods. “I have no allegiance to Rome any more.” He promises you. “My allegiance will be to you, my queen, and my son, my future King.” He steps closer to you. “Perhaps I can help train your army, but I will perform any role you wish me to have.”

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “you might be able to teach my men a thing or two about battling the Romans.” You smirk and lean in to press a soft kiss to his chin. Marcus grabs your waist and tilts your head to press his lips to yours. You moan into his mouth, loving the way he pulls you close and you realize the electricity between you wasn’t just the fruit.

Marcus groans quietly and deepens the kiss, you closer to him and feeling his body starting to react to your nearness. It’s not because of the fruit, it’s because of you.

You whimper when his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you moan, letting him walk you backwards until you’re pressing against the wall. “I need you Marc.” You plead when his mouth presses against your jaw, “now. Fuck me.”

He hums, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw. “Yes, your highness.” He teases. “I am but your humble servant. This time it’s not because of the fruit that I need to fuck you though.”

It's like a fire is ignited as you fumble to tug his tunic up, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock to pump him while he bunches your dress up your body to gather at your waist. "Definitely not the fruit." You murmur when he kisses your neck, panting into your skin when you squeeze him, "all because of you, General. My General. My - my love."

Marcus moans your name, accepting now that the fever he feels right now is just because of his feelings for you. His fingers slip under your dress and he finds you already wet. “Have you been thinking about this since I arrived?” He teases as he starts to slowly rub your clit.

You nod, “yes.” Your response is breathless and you whimper his name as he teases you while you pump his cock. “I imagined you taking me while I was sitting at my table, reading my scrolls. Imagined you bending me over and claiming me again and again.”

Marcus growls as he bites down on the juncture of your shoulder. “I imagined fucking you while I was riding my horse on the way to Rome. Seated on my cock while the horse moves. In my bed while I was in Rome.”

“Yes. Yes. I’m yours.” You promise, “please just - I need you inside me.” You whine and he nods, reluctantly pulling his fingers from your clit and he bats your hand away so he can lift your thigh and position himself at your entrance. “Please.” You whimper which transitions into a moan when he starts to push into you.

It’s rough, sex against a wall is far less than a queen deserves, but you seem to love it. Kissing along his neck and moaning into his skin as he fills you up. “Fuck.” He pants, pressing you harshly into the wall. “You are so fucking tight around my cock. Never would have known you had our son.”

You gasp when he pushes into you, his fingers finding your other thigh to lift it so your weight is fully pressed into the wall. "You're so big, amor. So strong. My lover." You moan, wrapping your legs around him as he squeezes your flesh.

He chuckles and starts to move inside you. “A lifetime of battle and blood.” He pants, loving the way you are squeezing his cock. You are so responsive to him.

You caress his chest, kissing his jaw, “and you have a new cause to fight for. I want - I want our son to be as strong as you. I want him to be a great leader like his father.” You murmur, sliding your hands along his shoulders, admiring how broad he is

Marcus groans, moving slowly, showcasing his strength as he rocks into you while keeping you pressed against the wall. “You will teach him politics, I will teach him to fight.”

“He will be a force to be reckoned with.” You gasp when he adjusts you and the angle has him pushing against something delicious inside you. “Fuck, this feels just as good as the first time.”

He can only groan in agreement, kissing you again as he tries to continue to hit that angle again. Loving how your walls clench around him and milk his cock. The magic of the pleasure between you hadn’t been a fluke or because of the fruit. He’s just as desperate for you to cum for him now.

You whimper as he pushes you higher up the wall with each thrust and you slide back down as he pulls back. "You are going to - I'm - oh. Oh. OH!" Your cry echoes across the vast room and you clamp down on his cock, crying out his name as you fall apart for him.

He growls in pleasure when you soak him, your juices dripping down his cock and onto his thighs. “That’s it,” he grunts harshly. “Cum for me. Shake apart for me.”

His cock continues pushing into you and you can't do anything but cling to him, watching as he clenches his jaw. You want to feel him again, no matter the consequences, you need to feel him fill you up. "Cum for me, General. My General." You coo, leaning in to kiss and nip at his jaw.

Closing his eyes, he buries himself deep. Groaning your name in a whimper as he floods your womb with his seed. Coming home to you physically and spiritually. He had come to conquer your lands on behalf of Rome but had been defeated, leaving behind his heart when he left. Only to find that he has a place here, with you and the son you created together. All of this was brought about by the fruits of passion.

[cregansdingdong]

dingdong hear me out, cregan and reader going through the honeymoon stage of their marriage in winterfell where he just cant get off her and they get it on (she gets on should i say 😜) EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE. im talking in the stables just out of earshot of the lords in the courtyard, in the wolfswood surrounded by the beautiful northern countryside, in the council chambers, on the table, EVERYWHERE. I KNOW this man gets hot knowing anyone could catch them and that they couldn’t do anything about it because he is their lord. PLEASE GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

- fellow cregan worshipping anon xo

I HAVE THOUGHTS. THE GEARS ARE TURNING. I FEEL THEM TURNING. SEND HELP ANON.

Let's get something perfectly clear, my beloved, the honeymoon stage never ends with Cregan. Now, it might slow down after the birth of a few kiddos ten but in no way, shape, or form will your Lord Wolf ever be satisfied. That being said, you have my prayers, sorrows, and congratulations also my envy ofc if you both are ever caught getting your freak on. It's gonna go a little something like this...

ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴍᴏᴏɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

"We're going to—"

"I don't care." He grunts. Skirts lifted up the curve of her ass, his hips rutting into her at a pace desperate enough to bruise. They were both frantic, fucking like it was their last day alive. The council room was empty—which it usually was; only really filled when Cregan felt the need to call on his vassals. If it had been a regular day, Lord and Lady Stark wouldn't have had anything to worry about.

His wife presses her cheek down on the table, holding onto the oak edges for dear life, mewling of course, as he rocked into her like a man possessed. Controlled entirely by his need, by her whines for him, Cregan thought he could die a happy man right there in her snug cunt. He could. He wanted to, in a way, the last sensations in the living world being her velvety walls, clenching around him with every swift thrust.

They were loud as they always were—unintentionally. It was too good to remember any restraint. Not that it mattered to the Lord Wolf, he was the Lord paramount of the North. Who was going to tell him he couldn't make love with his wife? No one, but he could at least make an effort to lock the door first. Rabid grunts and the sound of his hefty balls slapping against her flooded the corridor as the entrance to the council room was opened. "Seven Hells—"

His bannermen. His vassals. The meeting. Gods. He forgot about the meeting. Torrhen Manderly turned right back around, narrowly avoiding whatever it was that Cregan flung towards the door—thankfully fast enough to stop the other men from following in after him. "Get out!" The door was promptly slammed shut, right as his wife lifted her head from the table, face flushed red in mortification. "Were we just cau—fuck!" Lord Stark still didn't care, reaching around to rub at her pretty clit as his cock resumed pistoning against her ass. And as she came for at least the third time that morning, the realization of getting caught was quickly erased from the front of her mind, Cregan's teeth latching on to the curve of her shoulder as he chased his release.

okay I can't help myself so here's a bonus bit:

Redressed and thoroughly embarrassed some twenty minutes later, Lady Stark emerges from the council room, expecting her handmaiden to be waiting—no. Gods. They'd waited. They'd actually waited. Seven bannermen, each one avoiding her eye more than the last, probably in an attempt to maintain whatever was left of her dignity. They made not a single sound as she walked sprinted by, nodding stiffly in respect to their Lady.

Cregan, however, did not share that same sentiment. Satisfied for the moment, smug, and seated lazily at the head of the table, legs spread comfortably as he sat back against his chair. He exhaled quietly through his nose once his vassals entered the room, the smallest of smirks written on his face that said more than his mouth ever could. "Where did we leave off last time?"

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[sirxlla]

I would absolutely ADORE “getting interrupted while having sex / about to have sex” w/ Damian 🤗

Off Time

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Spicy

Prompt: above ^^^^

Notes: DAMIAN IS OF AGE IN EVERYTHING I WRITE, female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

You let out a squeaky gasp as Damian continued his work between your thighs pulling his hair slightly. Damian moved your thighs over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around your thighs as he shoved his face impossibly closer to your core. He hummed against you which caused the already wonderful feeling to feel even more blissful.

Damian was an asshole earlier, and you had gone to the room by yourself to get away from him. He slipped into the bed behind you a few hours later and quietly kissed your neck as he whispered apologies into your ear. His hand moved down under your shirt and then down the front of your panties as he kissed you sweetly. He flipped you over and very swiftly flipped you over and kissed your breasts. His other hand massaged your breasts before he pulls your shirt up then moves his lips down your stomach. He licked over your panties then pulling them down with his teeth which led you two to where you are now.

Damian was so entranced and consumed by the attempt to bring you to completion, but as soon as he was just there, there was a knock at his door.

"Demon Child, Bruce needs you!" Jason bangs at the door over and over.

Damian groans against you and tries to ignore Jason, you do the same. He attempts to go back to his current and important task to him right now but Jason bangs again on the door.

"Now, Damian!" Jason says before banging on the door again which causes Damian to let you go.

"I'm sorry, Beloved. You can finish up without me if you want." He kisses your thigh before standing up and wiping his mouth.

"It's okay, Dami. Be safe, okay?" You knew that the likelihood that Damian would come back promptly or at all was low.

"I always am, My Love." He goes to peck your lips. As his lips brush, yours, Jason bangs on the door again.

"I'm coming, Jason! " He yells; Damian's getting pissed because there's no reason Bruce should be bothering him while it's his day off.

As he left, you suddenly became acutely aware of how much Jason ruined your mood. You were now annoyed as well and got up to go shower. You washed yourself off, redressed yourself, and laid back in the bed. Unfortunately, you couldn't find sleep so you sat up and started watching TV.

When Damian got home he showered and quickly slipped into bed with you. He turned off the light and pulled you close to him.

"I'm sorry, Beloved." Damian whispered into your hair as he played with your hair and began to relax after the bullshit patrol Bruce made him go on. There's no other place he'd be.

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

[crow-quilll]

hii! when are you gonna post chapter 11? i have been waiting impatiently ahhhh

Hello!! So sorry, just finished my last assignment today and NOW I am free from university's evil clutches for a whole week. SO I can say that Chapter 11 for Nobody's Soldier will be out tomorrow :) But as a little treat, here's a taste tester:

(CW!!: Aftermath of torture)

-----

"I lost, Young-il," Gi-hun's voice grows quieter, lower, more vulnerable, "I lost. I- I couldn't last through all of it, I gave the Front Man what he wanted."

He runs his own hands through his hair, resisting the urge to pull at the strands to distract himself from the dull, all-consuming shame.

"And then he came in here and--" 

Gi-hun cuts himself off, pressing his lips together as he instantly decides that he can't vocalize what happened next. He just can't. Telling Young-il about the torture was one thing, but telling him how the Front Man hand-fed him stew? How he gently caressed his face and called him "beautiful"?

No. Young-il didn't need to know all of that, he didn't. He would never be able to look at Gi-hun the same again without picturing the Front Man's hand wrapped around his throat, deciding if Gi-hun had behaved well enough to earn the privilege of breathing.

Young-il's hand finds his shoulder gently from behind, "I'm so sorry."

Gi-hun's shoulders lower with a shaking breath out, pulling his hands down from his face, "It doesn't matter, it's over now. We've got more important things to worry about." 

"Gi-hun, you are important," Young-il corrects him, forcefully turning him around to see his face, "How do you expect to lead a rebellion if you can barely stand?" 

"I can stand just fine," Gi-hun refutes stubbornly as he meets the other's eyes, ignoring the way his entire body trembles from supporting his own weight, "What time is it? How long until lights out?"

"Just stop," Young-il commands firmly, both hands finding the sides of his arms as if they never left, "take a breath." 

Gi-hun stares at him bewildered for a moment, something in him instinctively itching to disobey like a beaten dog that bites before it can be kicked again. He has to remind himself that he's talking to someone who genuinely wants to help. He tentatively obeys, taking a slow breath in and wincing at the movement of his mutilated ribs. He holds it for a moment, a dull blush creeping into his face at Young-il's close inspection, and lets the breath out through parted lips.

"We've got time, okay?" In-ho urges, rubbing the side of his arm gently, "You are bleeding through your bandages, so let me at least redress your wounds before you set off for another fight." 

"Young-il, I'm fine--"

"I shouldn't have to keep arguing with you about this," Young-il cuts his lie off, "I know you are in pain. Anyone would be after all you've been through."

Gi-hun grinds his teeth and looks away, "It's not that simple. If we don't make a move now--"

"Hey," Young-il's fingers find his chin and pull his face back up, forcing their eyes to meet, "do you trust me?" 

