#none plot with left effects

[nefretemerson]

you knowww the term 'imperial core' has, as the kids say, jumped the shark when douthat is using it unironically in his book about the the unavoidable collapse of the american empire under the weight of its own decadence. or whatever.

[thalwri]

NOBLE ARRANGEMENT

synopsis: with a marriage you didn't want and a terrible first impression, you weren't too sure your life with sylus would be peaceful. but what if there was a little nerve loosening component that could help?

warnings: porn with plot, smut, arranged marriage, use of aphrodisiacs, inappropriate use of evol (if you squint), mutual masturbation, oral sex over and lowkey under a table (m! and f! receiving), biting, floor sex, creampie, petnames

wc: 11,6k

a/n: I was rewatching dune prophecy (for the third time) and I felt a little creative. hope you enjoy!

you were a lady. 

or so you were raised to be. having been brought up in the high society of the city of linkon, you knew your social purpose amongst others and you also knew you had to make a place for yourself beyond being a delectable, innocent, and poised young woman brandished for the wealthy to negotiate through joining families. you had to be a hunter; an unapproachable entity that was most desired yet most difficult to obtain.

behave appropriately, act well amongst your peers, and also know how to defend yourself against the crude wanderers that lurked within the shadows. it had been made law that every citizen was forbidden from traveling around in the dark of night due to the unsafe nature of the environment. but you were never truly one to follow the rules among others.

that is, until you found yourself fighting for your life against the very creatures the law was created for you to avoid.

your given abilities were useful for you to defend yourself but they were more impactful when partnered with another– a privilege you currently did not have. your attire, bedazzled in jewels and badges representing your awards for the late soiree you had just left, was torn and stained with your own blood and the dirt of the ground. 

you had considered that night to be your final celebration of your freedom. though you didn’t really anticipate being attacked by wanderers to be on the palate for your night. your blunting blade in hand trembled as your arms suffered from tremors of stress, pain and exhaustion. 

your breathing was ragged and your body ached. had you worn your riding attire, perhaps the battle would have fared more in your favour. you had effectively destroyed more than seven lurking wanderers, the following were stronger and larger than the last. morale was reaching a low, and your energy was not enough to sustain yet another battle without you collapsing.

though if your corpse was to be found, you would wish it was in good condition and not ruffled, so you straightened your form and held your blade as stiffly as you could force your body to. you would not lose your life piously or aimlessly. you were raised to hold a blade like a warrior adorned with her femininity, and you would die as such. after all, a death by the blade would always be better than a marriage to a man orchestrated by your stepfather. 

a foreign man, you had heard from his private meetings. a foreigner with a questionable background, having travelled multiple worlds and fought endless battles. the more he conquered, the higher the bounty on his head. the imperial council, from what the gossipers have whispered across the entirety of linkon, has done little to none to control the “beast” or the “relentless conquerer”. though from what you’ve heard their lenience was also due to him allegedly being of noble rank. he ran amok, with his blood red eyes, and hair as white as a ghost’s chilling grasp.

his iron fist ran a vast network of crows, all known in union as onychinus. like a marbled table spreading its onyx darkness across the known universe, onychinus stretched its arms into every known and potentially unknown world marking its territory and ensuring its name was remembered. ensuring the name sylus was unforgotten.

the same sylus you were doomed to marry. 

you didn’t know which god to pray to for your last battle, not that you were religious to begin with. but it was customary for anyone who held their last blade to send a prayer if they believed they near taking their final breath. so you briefly muttered your gratitudes, your repentances, and your pleas to them all hoping at least one would listen.

the heavy thumps of the wanderer drew painfully near. you solemnly opened your eyes, readjusting your grip and preparing your body to strike. your lips move rapidly as you repeat your words in a broken mantra.

“the blade pierces fear, the blade pierces fear.”

the caws of a crow disrupted your mental flow, distracting you momentarily. in an instant, a gust of darkness rushed past you with a shadow of darkness tinted with red following. the wanderer was blown back by the blunt impact of the shadow, then again. and again. until its arm was separated from its body, then one of its legs, making it topple over. 

a flash of darkness rushed past you, assaulting the wanderer in crude blows, a double light trail of red following its movements and soft, white tufts flowing with the wind as the scent of spice flowed into your nostrils. perhaps an energy-based evol? with red eyes and what seemed like white hair– it couldn’t be. no way in hell could it be.

you quickly stumbled back, hearing the crow’s noise grow louder until a loud crackle of energy and a heavy screech silenced the night. the wanderer was obliterated. literally blown into energetic dust as if erased from existence– or rather transformed and reduced to the crystal core before you.

you remembered your father– your biological father– teaching you about protocores, but you had never seen one until now. you reached for it with a shaky, bloody hand, tempted to feel that peculiar thing you’ve always wondered about but a large hand beat you to it, crushing the core to dust with the same energetic shadow. 

“best not touch what you don’t understand,” the deep voice sent chills down your spine. you blinked, whipping your head towards the source only to find a gust of falling black feathers in the air. you caught one before the rest blew far from your reach, carefully storing it on your person. a small souvenir wouldn’t hurt especially after the one you wanted was destroyed.

“what i don’t understand?” you scoffed. “says the douche bag that broke the protocore and disappeared!” 

you felt like the air got kicked out of your lungs. you deeply exhaled and leaned against the wall of a modiste. it must have been an hour since you left that soiree. your best option would be to sneak into the manor to avoid getting a telling to from your stepfather. but if he did perhaps your mother wouldn’t have to deal with him, especially in her current state.

you pushed yourself to your feet and began to walk back where you came from. you had intended to take a small walk before you returned to your estate on horseback. if you had taken the motorcycle, someone would have noticed. it wasn’t your first time sneaking out after the curfew. 

there was a quick route through the crowd of stumbling drunks that also completed their night of drinking and possible fornication, not considering the risk of being both drunk and open to the sharp claws of the nearby wanderers. it was almost like those creatures were attracted to foolishness– though to be fair, you were recently attacked.

you eventually found your horse impatiently waiting for you with a very timid and very pissed off valet. 

“i work with keeping cars safe, my lady,” he hissed, roughly handing the reins to you. “cars. not rude horses!”

“perhaps you should have been nicer,” you muttered, fumbling through the holographic screen of your watch. a high pitched ring sounded and echoed onto his wrist. “payment for your hard work, good sir.”

the valet’s mood quickly rose as he fully digested the price paid for his ‘service fee’. he grinned and quickly bowed to you continuously, thanking you for your generosity and asking for you to return with your horse again.

you smiled to yourself as you settled on the saddle, and patted your horse to start moving. the valet was still singing praises to you as the distance between the two of you grew increasingly larger. 

“like i’d ever let him touch you again, my sweet.” you crooned, stroking the mane of your horse. you checked the time and hissed in worry. it was the middle of the night and your stepfather would soon be waking up to plot and ponder in his study like he always did. 

“hyah!” your horse’s calming trot gradually transitioned into a sprint, carrying you through the late night towards your family home. you’d be there in minutes if you maintained your speed. throughout your travels you couldn’t shake off a weird feeling from your shoulders. as far from the central city as you were, you still felt like you were being watched.

one of the few interesting concepts of these ‘arranged’ marriages was that neither of partners in the wedded couple were allowed to see each other until the day of the wedding. and even those weren’t subtle. 

huge celebrations would be held to celebrate unions and from the rumours you’ve heard along with what you’ve seen, the bride and groom would have already met one another at least a month prior at some party or another event where it would be difficult to track who comes in and when.

your case was slightly more discouraging, considering you only knew of the tales laced with potential deceit and fear regarding your husband-to-be. no secret rendezvous, no hidden in plain sight meetups like all the others blabbered on about. you were going to experience the real deal of having your hand and choice in who you marry signed off by a man who wasn’t even your biological father.

and that fury was why you threw a glass of juice at him during your adornment fittings. your wedding dress was far from simple. it was adorned with precious jewels around the neckline and embroidered on your back in the shape of your family’s crest. it was more than transparent that your wedding was considered big if your stepfather was going through the expenses of ensuring your dress was extravagant, inviting multiple politically influential figures, and trying to trap you within the estate until this very day.

it was to ‘maintain your purity’, according to him. though, that was no longer a claim you owned. not since your twentieth birthday. and that was five years ago.

and that doesn’t include the other outrageous comments and demands he made. one of them– and definitely not limited to that– involved him wanting you to give him grandchildren. grandchildren. as if he would have the privilege to ever see them!

he could fuck off and get his grandchildren from the bastard kids he’d abandoned for all you cared.

“you insolent wretch–“ the old man’s hands balled into fists as he slowly rose to his feet. the maids standing on either side of the dining room shifted to the sides of the door to give you passage to run in case he got violent.

“oh, are you going to banish me?” you bitterly chuckled, not minding his impeding anger radiating towards you. you cut through your croissant and relished in every bite as if it were the most important thing in the world. “do remember my mother and i are both more than capable of handling ourselves without you.”

you absentmindedly listened to him draw a deep, heavy breath before sighing and returning to his seat. “your mother is ill.”

the fork and knife in your hands dropped onto the plate, clattering around the room’s silence like the resonating waves of a bullet firing into an empty field. your gaze slowly flickered to him. 

“and you aren’t getting any younger.” he scoffed, looking you up and down as if you weren’t known as one of the most beautiful women in high society. “you must serve your purpose to this family–“

“i believe you meant serve your personal interests.” you cut, with venom laced in your voice. 

“he means in the interest of this family and you.” a frail voice pulled you out of your angered state and dragged into momentary shock.

your mother, frail and thin, stood at the entrance to your dressing room leaning over on her walking stick. the maid beside her stood like a cowering puppy that had been swatted away. even in her state of weakness, your mother still stood strong– one of the many qualities you inherited from her. her perseverance. 

“mother,” you began, slowly rolling your next words over your tongue. “there has to be another way. we are influential and financially affluent enough to handle ourselves–“

“not enough to handle the imperial court.” your mother sighed as she slowly reached you. she raised her eyes to up to you, your form elevated by the pedestal and illuminated by the lights above you. in her eyes it seemed as though she had birthed an angel. 

“so beautiful, dear child,” she smiled softly, running her hand up the waistline of your dress until her cold slender fingers held your cheek. “your father would have loved to see you in this. he used to fantasise about walking you down the aisle.”

“he’s not here anymore,” you whispered with cracks of grief slipping through your hardened tone. or was it hatred? hatred for the fact that he left you so young, or that his best friend married your mother almost weeks after? “and he doesn’t deserve to get that chance.” without looking, she knew who you meant.

your mother’s lips quivered into a straight line. she stepped back as her hand cold on your face fell to her side. “best you get your makeup done. you have the audience of the imperial court, the people of linkon, onychinus and that n109 zone. you must represent us well.”

to hear that struck you like an iron bullet. almost as painful as it would have been had you been killed last night. you were starting to wonder if you should have laid your blade to the ground. if being consumed and destroyed by a wanderer was better than giving up your hand to an intergalactic criminal.