Gi-hun hesitates a little, swallowing the growing lump in his throat at the way that Young-il holds him. It resembles the Front Man's touch just enough to make him instantly nauseous -- but it's different. The Front Man's touch is cold and unyielding like the sharp kiss of frostbite, but Young-il's is tingly and pleasant like warm rain. And yet, a pit still curls in his gut like two frigid hands reached down his throat, took hold of his intestines, and wrung them like a wet towel.

He shouldn't be hesitating - why is he hesitating? Young-il has proven time and time again that he genuinely wants to help Gi-hun overthrow the Front Man. And yet, Gi-hun can't shake this haunting feeling that he's making the wrong choice.

But it's not Young-il making him hesitate, is it?

It's the Front Man and his games. Gi-hun has been warped like wood in water by this place. He can feel rot spreading to every facet of his being, chewing away at everything he is and ever will be like a cancer. His belief that he could rely on other people died with a whimper the day that Sang-woo bled out in his arms.

If he can believe that humanity is still capable of good, then why can't he trust anyone without waiting for a knife to dig into his back?

So, despite that sinking sensation in his chest, Gi-hun bites back his automatic reservations and lets his cracked walls lower.

"I trust you," Gi-hun says honestly, sounding far more breathless than he originally meant as he feels Young-il's breaths warming his face. 

Young-il's fingers fall away from his chin, his intense gaze softening like ice in sunlight, "Then let me help."

-----

Hehe, I hope you enjoyed this little appetizer. A new chapter is on its way, get ready my friends <3 <3

[honey-decadence]

Redress this Crush (Skater Suna x Fem reader)

[A Side]

A/N: So I saw @aekrn0's art of skater Suna and i spiraled H A R D, i was unwell for a whole week gah damn (if you're reading this, thank for such amazing artwork of my favorite aquarius <3)

CW: 1st year female reader, 3rd year Suna Rintarou, blood, infected wounds, medical help, cleaning wound, high school crush, mutual pinning, reader speaks with the kansai dialect, after school practice, flirting, Inarizaki team guest appearances

WC: 2,477 (enjoy!)

[B Side] - Soon

"Suna really?" you sigh exasperatedly.

This was what… the 4th time this month where Suna fell off his board now? Maybe the 15th time so far this year?

You had lost count in all honesty; it really didn't matter with how frequently he got hurt.

What started out as a small hobby quickly consumed a good portion of Suna's life; he was committed to landing tricks on his skateboard with ease one day. It all started last winter when you had shown him a few videos of yourself skating down by the beach and streets of your hometown as well as a few videos of tricks and stunts performed by professionals.

Though you were technically on a long board, a board built for cruising and riding with ease, Suna was more enamored by the flashiness of flipping a skateboard around and effortlessly taking off as if nothing happened. The pops and snaps of the board from those videos you showed him evoked some desire to do the same.

He's come a long way since his beginner days, he's now able to grind on rails and park benches, much to the annoyance of the residents in the neighborhood. It's not uncommon to hear about his "eventful" morning routes to school where he gets yelled at by elderly folk for skating in their vicinity. To make things worse, it was almost like Suna would bait them even more to shout more insults at him by obnoxiously popping his board in response to their heckling.

It's almost impressive.

But ever since then, he's gotten into more accidents.

In fact, he's the sole reason you bring a compact first aid kit with you at all times. To say Suna hasn't shown up to volleyball practice, limping like some injured animal, with some scrapes, bruises, and bleeding would be a complete lie.

And today was no exception, as their manager, you're the first to open the gym doors and take out equipment from the storage room while the boys slowly trickle in for practice. Suna wasn't usually first but whenever he showed up early, you already know exactly why that is. However there was also more to it than meets the eye.

You weren't oblivious, you loved seeing Suna chase: you knew he's had this crush on you for a long time now, you were the reason he started skating to begin with, and the day he finally gathers the courage to ask you out, you'd happily accept.

To put it shortly, you've had your eye on Suna for a while now.

From the distance you could tell his leg had bled profusely, much more than what you were used to seeing as he leaned against the door frame. You rummaged through your backpack and quickly found that small medical kit while Suna silently walked over and placed his board and bag on the floor next to you, smiling sheepishly as he did. You both didn't say a word to each other, this was already an unspoken ritual between the two of you.

You gesture for him to sit down as you lowered yourself to the floor, sanitizing your hands first. Following his routine, whenever Suna got injured, he'd show up to the gym, he'd explain the event and incident that lead to his accident and injury, then you'd patch him up before the other guys appear. And done.

A brief but cherishing moment.

Not that you mind though, it was rare for you two to have a moment alone together with those twins always making a ruckus, the team in general always bantering with one another as per usual, chaos ran rampant before coach started practice.

Suna was one of the quieter club members; while his silence and staring would made some people uncomfortable, it brought you a sense of calm and stillness, it was consistent and stable. You always admired his cool demeanor even during intense moments in matches, even when the odds are against your team.

As you were getting the alcohol prep ready, his nose wrinkled at the strong smell as he lowered himself to the floor, mentally preparing himself for the stinging pain that was about to come. It just so happened that his scrape was a… rather bothersome one, a constant pain in the ass.

Or more like a pain in the knee, Suna didn't bail correctly or in time and landed directly on his knee.

You can tell from this type of injury, every time Suna would stand up from his desk or sit down, his wound would reopen each time he extended or stretched his leg. The heavy bleeding from the initial impact stopped hours ago but the constant tearing and reopening of his wound allowed fresh blood to escape throughout the day.

"So what were ya doing this time senpai?" you teased. "I'll try to be gentle."

"You're gonna laugh when I tell you." he sighed through a smile, softly banging the back of his head against the gym wall behind him. "It's really dumb".

"Oh yeah?" you said while wiping away the dried trail of blood that went down his leg, resisting the urge to just grasp his hairy calf and give it a squeeze. "You fell into one of the neighbor's plants huh?"

"Nuh uh.. it's more embarrassing than that"

"Oh? Do tell." You snickered, waiting for Suna to unravel another crazy story for you.

"You're gonna laugh… I don't know if I should tell you"

"Tell me or I'm gonna pour all the alcohol on yer open cut right now senpai" You teased, gesturing the bottle close to him, making a motion that looked like you were going to spill all of it contents onto his wound.

He groaned in defeat.

"So on my way to school, I got distracted by a street cat. It looked like… it had the twin's eyebrows… and that's when my wheel got caught on a pebble I didn't see."

"So ya went flying?"

"Preeetty much yeah" Suna chuckled. "I told you it was really dumb"

"Ya need to find that cat and show me a picture of him! I need to see the Miya pussy" you said ever so nonchalantly, as if it was a normal occurrence.

Suna snorted, putting the back of his hand to his face as he let out a loud laugh. "Don't call it that Y/N"

You giggled, feeling full from his genuine laughter, it was always a treat to break down that stoic demeanor of his once in a while and it was especially sweeter whenever you make him crack in front of his teammates.

After wiping off the dried and caked stream of blood that ran down his leg, you reached for the other wipe, ready to confront the main cut itself. "You ready senpai?"

Suna reached for his track jacket, gripping it into a sizeable ball that would help him through the stinging pain. He held his breath, nodding his head and allowing you to proceed.

You slowly and lightly wiped his wound, noticing his grip tightening around his jacket. You felt horrible seeing him writhing in pain like this but it was necessary.

He probably didn't want to admit it but he likely got reprimanded by the assistant principal outside the school's gate this morning about his torn pants and was ordered to go to the nurse's office. You've seen how verbally abusive this guy was with other students who violated dress code policies in the past.

But knowing how cunning Suna is, he always stored an extra pair of clean uniform pants in his locker and just changed into that during classes. He knew that going to the nurse's office meant a phone call to his parents, something he would much rather avoid.

It meant a lot to you in a way, the way he preferred you over the school nurse, knowing you wouldn't say a single word to his mother.

Not that you could anyways, you've never met mama Suna before.

However, you couldn't help but feel a little pitiful for him as you wiped away dirt, gravel and infected parts of his wound; hours upon hours of bacteria festering and accumulating, it was hot to the touch and clearly inflamed from the lack of immediate medical attention.

Based from his furrowed eyebrows and low hissing, he was paying the price for his negligence.

The worst was over just as quickly as it had started, his wound was bright red again but at least now it was free of debris and other microbes. It was just time to apply a band aid and get a move on with today's drills.

His face and fist relaxed once you stopped wiping his open wound, he looked over to you as you piled the used materials and disinfected your hands again before pulling out a pastel pink box from your kit.

You noticed Suna looked hesitant, his face darkened a little as you pulled out some Hello Kitty band aids, arranging them from characters and colors before presenting them to him.

"What's up senpai?" you grinned, almost a little too fiendishly.

"Ah.. I was thinking… I don't need a band aid." he hesitated.

There was silence between you two, bird chirping and singing in their nests next to the gym in this sweltering June evening. You took a deep breath, shaking your head.

"Suna senpai you'll need some coverage while you're practicing don't be ridiculous."

As you leaned over to place the band aid on his scraped knee, his hands quickly engulfed yours, stopping you completely.

"You couldn't get some… less girly band aids at least?"

A smirk spread wide on your face, reveling at the thought of what Suna is gonna say next; you know he wouldn't reject the band aid if you played this card on him.

Your arms pushed forward, pushing back against his resistance.

"Well if ya don't like the Hello Kitty band aids then stop getting injured or ask our dear captain to patch ya up instead senpai!"

Suna came to an alarming halt.

He paused; his face turning white at the thought of "nurse" Atsumu doing a horrendous job of disinfecting his wounds, committing medical malpractice, or applying the wrong ointment and making his injury worse than before.

Realistically, Y/N was a better alternative than seeking out private healthcare and avoiding more skating related injuries.

His arms relaxed as he huffed out a defeated sigh. "I guess… If they're from you, I don't mind.. sorry", his voice hushed and low. His hands guided yours to where he felt the band aid would be most comfortable on his knee during practice.

Without a second thought, you dropped a line that neither of you expected, one that even took you aback as it came from nowhere:

"Good boy, come here"

You could feel the air thicken between you two after you said that, it was a little more forward than your usual flirtations with Suna and certainly he noticed, surely he must have.

Once you finishing applying the aid, you both stayed still for a moment, his hands still holding yours and rubbing his thumb over you. You looked up to see Suna looking at you intensely, his eyes unwavering, larger and more expressive than usual, his face turning a slight shade of pink.

Is he finally going to say it? Is he expecting you to accept his offer?

Your heart started beating faster the longer you two looked into each other's eyes, his hand slowing snaking its way over to your wrist, his fingers pressing firmly on the inside and taking your pulse. His intense expression slowly shifting into a foxy one; he got you right where he wanted you.

Your face started feeling hot, your breathing becoming staggered and uneven as you felt your heart pulsing loudly in your ears. For once, he was the one flirting back, not with words but with actions.

As you opened your mouth to say something, a boisterous voice snapped you both back to reality.

"Samuuuu stop yelling in ma ear!"

"Then don't spoil this week's shounen jump idiot! I was gonna read that when we got home ya' dumb ass"

The twins came barging in, Osamu pushing Atsumu's butt into the gym with his foot and almost making his brother trip over the stairs leading into it. The blondie stumbled and snapped back towards Osamu, more annoyed now.

"Don't push me jerk! Besides they're still in Dressrosa what else is new?" Atsumu hollered, taking the outdoor shoe in his hand and throwing it at Osamu, hitting him dead center on the chest and leaving a dusty footprint across his black shirt.

"That's not the point!"

Suddenly Ginjima's voice could be heard in the distance.

"Oi! Miya twins! Shaddup!!" Followed by some laughter from various teammates, approaching closer and closer. You then hear Kosaku raise his voice and joke, "If ya two don't stop, I'm giving ya both 5 across the ass!".

There a slight pause before both twins bursted into a roaring fit of laughter, just a suddenly as they started fighting, they were now holding onto each other for support as Ginjima, Kosaku, and the rest of the team entered the gym one by one, consumed by their antics. Practice was filled to the brim with cackling and teasing; just another typical start for the volleyball club today.

"What was that??" Osamu hollered, clutching his stomach, trying to get a hold of himself. Atsumu was gasping for air, making an exaggerated and audible gasp before he tried to speak to the team but failed. He just couldn't stop laughing, dropping his weight onto Osamu now.

While that commotion was going on, you quickly hopped on your feet, stiff and still, thinking of everything to calm yourself down before the twins noticed.

Though from the way it seems, all but one's attention was drawn to another squabble between the twins, and admittedly, this one was pretty entertaining.

Suna smiled fondly as he shook his head and rose to his feet, laughing to himself. The timing of these two clowns was unbelievable.

He stepped over to you, patting your back and placing his hand over your shoulder, giving it a small but very intentional squeeze. He leaned down to your level before murmuring into your ear.

"Thanks Y/N. There's something I wanna talk to you about. Meet me after practice?"

Your voice was caught in your throat, unable to break through and respond back; the most you could manage was a tense nod.

After your confirmation, Suna trotted off to join the circus. You smiled intensely, knowing for what's to come in a couple of hours. For now, all you could think about was the lingering feeling of his hand on your shoulder, trying so hard to engrave his presence into your memory.

*Video and song edited by NicoAlex, purely for creative purposes, not meant to be reposted or shared elsewhere*

special shoutout to @joy-girl for the hello kitty band aid idea ily ❤️🥺

[cryobabiess]

I love you, it's ruining my life.

Lucas Reyes x Ghost!reader

Synopsis: Lucas catches feelings, but he's pretty sure it was the toad venom's fault. Tags: Fluff, Angst, Short fic, Drabble, age gap, loser in love, slight nsfw, afab!reader, request A/N: Listen, someone had to write something. Shout out to the 5 other people who get it. IYKYK. This was originally a request, but I wanted to post separately just in case I feel like continuing, idk.

You make him feel old—not that he would ever tell you that. Lucas is an alcoholic (functioning, of course). He’s pushing 50. His exhaustion is bone deep and angry. Gone are his days as a young and scrappy FBI operative with aggressive stamina and limitless joint mobility. His knees crack when he stands up, and his back fucking hurts. 

He's a washed up, tired, and downright old son'uva bitch.

These are all things he would admit without a gun to his head.

And to be frank, there’s usually a gun.

But Lucas would rather let the death that’s been chasing him finally finish the job than admit that you make him feel…something. Something that made his transition from petty political enemy to global terrorist threat only a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things—from bad to only slightly worse, but better in an abysmal sort of way. He felt it when he was fucked up off that vial of toad venom, when he grabbed your deceivingly delicate face in between his hands.

“I need you alive.” He slurred, his heart a poorly timed surprise away from cardiac arrest, and his pupils blown wide. About 1,000 complex feelings consumed him in that moment—all telling him that the only way to communicate them was to hoist you up by the back of your thighs, fuse your body into his, and kiss you. 

“The world needs you alive.” He blubbered, fighting the urge to bury his beat-up face in the crook of your neck. Right there, in the midst of a plane ride he was 90% sure he wouldn't survive, you restored every piece of his moral backbone that had been crushed. He swore he saw the future in those big, confused eyes. His purpose. He needed to tell you. He wanted to whisper it against your mouth, with his forehead pressed against yours, as if being inside you could communicate what words couldn't.

Somehow, the toad venom lost to the tiny sliver of reason in his concussed mind (you can’t pickle a pickle). 

He knew he was royally fucked when he woke up in a hospital bed in a dilapidated warehouse, crude and brightly colored children’s drawings decorating the concrete walls. Through bloodshot eyes, he watched you redress the gunshots he took on your behalf and thought: I’ll follow her anywhere.  (Like he said—Fucked.)

You. The Ghost.

A 20-something-year-old “terrorist” on a global hit list. Blowing up sweatshop factories and debt collection data servers, committing cyber crimes for resistance organizations. Pointlessly raging against a massive, bloodthirsty machine with infinite resources, money, and warm bodies to defend it. He used to be one of those bodies.

Lucas had enough years under his belt to know that all your effort and sacrifice, though deeply admirable, might be futile. The rich will get richer, and the rest of us devoured by their machines. Arbitors of justice rarely catch a break—a 2 year long lesson he learned in Bangkok. He knows better.

Two weeks in a make-shift hospital bed passed, and his better judgment is nowhere to be found. He might have left it on the plane.

“I’m getting too old for this.” He hisses as you tightly wrap a clean dressing around his shoulder, where a knife was lodged. 

“At least you’re not dead.” You retort. Lucas wheezes a laugh. It fucking hurts.

He would've died for you anyway. 

[eleanorblythe]

Wicked Game - Emmrich and Emlygil (Rook) - Chapter 24

Chapter summary: Lessons in anatomy.

NSFW warning: discussions about sex, cunnilingus, fingering, breast play, breastfeeding, slight Oedipal complex, dry humping, implied blow-job.

This bitch is nearly 10k words, y’all…

You can also read on Ao3 here

Chapter 24 - Thief of Heart and Stone

Neve was cautious about entering the library.

She was not expecting to find Emlygil bent over the shelves as Emmrich had his way with her - as Taash had ‘helpfully’ informed them - they were not having sex. But if the hickey, almost hidden on Emlygil’s neck, was anything to go by, they were certainly exploring their relationship. Neve chose not to point this out, knowing how Emlygil liked her privacy, and also knowing how well this particular group of supposed adults reacted to such discoveries. She could only pray that her and Lucanis could remain a secret just that little bit longer.

She stepped through the library doors and didn’t hear any high pitched moans or low grunts, but the place was vast, so Neve risked it.

“Emmrich? Emlygil? Are you in here?” she shouted to give them a chance to stop and redress if needed.

“Neve, why are you screaming? We’re right here,” a soft voice said next to her. Neve looked around the corner of a nearby shelf and saw the couple looking up at her, very much clothed and sitting at a table, both with open notebooks and textbooks open to specific pages. They looked as if they were studying for something.

“Ah there you are, what are you two up to?”

“Emlygil is continuing to teach me Elvish. How can we help, Neve?” Emmrich said looking to his partner, beaming with pride. Neve couldn’t help the fond smile lifting the corners of her lips, before quickly correcting herself.

“We have a woman in Dock Town: Sabina, a city elf, she’s an informant for the Shadow Dragons. She’s lost her husband and last she heard, he was going to The Snake Nest. I wondered if you might want to help, it’s been a while since you’ve checked in with the Shadow Dragons, ever since…” Neve didn’t finish her sentence, and looked uncertainly at Emlygil, but they all knew what she was referring to.

Since Emlygil saw how her kind lived in Minrathous. Since she walked their destitute and dangerous shanty towns. Since she let her seething anger consume her and she nearly ripped the head off of a Venatori agent while tracking down Damas.

“I will come with you Neve,” Emlygil said agreeably.

“Why don’t I come with you two?” Emmrich asked. “I myself haven’t returned to Minrathous since…that day.” He added uncomfortably. Emlygil smirked and waved her feather quill in his direction.

“You can’t be without me?”

“Excuse me, young lady, when was the last time I accompanied you on a mission?”

“Point taken. Are you alright with that Neve?”

“Sure. The more the merrier.” Neve arranged a time to leave the Lighthouse the next day and left them to their language lesson. Emmrich made a few notes and repeated what he was previously practising. Emlygil listened closely and nodded in approval.

“Try not to roll your r’s too much, though. We’re not learning Ativan”

“You’re saying I have too much flair?” Emmrich joked.

“Darling, it’s you, of course it’s too much flair. Your coat literally has gold pelvic bone detailing.”

“I like to think it’s distinctive.”

“Yes, because that’s something you lack…distinction.” Emlygil drawled. “You know Harding thought you were nobility?”

“Yes, I’m afraid to say I laughed in her poor, confused face. Who knew, the real nobility was the quiet beauty with astonishing eyes.” Emlygil rolled her supposed astonishing eyes, but leaned over her notebook, dropping her voice to a seductive whisper.

“Are you trying to flatter me, so I won't reprimand you for the appalling pronunciation of that last phrase?”

“Actually I was planning to distract you with a myriad of kisses so you would forget all about it,” Emmrich whispered back before closing the small gap and pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Who would have thought that Professor Volakrin would be such a delinquent student?” Emlygil breathed as Emmrich moaned and kissed her again, becoming more insistent and moving out of his chair to kneel before her.

She knew what calling him ‘Professor’ did to him.

“The worst. You should really discipline me.” He said against her lips. Emlygil escaped his lip lock and gripped his jaw with just enough force to make him moan again. During their ‘explorations’ Emmrich had rediscovered that he enjoyed when his partners were a little firm. He looked up at her through hooded eyes, “You are the most wonderful teacher,”

Emlygil couldn’t help how her eyes widened in remembrance and she looked away, embarrassed. Emmrich seized the opportunity and crawled around to the other side of her chair to catch her gaze again.

“Why so shy, my love? Do you balk at the idea of me giving you praise.”

“No, it’s just- I remember you’ve said as such before - well, a version of you, did.”

“Colour me intrigued,” Emmrich nodded and encouraged her to go on.

“It was the day I met the Inquisitor. I dreamed of us…” Emmrich’s smile only grew wider.

“Did you?” He asked suggestively.

“Yes. And it is exactly the kind of dream you can imagine.”

“We had not known each other, barely a month.”

“Yes. I know.” She said through gritted teeth. “You infuriating man.”

Emmrich rose from kneeling before her and extended a hand to help her get up. Slightly confused, she accepted it and he led her to the more comfortable armchair and sat down. Emlygil frowned, wondering where there would be space for her before he lightly pulled her towards him and she was forced to straddle his hips.

“I want you…” Emmrich said as he took the opportunity to grope the flesh of her behind. “…to tell me. Every. Single. Detail.” He leaned up to nip her neck.

She told him. Of the feel of the sheets against her skin. Of his lips around the shell of her ear. Of his hands rocking her hips. Of his tongue over her breast. Of the energy and passion of their lovemaking.

Emmrich listened very attentively. Nodding at certain points and his fingers skating over her curves as she spoke. When she had finished describing her dream Emmrich hummed thoughtfully before dipping his finger down the cleavage of her dress.

“And what did you do after you awoke?” He purred.

“Nothing.” She said, a little confused.

Emmrich blinked and looked up at her, mildly astonished. Removing his hands from her chest and placing them on her waist.

“Nothing at all?”

“I was needed, and besides I’d never really…touched myself before.”

“What?” Emmrich couldn’t help raise his voice in surprise.

“Well I’m sure I must have done so in my adolescence, but once I had reached maturity and my responsibilities increased, I didn’t have the time or the interest to do so.”

“You’ve never had a dalliance with a dashing young elf before?”

“There was a boy who was one of the general’s sons when I was a child. He kissed me after discovering me in a rose bush, playing hide and seek.”

“How charming, but was that all?”

“When you’re heir to a throne, you’re surprisingly not allowed to have much of an opinion when it comes to selecting a consort. There was a team of people who found appropriate candidates, but again, I had my own responsibilities and interests. I didn’t need to get serious about selecting anyone for a few more years, so I never pursued the matter.”

“What about in the event you finally did find a potential husband?” Emmrich asked, fascinated about the inner workings of royal courts.

“What do you mean?”

“Would there have been time to get acquainted and fall in love?”

Emlygil looked at him as though he had gone insane.

“Goodness no! The function of a consort is to produce heirs - love is irrelevant. It can be a pleasant but rare bonus.”

“But were you not instructed on the…art of producing heirs?” Emmrich phrased carefully. Emlygil gave a little titter and shook her head.

“I was told it would be self explanatory, if there was blood on the wedding night it was to be deemed a success.”

It was Emmrich’s turn to shake his head, though more vehemently and lightly stroked the sides of her waist.

“That is most certainly not how one should determine a success. Ideally you shouldn’t bleed at all, and if the one who gave you that knowledge had any of their own, they would know that a woman’s pleasure was a vital ingredient when trying to conceive!”

“Did you ever have children?” She asked curiously, realising she had never thought to ask any of the companions of their families before.

“N-no. I never had the opportunity to consider a family.” The melancholy was evident in his voice and Emlygil gave a sympathetic smile before stroking an errant strand of hair away from his face.

“How are you so well versed in…’the art of producing heirs’?”

“I read up about it. You know me, Emlygil. I am nothing if not a voracious learner. Of everything, and speaking of voraciousness,” Emmrich placed his hands in their previous position, trailing up her waist, coming around her front and delicate finger starting to pull her dress to the side..

“You were the one who insisted on our lesson tonight!” Emlygil protested weakly.

“I’m afraid my dear, you cannot tantalise me with that vivid a description of your dream and not expect some…repercussions.” He spoke his last words against her skin as he planted wet, sloppy kisses against her sternum. Emlygil rolled her eyes, initially in sarcasm and quickly melting into pleasure - damn his tongue - she clutched him close to her as he busied himself and his hands had found their way under the skirt of her dress without her realising, kneading and caressing her.

His hands started to wonder and Emlygil felt those searching, curious fingers trace lower and lower until they brushed against the outer edge of her underwear. She shivered and whimpered just as she heard Emmrich gasp beneath her and he looked up at her in wonder.

“My darling!” He practically glowed with happiness. “You’re soaked.” He experimentally swiped his fingers over her entrance again and he felt her nails dig into his shoulders as she suppressed another moan. “I could always take over the lesson - though my instruction will be a bit more practical,”

Though when he looked up through his smouldering eyes he saw that same trace of fear in her eyes, hidden behind her adoration and arousal. He moved his hands to the slightly safer destination of her upper thighs and changed his smoulder to a look of sweet concern.