“you will not walk by my arm.” you hissed to your stepfather. “i’d rather dig up my father’s corpse than let you get that chance.” you hiked up your gown and stormed off into the adjacent room where the stylists had prepared the makeup for you.

the rest of the process was quiet. the stylists whispered their condolences to you, mentioning tips to help you survive should your life be threatened, some others suggesting your husband-to-be may not be as cruel as rumour says. 

your fears were etched into your face so much so that not even the prospect of being away from your family could console it. 

the stylists had dispersed for your family priestess to bless your body. the back of your wedding gown was deliberately left open for your family crest to be inscribed onto your skin temporarily. it was an olden tradition that dated back to the ages where evols had not become more common amongst humans and the sole equivalent was sorcery. 

some of the wealthier families stemmed from old sorcerers and practitioners of ancestral magic, protecting themselves through their family crests and watchwords. talismans, charms, sigils, spells, runes, the titles would vary amongst cultures but their meaning remained the same. 

protection. strength. power. a call to war. they would be granted regardless of the method.

the needle was hot on your flesh and the scent of your skin burning made of your body twitch in discomfort. the priestess, adorned in her traditional garb designed to cover her entire body, tutted at you.

“remain still.” she dragged the hot needle down your spine, finalising the process of your marking. “it will fade in a few hours. but the magic stay intact for as long as you allow it.”

you slowly stretched, feeling the stiffening pain growing on you. you swallowed the reel of profanities threatening to roll of your tongue as you turned to the priestess who was packing away her supplies.

“you were trained to fight wanderers, and honour our family like your predecessors. my predecessors.” you rushed to her and tightly held her hands. your options were slipping out of your hand like sand, making you more desperate than before. “cousin, i know of the faction that trained you– that hunters association. and you know i’m more than capable to be within your rank. take me with you.”

you could almost hear her smiling in pity. she pulled her hands away and slowly stepped back. “my destiny is tied to my position. yours is much different and much more broad.” as she turned her back to you, she placed a small coin on the dressing table. “you will do far better once you marry the dragon concealed as a crow. best of luck, little cousin.”

and alone you remained to float within your thoughts. your destiny was broader than hers? the only thing you could envision was the potential torture you’d go through once the ties were sealed. there was not much left for you to do.

the burning sting of the crest carved onto your back had run cold, a searing tingle burst through your back like gentle sparks indicating the talisman was now active. and always would be.

the bells snapped you out of your daze, ringing away the last of your freedom– or perhaps the last of your captivity. your mother and stepfather walked you to event hall of your mansion, where everyone awaited you. your mother gently kissed your forehead, whispering you luck and reminding you to maintain composure.

the large double doors swung open and melodic music silenced the crowd before you. row by row, they all rose to their feet acknowledging you more than your family behind you. perhaps it was the dress, or that you possibly held the expression of wanting to run. the last person to turn around met your gaze with his crimson eyes.

sylus.

the very sylus, leader of onychinus, fearsome conqueror of planets, was dressed in a fitted white suit stricken with embroidered red crows. a small brooch was pinned on his blazer, the ruby in the centre sparkled under the light. his eyes scanned you briefly before he adjusted his stance, silently reminding you to walk. 

you deeply inhaled and stepped forward, deliberately moving as slowly as you could to scan each present guest in the hall. dignitaries from neighbouring planets, a large group of guests dressed in red and black including some wearing masks, distant family members and friends amongst the people of linkon, and most surprisingly four counsellors of the imperial court. you had expected less.

whispers broke out behind you as the insignia etched onto your back was clearly visible. you slowly realised that it wasn’t just a protection charm for you. you carried the burning torch telling your family’s enemies to remain in their place, that you were no longer weaker than them. you decided to assign it as a call to war against your own parents– cursing them for sending you off like this.

that would explain the secret meetings over the last few months. your marriage was a deal to grant your family protection. and judging by the satisfied look on one of the imperial counsellor’s face, they also had a chip in the transaction. control? access to weapons and intel? 

but there was nothing that caught your attention more than the man standing patiently before you. for someone so menacing, he looked divine. god-sculpted face and damningly soft lips. his white hair looked as soft as a kitten’s fur. he was so tall and muscular. so beautiful too. you almost released your tension just from the sight of him. 

he reached his hand out to help you step onto the pedestal to join him and the officiator. as you stood next to him, while feeling underwhelmingly short despite wearing heels, you caught a whiff of his scent. it was a bit too familiar, almost like burnt herbs and spices.

the officiator droned on about the beauties and responsibilities that came with marriage and how the union would connect our societies more than ever. you watched him glance to your left around the same area where your parents and the imperial counsellors sat. so he was in on the stunt too. maybe not a direct beneficiary, but all rivers end up in the ocean one way or another.

“you’re observant,” the rumbles of his voice sent shivers down your spine. another thing about him that was all too familiar. “good.”

you did not respond to his comment. a young girl skipped towards the two of you, cautiously holding a white cushion holding two rings; both encrusted with rubies and diamonds but one had a larger gem in the centre. 

sylus picked the ring with the larger diamond and turned to you. he recited his vows to you, swearing his loyalty and endless care for you, among the many traditional vows a husband would make to his wife. his crimson eyes held firm on yours with a serious stare, meaning every single world– though that was the first time you met.

“you look rather calm to be marrying the douchebag that broke your protocore,” he muttered as his fingers caressed your hand before slipping the encrusted ring on you. the realisation slowly dawned upon you like the rising sun shining directly in your face. “don’t gawk, you’ll make a spectacle.”

you quickly relaxed and took his ring from the bearer to exchange the gesture. “so it was you last night.” 

his hand was large and yet well cared for and almost scarless despite his endless battles. you recited your vows, similar to his and returned his gesture, though you couldn’t guarantee that you wouldn’t try to kill him in his sleep. if he did sleep. you slipping the ring onto his finger with more cruelty than intended, inducing a pained smirk from his lips.

“definitely a douchebag.”

the officiator, after another round of praises and ramblings of loyalty and union, asked if anyone opposed the union. you had hoped someone, anyone would say something. but the silence was clear and loud. you raised your head high, concealing the slither of disappointment– no, fury brewing within you.

“then through the powers bestowed upon me, i pronounce thee husband and wife. you may seal the union.”

you could feel your heart sink. you had to kiss him. kiss a renown intergalactic criminal, kiss those soft lips, kiss yourself into a marriage you likely wouldn’t leave by choice. those soft pink lips–

he was smirking at you. smirking! as if he read your mind– can he?

his hands, warm and gentle, cupped your cheeks as he leaned towards you.

“may i?” your words were held in your throat from the shock, making you to nod. 

he closed the gap between you and the world temporarily fell silent. his lips were really soft. like, plump and so cushiony. he was gentle with the kiss, almost like you were his lifelong lover whom he relished, and kept it brief but long enough to illicit excited giggles from the young girls within the crowd. as you leaned away, your audience burst into a round of applause, standing to congratulate the sealing of your marriage. the finalisation of a deal made behind the curtains.

it didn’t feel like sparks bursting, not that you expected it to, but it felt surprisingly warm. homely and comfortable. like it was just you and him that mattered. which was a weird feeling. but you didn’t dislike it.

and in the deafening round of applause, in celebration, relief, envy, and pity, your eyes did not leave your stepfather’s. your mind did not leave the thought of screaming until your lungs shrivelled, as if your body wanted to do it itself.

it did not leave the desire to claw the life out of his throat.

“i can kill them all if you’d like,” sylus whispered, glancing down at you as you left the hall to enter another for the reception. 

“excuse me?” 

“you look unhappy,” he adjusted his tie, giving you a clearer view of his hands. the same hands that took down the wanderer last night. those veiny, strong hands– “about your current… position. so we can kill them all now, obviously excluding the children, then annul the marriage. would you like that?”

“wait, wait,” you paused in your steps. he just offered to murder every guest present then annul your marriage. he was giving you an open door to living your own life. but why? “isn’t this what you wanted? this marriage?”

“it was a necessary agreement,” he slowly spoke, carefully choosing his words. “there were many other ways to conduct a deal with your parents and the imperial court but those would have required more precision and time to handle. however, forcing your hand in something you don’t like isn’t right. i don’t mind ending this union between us once the time requisite passes– it’s a year, isn’t it?”

you were stunned, but still managed to muster a nod. he was so polite and colloquial. he kept a healthy distance from you to not make you too uncomfortable but kept close enough not to catch the suspicious eyes of the guests. 

“if that is what you want then by all means,” he smirked as he paused, his right eye glimmered for a second. “though i can’t guarantee you’ll want to by that point.” 

sylus’ hand remained on your person throughout the more festive side of the wedding, either on your hand or your shoulder, or your waist while his thumb rubbed up and down the bare skin of your back. 

watching him whisper to foreign dignitaries just loud enough for you to hear, shaking hands with members of the imperial court while ensuring you were fully acknowledged with respect, his occasional check-ins with you to ensure you were fine throughout– that wasn’t what you had expected of the fearsome leader of onychinus. 

his present ‘crows’ were all introduced to you, pledges and vows were made to your name to serve you with integrity, leaving you slightly confused as they only referred to you by your first name or ‘missus’ or ‘mrs boss’– specifically by two younger men wearing crow-like masks. 

“do you not have a last name?” you whispered to sylus as the next group of pitiful, arrogant, or opportunistic guests began to flock towards you after the last.

“is it needed?” you shrugged and sighed, rolling your shoulders back to prepare for the fake smiles coming to you like a hurricane. 

“i guess not, especially when you’re a planet conqueror.”

sylus softly hummed and took your hand, briefly walking away from the crowd before you. he guided you towards the entrance of the hall, attracting the attention of the guests you quickly moved past.

“what are you doing?” you hissed, subtly flicking the hand holding yours as you glanced over your shoulder. sylus briefly stopped and gently hooked your arm over his, which was surprisingly rather comfortable.

“i won’t let my wife tire herself out,” he said, glancing down at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “don’t worry about the maggots behind you. they’ll likely assume we are too excited to wait for the night.”

right. you had almost forgotten about that old tradition of consummating marriages. it was an outdated practice by general standards, but some of the wealthier clans and families still found it necessary to lock the marriage in place. you were surprised he believed in that, considering his line of business.

“i’ve never understood the practice honestly,” he tutted. “let couples do as they please at their own pace.” perhaps you were wrong about him.

his crows began to depart one by one, stopping to either nod, give you a look of respect, or even hug you wishing their welcomes to you. the two crow mask wearing young men nudged each other before they handed you a bouquet of blood red roses.

“your first wedding gift from the bossman!” the one with a deeper voice said. you could tell they had meant sylus. you accepted the roses and gave him a questioning side glance.

“would you have preferred receiving it during the ceremony?”

he guided you out of the hall to the main entrance of the estate. a crow– with ruby eyes and adorned with mechanical alterations especially to its wings– landed on sylus’ shoulder as you stepped outside. a very expensive looking luxury car awaited you. along with your parents.

your mother hobbled towards you with her cane, holding her hand out to hold you one last time. you instinctively leaned into her touch and pulled her into your embrace. a wave of emotion washed over you brimming tears in your eyes. 

your mother slowly stepped away from you, reluctant to let go of your hand. her sharp gaze averted to sylus who silently watched your stepfather throughout the interaction.