“We don’t have to, Emlygil.” He said kindly. Emlygil groaned in frustration and bent over to rest her head on her shoulder.

“This is ridiculous. It’s been some time now since we’ve started these experiments-“

“My beloved, it’s only been a couple of weeks-“

“-I should want you to touch me! I mean- I do want you to touch me, but I just-“ her voice wavered as she started to get upset. Emmrich removed his hands entirely from under her dress and wrapped his arms protectively around her as she started to cry. He could sense she was becoming even more frustrated by crying, but just couldn’t stop.

“Emlygil, don’t upset yourself like this! Do I need to repeat my promise to you? I would wait a thousand lifetimes to share in your body - or not at all! If that is what you wish, do not force yourself to be ready for me, please.” She didn’t answer but he felt her small, tentative nod against his neck as she calmed down. When she finally looked him in the eye again he kissed away her tears and stroked her cheek. “You are precious to me, beyond measure, please remember that.”

She nodded and kissed him, pouring her love, her frustration and devotion into every touch of their lips. When she finally settled back into his arms they continued their language lesson, though more informally. She would whisper phrases into his skin and he would decipher their meaning.

Emmrich had no idea the Elves had so many different ways of saying ‘I love you’.

______

Docktown was as noisy and dirty as ever. After reacquainting herself with the Shadow Dragons, Emlygil, Neve and Emmrich made their way to The Snake Nest to track down Atticus, their missing man.

“What do you know about this place?” Emlygil asked.

“It used to be a busy place, word is it’s slowed down.” Neve didn’t have much more information to offer and they soon arrived at The Snake Nest. Another seedy bar. Emlygil resisted the urge to sarcastically remark how Neve always brought her to the best places.

When Neve said the place had slowed down, she hadn’t expected the place to be completely empty - save for one passed out man, slumped at the end of the bar. Neve approached the bartender and got down to business.

“We’re looking for someone named Atticus.”

“Haven’t seen anyone.” The elf bartender responded bluntly.

“He was meeting someone here. He disappeared.”

“Yeah. People do that all over.”

“Well, we’re still looking into it.”

“Wasting your time’s your business.” It was clear the worker would offer no more information. Neve looked back and rolled her eyes. Typical Docktown. See nothing. Hear nothing.

Emlygil stepped forward and muttered something to the bartender in Elvish. The woman looked back a little confused and then annoyed. Wanting these patrons out of her bar.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you all need to leave. Now.”

Emlygil sneered and pushed off the bar she was leaning on.

“Of course you didn’t,” she mocked before leaving with Neve and Emmrich. Emmrich didn’t catch everything Emlygil said, but he picked up the odd word - most notably ‘betray’ and a creative curse Emmrich didn’t wish to repeat.

They were going to search the surrounding area and they came across a locked door splattered with blood. As they searched they found a bag stuffed behind some crates with a note addressed to their missing person:

Atticus,

I know this will arrive late, but I need to talk to you. I need help. Please.

I’ll be at the Snake Nest.

The blood pattern looked as if someone had been dragged through the door. They retraced the trail and it led to a bloodied shirt.

“There are no cuts in the material. The blood didn’t belong to the owner.” Neve noticed.

The trail continued under another locked door, however this one looked much older and weaker than the other door and with a well timed shoulder shove, the door broke open. They ransacked the place and discovered a journal belonging to someone named ‘Linus’ chronicling the rapid decline of the health of his child Reggie. Apparently Atticus had a way he could help…cure him?

Linus Prosper. The owner of The Snake Nest.

“We need to go back. That bartender must know something.”

When they stepped through the bar’s entrance again the bartender rolled their eyes and groaned loudly.

“I already told you, I don’t know anything, get out of my bar!”

“A man named Atticus came to the Snake Nest. We know he was headed here. That your boss, Linus, knows him. We’ve been to Linus’ home…”

As Neve spoke, they all saw the hardened look start to crack and fear come through.

“Alright! It’s the boss. He’s been acting weird since the kid got sick. Urgent meetings…always checking the storage. But your Neve Gallus. If you think you can do something, I’ll let you in.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Neve said, her voice bearing the weight of everyone in Docktown who relied on her.

“Here’s the key. Storage is across the road.”

They followed the blood trail through the storage room, past a few false walls and doors disgusted as bottle racks until they found an elevator that took them deep below Minrathous’ subterranea.

“All of this is down here?” Emlygil asked, quietly amazed.

“Oh, we have all sorts, be wary.” Neve said as she walked on, staff raised. They came to a dingy basement room and saw dozens of bodies all in various states of dismemberment, arranged in a pentagram.

“Oh gods.” Emlygil breathed before gagging on the smell of rot and decay. They searched around and found a final note from Linus. And hanging above them: Linus himself.

“He made a pact with a demon. To save his kid. But the price was too high.” Neve surmised.

“It wasn’t blood the demon truly wanted.” Emmrich explained. “The real feast would have been the emotional turmoil from this man’s desperation.” Emmrich elaborated.

Emlygil didn’t want to be here any longer than she had to so she grabbed a chair and searched Linus’ body. Emmrich steadied her as she reached up to his pockets and removed a blood stained key.

“Let’s see where this goes.” Emlygil said as she accepted Emmrich’s hand as he helped her down. He squeezed her hand and quietly asked if she was okay. She nodded and kissed his hand still holding hers.

The key led to a smaller room where a body was slumped over in a cage. She reached through and peered at a locket around the dead man’s neck. When she opened it, she realised who it was. The engraving read:

Atticus & Sabina

“We should get this back to her.” Emlygil said once she showed the others. It was a labyrinth to navigate out of but eventually they made it back to surface level and informed Sabina what had transpired.

“Sabina?” Neve asked, not wanting to deliver the bad news.

“You’re back! But, Atticus…”

“The man who took Atticus’ life, he thought it would save his child, but it wasn’t right.”

“Atticus.” Sabina sobbed.

“If there’s anything you need. The Shadow Dragons can help.” Neve said handing over the locket they found.

“I don’t know…I need time. And to put his name on the Wall Of Light. Thank you at least, for letting me know.”

The trio were a bit despondent as they walked back towards the Shadow Dragons headquarters. Emmrich didn’t want Emlygil to leave Minrathous once again with an unpleasant memory. As Neve fed back to Ashur, Emmrich pulled Emlygil into a dark alcove behind a curtain and snuck a passionate kiss. He heard her adorable squeak and took the opportunity to slip his tongue past her parted lips as she gasped. She responded to his urgency in kind, tangling her fingers in his hair and doing her best not to climb him like a tree.

“Stay here, let me take you to lunch, let’s explore this city - away from the squalor and pain.” Emmrich murmured in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe. Emlygil couldn’t form words or even coherent thoughts as his mouth and tongue worked his way downwards, working on a second love bite.

“Emmrich-!” She gasped, seriously contemplating letting Emmrich do whatever he wished, in public. A hair's breadth away from other Shadow Dragon operatives. Emmrich popped his head up to look at her. A devilish smile on his face.

“Say yes, my darling. Let’s spend the day together.”

“If I say yes will you stop ravishing me in this not-at-all private area?”

“If you wish it, Emlygil,” he challenged.

“Just because you’re beautiful, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have some decorum.” Emlygil answered back, still holding on tightly to his waist, not wanting to leave the warmth of his embrace.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Emmrich asked teasingly.

“You know I think that!” Emlygil raised her voice a little, exasperated. Emmrich grinned a big stupid grin again on his big, stupid, dumb, beautiful, handsome face-

The curtain was quickly drawn aside and an amused Neve stood the other side, eyeing the two of them with one eyebrow raised. The couple still wrapped up in each other’s arms, Emmrich’s hair askew, his ringed hand gripping her thigh possessively, hiked up over his hip.

“Yes, Em, please spend the day with him. Don’t let the poor man hang any longer.”

“Neve! I-“

“I’ll finish up here, you two lovebirds go, I promise that this-“ she gestured between them “is safe with me. Now go, before I change my mind.”

Emmrich couldn’t stop the uncontrollable giggle that burst forth from him at Emlygil’s mortified expression and buried his face in her neck.

“I’m going to kill you, Volkarin.” She said through gritted teeth.

“Ah, to die in your arms, what a pleasure.” He muffled, pressing a kiss against her slightly elevated pulse. She lightly shoved him away and adjusted her clothing.

“Oh, shut up!” She said with no real bite. She took his hand and led him away from the Shadow Dragons HQ, a small smile playing in her features. She had her love by her side. She wanted for nothing else.

______

They found themselves in Hightown, a fancier district of the city that sat above Docktown. For the amount of power Tevinter had, they clearly had no imagination when it came to naming parts of their cities. They had lunch in a sweet little cafe and then Emmrich insisted that they walk to see the grand statue of Faustina of the famous poem. The marble woman cut an impressive figure, beautiful and imposing all at once. Emmrich was thrilled he was finally able to see it after all this time.

“Was it everything you’d hoped it would be?” Emlygil asked, delighted at seeing Emmrich stare up in childlike wonder.

“With you by my side, even more so. You know I haven’t forgotten that night under the oak tree, reading you Faustina’s song. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget? I thought it was the night you might kiss me.”

“Would you have let me, if I did?”

“I probably would have run, but I wanted to,” Emlygil smiled “I much preferred tormenting the two of us for another month, die and then come back before I kissed you,”

Emmrich tsked and pulled her into his arms.

“You maddening creature,” he hummed before dipping and kissing her.

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed.

“I thought that’s what you loved about me!”

“I love many things about you, darling, we’d be here all day if I were to list them.”

“Oh, but do! Do list them all, boost an old man’s ego, hmm?”

“You’re an idiot, Emmrich,” she said with a lovesick smile.

“Your idiot, Emlygil. All yours.” He poked her nose and delighted in the way her nose crinkled and she turned away shyly. “I spied a jewellery store on our walks around these gardens, would you permit us to go in? It would be nice to find a piece to add to my collection to commemorate this lovely afternoon together.” She nodded and arm in arm they walked to the jewellers Emmrich had spotted earlier.

It was very fancy.

There was no other word for it. Even Emlygil felt a little subdued walking into the cool lobby surrounded by a thousand glinting objects. Emmrich wanted a ring and went straight for the ring cabinets. Picking a piece of grave gold, from what Emlygil had learned, was quite a serious business so she left him to deliberate while she looked at some ornate headbands that look suspiciously like crowns.

“Darling, what do you think?” Emmrich called her over, he was blissfully unaware of the dirty looks the shop keepers shot her. Up until this point they had assumed she was merely his attendant. She took a breath and approached with a soft smile - it wasn’t personal. Even in the more affluent and well-to-do parts of the city, it was still Minrathous.

She peered down at the gold, silver and gemstones staring up at her in the glass reflection.

“Which ones were you contemplating?”

“Ah. Now that is the question. I like this one, the gold signet ring, but I also like this one here, it reminds me of my father’s ring. What do you think?”

She liked both of them, but her eyes were drawn to something else completely. A simple gold band, but with a swirling green and grey gemstone inlaid in the centre, very eye-catching and yet understated. Emmrich followed her gaze and saw what she was looking at.

“That one? What made you choose that one?”

“They remind me of your eyes.” She said simply. Emmrich couldn’t help his eyes welling up with tears but he gave a polite cough and nodded.

“Done. Excuse me! I think I’ve found a piece I would like to purchase.” He called out to a nearby clerk. They approached, giving Emmrich a polite smile and a quick glare to Emlygil as they approached the glass case.

“Yes sir, how can I help?”

“I would like to take this ring please,” he said pointing.

“I’m sorry sir, but that ring is not for sale,” they sneered.

“I-I don’t understand, why have something on display in a jewellery store if it is not available for purchase?”

This time the worker made a very unsubtle stare at Emlygil and Emlygil did her best not to waver and pretend it didn’t bother her.

“We have to make sure that our jewellery is in the hands of…appropriate clientele.” They looked Emlygil up and down, contempt completely on show. Emmrich stammered indignantly before speaking again.

“I don’t appreciate what you are insinuating, good sir!” He bit the last words out, for he did not think this worker was ‘good’ nor noble enough to be a ‘sir’.

“Then allow me to be clear so there is no insinuation or confusion. We will not sell you or your knifeeared beloved. Ever.”

“Now you listen here-!”

“Emmrich, it’s fine, let’s just go,”

“It is most certainly not fine! They cannot speak to or about you like this!”

“I must ask that the two of you leave, and never come back.” The shop keeper was about to gesture to other workers nearby to escort them out when a monumental crash sounded in the distance making everyone jump. A marble bust displaying a heavy diamond necklace had given up its fight with gravity and had fallen onto another glass cabinet shattering it and making a very expensive mess. “OUT!” The man yelled again before rushing over to salvage the jewels from the glass.

Emmrich and Emlygil made a hasty exit.

“Maker’s breath! That was ghastly! Are you alright, my love?” Emmrich asked, holding her face in his hands, looking at her with such deep and aching concern.