“keep my child safe. and alive.” he only gave her a nod. it became clear that your time was up for your old life. the transfer was complete and what happened next was up to you to brave with courage.

you gave your mother a final hug, requesting for her to take care of herself and that you would visit whenever you got the chance– both of you knew you never would.

as the vehicle pulled out of the main driveway with sylus at the wheel and you on the passenger seat, you heard your stepfather wishing you godspeed. it took more than balling your hands into fists to stop yourself from jumping out of the car and decapitating him with your hands.

the drive was mostly silent. the roof the car was opened to allow the wind to brush through your hair. a few black cars drove by your side for several minutes before branching off to different locations until the two of you were isolated on a road leading to the outskirts of linkon city.

you weren’t too sure on how to begin conversation with him– your… husband. even thinking about it felt unnatural. the car slowly picked up more speed until passing vehicles flashed by in less than a second. 

the exhilarating thrill of the speed reminded you of your horse and how you would often go riding at night to experience a sense of thrill to dispel your anger or disappointment. you had gone for a morning ride before preparing for the wedding, too afraid to say goodbye as your horse was the one thing– outside your mother– that you weren’t willing to let go of. like a man with a dog, you and your horse were true companions.

“you did well,” his voice almost made you jump in your seat. you turned to him with a look of slight agitation, watching him concentrate on the road. 

“oh sure, you would definitely be proud.” you scoffed, voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

“it’s good that you’re not ignorant,” he continued as if you didn’t say anything, making your eye twitch. “keeping an eye on every guest there to understand their intentions behind their presence and discerning between those who cared and those who benefitted from your- our marriage… that was admirably smart.”

your eyes narrowed. he was being painfully meticulous with his words but it also seemed effortless. you felt warmed by the praise, the acknowledgement of you putting your knowledge to good use. the crow cawed at you in what you assumed was anger.

“is this your pet?” you bit at the bird, making it flutter its wings and caw even more. sylus’ grinned as the car drove into a more isolated road.

“mephisto,” he said as the crow hopped off his shoulder and flew ahead of the car. “i don’t consider him as a pet– more like a confidant.”

mephisto cawed at you once more before flying off of sylus’ shoulders to speed ahead towards a large estate. the mansion looked absolutely marvelous, with its aged designs and well maintained grounds. it was slightly larger than your family’s estate with the lengthy driveway, the magnificent fountain at the main entrance and the overall quietness of the space. 

a dozen uniformed staff quietly moved boxes of what you recognised as your personal belongings into the mansion through what you assumed was the side entrance, stopping to bow in the presence of their employer.

one of them jogged to the car to greet sylus, not forgetting to acknowledge your presence, and announced that the staff would vacate to their quarters once your belongings were placed inside.

the interior was just as bourgeois as the outside. the main sitting area was dark, red and black with hints of rusted gold to be specific, covered with vintage furniture and collections of rare assets. you recognised a few of the paintings on the walls as prized works of classic creators. sylus was a creator.

towards the couches in the living area sat a bundle of neatly wrapped gifts in varying shapes and sizes. a few of the ones you picked were there as well. one of the many gifts that sat on the pile was the box of alcohol similar to the wine bottle in your hand.

“cherry wine,” sylus appeared next to you in complete silence, making you jump on the spot. “i love the scent of it.”

he poured you a glass and slid it to you before preparing his own. it smelled deliciously sweet to the point where you couldn’t tell if it was actually alcoholic. as the wine coated your lips, the sweetness was the first thing for you to sense. it was like drinking liquid sweets in the most erotic way possible. no wonder the term ‘pop the cherry’ was said when drinking that. the engulfing burn of the alcohol ran down your throat just as you swallowed. 

your tolerance for alcohol was reasonably strong– strong enough to have at least three glasses of the wine before you began to act differently. sylus, on the other hand, was already in a bit of a blush. he wasn’t near finished with his first glass.

“i didn’t take you for the type that can’t stomach drinks,” you commented as you poured yourself another glass. something about that intoxicating sweetness just had you thirsting for more. you were heating up under the confines of your wedding dress with it pooling close to your core.

sylus chuckled with a hint of nerve. “i don’t have the tolerance for it,” he admitted as he took another leisurely sniff of the drink. “and my sense of taste is somewhat dull, so i appreciate the smell more than what i consume.” he swirled the crimson beverage in the crystal glass, admiring the gloss of it under the warm lights above you. 

he glanced at the ring on your finger. “it looks good on you. i had feared that you would not like it.”

you followed his gaze, watching the light reflect on the crystals making them shine like water under the moonlight. 

“and you looked marvellous in that dress, as tattered as it was.” he was talking about the previous night. before you got roughhoused by those wanderers, the dress was rather beautiful and formfitting for you– dashed with gold and black jewels to complement the ruby red colour of your attire. you didn’t think he had noticed.

you could feel his gaze peeling you open layer by layer, increasing the bubbling heat within you. the alcohol must have been quite strong since it was rare for you to get so fuzzy so quickly. he was probably going to ramble more if you didn’t change the subject.

“do you live here?” you asked, turning away to look around the living room. your torso still felt so tight and constricted. “it looks untouched.”

your fingers fumbled to remove your necklace, struggling to get a good grip of the clasp– partially because you were flustered and that you the dress was designed in such a way that you couldn’t vigorously move around.

sylus moved behind you and moved your hands to your sides with an uncharacteristic amount of gentleness. this kindness was still something you were suspicious of. for a conquerer to be so kind to you felt weird.

“it’s a temporary stop before we get to the n109 zone,” he helped you remove your necklace, his fingers slowly travelled up your neck to unclasp it. “we can stay however long you need if you’re not ready to go.”

you instinctively leaned into his touch, feeling the heat of his hand spread across your skin. his patience and care was something you greatly appreciated– so much so that it gradually lowered your guard.

from the wedding to the tedious reception to that very moment, his behaviour went completely against the rumours that spread tainting his name. the same rumours that instilled fear amongst your peers. even when he stepped in to help you in battle the previous night, he wasn’t cruel– not with you at least.

“what were you doing in linkon yesterday?” you asked as sylus placed the necklace on the couch. he took your hand, silently indicating his desire to walk with you.

“confirming a few deals with the hunters association,” the hallway was wide and covered with pillars of withered plants and old paintings. although it looked meticulously clean it was still so void of life. “i needed to maintain my influence with my associates working there. i believe one of them are distantly related to you. she said you have a habit of chasing wanderers.”

then that was what she meant about your destiny. she knew about the deal too. a flash of disappointment in your face caught his ever so watchful eye.

“don’t blame her for this arrangement. she didn’t know better.” he rubbed your hand with his thumb and tugged you into the dining hall, embroidered with expensive carpets, couches and a fireplace on and by the floor, exotic plants on the corners of the large room and large windows overlooking the extensive grounds of the estate, coloured orange from the setting sun. 

your skin was painted in a warm gold colour along with his, kissed by the light shining into the dark room. the faint tipsy blush on sylus’ cheeks had gradually darkened as he looked at you, fully taking you in.

the way your dress hugged your body and accentuated your beauty, the soft amount of makeup on your face that amplified your natural appearance, and your relentless energy in how you spoke and moved had set his mind in a bit of a frenzy. even when you gave him that confused look you were just so pretty.

so pretty.

so beautiful.

so attractive.

heat flowed through his veins in rapid flashes, more than he could comprehend. it wasn’t similar to what he normally experienced whenever he was intoxicated. his hand left your grip to tug down on his tie that tightened around his neck, feeling as though he was suffocating.

his vision began to haze slightly, almost as though he was blinded by a wave of a familiar yet enhanced sensation– a magnified feeling.

lust.

“sylus?” his large hand hit the wall to maintain his balance. you almost called out for the staff to help but you quickly remembered they were all likely gone.

“are you alright?” your eyes blurred in a daze, your body fuzzed from the heat surrounding you and the incessant throbbing and swelling feeling of arousal spreading around you. sylus leaned on the wall, covering his eyes with his hand, the other quickly rushing down his abdomen to his crotch where a very large bulge pressed against the fabric of his pants.

oh. oh.

this was far from noble. both of you were basically clawing at your clothing, disheveled with the heat of pure desire– that had to be what it was. and for some reason, the muscles on his arms bulging through his tailored suit became more prominent than it was throughout the entire day.

just what could have caused a flash of this to happen out of nowhere?

then it clicked. the wine. that damned wine. did someone send it to you to spike you? the speculation made you pause to think. if someone wanted you and sylus dead, why would they send over a crate of cherry wine that has rendered you both insufferably hot–

“cherries, sylus, cherries are aphrodisiacs.” you groaned, holding your face in your hands. you just knew it that recommendation had no pure intent behind it.

“not strong ones,” sylus muttered, his back turned to you. though you could clearly see his ears were flushed red. “unless there’s another component in there– damn it, did you taste pomegranate?”

you did but it wasn’t that strong over the sweetness of the cherries. but you remembered someone mentioning (back in your clubbing days) that there are variants of the wine that have stronger effects– one of them being an aggressive aphrodisiac.

the air was thick, your breaths were heavy, the distance between you was less than a few steps away and ethically speaking it should have been much further than that. and yet– and yet you didn’t want to be any further from him.

you wanted to help him and yourself. through the clearest means possible.

“we need to fuck our way through this.” sylus whipped his head to you, almost bewildered by your brash approach. “only if you’re willing.”

“i am,” his chest rose and fell heavily, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, damping that soft, cloud white hair of his. “but i worry if you are willing to do it. there are other ways we can handle this without going as far as intercourse–“

“what, masturbate in separate rooms?” you scoffed. you hissed in a breath, tugging down at your dress in a sore attempt to breathe more. “i don’t think i’d be able to get off if i can’t see you.” that part came out in a loud whisper which didn’t go deaf to his ears. 

“oh sweetie,” that same infuriating yet charming smirk tugged at his plump, soft– fuck. “you think i’m attractive?”

“wasn’t that obvious?” you panted and tugged at your neckline. “gods, i need this dress off.”

a gust of energy pulled you towards sylus until you were fully in his embrace. his head was dipped into your neck, lips so close to your skin. if this was his attempt to help relieve your mutual tension it definitely wasn’t working.

“perhaps i can take it off,” his hands traveled to the back of your neck and the small of your back, searing your nerves just with his touch. “your desire has changed to that of wanting something. someone. should this someone step in?”

oh that ass– you knew exactly what he wanted you to say. you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. not by a long shot.

“maybe a kiss will suffice,” you mentally slapped your forehead. a kiss will suffice? your flirtation skills must have turned into pure mush. it was probably his face. handsome, divine, damned face!

and to your internal relief and joy he dutifully complied, engulfing you in his touch. just like the first kiss you shared, he was so gentle but this time you could sense he was holding back. though, admittedly, so were you. your hands stroked his hair, occasionally tugging at those soft tufts. a low groan erupted into your mouth accompanied with a harsh tut.

“my dear wife,” his voice had dropped an octave, rumbling straight down to your core which had already started to pool with arousal. something about him calling you that felt good. really good. “we are dangerously dangling over this cliff. are you sure you want to take the dive?”

you pecked his lips, giddy from the kiss. “let’s hope you can swim.”

your hands swarmed all over each other as the kiss intensified with each beat of your heart. in intervaled tugs and pulls and breaths between the kisses, your shoes both were kicked off, then his tie fell to the floor, then his blazer, then his dress shirt, exposing his torso to your hungry eyes. 

he expertly unbuttoned your dress at its collar and paused waiting for your permission to proceed. you quickly nodded and assisted him by tugging down the front of the dress, revealing your torso both bare and sparkling from the glitter sprayed onto your dress.

sylus eyed you with an indecipherable look all while feeling his way down to your hips so slowly with his large hands, tracing his fingers over the outline of your breasts and the sides of your waist. he was admiring you. 

his eyes fluttered shut as a shaky whine left his lips. within the closed space between your heated bodies, his hips managed to jut to yours reminding you of his throbbing length trapped within the confines of his clothing.

you leaned back, widened eyes peering into his burning crimson gaze. a quiet bond had formed between you in seconds and the instant understanding had been made transparently clear. he took your hands– which were not surprisingly smaller than his own– until they cupped his erection. sylus’ hands swiftly touched the zipper below the back opening of your dress and tugged it straight down.

“my patience is wearing thin, sweetie,” his lips tickled the shell of your ear. “i don’t know how much more i can hold back with you this close to me.”

you wasted no time in tugging down his pants along with his briefs allowing his cock to spring free, slapping your skin with precum almost spurting from his reddened tip. that alone was enough to have you soaked.

it was so hot and heavy, and long and thick, thick enough for you to question if your hand could wrap around it let alone your poor pussy, who was shamelessly leaking even more while sylus slid your dress and your lacy underwear down to the floor.

“i wanted to rip that off.”

“what?” 

“what?” with a scoff, you pushed him back with a singular finger to his chest and stepped away from the abandoned dress on the floor to get a better look of your husband confidently standing before you.

you’re mentally fanning yourself at the sight, shamelessly thinking of all the profanities you can conjure and all the dirtiest images involving the two of you. those thoughts must have been made under the influence of the wine. right?

“you like?” sylus grinned, watching you relentless stare at his body. his well-built, muscular body. god-sculpted and revered– fuck, you were in too deep.

“don’t get cocky.” you huffed, feeling your face warm for the nth time that night. that dress was getting a bit too tight on you. you tugged at the opening at your back to force more airflow around your skin but nothing was working. prickles of sensitivity brought you to a shiver, the slightest movement from your legs was stimulating pleasure to the power of a thousand. 

you almost pounced on him. almost. but you maintained composure. you straightened your posture and moved to the dining table, pushing away the plates and cutlery in your way to free up the corner. fortunately it was short enough to stand between. 

sylus followed in suit, standing at the opposite end of the table at the shorter side to not be too far from you. his hands wandered all over his body, stroking and pinching at his skin to tease himself– and you.

“i know what you’re doing, sylus.”

“i know what you’re doing, sweetie,” his hand eventually found his cock, ghosting his touch over his sensitive length. you watched him bite his lips, watched him intentionally raise the stakes in the little game you were playing together. 

you were going to go all in. you leaned into the corner of the table, connecting your needy wetness to its new source of pleasure.

sharp jolts ran up your spine from your clit rubbing against the corner of the table. you paused, slowly repeating the movement until you relaxed into the position too needy to stop. your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the impeding moans just begging to roll off your tongue.

across the table, he watched you in a daze while lazily pumping at his cock. his fist squeezed around the base, making the veins running up his shaft more prominent, and stroked up until his angry red tip disappeared within his hand. a gentle plap! rhythm accompanied the classical music in the background as he picked up a reasonable pace. 

his fingers danced around his tip rubbing back and forth on the slit that dribbled out precum like a leaky tap– soft moans were being pulled out of his lips as he teased his body, he caressed his chest and ultimately tortured himself, all while intently watching your pretty, squished breats bounce between your arms as your hips began to rut against the table.

he must have been doing all of that on purpose.

your knuckles paled as your grip on the table strengthened, so desperate to have something inside your weeping pussy that you almost stuffed your fingers as far as they’d be able to go. but alas, you knew they weren’t capable of satiating what you needed. you dropped your head to concentrate– to go just a bit harder–

“uh-uh, kitten,” you could just hear him smiling. kitten. a jolt shot straight down to your core. you could just feel your slick begin to drip down your legs, and judging by the reckless pump of blood flow your lips must swollen from all that need. “look at me.”

nope, you weren’t planning on doing that. not while you were getting closer to your climax. the angle you had found was just perfect, hitting the bud of your swollen clit and rubbing at the sensitive nerves surrounding at. you could just hear the squelches from your wetness leaking onto the table and dripping down in small, sticky droplets. 

you raised your head slightly, panting out a desperate moan, eyes hazed with arousal and need only to find sylus not where he was originally standing. your breath hitched, instantly feeling his overwhelming presence behind you. how did he get there so fast?

his lips found the back of your neck, still well exposed despite the neatness of your styled hair falling apart. his hands settled on your waist, holding you in place as kissed down your spine and around the fading remnants of the insignia painted onto your back.

“how about i help you a bit?” he murmured and licked his way up your spine until his hot, wet tongue found the shell of your ear. “would you like that?”

too breathless to speak, you nodded.

“use your words, sweetie.” he whispered and pecked your jaw. his hardened cock lightly grazed the curve of your ass. “this only works if you tell me you want it.”

“oh fuck you.”

“that’s not what i’m looking for.” he teasingly presses himself against you, rubbing himself up and down, nestling his cock between your lower cheeks. “tell me what you want.”

he was so close yet so damn far, and his teasing wasn’t helping at all. “you.” you choked.

“hmm?”

“damn you, i need your help!” you blabbered while your body instinctively pushed back to be closer to him. “i want your help and i want you– now, help me!”

sylus hummed in approval, lowering his hands to your hips. “yes ma’am.”

your legs were beginning to ache from your endless grinding to satisfy your insatiable desire, bringing you to a tremble. sylus’ presence had briefly left you until he returned with his hands on the back of your thighs and warm air fanning your pussy.

“absolutely soaked,” he commented in astonishment, pressing a wet peck on your thigh, intentionally making you feel how far he is from where he’s supposed to be. you groaned, bucking back in urgency.

“stop teasing!”

“oh?” he pressed another kiss on your other thigh, intentionally increasing the distance. “i thought enjoyed my brattiness, kitten. are you going to threaten me with your claws?”

you stopped moving to give him a glare. “sylus–“

“no, continue what you were doing. i’ll take care of this little mess right…” his fingers rubbed your entrance, spreading your wetness down to your thighs. “here.” 

oh yes. his hands were perfect. 

they did so much more to you than your own ever could. you slowly rocked your hips against the desk to return your wavering attention to your needy bud. the double stimulation from his fingers gradually going deeper inside you and your clit being abused by a bloody inanimate object– you could just feel yourself reaching your limit.

his fingers explored your weeping pussy without restraint, curving and curling in you to find exactly what made you tick, twitch, and tingle. his lips caressed your bare lower cheeks, making your pant more and more until a sharp sting threw you off your daze. it was a bite. he bit you.

“did you just bite my ass–“

“yeah, what about it?”

you scoffed in disbelief, muttering that you’d stop him from biting your ass and pushed his head back to devour your soaking cunt. sylus grunted in surprise but wasted no time to get to work, resting his hands on your ass to give his tongue more access to you.

you heard of tongue-fucking as a concept but you never understood how good it felt– not until now. feeling him smoothly curl and curve that wet muscle inside you so effortlessly had you in a messy daze. your nails clawed into his hair, keeping him in place to continue with his gentle yet persistent ministrations.

“s-sylus,” you moaned, moving faster and faster to chase your impending high, keeping him close to you to ensure he followed your flow. “oh, fuck, sylus!”

“mm– so profane.” his voice was muffled against you, his tongue swirled around your entrance before slipping back inside. the vibrations of his moans rumbled through you almost triggering you to tip off the edge. that familiar plap! plap! rhythm sounded beneath you, accompanying his choked noises.

you pushed his head back to face him, and you were shockingly pleased.

your dangerous husband was on his knees with his hand shamelessly tending to his abandoned, flushed cock, jutting his hips to simulate what it could feel deep inside you. the experience of having his fingers and tongue in you alone was more than enough to set him off.

now he just needed to have you in every position humanely possible.

“need some help?” you grinned in a mocking tone, slowly kneeling before him. sylus’ face was as red as the cherry wine, his broad, muscular chest glistened in a layer of sweat that dripped down the lines of his abdomen until it was lost within the trimmed, white tufts of the hairs surrounding his cock. you just couldn’t take your eyes off him. you didn’t want to.

“please,” it didn’t even take you teasing for him to give in. sylus leaned forward, hand still working his raging cock, and rested his head against yours. 

“i need you,” you watched his cock twitch in his hands, slowly beginning to salivate. damn, those aphrodisiacs were strong. you had never felt that aroused before. never felt such a strong desire to take him in your mouth. 

“i have an idea,” you whispered, pecking the corner of his lips. he whimpered from the mere contact, leaning into you more to reach your lips. “if you’ll let me.”

“anything, kitten,” he pressed a desperate kiss on your lips. then another. “anything.”

what he didn’t anticipate from you was that you’d immediately go down on him, moving his hands up and swiping your tongue around his cock in an instant. he sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes. what a seductress you were.

from the way you walked down the alter to him, to your joy and serenity on horseback, to that very moment with you bent down lubricating him with your tongue, kissing his leaking cockhead with your pretty lips.

you kissed your way up his shaft, long and heavy, testing how girthy he truly was with your hand– so thick you couldn’t wrap your hand around it fully. you took his tip in, getting a taste of his precum bursting into your mouth from a simple touch all while swirling your tongue over his slit.

his groans vibrated onto your tongue as it lapped up more drops of his precum at debilitatingly slow pace. lick, lick, lick like a kitten drinking milk. his shaft was not left alone, being delicately handled by your hands stroking up and down with gentle squeezes in intervals.

“squeeze– squeeze harder.” sylus panted. you raised your eyes to meet his piercing crimson gaze. a shot of tingles vibrated around your pussy, making you so much wetter. you obeyed without complaint, strengthening your grip on his cock with each stroke. 

your head bobbed taking you further and further down his shaft until his leaky tip tapped the back of your mouth, right before the curve down your throat. you choked out a moan, feeling a tingle of tears burn the corners of your eyes. sylus quickly noticed and cradled your head, about to pull you out.