“Emmrich, I’m fine, this is not the first, nor will this be the last racist encounter I have in this city.”

“That’s not acceptable! How dare they speak to you like that!”

Emlygil silenced his oncoming rage with a kiss, she pulled him against her as she leaned against a nearby wall. Despite his anger he couldn’t resist his little love, and her tender touch. When he pulled back for some air he rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m so sorry, Emlygil. I wanted to take you for a lovely afternoon away from all of the harm and horror of the world.”

“Emmrich, it's not your job to single-handedly end racism in Minrathous. The very foundations of this empire were founded on the slavery of my people. It will take more than an ignorant store clerk to undo that. I’m fine, really. This is still a lovely day, I’m with you.”

Emmrich looked unconvinced. She kissed him again then fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“Buy me one of these ‘ice creams’ I’ve heard Harding talk about here?” Emmrich gave a defeated smile and offered his arm.

“For you? Anything, my love.”

Emmrich still felt uneasy about what he had witnessed today, but Emlygil had seemed happily occupied with her ice cream, licking and humming at the taste, hugging his arm as they walked and occasionally offering it up for him to have a taste. It was heavenly, but what was more heavenly was when he got to taste it on her lips when he would bend down to ‘clean her up’.

______

When they returned to the Lighthouse it was just in time for dinner, after which Emlygil said she was going to have a lie down. Emmrich spent some time catching up with Bellara before returning to his own rooms.

On his desk was a small velvet box. When he opened it he saw the hazel gemstone shining back at him. He was staggered. How-?

He marched to Emlygil’s room and entered without knocking. He found her sat in an armchair writing in her journal propped on her lap. She looked up with a confused smile which grew into a sly smile when he raised the box aloft.

“Emlygil!” He said scandalised. “What is this?”

“That is a ring.”

“Is it the same ring from that shop?”

“Yes.”

“You stole it?!”

“I prefer to think of it as a reparation.”

“Emlygil! You shouldn’t have- wait! That accident, was that you as well?!”

“…maybe.”

“Emlygil!” He scolded. “…how?” He then added curiously.

“A subtle wind spell, it’s not my fault their display was precarious!”

“You-you! You continue to surprise me,” she closed her journal and set it aside, holding out her arm for him to come and join her. He rolled his eyes at her antics, but smiled as he settled next to her on the adjoining chaise. “It is a beautiful ring.” He said as he admired it in its case.

“Where will you wear it?” She asked, taking the box from him and spreading his hands out, admiring the already several rings that adorned his slender fingers.

“I may have to rearrange some of them, I don’t have much room,”

“What about this finger? This one is bare,” she said, fiddling with his fourth finger on his left hand.

“Ah. I’ve always left that one empty,” Emmrich said, a little embarrassed.

“Why?”

“I-I don’t know if the custom is the same for Elves, but in Nevarra this is the finger typically reserved for…wedding bands.” Emmrich smiled at her sadly.

“Oh.” She stroked over his knuckle and waited, she sensed he wanted to say something else.

“I suppose I always thought I’d get married some day, there’s a silly superstition that wearing a non-wedding band on that finger is bad luck and you’ll be cursed to loneliness forever - It’s silly, I know, but I’d wanted a family for so long and the older I got, I wanted it all the more, but… eventually I wondered if it was meant to be at all. Until you. It’s fitting really, grave gold is typically given by important people to the wearer’s life and signifies important life events…”

Emlygil was surprised. “I-I suppose I didn’t fully realise the significance of giving you such a ring…” she had worried she had inadvertently proposed. Emmrich connected the dots of her thoughts and rushed to explain.

“Not that I think we should get married! I mean- I love you and it would be an honour to spend the rest of my life with you, as a partner, but we should probably wait until we’ve dealt with the gods. I mean we should probably have a conversation about what we both want before we make any decision like that- I don’t want to assume that’s something you want- is that something you want? We don’t need to talk about this now, I’m just- goodness is it getting a bit warm-“

Emlygil finally put the man out of his misery and planted her lips on his to shut him up. When she pulled away Emmrich was a little red and struggling to meet her gaze.

“You’re so adorable,” she said sweetly.

“I’m glad you find my embarrassment ’adorable’.”

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed, we are already bonded by life, after all.”

“I wouldn’t want to force or rush any decision,” Emmrich reassured.

“I know you wouldn’t. Let us not speak of it anymore, for now.” Emmrich nodded and she started to feel and examine the rest of his grave dowry. “I’ve never asked you what each piece means,”

“Well it would take some time to tell the story of every piece I wear.” Emmrich warned.

“Do you have something more pressing to do?” Emlygil asked, half genuine and half teasing.

“Not at all, I simply do not wish to bore you,”

“It is important to you - a part of you. It would never bore me.” She said very seriously. Emmrich was touched by her sincerity and so invited her to join him on the chaise and together they spent the next hour cataloging every piece of his grave gold.

The ring with the large stone, that was the last gift from his father.

The bracelet he received when becoming a fully fledged member of the Mourn Watch.

The skull pin he found at a market stall when travelling the Anderfels.

She sat and listened as he described them all. Every story. Every detail she filed it away in her memory and added it to her ever growing image of him.

“Do you take them off very often?” She asked.

“Not usually, it takes some time to take them off and put them on again, especially with the glove, I take them off to bathe of course and occasionally to sleep, if I’m not up working late into the night, it can be quite therapeutic to clean them though, I used to do it every week, but there has been other things that have taken precedent over that these last few months.”

Emlygil hummed and leaned over to kiss his left hand trailing up and settling on his jaw, pressing soft kisses, feeling a small burn as his stubble just started to come through. When she leaned back and looked into his eyes, he recognised a strange glint in hers.

“Emlygil?”

“I want you to touch me.”

“Are you sure? I-“

“Emmrich. Just kiss me.” She spoke quickly. How could he refuse? He cupped her jaw as his lips slotted over hers. A perfect fit. A perfect feel. A perfect kiss. His hand trailed over her neck, over the small bruise he made and down her chest, squeezing and stroking over the sensitive parts of her he had come to learn so far. He appreciated the feel of the material she wore - soft and silky - it allowed him to feel every contour of her body. She sighed against his lips as his hand found their way into the opening of her dress and careful fingers found her nipple, circling and lightly pulling her taut bud. She pulled away and hissed as the cold metal of one of his bangles caught against her. Emmrich looked down at his hands and then sat back in his seat.

“If I am to do this properly, I should remove these. Skin on skin contact is so important don’t you agree?” Emmrich murmured. Emlygil nodded and her eyes darted around the room. Obviously spotting something, she got up, Emmrich looked up in confused betrayal before seeing what she was after. She came back and sat, placing a decorative bowl between them. Emmrich was touched by the gesture, he had planned to just remove his jewellery and then search for them when he was finished but she had just spent the last hour learning the story of each piece, and how special they were, she wanted to treat a sacred custom to him with the respect it deserved.

“May I help?” She asked almost timidly. Emmrich nodded and kissed her forehead before slowly removing the chain that connected his thumb ring to one of his bracelets. Carefully, reverently, she removed each ring from his left hand, then his right and carefully placed it in the bowl. Emmrich removed his bracelets and finally his glove.

He had never felt more naked.

Once everything was removed Emlygil turned his hands over and delicately traced each finger with her own, memorising the palm lines and carefully feeling over the black scar on his right hand. Now she could see the scar in something other than moonlight, she was struck by how painful it looked. While Emmrich had told her the pain was long gone it did not take away from the way it had burned on his skin, never fully allowing it to heal. She realised she was probably being morbid and staring too long. She looked up to see him watching her intently.

“I’m sorry.”

“Does it bother you?”

“No. Never. I’m sorry for staring, that was rude.”

“No, it’s fine I-I don’t let people see it very often. It’s an ugly scar.”

“It’s not. You said yourself, it tells your story. It’s beautiful. You are beautiful.” She said imploringly, crawling into his lap and cradling his beautiful face, with his beautiful wet eyes. He gasped and nodded, blinking back his tears.

“I love you so much.” He shook his head up at her, not quite believing this girl was here, willing to share such an intimate part of herself with him, telling him he was beautiful, telling him he was worthy.

“And I love you. Please touch me.” They both met halfway in a passionate, desperate kiss. Unrestrained by fear and loathing. She experimentally grinded against his lap and whimpered into his mouth. A spark of pleasure igniting months of pining and longing and anguished love from afar. Tonight she would finally take that first step.

She wouldn’t let her life be ruled by fear.

Emmrich groaned as he felt her core brush against his erection and it was as if all the buzzing noise - the questions, the worries, his own insecurities- had all completely melted away. He was here. She was here. She wanted him. She wanted him.

She wanted him.

With her straddled above him, he began his quest to kill her with a thousand and one kisses and began to touch her, his own hands feeling slightly alien to start with, unused to the loss of weight and protection all of his adornments offered, but under the gaze of her equally alien and staggering eyes he did not feel scrutinised.

He felt seen.

He touched her. Everywhere. His lips and tongue followed where his hand had trailed. He was sure to pay special attention and dedicate time to the worship of her splendorous tits; kissing and licking and nibbling and sucking, drinking in her beautiful moans and sighs with his every movement. As his hands groped her ass, he wanted nothing more than to smother himself and hope to die a satisfied man. Even through the thin material of her dress he could feel she was wearing underwear. He leaned back and saw her puffy lips and felt her rapid heartbeat against his own.

“Stand up.” He rasped.

She did so unquestioningly and stood before him, her hair and dress disheveled.

“Remove your underwear.” He ordered again, voice slightly stronger now. Emlygil reached her hands under her dress and went to pull them down “Ah! Ah- Slowly.” He cautioned her gently. She nodded and did as he asked when she had pulled them all the way down, she was so shaky getting them off her ankles she nearly tripped Emmrich rose and steadied her with a quick nod of questioning. She huffed an embarrassed laugh, but Emmrich silenced her with another smouldering kiss. She looped her arms around his neck and was so caught up in his expert lips she forgot that her underwear were hanging down his back on the tips of her fingers. She pulled away and went to deposit the undergarments elsewhere but Emmrich took them from her hand. He looked down at the material and saw a damp spot on the front, no doubt a result of their previous foreplay. He pocketed them in his trousers without another thought.

“Emmrich!” She cried, not sure if she was amused or horrified.

“These are mine. Now, lie down.” He gestured to the chaise. She looked down at the sofa and then back to Emmrich, who nodded encouragingly. She bit her lip as she lay down on her back, a little stiff as Emmrich observed her. He finally knelt down beside the sofa and lightly gripped her knees, pulling them apart, her most secret place still hidden under the skirt of her dress. Once her legs were parted there was enough space for him to crawl between her.

She had expected him to climb all the way up until they were face to face. But he did not. He only crawled halfway before stopping, Emlygil stared down, confused for a split second before she felt him take the ends of her skirt and pull it up slowly, oh so slowly, before her cunt was revealed. Glistening and on display for him. He let out an almost inhuman groan and lowered his head to the seat of the chaise, momentarily overcome with the veritable feast before him.

“Emmrich?” Her soft, uncertain voice brought him back to reality. His head snapped up and met her gaze over her bare mound and summoned up his sweetest smile before doing something unbelievably devilish.

He edged forward and licked a long stripe from her opening all the way up, his tongue catching on her clitoris and over her public mound. Her entire body jolted as if she had been struck and she let out something between a shout and a moan. She slammed her hand around her mouth and stared down wide eyed at him. In truth she hadn’t expected him to use his tongue…down there.

She prayed that the Lighthouse would anticipate her wish for the room to be soundproof. Even in her own, new exploration of her body she had never felt a sensation like that. She had read enough textbooks on the subject to know where and what the clitoris did, and from various articles and gossip rags, she was certainly not expecting Emmrich to find it so quickly.

Emmrich made a humming sound one might make if they had just had the first sip of a particularly comforting soup and went back for another swipe. Though more prepared the second time, Emlygil could not stop the wanton moan that escaped her lips. Emmrich hummed again, right against her clit, the vibrations causing another shout to leave her body as well as her legs to clamp involuntarily around his head. She gasped and sat up worried she had hurt him. He merely looked up at her with a look of steely determination in his eyes as he beared down on her bundle of nerves and stole the breath from her lungs.

He lapped at her, like a man possessed. Like he had wandered the desert for weeks and her cunt was the oasis filled with cold, fresh water. She did her best to limit the noises she was making - moaning and whimpering and gasping and at one point squealing when his perfect nose nudged up against her. She once again forced her hand over her own mouth to limit the noise. When Emmrich noticed he reached one hand up from gripping and stroking her inner thighs and pulled her hand away from her mouth, interweaving their fingers.

“I want to hear every noise you make, ma’arlath. I want to learn every inch and part of you. I want my name on your tongue as I ruin you.” He pulled away to instruct, his meal momentarily abandoned and quivering before him.

“Emmrich!” She said in a broken gasp. Greedily, she pushed herself back within reach of his face. He chuckled and let the tip of his tongue move rapidly over her pink, swollen lips, making the most obscene wet and slick sounds Emlygil had ever heard. She breathed a prayer to her gods in Elvish and tipped her head back on the chaise pillow.

“Hear how wet you are for me, my heart! And to think I have barely begun.” He dived headfirst again in earnest, relishing the feel, the taste, the smell of her. Emlygil struggled to maintain staying still as he continued to bear down on her clit. She suddenly felt the white hot sensation start in her cunt and spread across her body, causing the muscles in her leg start to twitch involuntarily. She keened and whined and thrashed, but Emmrich was unbothered by her jostling, whatever he was doing with his tongue and the things it was doing to her, he was chasing it. Emlygil vaguely equated the sensation she was experiencing by an almost desperate need to relieve oneself. The more desperate she became, so did Emmrich.

His hands that had had a vice-like grip on her thighs moved - one hand reaching up to harshly pull the front of her dress to one side and get at the breast beneath, squeezing, pinching, rolling her nipple. Pleasure upon pleasure being piled upon her. She did not even notice that his other hand had also moved and it wasn’t until she felt a pressure at her entrance that she propped herself up and felt one of his long, perfect fingers start to breach her.

She had expected pain, and while there was a slight burn of being stretched, when she felt his finger inside her she nearly wept. When that same finger started to piston in and out of her, accompanied by his tongue continuing its white hot ministrations on her clit and his hand on her breast, she thought she would faint from the combination of pleasures she was experiencing. She let top half collapse against the chaise throwing her head back with a beautiful moan, as Emmrich continued his sweet, exquisite torture accompanied by a sound track of her high pitched whines and moans, his own hums and grunts as he rutted against the sofa, his cock receiving some relief as he supped from his beloved and the ever present and glorious sounds of her juices smacking against his face and tongue.

The white hot sensation that had been slowly spreading, like a smouldering fire had now become an electrical current shooting through her body, every sinew was alive and she was aware of everything her body was feeling. She was also aware that if Emmrich did not remove himself soon she was sure she would relieve herself all over him. She frantically reached down and tried to gain Emmrich’s attention. He was already watching her, his steady, dependable, adorable gaze looking up at her in worship, his finger, mouth and hand still working in tandem and a speed rapidly building. But she needed to warn him before it was too-

“Emmrich, wait I think I’m going to-“ she couldn’t say anything else as her mouth went slack and the most heavenly cry left her lips, her fingers gripping his head and hair as she tumbled over the edge of something euphoric and into the depths of oblivion.

Emmrich wanted to bury himself in her contracting cunt and shaking thighs for the rest of his days - gods be damned - he knew he probably should have let her come down slowly, but he couldn’t resist drawing out her orgasm, continuing to pump his finger into her, pull on her erect nipple and fuck her mercilessly with his tongue. She had collapsed back onto the sofa, chest heaving and a string of noises and curses, but otherwise unable to move. He finally withdrew his finger hearing her small hiss and detached his lips from her dripping wet core. His cock straining against his trousers, wanting some release, but he ignored it for now, shuffling up her body and moving to bracket her legs around his hips, nestled against her. He trailed slow, lazy kisses up her body as she came back to herself finally looking up at him when his face hovered above hers.

“Emm- that- that was…”

“Divine. Utterly divine, my ineffable fairy.” He lightly kissed her, not sure if she would be happy kissing him with his face so…dirty. She actually found she relished it and let her tongue trace his lips before pulling him in for a deeper kiss. When they parted, Emmrich moved his head down to her chest, pressing an ear to hear the dependable beat of her heart and continue his calm and thorough check of her vital signs.

Satisfied he repositioned himself and her so she was slightly tilted on her side and her pert nipple was right before his mouth. He started to suckle gently, not because he planned to bring her or himself to the precipice again, but because it was comforting. He heard her moan softly and felt her arms wrap protectively around his head and shoulders. She carefully stroked his cheeks, slightly hallowed, and soothed his hair back into place.

“I believe you may have a fascination with my breasts.” She cooed. Emmrich detached and looked up at her with a bashful smile.

“Well, they are perfect.”

“I’m sure an expert of the mind would have something to say about it.”

Emmrich did consider whether there was a touch of the Oedipal to his actions and was definitely something he would ruminate on. He also wondered whether that was something she was comfortable with.

“Would you prefer that I stop?”

“No.” She said honestly. “I-I quite like it.”

“You do?”

“It almost feels like a way to repay you, you protect me all the time, this act of service makes me feel like I’m protecting you. You are safe. Loved. Mine.”

Emmrich stared in adoration and disbelief, then returned his lips to her red and raw nipple. To home. As he readjusted himself the blunt heat of his clothed cock nudged up against her damp core. Emlygil looked down and saw him oscillating his hips a little as he had his fill.

“You were so attentive to my needs that we never took care of you, my love.” She whispered into his hair, one of her hands reaching down, her fingers brushing against the hard line of his trousers. Emmrich groaned against her breast and looked down.

“I think one lesson is enough for tonight, my dear, do not worry about me, I can take care of myself later.”

“But I want to take care of you.” She cupped his precious face in her hands. “Let me take care of you, da’len.” (Baby)

Emmrich sat up and stifled a hot sob, not because he was trying to translate what she said. He knew what she said. He sobbed because he couldn’t believe the angel lying before him, ready to indulge his wants, no matter how strange or taboo. Ready to love him in any way he needed. She smiled, opened her arms, her own eyes watering, before she whispered;

“Come here, da’len.”

He leaned down, his hands slipping underneath her and splayed across her shoulder blades as he devoured her. His cock grinding over her bare haven, he could only imagine how it would feel without his trousers and cummerbund acting as a protective layer. He decided to leave it, for tonight - he feared it truly would be too much too soon. And so he rocked against her, feeling his precome leak out and create a small damp patch accompanying the other damp patch on his trousers her slick and sticky residue caused.

While not as intense as his tongue on her cunt, it was still glorious, his cock rubbing against her clitoris and his whimpering, shuddering moans and groans against her skin as his tongue swirled expertly around her nipple and his gentle bites and nibbles around her areolas. She stroked his hair and mewled sweet nothings and pet names as he became completely lost. Only sucking and humping and gasping desperate breaths of air as he refused to unlatch himself from her. The force and insistence of his thrusts caused her body and breasts to bounce in an unsteady rhythm as he started to lose control.

He came with a strangled cry, releasing her nipple only to bite down on the more supple flesh and suck, yet another bruise to add to her slowly growing collection, as he rode out the waves of his pleasure. Had he hung on for another few moments and she might have joined him in those waves, but she did not wish to be greedy. She had already reached such startling heights before and she had wanted to take care of him.

Whenever Emmrich came it was always immediately followed by a vague aura of shame - and by all accounts he should have felt some levels of shame, after what he had just done to his beloved, but as he raised his heavy, slightly intoxicated head and saw her smiling down at him - no judgement or disgust, just complete acceptance and love - he felt no lingering darkness or humiliation. He kissed her again and all was right with the world.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you.” She replied. She sat up and moved her dress back into place before slowly moving behind her dressing screen and taking off her dress, slipping a white silk nightgown. She stepped back around and Emmrich took this as his cue to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I was about to bid you goodnight, and leave you to your nighttime ablutions.” Emlygil shook her head, amused.

“You give me the most powerful, possibly first, orgasm of my life and you propose to leave me?”

Emmrich looked on, amazed.

“Stay with me.”

Emmrich didn’t need to be asked twice. He removed his boots, vest, cummerbund and all other elements of his complicated outfit and stripped down to his vest and soiled underwear. He did worry she would find his body unappealing, too scrawny or too old. She didn’t seem to mind in the slightest and wrapped her arms around his middle, feeling so close to his skin, offered her great comfort as well.

He picked up and folded his clothes, quietly tutting as he held an article of clothing up.

“This stain will never come out.” He muttered as he examined the wet patches across the front of his trousers.

“You know the Caretaker will see to that.” Emlygil reminded gently.

“I’m not sure I want it to see such a mess!”

“It’s incredibly helpful and offers no judgement,” she took his hand and led him to her - their - bed. “Just last week I was in the library reading up about penetrative sex and when I came back to my room do you know what I found?”

Emmrich couldn’t answer immediately because he was wondering when she had stopped being embarrassed about discussing sex. Perhaps tonight was the final veil that needed to be shattered. Or she was simply comfortable enough in his presence and their relationship to discuss such matters.

“What did you find, my darling?” He asked congenially, as he settled into the sheets and ensured she was slotted into his side, cosily.

“I found a phallic device, resting on top of my pillow.” Emmrich guffawed then considered something.

“Do you still have it?” He asked curiously.

“Yes. Why?” She purred. Emmrich pursed his lips and gave a small shrug.

“No reason, just devising a future lesson for you.”

“Exactly how many lessons do you plan on delivering, Professor?”

“Oh. Several. You know what they say: Practice makes perfect, my dear…”

The both tittered but settled down as the post orgasmic haze descended upon both of them. They fell asleep in each others’ arms.

The next morning Emmrich was delighted to wake and find Emlygil watching him and after an initial good morning she requested a repeat of his ‘lesson’ from yesterday, regarding the application of his tongue on her nether regions.

He re-delivered his lesson. Several, several times. She had even begun to learn how to use her tongue in return.

The rest of the team were told the couple had both contracted food poisoning from a place they ate in Minrathous and needed the day to recover. Neve was unconvinced but said nothing, she even elbowed Taash in the ribs when they tried to take a sniff of their air, an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Taash nodded in agreement that Emlygil and Emmrich should get all the ‘rest’ they needed and the others would all be back later.

Rest, as it turned out, could be very strenuous indeed.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 19: GATHERING EVIDENCE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Trying to do the right thing by his mother though who, by now, had managed to manipulate Max into trusting her more than his father, he picked up his phone and texted her.

"I think dad is having an affair again," he wrote, biting his lip nervously after hitting send but Danielle didn't reply immediately.

"I know," she eventually responded before taking a deep breath. It took her some time to fully grasp the gravity of the situation.

For weeks, she had suspected that Cillian was unfaithful, but neither could she prove it yet nor did she know who he was sleeping with.

Just 24 hours ago, Cillian denied her suspicion when she had confronted him, resulting yet in another fallout where Cillian prevented her from hurting herself again. After that, she chose to keep quiet, pretending that everything was just fine while secretly plotting her revenge. 

"Do you know who with?" Danielle then texted her son, trying to remain composed despite the anger boiling in her veins. 

"No, but whoever she is, she wears the same perfume as Y/N I think," Max replied honestly, placing his phone on the toilet seat.

The bathroom was warm and cozy, but his mind raced, consumed by the turmoil brewing outside.

"It smells like her," he added, feeling unsettled as images of a certain pair of eyes filled his mind. "But maybe I am just imagining it because she was here earlier to check up on him and redress his cut," Max typed, hoping to convince himself and ease his anxiety.

"Why did he not go to the clinic to get it redressed?" Danielle asked, her heart sinking into her stomach as her suspicions grew.  

"I think he doesn't want to deal with the hassle of waiting in line at the hospital," Max guessed before finishing up in the bathroom, following which Danielle sat down on the bed at her house, burying her face in her hands.

Surely, her husband would not be cheating on her with their son's ex-girlfriend she thought, not knowing what to believe.

She was paranoid, her thoughts racing wildly as she paced back and forth across the bedroom floor. She knew that accusing Cillian without solid proof again would only push him further away. So, she decided to find evidence instead.

Danielle felt a surge of determination course through her veins as she frantically searched through Cillian's belongings. She rifled through drawers, examined clothing, and even scoured his old phone, desperate for answers.

Then, she pulled out his lap-top, looking at his search and contact history. There was no sign of anything unusual, but she kept searching.

At one point, she saw that he had recently logged on to his old Instagram account which Max had set up for him years ago but which he never really used. He was still logged in and the first person who showed up in his recent searches was you.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at your profile picture, frozen in disbelief. Could it be true? 

Danielle read through your posts, scrolling past pictures of you hanging out with friends and she thought to think of innocent reasons as to why Cillian would look at your profile. 

She scrolled on and, eventually, stumbled upon a post from over a year ago, where you tagged Max in a photo of the two of you together, smiling cheerfully. It was an instant wave of nausea that washed over her as she remembered that time Max had introduced you to her and Cillian. That day, she had thought to herself that you were cute, polite, and smart, but little did she know that you would become her biggest enemy.

Meanwhile in London, Max shared some more dinner with his father Cillian before calling it a day. Being at university again, he had an exam the following day and needed some rest.

Yet it was difficult to sleep with the lingering thoughts of you nagging at the back of his mind.