“are you alright?” from your angle he looked like such an adorable puppy, worried for you while his cock was stuffed in your mouth. you hummed, stroking his hand, and opened your jaw to take more of him. you took deep breaths through your nose slowly returning to your initial rhythm.

sylus watched his cock slowly disappear into your mouth until he was fully bottomed out in you. you were so warm and your throat was so tight around his length, so much so that you couldn’t help but gag every so often around his girth. the sounds of your chokes and gags filled the space along with the delicious sloppiness of your pretty mouth slurping around him.

“so pretty,” he huffed. the temptation to grip your head and guide you to go faster was getting stronger by the second. his knees ached from sitting in that position for so long but the pleasure was worth the pain. his hand instinctively pushed your further down into him and you responded so well by hollowing your cheeks, tightening your mouth around him as much as you could. his eyes rolled back as he moaned, your noises of pure pleasure reverberated in the air.

it was so wet and sloppy, creating a small puddle of precum and saliva from what dripped out of your mouth. you pulled your head back with a loud pop! with your tongue out, letting all the slickness drip down to his tip. sylus groaned in an attempt to hold back whatever profanities brewed in him.

your face was drenched from the tip of your nose down beyond your chin. sylus breathing was heavy, chest heaving, face fully flushed. his lips opened to speak but he was rendered speechless. his lips rushed onto your neck, licking up the slick wetness until his lips found yours. 

like how you worked his cock, the kiss was wet, sloppy, lustfully passionate and boiling with your mutual greed to consume each other. your tongues swirled and collided, teeth occasionally clashing as well in reckless pursuit of remaining as close as possible.

he pulled you onto his lap, cock still rock hard and flush against your abdomen, rubbing against your flesh, making him shiver from the stimulation. the buzz from the aphrodisiac was still strong, coursing through him as quickly as his pulse.

“need to be in you,” he moaned against you lips in a rough plea. “need to feel you.”

your inhibitions were right out the window. all you could think of was the thought of you two sickeningly together, divinely united, fucking consummating the damn marriage just so you could fully feel him. “need you inside, sy,”

like hearing an instant buzzword sylus immediately acted on your word, picking you up and moving you towards the carpet by the fireplace. he rested your head on the larger pillow while pressing his lips down your body, whispering his praises.

his lips found your hand and kissed each knuckle. “thank you for accepting me despite our rough first impression.” he kissed you up your arm all the way to your collarbones, nipping your flesh then licking you as an apology.

“want to make you feel so good,” he suckled on your skin as his hands fondled your breasts, thumbs circling your pebbled nipples making your back arch. he gently tugged on your hardened bud with his teeth and switched to the other, lathering it with his tongue and leaving harsh bruises behind.

“want to be yours,” his lips slowly travelled back up your neck, suckling small bruises and biting his mark onto your skin.

“you are, genuis.” you huffed, wiggling your finger holding the bedazzled ring. sylus glanced at it with a look of great admiration, enamoured by how it looked in your hand. how you wore it so confidently.

“legally,” his hands held your face and gave you a squish. “legally, but not of your own accord.”

you had to admit that he was correct. the marriage alone wasn’t something you would have agreed with. but you found him interesting within the last few hours where you got to speak to him. outside of your physical attraction to him you liked how his mind worked too.

“then let me make you mine.”

a look of surprise painted his face. you assured him with a smile. “let me claim you as mine. my husband. my friend. my partner.” 

your lips found each other once more, dancing in pure passion and adoration as your bodies performed a more lewd waltz in grinds and strong grips on sensitive flesh. sylus adjusted himself, aligning his cock with your dripping entrance.

he gave you one more questioning look to which you responded with an affirmative nod, lacing your fingers between his. he rolled his hips against yours, gently bullying the tip of his cock into you until it disappeared past your swollen pussy lips. you felt so warm and so damn tight he struggled to keep what was left of his composure. 

the sting of his sheer size and girth made you hiss and claw your fingers on his arm, gasping at the sheer buildup of pressure. sylus’ eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed, and lips parted allowing a melodic moan to flow into your ears. 

somehow the feeling of him being inside you get you wetter than you could comprehend and your walls sucked him in, pulling his cock deeper into you until he was almost, almost bottomed out.

“i think she likes me,” he huffed, massaging your hips to soothe the sting. 

“maybe.”

“definitely.” he slowly drew his hips back and thrusted forward with little restraint. the pain had disappeared with a fiery ignition replacing it. your gummy walls held onto his cock as it drew back and rushed into you again, creating a slick and wet noise between you as he gradually went faster.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist to lock him in place while your hands explored his back, smooth and rippled with his muscles tensing and relaxing with each gentle thrust. his lips peppered kisses and bites onto your neck, sucking harsh bruises into your skin as a substitution for the pent up desire he was desperately trying to hold back.

your name was rambled into the air in seething moans as if he was almost pained to have to restrain himself. to not harm you in pursuit of pleasing you. and then you tugged his hair. and gave him that look.

“stop holding back sy,” you whispered and pecked the corner of his lip. you were feeling a bit too greedy. “let’s give in.”

something must have snapped in him. a switch must have flipped because you saw a completely different look in his eyes in the exact second you felt his cock fit inside you entirely, fully bottoming out in you. your eyes rolled back from the sheer quick force of it, choking out a cry.

he wasn’t merciful either with his pace gradually picking up to the point where your skin slapped against his every time your hips collided until a wet clapping rhythm echoed across the dining hall alongside your joint noises.

your hands crept up to his back, finding comfort in rudely carving red lines into his skin without restraint. sylus’ melodic groans serenaded you into a haze that demanded more and more from him– more noise, more pleasure, just more.

sylus slowly sat up and glanced down to watch his cock disappear inside you then pull back out, glistening with your joint wetness to the point where it ran up his abdomen. the pillows propping you up gave you a slight view as well, a view so lewd that you almost hit your orgasm then and there.

“you are so– so tight, kitten.” sylus panted, pushing his damped hair back. his muscles were flexed, defining the sweat dripping down his body. you were almost certain you could ride his abs and get off just from that.

“you’re so big,” your eyes fluttered closed, too overwhelmed by him filling you up consistently. the pleasure alone was overwhelming. seeing him so disheveled because of you was so delightful. 

your legs were pushed up against you before he leaned back down, his tip teasing your dripping entrance for painfully long seconds before pushing in entirely in a swift slam. your pussy stung with esctasy, your toes curled from the intensive swell of pleasure in the direct spot his tip brutally poked, your eyes crossed out of your control. just what did he do?

near shaking above you, sylus leaned into your touch, hypnotised– no, enamoured by you. he just wanted to stay buried so deeply inside you, privileged to be the only one to feel how your walls squeeze and flutter around him, to be able to explore what makes you tick and moan or scratch him in need, what would make you happy, what would anger you, he wanted it all.

he had it all. he had you. and he was gradually learning just how much he needed you.

“you’re so enchanting,” he half moaned-half laughed as he returned to his initial pace in that deeper angle. “so– gods– so powerful.” he watched your pretty face fall into a daze, lips spread apart for him to hear your voice crack with your cries. your bodies were so close that the friction of your sweat stricken skin no longer bothered either of you.

you could felt your limit approaching. all that stimulation and foreplay from earlier on top of the aphrodisiac’s influence was driving you insane. you pulled sylus’ head to yours, pressing your lips onto his desperate to consume him, desperate to ensure he knew how you felt so good with him. how you felt safe.

but fuck, you were going to explode. you were so painfully close and it looked like he was too. 

it took a few more sharp thrusts before the thin string snapped, throwing you into a whole new realm of bliss. a loud cry escaped you, followed by a soft whimper from the man above you before you both crumbled in the cloud of intoxicating sparks bursting. 

your soaked walls fluttered as globs of sticky, hot cum filled you up, partially spurting out with each rough thrust. a string of curses filled the air from both of you due to the sheer deliciousness of the feeling.

hours– or, realistically speaking, minutes– must have passed while you panted, glistening in the afterglow of your erotic pursuit. despite the exhaustion, you somehow managed to soothe each other through soft caresses and massages in the areas where you gripped each other harder than intended.

sylus rested his head on your shoulder, kissing the parts of your neck that he could reach. you brought his hand to your lips and pecked each knuckle over and over again, blessing his ring finger with a particularly longer one.

“when the effects wear off, things will be a bit awkward.” sylus grumbled. 

you hummed in agreement. but considering how far you had gone on your first– technically second– day of knowing one another, you could pretty much do anything.

“how about we start off as friends first and see where that goes?” you suggesting, lacing your fingers with his. your rings dazzled in the moonlight for to admire. “i mean, we’ve already achieved the marriage goal. and the consummation.”

his laugh vibrated onto your neck, further lulling you in to comfortable exhaustion. maybe a nice nap on the floor wouldn’t hurt. 

sylus smiled a kiss onto your neck then your cheek, eyes twinkling with bliss and joy. “alright then, dearest wife who is also my new friend. let’s do that.”

in the mutual quiet, you both found yourselves admiring each other as the heat of your climax finally cooled down. and then the next wave of arousal quickly arrived. you definitely weren’t going to hold back this time.

“again.” you pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips.

“again?” he panted, almost in worry. you were insatiable.

“you can’t handle it?” you laughed in a teasing tone. within an instant you found yourself straddled on top of him– he must have turned you over with that inhumane strength– his cock quickly hardening again inside you. 

“i was worried about you, sweetie,” he squeezed your nose with a playful grin before settling his large hands on your hips, rocking them back and forth. you could just feel his cum seeping out of you. “i hope you can keep up because we won’t be stopping till the sun rises.”

[alexanderwales]

Spells are a non-renewable resource. One a spell has been cast, it can never be cast again.

But thankfully, what counts as a unique spell is permissive, and very early on in the history of wizardry, wizards found many ways to use the arcane language to specify a similar effect even if the wording was different.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

There are only so many ways to call forth a beam of lancing light, only a limited number of methods of purifying food to make it safe to eat. Soon it became necessary for the wizards to start casting spells that weren't quite what they wanted: a beam of light that arced to the left, a purifying spell that added a bitter taste, some changes cosmetic and others very functional.

And still, spells were a non-renewable resource.

Wizardry was divided into ages by the historiographers. The First Age was the age of plenty, when wizards could make minor tweaks to the spells and cast as much as they liked. The Second Age was the age of modification, when wizards were jumping through hoops and using methods with side effects. But the Third Age was the age of decay, when so many spells had been used that only the oddballs were left. It was impossible to cast anything even remotely resembling a fireball, not even one that hooked to the left and exploded with sharp green shards.