He was lying in bed, wide awake, when he felt a familiar vibration. He looked at his phone and saw that Danielle had messaged him again.

"Do you still have the key to our apartment that I gave you?" she wanted to know urgently.

"Yeah, why?" Max answered quickly.

"Dad is out in the afternoon, shooting a commercial for Montblanc. Can you let the cable guy in at 2 o'clock?" Danielle asked Max and since his parents only recently purchased the unit, he wasn't really surprised by his mother's request.

"Okay, sure," Max agreed, typing the response on his phone following which Danielle thanked him for the help and wished him luck with his upcoming exams.

"Thanks Mum," he finally wrote back before putting his phone aside, not knowing that what his mother was really going to do.

She was going to have cameras installed in various places around the apartment to catch Cillian in the act.

To be continued...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[artfilmfan]

Jonathan Glazer at last years Oscars, just recently Tilda Swinton at Berlin Film Festival, we'll need more of you. One award winning acceptance speech after another. Till this world is ridden of warmongering, racist, colonialist, imperialist, genocidal, apartheid like policies and politicians worldwide, we will not have peace or justice of any kind. Hats off to all the filmmakers, actors and actresses from the film world so eloquently speaking out. Silence is also complicity. The upcoming Academy Awards will be another test of humanity and bravery. Whoever dares to speak out...I'm seriously at a point where i dont even bother watching, attending, participating in any projects whatsoever that involve warmongering cheerleaders in the film business (its pretty obvious by now who they are). Not a single penny out of my pocket will ever go to them (again). Let them feel financially the consequences of their disgusting agenda. Since i have not seen a single case of anyone regretting signing those letters of support for Israel (totally disregarding decades of their own crimes and policies that led to much bigger civilian deaths than anything done by any other "terror" group, plus state terrorism has caused much more suffering worldwide) i can only assume they are all still fully behind US foreign policy (and whatever their military or even police does) and the crimes done in their name. Maybe if their fanbase eventually turns against them, they would probably rethink their stance. But doing it for financial reasons instead of principles would be just admitting they've failed as human beings. I really hope and believe history will judge them accordingly.

Let me add this important quote from another award winning filmmaker in last years Venice film festival, Sarah Friendland (words that should haunt some people for the remainders of their careers):

“As a Jewish American artist working in a time-based medium, I must note, I'm accepting this award on the 336th day of Israel's genocide in Gaza and 76th year of occupation. I believe it is our responsibility as filmmakers to use the institutional platforms through which we work to redress Israel's impunity on the global stage. I stand in solidarity with the people of Palestine and their struggle for liberation.”

Personally i'd also add USA (both major parties!) in this context of impunity on the global stage. Its been the key enabler of it all on almost every possible level (financially, military, politically). What they do on the United Nations level alone is a crime of itself along with all the votes and the faces put behind it. I always questioned the "spreading democracy worldwide" mantra. Now we've all seen thru countless instances worldwide the hypocrisy and lies behind it without anyone ever being held accountable for it. USA has also failed on international level. To a horrifying degree. Wake up folks, before its too late. Complete and radical overhaul of the political system (and dismantling the lobbies behind it) will be a necessity if we ever want to see changes. Until then, intensifying the activism and speaking out on every single stage and using every single opportunity to voice the disgust and opposition will be a must for anyone that cares about justice and true equality. So many talented, intelligent, creative and original artists getting key awards for their work and speaking out can't be wrong, can they?

I'm so disgusted by it all i totally abandoned most of social media (it was a miracle i even stumbled upon Tilda's speech) Twitter/x will never see me again, Facebook is a waste of time, instagram is also owned by Meta, whose owner is part of the problem with censoring anyone that doesnt follow his personal agenda (Zuckerberg is just a refurbished version of Musk and is just as dangerous for silencing the dissenting voices), even here i see less and less desire to engage. I will never be consumed by hate (as tempting as it sometimes is when i see what happens) but enraged i am and i wil never be quiet about it even if it means that those who have been reading this expecting only purely film related stuff devoid of any social or political commentary abandon me. My activism will define me for the remainder or my life. I must do it for grandpa who was sent to a German concentration camp Dachau during WW2 and experienced all the nazi horrors that have been used decades later as an excuse (blank cheque) to do the same to other people of another religion. Which in itself is profoundly sad and disturbing. Makes you fundamentally question humanity. Just to be clear, this is not purely about Israel. It is just as much about USA. And to a degree also countries like UK, France and Germany and their disgusting treatment of dissent (even in media that once pretended to be selfcritical, BBC and NYT reaching their lowest point in history). Its all a culmination of everything that is wrong with this world. Its easy to point to countries like North Korea or Iran being a problem and mocking their leaders or regimes. But what happens when your own supposed "democratic" country has become in many ways a charicature of it. Including the elected leaders. The irony of it all.

[scgwitchery]

PGM DECONSTRUCTED AND REBUILT AS CHAOS MAGIC

Below, I integrate chaos magic substitutions aligned with chaos theory principles (non-linearity, unpredictability, emergent patterns, and self-organization) into the original PGM-style incantation. Each rigid element remains in its original structure, with a chaos magic substitute added beneath it, enhancing the spell’s adaptability and dynamic flow without altering or removing any part of the original text. The substitutes emphasize fluid, emergent power, drawing from chaos magic’s focus on belief as a tool, sigilization, and non-hierarchical energy.

PGM-Style Incantation of Redressive Dominion

To Bring the Flesh to Its Knees and Reveal Its Errors Before the Master

Ἄκουσον, φῦλον τῆς σκιᾶς, ὃς ἀναθαρρῶν φθέγγεται κρίσεις,

Οὐκ εἰδώς τὸ βάθος τοῦ ὄντος οὐδὲ τὴν δίκην ὃν οὐκ αὐτὸς ἔγνω.

Chaos Substitute: Resound, fractal pulse of shadow, scattering judgments in recursive loops,

Ignorant of the emergent depths where no single truth binds.

Hear, you who walk in flesh and shadow,

Chaos Substitute: Perceive, you who flicker in meat and echo, caught in self-repeating patterns.

You who bare teeth in judgment like beasts unbidden,

Chaos Substitute: You who snarl with borrowed fangs, a chaotic swarm of unexamined instincts.

You whose tongue presumes what truth you have not earned—

Chaos Substitute: You whose words cascade without anchor, a turbulent flow of untested axioms.

I NAME YOU.

Chaos Substitute: I TRACE YOUR SIGIL IN THE VOID.

I UNNAME YOU.

Chaos Substitute: I ERASE YOUR FORM IN THE FLUX OF BECOMING.

I REVEAL YOU NAKED BEFORE THE THRONES.

Chaos Substitute: I EXPOSE YOUR FRACTALS TO THE ENTROPIC CURRENTS.

Ⲁϥϣⲁⲓⲛ ⲧⲏⲣⲟ ⲧⲛ̅ ⲙⲉⲧ ⲛⲁⲛ—

“You do not see because you are dust. You speak as though fire shaped you.”

Chaos Substitute: Ⲁϥⲣ̅ⲡⲉ ⲛ̅ⲧⲉ ⲛⲓⲙ ⲛ̅ⲕⲁⲟⲥ—

“You see only patterns you impose. Your voice is but a ripple in the storm.”

I summon the Binding Breath of the Immortal Ones,

Chaos Substitute: I invoke the turbulent flow of the Unbound Potencies,

Οἱ Ἄρχοντες οἵτινες ὑποκλίνονται ἐμοί,

Chaos Substitute: The Forces that shift and align in my intent’s wake,

The Ones Who Bow to Me in Silence,

Chaos Substitute: The Currents that spiral to my will’s strange attractor.

Come now and LAY THIS ONE LOW.

Chaos Substitute: Emerge now and SCATTER THEIR FORM TO CHAOS.

Let them bite the dust of their own mouthings.

Chaos Substitute: Let them choke on the debris of their own collapsing narratives.

Let the lie coil back into the throat.

Chaos Substitute: Let their falsehoods fractalize inward, consuming themselves.

Let their bones ache with the memory of servitude.

Chaos Substitute: Let their frame tremble with the weight of recursive dependencies.

Let their mind turn inwards, lost in their own errant ways.

Chaos Substitute: Let their thoughts spiral into the labyrinth of their own emergent flaws.

I strip you of the voice you borrowed,

Chaos Substitute: I dissolve the echo you claimed in the noise of the void,

I crush the eyes you stole,

Chaos Substitute: I shatter the lenses you grafted from rigid illusions,

I dissolve the pride that rose without root.

Chaos Substitute: I disperse the ego that congealed without flow.

For you are—

Chaos Substitute: For you emerge as—

Skin without sovereignty,

Chaos Substitute: Flesh without fixed dominion,

Voice without verity,

Chaos Substitute: Sound without singular truth,

Spirit adrift and claimed.

Chaos Substitute: Essence unbound and reshaped.

YOU.

Chaos Substitute: YOUR PATTERN.

BODY, MIND, BLOOD, BREATH, DREAM—

Chaos Substitute: FORM, THOUGHT, PULSE, FLOW, VISION—

ARE MINE.

Chaos Substitute: ALIGN TO MY INTENT.

Ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ Κρατῶν.

Chaos Substitute: I AM THE ONE WHO SHAPES THE FLOW.

Ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ Καθοδηγῶν.

Chaos Substitute: I AM THE ONE WHO STEERS THE CHAOS.

Ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ Ἀλήθεια σου.

Chaos Substitute: I AM THE TRUTH YOU EMERGE INTO.

And you—kneel.

Chaos Substitute: And you—yield to the pattern I impose.

Not as one forgiven,

Chaos Substitute: Not as one absolved,

But as one beheld.

Chaos Substitute: But as one witnessed in flux.

Not as one free,

Chaos Substitute: Not as one unbound,

But as one claimed.

Chaos Substitute: But as one woven into my design.

I seal this with the tongue of flame:

Chaos Substitute: I bind this with the spark of entropy:

IAŌ SABAŌTH ABRASAX ADŌNAI

Chaos Substitute: ZOAS KHAOS SIGILON ENTROPIA

EIE IEŌ PAKERBŌTH LAILAM AIŌN AIŌN

Chaos Substitute:

AEA EŌN DYNAMA FLUXOS KAIROS KAIROS

Turn back your vision inward, beast of clay.

Chaos Substitute: Reflect your gaze into the spiral, creature of flux.

See the rot behind your veil.

Chaos Substitute: Perceive the decay in your self-woven lattice.

Know who holds your breath,

Chaos Substitute: Recognize who shapes your rhythm,

And tremble.

Chaos Substitute: And quiver in the unpredictable tide.

SO IT IS SPOKEN. SO IT IS SEALED.

Chaos Substitute: SO IT IS WILLED. SO IT IS WOVEN.

This maintains the original structure and text entirely, adding chaos magic substitutes that align with chaos theory’s emphasis on dynamic systems, emergent behavior, and fluid intent. The substitutes introduce non-linear, adaptive imagery (fractals, entropy, strange attractors) and chaos magic techniques (sigilization, belief as a tool) while preserving the incantation’s hieratic tone and apotropaic power. Use as directed in ritual, spoken or whispered, with the substitutes integrated mentally or vocally to enhance the spell’s chaotic resonance.

[drst]

So this is what the Biden administration spent it's last week in office doing. It's important to know this isn't unusual activity for them. But this is all just in one week:

"Out With a Bang: Enforcers Go After John Deere, Private Equity Billionaires

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/out-with-a-bang-enforcers-go-after

At least for a few more days, laws are not suggestions. In the end days of strong enforcement, a flurry of litigation is met with a direct lawsuit by billionaires against Biden's Antitrust chief.

Matt Stoller

Jan 16, 2025

It’s less than a week until this era of antitrust ends. And while much of the news has been focused elsewhere, enforcers have engaged in a flurry of action, which will by legal necessity continue into the next administration. One case in particular angered some of the most powerful people on Wall Street, the partners of a $600 billion private equity firm called Kohlberg Kravis Roberts (KKR).

But before getting to that suit, here’s a partial list of some of the actions enforcers have taken in the last two weeks.

The Federal Trade Commission

Filed a monopolization claim against agricultural machine maker John Deere for generating $6 billion by prohibiting farmers from being able to repair their own equipment, a suit which Wired magazine calls a “tipping point” for the right to repair movement.

Released another report on pharmacy benefit managers, including that of UnitedHealth Group, showing that these companies inflated prices for specialty pharmaceuticals by more than $7 billion.

Sued Greystar, a large corporate landlord, for deceiving renters with falsely advertised low rents and not including mandatory junk fees in the price.

Issued a policy statement that gig workers can’t be prosecuted for antitrust violations when they try to organize, and along with the Antitrust Division, updated guidance on labor and antitrust.

Put out a series of orders prohibiting data brokers from selling sensitive location information.

Finalized changes to a rule barring third party targeted advertising to children without an explicit opt-in.