It came to be that few wizards could produce a spell on their first attempt. They would try, only to discover that someone else had already taken their idea and the spell does not work. They would try again, only to discover that their second idea had also been taken. Wizard battles, which had once been glorious light shows, were reduced to two wizards standing in a field trying to be the first one to stumble upon a spell that had never been cast before.

~~~~

Here are some plot hooks:

Wizards jealously guard their knowledge, fearful that someone will learn of a "seam" of untapped spells, but they also write down every spell they know to have been cast, to reduce their search space. Obviously this trove of knowledge is highly valuable.

The existence of spell "seams", which are really just collections of spells that work off the same cluster of discrete variations, mean that wizards tend to be very specialized. The Sheep Wizard knows eight hundred ways of turning someone into a sheep, because he's studied that area of the arcane language extensively, as well as historical precedents that have been ruled out. The natural enemy of a Sheep Wizard is, of course, another Sheep Wizard.

During the Second Age, a group of wizards get together to deliberately reduce the spell-space, largely in the hopes of reducing the capacity of wizard-kind for making war. Their work largely consists of sitting around casting as many fireballs as they can, depleting all options for everyone else.

During the Third Age, a group of wizards gets together and in the spirit of mutual cooperation begins to define "spell blocks", a collection of spells that a single wizard is entitled to and all other wizards agree not to use. When you become a wizard, you're given a thousand spells which are thought to still be valid, and will lose your license to practice wizardry if you cast any spells that are outside your block. This is difficult to enforce, rife with accusations and suspicion, but is thought to be better than nothing.

During the Fourth Age, a group of "wizards" (none of whom have ever actually cast a spell) are working on the arcane language in the hopes of a revival. As the age of hoarded knowledge has mostly passed, they're able to get their hands on many books that weren't previously available. One day, they invent a new form of specification that allows hundreds of thousands of new spells, re-igniting wizardry.

[biisexualemma]

forget it. matt murdock

word count: 3.3k

requested: nope

warnings: none but a bit of angst

plot: matt kissed you and told you to forget about it

a/n: i confess that i've had this hidden away in my drafts for a very, very long time with 90% of it written up :/ but nevertheless it's here now and you can give it a read and let me know what you think. personally i LOVE this fic and deeply love matthew murdock, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!

masterlist

"hey!" you beamed, entering the familiar bar full of familiar smells and faces. you immediately encountered the strawberry blonde who's face lit up when she saw you.

"you came!" she cheesed, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tight. you laughed, squeezing her back an appropriate amount. "i thought you told foggy you couldn't make it?" she quizzed, forever the detective.

"i know," you admitted, pulling out of the hug so you could see her lovely blue eyes, your hands still touching her forearms. "guess i changed my mind-- i couldn't miss your birthday celebrations, what kind of friend would i be?"

"a terrible one. i'd have been bad mouthing you all night," she wore a teasing smile, eyes glistening like they always did. they glanced away from you, locking onto something behind you when you remembered you hadn't arrived solo. "am i in need of an introduction?" she quirked an eyebrow, corner of her lip turning into a smirk as she eyeballed the brunette slowly coming up behind you, a hand snaking around your waist.

"oh, sorry, right," you babbled, your fingers touching your forehead at your forgetfulness and lack of manners. "this is my friend, patrick," you glanced at the man on your left who's eyes were focused on karen's inquisitive blue ones. "pat, this is karen."

"hey, nice to meet you," he held out his free hand for her to shake, which she took, offering a kind smile. your heart tightened at the interaction. "y/n's told me a lot about you."

"none of the embarrassing stuff i promise," you quickly added when she gave you a worrisome side eye, causing you to choke out a laugh. 

she seemed to glide right past this and straight into interrogation. "i didn't know you were seeing anyone?" she gave you another glance, trying desperately not to give away what she was thinking although it was fairly obvious to you. you were sure most people in this room were thinking the same thing. what about matt?

well, what about matt was that he kissed you drunkenly one night, and told you to forget all about it the next morning. so you did, though it broke your heart a little. you had only been in love with him the moment you laid eyes on him that first day at nelson and murdock and you always had a sneaky suspicion that he felt the same. based on the gentle way he spoke to you, his reassuring nudges when you were stressed over a case, soft creases in the corners of his eyes when you would laugh a little too hard at a joke foggy had made. karen and foggy teased you relentlessly about it for months, you brushed it off and matt would just shake his head and laugh. and then he kissed you, it was late, you both had been at josie's all night drinking and you helped him home because your apartment was only a block over from his, even though he insisted he was fine. you trailed with him up the steps, stopped outside his door and he stood to face you, swaying a little closer to you as the alcohol effected his balance. you grabbed hold of his forearms, giggling a little as you let out a soft woah there tiger, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning down and kissing you.

you hadn't spoken again since he caught you the next morning before work and told you that to remain professional you should both forget anything ever happened and move on. 

you tried to move on, you met patrick not long after but it didn't feel the same as it did when matt had kissed you. you suspected it never would. but patrick was nice, he was kind and he could be funny sometimes. there was no reason for you not to like him and enjoy spending time with him.

"it's still pretty new," you forced yourself to smile and lean into him affectionately no matter how unnatural it felt. you wanted to enjoy yourself tonight, not spend it worrying about what other people were thinking. this was hard to do though when you had spotted him across the room the second you had walked into josie's.

you found it hard to engage in conversation, thankfully karen and patrick were both naturally very chatty people, and kept the conversation going despite your lack of involvement. you couldn't help your eyes trailing over to where matt stood, talking with foggy.

that was when foggy caught your eye, his eyes widening along with his smile as he waved madly at you before marching over. matt trailing behind his friend, looking a little lost. 

"shit," you mumbled under your breath, but you managed to catch patricks attention. he turned to you with a quiet hm? but it was too late, they were both here already.

"you told me you weren't coming!" foggy beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. you let out an uncomfortable laugh, shrugging your shoulders. "you're turning me into a liar," he teased as he pulled away.

"sorry," you breathed out a laugh, glancing at matt who stood carefully next to foggy and karen, quietly listening in on the situation with slightly furrowed brows. "it was last minute," you bit down on your bottom lip trying to disguise your discomfort.

"this is y/n's friend patrick," karen quickly changed the subject to avoid rehashing the same conversation. "they're new," she gave you a small wink like she was saving you the trouble of explaining everything again to more people.

matt let out a quiet hm which went unnoticed by most but not by you, you shot him a quick glare. you reached down for patricks hand and held onto it with your own. "this is foggy, and matt," you introduced, forcing a gentle smile. you watched patrick shake hands with foggy, before he moved to shake matt's hand. matt, however, just stood there, eyes hidden behind those red tinted glasses, hands to himself.

"you have to be verbal with him, you know, talk him through your intentions" foggy teased his friend, a smirk lining his lips as he glanced at matt out the corner of his eye. "he can be a bit slow."

matt snorted, ducking his head to hide his laughter. patrick spluttered and froze, fearing he'd done something wrong. they really thought they were so funny. you rolled your eyes, pulling away from patrick for a second so you could slap matts shoulder and then foggy's. matt snorted a little harder at the contact from you, foggy frowning slightly as he rubbed the area you'd hit him. "both of you, knock it off,"

karen rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips remained. 

"oh, relax, it was just a joke," foggy continued to rub his arm, his smile slowly moving back onto his face. "matt's blind, not slow. he can't see you or your handshake."

patrick's face was a picture, it almost made you snort out a laugh, but you held it in, biting down on the inside of your cheek. his mouth hung open, eyes wide like he had offended matt somehow when he in fact had done no wrong. matt and foggy just liked to have fun with this kind of thing.

"oh-- shit man, i'm sorry i didn't know--" he glanced at you for help and you couldn't help but crack a smile, quickly hiding it with the back of your hand. you reached out and touched his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze, shaking your head. 

"we're just messing with you man," matt reassured, a smile lining his lips that looked a little too amused as he held out his hand for patrick to shake. "nice to meet you," he spoke with a tight jaw, his hand gripping patrick's a little too tightly. 

"pat, d'you wanna grab us a drink?" your hand still on his shoulder, you gave him a gentle nudge towards the bar where he stumbled off with a quiet yeah 'course. "you've probably just scarred him for life," you said to the group once patrick was out of ear shot.

the three of them burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in. you had missed this sense of normalcy between the four of you that had been missing for a while.

-

"hey," matt mumbled, approaching you from behind almost as soon as patrick had left your side to grab a cab outside. he nudged your shoulder with his as he moved to stand in front of you, he leaned an elbow against the bar you were sat up at. "how you doing?"

you pulled your eyes away from his and down to your drink where they had been moments ago. "i'm fine," you said softly, carefully avoiding his vacant stare. even if they were covered by those red lenses, you found matt's stare incredibly hard to keep, he had a way of looking right through you. "you?"

"fine," he nodded, his voice raspy and quiet. you brought the glass in your hand to yours lips and sipped slowly, as he let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. "is this how it's gonna be from now on?"

"don't know what you mean?" you sat your glass back down, gulping down on the lump on your throat.

"yeah, you do," he rolled his eyes slightly. he gripped the stool in front of him, that sat between the two of you. "i don't want things to be weird with us."

you shook your head, pursing your lips as you swirled the alcohol around in the glass. "why would things be weird?" you tried to play it off, but you gave yourself away with your fidgeting and quietness when you spoke. 

"because i kissed you, and i shouldn't have," he lowered his voice as he said, his head ducking slightly to grow closer to you. you glanced at him for a second but quickly pulled your eyes away again, shaking your head again.

"you said forget about it," you repeated his words back to him. "so i forgot about it, matt."

"we haven't spoken since--"

"we're speaking right now--"

"before tonight you haven't said two words to me-- you've been getting karen to send messages to me from the next room--"

"why'd you think that is?" you snapped, he was relentless and you couldn't listen to his guilty conscience any longer. "you were an asshole matt. what you did hurt, and i don't feel like forgiving you yet so you'll just have to deal with it for a little longer."

he was taken aback by your sharpness, he visibly retracted from you. you grabbed your drink and gulped back what was left in the glass. "i'm gonna go find my date," you slammed the glass back down and slipped off the bar stool and onto your feet, you shrunk in front of him. he wore a soft frown, his lips pressed tightly together. "see you in the office, matt."

he grabbed your arm before you could walk away. you glanced down at his soft grip on you before meeting his stare. "don't go with him," he muttered only to you, his jaw tense. "i'll take you home."

you yanked your arm free pretty easily, he wasn't holding onto you very tight. he was giving you mixed signals and it was making everything that was swirling around inside your head much harder to deal with. "it's not funny to mess with me like this, matt," your voice cracked slightly, breaking your hard front you had put up with him. "leave me alone."

-

patrick had picked up on your change in mood on the drive back to your place but didn't want to ask what had caused it for fear of having to discuss it. he dropped you off without a word on the matter, kissed you goodnight and didn't try to invite himself in.

you sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, head resting against them and your eyelids drooping. you were so tired from the events that occurred that night but your mind was so busy it was keeping you awake.

you really hated matt right now. he was so selfish for acting the way he did, he didn't seem to care how you felt about any of it. he'd made the decision to forget about it, and that was that. only to send you mixed signals tonight. it made no sense.

you let out a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes when there was a knock on the door. you climbed up and over the door, confused as to who would be knocking on your door this late at night. maybe patrick had forgotten something.