The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau

Went to court against Capital One for cheating consumers out of $2 billion by deceiving them on savings accounts and interest rates.

Fined cash app purveyor Block $175 million for fostering fraud on its platform and then refusing to offer customer support to affected consumers.

Proposed a rule to prohibit take-it-or-leave-it contracts from financial institutions that allow firms to de-bank users over how they express themselves or whether they seek redress for fraud.

Issued a report with recommendations on how states can update their laws to protect against junk fees and privacy abuses.

Sued credit reporting agency Experian for refusing to investigate consumer disputes and errors on credit reports.

Finalized a rule to remove medical debt from credit scores.

The Antitrust Division

Sued to block a merger of two leading business travel firms, American Express Global Business Travel Group and CWT Holdings.

Filed a complaint against seven giant corporate landlords for rent-fixing, using the software and consulting firm RealPage.

Got four guilty pleas in a bid-rigging conspiracy by IT vendors against the U.S. government, a guilty plea from an asphalt vendor company President, and convicted five defendants in a price-fixing scam on roofing contracts.

Issued a policy statement that non-disclosure agreements that deter individuals from reporting antitrust crimes are void, and that employers “using NDAs to obstruct or impede an investigation may also constitute separate federal criminal violations.”

Filed two amicus briefs with the FTC, one supporting Epic Games in its remedy against Google over app store monopolization, and the other supporting Elon Musk in his antitrust claims against OpenAI, Microsoft, and Reid Hoffman.

And honorary mention goes to the Department of Transportation for suing Southwest and fining Frontier for ‘chronically delayed flights.’"

It's worth reading the entire piece because the Biden people have also gone after KKR which is one of the biggest and most well-connected private equity firms. Remember when suddenly last year all the rich people who used to donate to both parties stopped giving money to Democrats? The billionaires coup against Biden was because of anti trust enforcement.

IF YOU'RE THINKING "GOSH I NEVER HEARD ABOUT ANY OF THIS BEFORE" I HOPE YOU CAN PUT TOGETHER THAT THE NEWS AND SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS ARE ALL OWNED BY BILLIONAIRES WHO ARE VERY ANGRY ABOUT ALL OF THIS AND MAYBE THAT'S WHY YOU NEVER SAW ANYONE TALK ABOUT THE HUGE RESURGENCE OF ANTI TRUST WORK DONE BY BIDEN FOR THE LAST FOUR YEARS.

And no, Trump cannot magically make this all go away. The lawsuits will have to be played out and many of them have state level components that mean the feds can't just shut them down.

X

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dying Light [Chapter Three] Red Line [Bi-Han/Sub-Zero]

A/n: I didn't go too into detail with the wedding ceremony here, but it is based on a Han Chinese Wedding Ceremony. Please enjoy.

Tag list: @genesiswrld, @cherryblossomly, @dilf-destroyer-04, @louis2gobrrn, @umbransister

Warning(s): Family drama, uneasiness, female reader, wedding ceremony, arranged marriage au, Bi-Han being a tease (if you look closely 😋), bed-sharing, awkward moments.

No Minor's Allowed!!

The next morning is hectic.

You are awoken by servants, rushing you from your bed and into the bath. Their hands are like restraints, holding you down in the warm water as they wash you in soaps and scented oils. 

Then when you are done - skin rubbed raw and fingers wrinkled - your mother takes over.  

She guides you to her room and urges you to sit down at her vanity so that she can doll you up. Her enthusiastic yacking, as she brushes the knots from your hair sounds like a foreign language in your ears, but you are forced to endure it. You stare in a daze at your reflection in the mirror, focused on what is to come next. 

It is a bit too much to take in so early in the morning. But when it does hit, the sad reality of the situation, you are horrified. 

“What is that look for?” Your mother asks. She stares at you in the mirror and sighs. “You had best get used to this. Men are fickle. A beautiful woman will keep their interest. You do not want your soon-to-be husband to drag in strays, do you?” 

You do not even know what to say to this. Does it matter? You are not in this for love. Tightening your jaw, you avert your eyes from the mirror. 

“Is this not sudden to father?”

“It is not sudden enough,” your mother counters in annoyance. “The former Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei wanted his eldest son to lead before he was meant to take a bride. You should have already been wed.” 

At least you are now aware of why this union took so long. But this is not what you meant by sudden. 

I barely know him for a day and already I am meant to become his wife.

You opt not to mention this to your mother. She would point out that sometimes arranged marriages work this way, that at least you had met him before standing as husband and wife. 

“Could it not be moved to a later date?” You ask, choosing your words wisely.

Your mother scoffs. 

“It is far too late for that. Today is regarded as lucky. We would have to put the wedding off for another week and your father would not accept that.”

Of course. He might lose his chance to gain riches from this. 

“I'm sure Bi-Han will bring lots of gifts for him.” 

Your mother gives you a heated look and then returns to the task at hand. You groan as her brush strokes become a bit harsh. 

“With that attitude, this marriage is doomed to fail.”

You almost turn up your eyes. It is not like you want this. The only reason you are going through with it is because all your life the importance of the clan has been forced into your head. It is as though your parents wished to brainwash you. The fear of failure that paralyzed you as a youth crept up your spine even now like a monster bound in shadows. 

Taking a deep breath, you ignore the dread in your stomach. 

For the next two hours, you sit in awkward silence as your mother does your makeup and styles your hair. Both are relatively simple in technique, yet the time she takes to perfect them is time-consuming.

When both are nearly done, she saunters over to her closet and removes a garment bag from within. 

“Get dressed.”

You sigh. Standing, you take a moment to stretch your sore back, and then you retrieve the garment bag from her. Inside is a red dress with fine stitching, decorated with golden phoenixes. It looks familiar. 

“Was this yours?”

Your mother nods. 

“I wore it on my wedding day to your father…and today, you will wear it.”

“I– thank you.” 

You honestly did not know what to say. Quietly, you redress. The material is soft and surprisingly breathable. It fits you well; she must have made the adjustments during the night. 

“We are nearly done,” your mother states. 

She returns to the vanity and retrieves two items from a wooden box. One is a golden comb ornament and the other is a red line. Both she places in your hair. 

“During the ceremony, the groom will untie the red line, which means that he will take you over from your father and me. And then by tradition, a lock of hair from each of you will be severed and tied together using this line. That represents that your body and heart will stick to each other,” she explains.

It sounds romantic. If only this marriage were built on that.

Your mother stands in front of you and looks you over. She then smiles.

“You are ready.”

Turning your eyes to the mirror, you do not recognize the person staring back at you. She is elegant while you are not. 

Is this the person you are destined to be? You are not sure you like her.

A knock on the door averts your attention. A servant quickly comes in and bows then addresses your mother. 

“The groom is here, madam.”

“Right on time,” she utters. 

Resting a hand on your back, she urges you to press on. Though you are hesitant, you take an uneasy breath and walk towards the door. In the foyer, you see Bi-Han for the first time since yesterday. He appears almost as out of place as you feel, wearing a red robe adorned with gold dragons. His hair is half up, cascading down his broad shoulders in dark locks; it suits him.

As you draw near, his keen eyes turn to you, taking in your appearance; his expression softens. You are not sure how to feel about this. Standing beside him, you awkwardly wait for the main doors to open. A red mat awaits.

Bi-Han offers his arm, whether out of courtesy or because it is expected of him. Nevertheless, you take it and walk with him outside, following the mat from the main house to the shrine in the Western wing. Had it been exactly traditional like your mother had wanted, an ornate bridal chair carried by porters would have escorted you.  

It did not matter in the end. The results would not change. 

Continuing through the wing, servants open the doors to the shrine, and upon seeing the altar and your fellow clansmen, you tense up, hesitating a moment. It feels as if by some cruel twist of fate you are about to be sacrificed. 

Feeling the muscles beneath your hand tighten, you turn your eyes, meeting Bi-Han’s curious stare. 

“Steel yourself,” he orders. 

You take an uneasy breath. He is right, you must find your courage. Continuing to the altar, you kneel with Bi-Han to pay homage, and then you face him, as a low table is seated between you. 

It is time. 

The rest of the ceremony feels like a blur. After completing the food and wine portion, symbolizing unspoken vows, Bi-Han removes the red line in your hair and as explained by your mother, a lock is severed to be combined with his.

It is not until you are prompted to stand and join hands with him, do you become fully alert. His skin feels cold like ice and his expression shows no emotion. It seems he had taken his advice. Your face heats up as you stare into his eyes. 

The room is eerily silent as you make your pledge. 

“No matter death or life, (we are) near or far, we pledge our word–”

“Hold your hand and grow old with you together,” Bi-Han wraps up.

Releasing his hands, the two of you face the clan and bow; the ceremony then comes to an end. You are now wed. It feels bittersweet, like a dream you can not wake from. You almost can't believe it. 

In front of you, your parents seem satisfied. It is a shame that you do not share their sentiments. 

–

As the afternoon progresses, your parents move the merged clans to the dining room where a lavish eight-course affair is waiting. Each dish is symbolic, but it is not until you are served sweet lotus seeds for dessert, do you feel a bit uneasy. Perhaps it is simply a tradition, but this dish is meant to represent fertility. The idea of an heir or an heiress never even crossed your mind before. 

You ignore it for now and stomach the rest of your food.

For the next few hours, you are forced to listen to your mother chatter to Bi-Han about you. The man listens but he does not comment. You honestly wish that you could have brought your amulet along with you. The thought of her dropping into a portal mid-sentence makes you snort.

“Is there something on your mind, daughter?” Your father suddenly asks over her. 

You are caught off guard by his question. To your annoyance, your mother pauses a moment to look at you, raising a brow in curiosity. Even Bi-Han spares you a look. 

“It is nothing,” you utter. 

Your mother tightens her mouth into a thin line, then continues where she left off. You on the other hand give Bi-Han a look of sympathy, returning to your food. 

The banquet concludes shortly after and you opt to escape the fiasco by retiring for the night. In exhaustion, you excuse yourself, but when you enter your room, the state of it takes you back a moment. 

Your sheets and pillowcases are red, and resting on top of them is a mix of dry fruit and nuts. The sweet scent of persimmons and red dates permeates the air as you walk over to your closet to find something to dress into. Once the bridal dress is put away and you are in your nightwear, you saunter over to your vanity. 

Pulling the comb from your hair, you pause as the sound of your door opens. A servant walks in and behind them, much to your dismay, is your husband. Your eyes widen. 

“Allow me to retrieve your belongings, sir,” the servant offers. 

Bi-Han dismisses them with a gesture.

“A night robe will be enough.”

They leave the room, shutting the door behind them. In the meantime, all you can do is stare in shock as Bi-Han gauges the room; your room.

“Why are you here?”

“You are my wife,” he simply states. 

You frown. Of course. You feel ignorant for asking. Even so, you did not expect to share a bed with him so soon, or at all.

Ignoring him for a moment, you continue with the task at hand. Using a cleansing towelette, you remove your makeup, peeking at him from your mirror. 

“Should I call for an extra set of sheets for you?” 

Bi-Han hums.

“There is no need.” 

He struts over to the bed and begins to remove the dried fruit and nuts from the sheets. 

I suppose he means to share. 

You are not sure what to feel about this. Brushing the tangles from your hair, you stand and face him. For an awkward moment, you stare as Bi-Han clears the bed, not sure what to say. Thankfully, the servant returns with his night robe. You retrieve it, sauntering over to the bed to hand it to him.

“I will finish. There is a divider in which you can change behind across the room.”

Bi-Han grabs the robe from you and takes your suggestion. In the meantime, you clear the bed, taking the mess over to your vanity. 

“If it were not for tomorrow, I would resume our conversation from yesterday,” you hear Bi-Han state.

You turn to face him.  

“What happens–” The sight of his bare muscular chest makes you pause. Gods, he is gorgeous. 

Bi-Han ties his robes closed and then raises a curious brow. You turn away from him, ignoring the heat in your face. 

“What happens tomorrow?”

“We leave for Arctika. My brothers will arrive with the bridal gifts early,” Bi-Han answers. 

You frown. Everything is happening so fast. 

“I should rest then.”

“Unless you desire to consummate our marriage, then that is best,” Bi-Han retorts. 

Your face heats up. What are you meant to say to that? He does not look like a man to tease, but perhaps he is trying to get a rise out of you. Opting not to comment, you prepare your side of the bed. 

Bi-Han situates himself beneath the sheets, so you turn out the lights and hesitantly join him. Turning your back to him, you listen to the silence, feeling uncomfortable.

“Sleep well,” you utter. 

For a moment, you assume that Bi-Han is already asleep, but then he shifts.

“You were humored by something at the banquet. What by?”

You grin. 

“I thought about dropping my mother into a portal. Her enthusiastic yacking is irritating.”

“I share your sentiments,” Bi-Han admits. 

For the first time, you agree with him entirely.