you peeped through the hole in your door, letting out an exasperated sigh when you saw matt on the other side. hesitating with your hand loosely on the door handle, your groaned and quickly swung the the door open.

"what are you doing here, matt?" you asked quickly, head resting against the edge of the door. you features turned into a soft frown, as you watched him jittery in front of you.

"i didn't want to leave things between us like that," he confessed. "you're my friend and i don't want you to hate me because i did something stupid."

his eyebrows raised, creating creases in his forehead, his cane was propped against the wall and his hands expressively trying to show you just how much he meant what he said. his eyes were hidden behind those glasses but you could figure out just about how they probably looked. buggy and intense, like the rest of him. 

"will you shut up and come inside, i have neighbours and i don't want them to hate me," you yanked his shirt and pulled him into your apartment along with his cane. you let out a deep sigh when you shut the door behind the both of you, turning you found matt not too far behind you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

"i don't hate you," you said after a brief silence but he gave you a frown that wasn't convinced by what you'd said. "i don't... i'm mad at you, and i don't think you can blame me."

"i know but i want to fix this," he pleaded, taking a step closer to you. "i really want to fix this because i can't stand you being mad at me," he removed the glasses from his face, his familiar glossy brown eyes appearing from behind them. "i'm used to having you around, bugging me and foggy and making jokes to lighten the mood in really heavy cases. you're sweet and kind and everything that i can lack sometimes when i don't have you there to keep me in check," he was letting loose.

"c'mon matt," you shook your head. "i miss how things were in the office but you clearly don't understand the gravity of what you did, so i can't just go back," you ran your fingers through your hair, letting out a huff of air, your eyes so tired and your body exhausted from having this conversation so many times with him.

"i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable," he admitted, his eyes distant but focused at the same time. "when i kissed you, it was impulsive and stupid. i wasn't thinking about how it would change things, all i could think about was you."

you shook your head. matt stood silently, eyes unfocused as he listened to your rapid heartbeat.

"i'm tired, matt," you sighed, a small frown falling on your lips. "i've had enough of this for one night, you're really messing with my head."

"i'm not doing this to mess with you," he took a couple steps closer to where you were standing near the door. he listened to your uneven breaths as he grew nearer. "i was being selfish when i kissed you— jeez' and i still am now."

he ran the palm of his hand over his face as he came to the realisation that he was only continuing his selfish rampage by being here in your apartment right now. "i'll go," he mumbled, his head falling down, his gaze directed towards the floor now. "sorry for being a jerk."

you, amidst matts outburst, stood quite still, your mouth hanging open slightly as his words replayed in your head. you tried to speak but you couldn't think what to say, everything about this was so confusing.

he brushed your shoulder as he walked around you and pulled at the door handle to leave, but you quickly, without hesitation, pushed the door shut again before he got any further.

"wait a minute— why do you think i'm mad at you?" you eyebrows knitted together the longer you thought about what he'd said.

"'cause i kissed you," he repeated, his hand lingering near the door as if he was expecting this conversation to go south.

"and you were being selfish because?" you asked him to clarify, your chin touching your shoulder as you glanced over to look at him.

"because... i was so caught up in wanting to kiss you, that i didn't even consider whether you wanted me to," he felt like you were dragging this out now just to humiliate him. 

you were quiet for a moment, twisting the rest of your body around so you could look at him properly again. his hands clutched onto his cane, eyes hidden behind the red lenses he'd propped back onto his face but you could see the frown, the confusion in his expression.

"matt," you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself to smiling. you wanted to slap yourself for being so blind, matt you couldn't blame. he hummed. "i was mad at you for telling me to forget about it. not because you kissed me."

his expression softened, it was a sight to behold. the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly, but unsure, his eyebrows knitted for a split second as he tried to form his words into something coherent. "wait— so you—"

"—wanted you to kiss me, you idiot," you rolled your eyes, letting out an amused snort. 

"you're kidding," his words came out slow, his brain ticking over as he caught up with you. "i only told you to forget about, thinking that's what you wanted."

"i haven't been able to forget about any of it," your voice soft, unsure still of where this was going.

matt was quiet for a moment, you could see his brain working through the stages until he spoke again, his smile slipping for a second. "what about pat?" he put some emphasis on the nickname, almost making fun.

"patrick never kissed me like you did, murdock," you shook your head softly, hopeful in your attempt to convey just how stupid you'd been in all of this. "in fact, you all did a good job of scaring him off tonight. i think he realised he was getting involved in something far more complicated than he signed up for, he couldn't get out of here fast enough."

"he was an idiot anyway," matt's smirk slowly crept back onto his lips. "not good enough for you," you took a solitary step closer to him when he said this.

you hummed. "and you figured that out from a five minute conversation with the guy?"

"i know you, y/l/n," he matched you, taking a step closer, now only a few inches apart. you hummed again, watching as he stared right though you. it was in your nature to argue with him on this, but he was right. matt murdock knew you better than anybody, and he was still here, waiting for you. "he was too nice for you."

you cocked an eyebrow, your hand reached out and grabbed his tie between your fingertips, pulling it ever so gently. you hummed again. "and what would that make you, murdock?" you were teasing when you said it, but matt edged closer to you, moving with your tug of his tie. one hand jerked the bottom of your shirt, closing that last inch of space between you two, the other had moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat with a gentle squeeze.

"i can be nice," his breath fanning your face now that you were in such close proximity, he heard your own breath get caught in your throat, lips parting slightly as his brushed against yours. "but not tonight." 

[l-uminescent]

˚⁀➷｡˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part two.

synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.

notes: did i steal daemon’s plot? yes. did the reader do it better? also yes. fuck aemond targaryen (who is 22 here) for killing lucerys fr, and fuck tumblr for making me repost this bc they shadowbanned me :(

warnings: reader is rhaenyra’s daughter, angst, violence, mention of blood, future hotd spoiler (battle above the gods eye)

word count: 3.9k

ONCE UPON A TIME YOU HAD THOUGHT YOU HAD KNOWN WHAT LOVE HAD FELT LIKE. being betrothed to none over than aemond targaryen in an attempt to ensure peace between the divided targaryen house, had gave you a sense of hope. the childish crush you had on the one-eyed prince had long exceeded into your adulthood (unbeknownst to you for a long while). and the news that you were to be married to the man you had felt so deeply for, had you thanking the gods that you were to be so lucky. 

for much of your adulthood, you denied the feelings you had for aemond. brushing the giddiness you felt when you were younger off as a fleeting childhood crush. now, the crimson paint that adorned your cheeks you put down to a sense of duty; you had to act the blushing bride in order to do your part for the realm. your mother's constant reminders that it was you who could maintain the peace between dragons, made you believe it was a sense of duty to your house; to prevent the bloodshed and the path to destruction that would follow if blood was spilt. as time went on, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that maybe, just maybe, the small minuscule crush you had on the prince, in fact never left. you often reflected on the times where you had lived in king's landing with your family, often choosing to spend time with the second son of the king. you two were inseparable, where aemond went you were sure to not be too far behind. often, challenging each other on who would learn the most high valyrian words in a day, and who would learn the history of their ancestors first. it was a match the gods intended.

however, this sue for peace had crumbled completely. only a mere memory in your mind of what could have been if the targayren house was not so ignorant to the fact that women had much of a right to ascend the throne (you had king jaehaerys to uphold much of the blame for this decision). and now, the house was at war with one another. the dance of the dragons was surely to follow, leaving nothing but war across the realm and your poor broken heart.

the death of your brother lucerys did not seem to help with the feeling of heartbreak that effected life upon dragonstone. you spent many days and nights cooped up in your chambers. there was no one to turn too. yes, you sought comfort with your mother but she too was a shell of her former self. with jacaerys many miles north in winterfell, and your husband the murderer of such an innocent boy, you were left with nothing but your own reckless thoughts. as the sun rose in the east and set in the west day after day, your pain and suffering festered into a new, dark feeling within you. the sadness within was replaced with a craving of utter revenge. the lovesick girl, eyes wide with care and awe was shattered, replaced by a woman no, a dragon, who would go to any means to avenge the cruel death of her sweet younger brother. the love you had felt for the man you once were engaged to disappeared the moment you had learnt what he done; marring any chances at evading the war that was surely to follow. you swore to seek revenge with fire and blood. in whatever means the gods meant it to happen. 

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the small council met as the sun lays lazily high in the sky, providing the normally dark and gloomy room with a sliver of light that is often uncommon on the island of dragonstone home to dreary weather most of the time. you welcome the sun in all its glory, soaking it in as you stand next to your brother jacaerys as you listen to the squabbles between the men as they discuss the course of action to take next. small crescents dawned under your eyes, reflecting the many sleepless nights you have come to known. the tiredness you feel currently now and all throughout the days since luke's passing has become an old friend to you, one that is begrudging to leave. you tune out, the effects of another sleepless night and your lack of interest in the bickering that is beginning to fester amongst the lords and your mother is boring you. instead, your eyes are captured by the ball of fire that lay millions of miles away. you weren't all that religious, if it came down to it you preferred the valyrian or old gods in favour of the seven. but there was no doubt the glistening embers that rained upon the room was a good omen. you were sure lucerys was looking down upon you, he adored the few sunny days on dragonstone, and this brought a small smile to your face. 

you hadn't realised just how deep in thought you were until your brothers voice broke you out of whatever hazy trance you were. despite tuning out, you had gathered the basics of the discussion - ser criston cole had set his eyes on rooks rest, and a dragon was needed to defend the castle. jacaerys' proposition to fly vermax was quickly shut down by your mother, deeming the boy as too inexperienced in battle and the dragon too young. 

"i will go." 

the words escaped your lips before you even had a chance to think them through properly. the feeling of revenge running through your veins was more than enough to spark this confident outburst. it had to be you who would go to rooks rest. you did not understand why this feeling was so apparent, whether it be the good omen in the sky, or the smile that had graced your lips for the first time in many moons at the thought of your brother being the one who sent it. but the need to take seat upon your dragon silverwing and fly to rooks rest settled in your soul as a desire you needed to fulfil. you knew immediately your mother would never agree to this, already refusing jacaerys to go meant there was absolutely no possibility she would let you go. 

"no. you too lack the experience that is needed in battle. i will not lose another child to this war." rhaenyra's voice trembled slightly with the mentioning of lucerys but she held strong with her decision to not let either of her elder children fly to battle. the mentioning of luke only feeding the fire in your blood, the need to seek revenge for his passing. 

looking up at your mother, you knew she had understood this as it was plainly evident on your face. alas, rhaenyra could not deny you had your mother's stubbornness and your father's strength. "mother, the entire council knows it is far too dangerous to risk the lives of both you and jace. queen and heir. send me, your grace. silverwing is used to battle and if war and bloodshed is sure to follow with the greens still bot bending the knee to you, then we must become acquainted with it." 

her eyes softened as she gazed upon yours, you reminded her so much of herself in her youth. the fire that burned within you mirrored that of hers. the want to prove yourself as more as weak was apparent, when many men had deemed you fragile due to the gender you were born as, you felt the urge to prove them wrong, just as your mother had felt, still feels with the many lords at the council who still see her as the weaker sex. she knew you were going to fly to battle whether she permitted you leave or not. and with a slight of her head you knew her answer. her lilac eyes gazing into yours with such intensity you knew the message conveyed. be safe, sweet girl.

another voice a the council spoke up, one you weren't expecting to hear. your grandmother, rhaenys. "you must send me as well, your grace. meleys is no stranger to battle, like silverwing. two dragons will be better than one, if the greens decide to also send a dragon to battle."

you were shocked that your grandmother was to fight so willingly for your mother's claim to the throne but yet, the more you pondered the less surprised you were. she too was a woman who should have ascended the throne, the queen who never was, yet king jaehaerys passed over her claim as a count of being weak as she was a woman. gods you hated the man sometimes. 

you were no stranger to the care of your grandmother. she knew straight away that her son was not actually your father, you were born a bastard, fathered to ser harwin strong yet she loved you nevertheless. just as coryls velaryon had favoured young luke, rhaenys, favoured you. your dark her reminded her much of her mother jocelyn baratheon and the way in which you clung to her as a child reminded her so much of leanor. she had grown to love you as you her, and refused to see you alone on the battlefield. 

"come granddaughter, we have much to prepare." rhaenys spoke softly as your mother dismissed the council, guiding you with her hand on the small of your back. giving one last nod to your mother, you notice the look of such fierce love in her. the promise of suffering she would bring if you were hurt. yet, the only thing rhaeynra could do now is pray to the gods above that her only girl would return to her safely. and by the gods she did.

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silverwing was just as mesmerising as the day you claimed her at the tender age of  ten and three. her silvery scales often reminded you of the stars that hung from the sky. glistening intently as you often sat at your window deep in thought. such a docile creature, you could not help but fall in love with her kind nature; a dragon who was most friendly to strangers. as you approached her now a small smile once again graced your lips. the she dragon bent down to greet you, pressing her snout to your hand in a sign of understanding. the intelligence of the dragon was also something that had drawn you to her, she was able to sense every emotion you felt. she had known you were grieving and did not hold it against you that you had neglected to visit her. instead, she blew smoke from her nostrils, and you could have sworn she wore a toothy grin. silverwing was glad you had returned to her. 

flying your dragon had somewhat eased the dull ache that seemed to have made a permanent home in your heart. the ocean beneath you and the wind in your hair brought a sense of relief. this was home. you had miss flying your dragon across the realm, watching as the landscape beneath you changed from countryside, to villages, to oceans and to cities. it was freeing. as fast as she was, silverwing was no match for the speed in which meleys, your grandmother's dragon, flew. as she soared effortlessly through the sky, your dragon tried her hardest to keep up. 

"don't push yourself silverwing. meleys is a fast dragon. " you uttered calmingly to your dragon in high valyrian, stroking her scales softly in a show of comfort. oh how you missed speaking the language too. "calm my sweet girl, it will be okay."

as you finally caught up to rhaenys, the two dragons held pace with one another as you surveyed the fields below. ser criston cole's army had been spotted approaching rooks rest. the elder women held your eyes. a message passing through the two of you to get this done as quickly as possible. and with a cry, meleys delved to the army, silverwing not far behind her

a mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through your veins. you were petrified at failing the mission and returning to your mother's disappointed face with the castle in the hands of the greens. yet the pure adrenaline of gaining your revenge from those who supported the man who usurped your mother's throne and took your brother urged you to keep going "attack silverwing." you called out causing the dragon to plummet to the ground to attack those below.

the field that was once riddled with soldiers was now nothing but flame and smoke. red heat from the lips of your dragon had engulfed almost the entirety of the battlefield. the flames below you were nothing of the flickering of the candles in dragonstone that brought you comfort. no, the flames you caused mirrored the emotion inside, the intensity of the anger you felt, the betrayal from the man you once loved to cause this amount of pain. 

a sound you had not heard in a long time broke you out of your rage induced comatose. you froze, the greens had come for you. looking up, you recognised the gleaming golden dragon belonging to the usurper king aegon. sunfyre. your anger had only intensified at the man willing himself to fight against you and your grandmother. doubling around the castle, silverwing dipped her sharpened claws into the ocean's water, ensuring a clean cut against sunfyre before rising above the cliffs face, ready for battle. he was no match for that of silverwing and meleys.

despite the adrenaline within, you could not help but worry for your grandmother, as you watched the flames engulf both her and aegon as the dance begun. the women held a dear place in your heart and the image of her being hurt was enough to push you to attack the sun kissed dragon. flying to meet your grandmother, silverwing allowed herself to flip and glide between the flames aimed at you both. the bellows of aegon left a satisfying smirk upon your lips as meleys claws took hold within the belly of the enemy dragon, as you willed silverwing to attack the dragon's wings from above. clawing and scratching at sunfyre, silverwing and meleys both have seemed to have done immense damage to the golden beauty. chunks of the dragons wings had been ripped out and cuts adorned her body, red blood oozing out of her scales. the final blow had been dealt by your grandmother, yet war was far from over as a sickening roar had been heard beyond the trees.

aemond taragaryen had come out to play.

your breath hitched, letting you only to take only shallow breathes as vhagar descended from the trees. you tried to be brave, tried to hold back the tears that were evident in your glassy eyes yet you couldn't. tear drops sprung like rivers cascading down your terror-stricken face as you saw the shining silver hair of the man who had once been the love of your life, and subsequently the reasoning behind all your pain. wrapping the leather reigns that kept you in control of your dragon, you urged her to continue flying around rooks rest. the wind blew harshly as you circled the ashy landscape, drying your tears and making whatever was left stick to your reddened face. as vhagar descended upon the battle in the sky,  hought's swam through your head as you shouted at your dragon to attack, you wished away all feelings of dread. 

in that sliver of calm, you could not help but feel drawn to the sun as it had once again graced you with its appearance. and with lucerys velaryon looking down on you, you knew the gods wanted you to have your revenge in that moment. they had brought aemond to the battle for a reason after all.

flying up to sit side by side with rhaenys, you allowed the hatred in your heart to take over. the fire in your blood burned at the audacity for aemond to dare show his face after all that he had done. 

"it has to be me grandmother." you shouted over the howling winds in high valyrian. the distaste within had spoken clearly, it had to be you who destroyed the man in front of you. you knew rhaneys understood that, but you also knew she carried the same stubborn nature that all targaryen's had come to possess. plowing into vhagar first, it was obvious she was no match for the queen of dragons. sending waves of fire to the boy riding her, melyes took the moment of distraction to tear at the beast's stomach. 

unbeknownst to you, sunfyre had risen again at the sound of vhagar's approach. seeing the flame grown in the dragon's mouth, rhaneys abandoned the attack on the larger dragon, instead focusing on the dragon mere inches from you. ambushing her from the side, meleys' jaws clamp around the neck of the usurper's dragon. in a state of shock, you forced silverwing to the side, gratefulness gracing your features at your saviour. 

nonetheless, it was plain to see that both meleys and silverwing did not hold enough power to over through the two dragon's that had come to fight. with rhaenys preoccupied with the second coming of sunfyre and aegon, it had left you with the battled against  vhagar. having lived centuries you knew that you were no match for her. she had helped with aegon the conqueror's conquest and that alone had gained her much more experience in battle than your dragon would ever come to know.

reality kicked in like a knife to your stomach. understanding what you had to do sent shivers down your spine, but there was no other way.  to kill the dragon you must kill the rider. 

your mind flickered back to the many moments you had spent with aemond over the years. sneaking into one another's chambers at night to tell stories you have read in history books. the days spent in the garden giggling at the idiocy of your family. and as the two of you got older, you recounted the longing gazes in one another's directions, the stammering and blush that rose to your cheeks anytime he was near. the brushing of limbs at the feast as your grandsire had announced the betrothal. 

none of that mattered now. he had made his choice when he decided to slay his kin and you had made yours. 

gazing upon silverwing properly for the last time you spoke quietly "forgive me, comfort my mother when i am gone. i beg of you." the silver beauty squeaked in return, a note of sadness in her tone. she would miss you just as much as she missed queen alyssane, but she would honour your choice gallantly. "fly back to dragonstone when i am gone. i do not wish you to suffer the same fate, my love."

with your mind made up, you willed your dragon to fly to meet aemond and vhagar taking in a shaky breathe as you did. as silverwing glided through the air, her claw's tore through vhagar. nevertheless, the silver beauty had barely left any damage. vhagar's thick skin was almost impenetrable, only small surface wound were left behind from the attacks you inflicted on her. the only thing that kept you alive was your dragon's ability to stray so close to vhagar yet slip effortlessly beyond her reach whenever her jaws made an attempt to kill you both. 

allowing silverwing to deal with vhagar, meant that you were left to deal with her rider; your glassy eyes never leaving  the man who had caused you such suffering. he had grown you noted, his cheeks now hollowed out as if he has been struggling to eat, a dark crescent clear under his one good eye. the hate in your heart weakened, you had almost felt an ounce of sympathy at his obviously heartbroken state. you wondered if he had regretted his actions; had regretted pushing you away. you wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened that night, if he had really meant to kill luke on purpose. but you also knew you would wonder these things for the rest of your life if you let him live. no matter how much remorse he truly felt within you could never forget his actions, the way in which he took pride in what he did, bragging about being the first to spill blood in this horrific war. and that was enough for you to keep fighting.

pulling away from vhagar for a final time, you flew back around the castle unstrapping the saddle you had on silverwing, tossing it to the wind. unstrapping the sword, daemon had given you from your twentieth name day, you held it in your palm with such force that your knuckles began to whiten. as silverwing set her sights on vhagar once more, a final sound of pain came from your dragon as she knew what you had planned to do. knowing there was no way in changing your mind she flew above the dragon and its rider, positioning you perfectly in what you aimed to do. 

holding onto one of the many talons in her back, you allowed yourself to stand upon your dragon's back, the sword still tight in your hand. your eyes had never left that of the icy lilac that sat below you. the mix of fear and understanding stood in his, as he knew what you were about to do a second too late. the shock of realisation came as he tried to unfasten the straps that kept him tied to vhagar. she was too big of a dragon to move in time for what you were about to bestow upon the targaryen prince, and it was too high of a jump for him to survive.  

jumping from your dragon's back you let your mind to once again reflect all the love you had for aemond taragaryen. allowing yourself to find comfort in the fact that you had known love in your lifetime.

and as you drew the sword through him, you felt no remorse. a debt had been payed. revenge had been served. for luke.

but, there was no escaping the torment your heart inflicted upon you in the moment your sword pierced his only good eye. you had thought aemond would hold loathing at what you had done in his final moments, but all he felt was abhorrence for himself. driving you to the point of sorrow and grief where you had felt like you could do nothing more than seek revenge for what he had done. whispering a soft "i love you'' before you had pierced him, gave you the closure you had needed. those three words had answered all the questions that had played over and over in your mind, running rampant through your darkest hours.

the history books recalled that you had died peacefully with no call of a dragon to save you. you had plummeted to the ground with the man you had loved, knowing you had avenged your sweet innocent brother lucerys and had come to learn aemond had regretted his actions dearly. this was truly enough for you to die happily. and that you did.

[ladylentejita]

The exact moment Rook became Viagos’s most Trusted (and biggest headache)

It is well known that internal struggles between the great houses of the Crows are ruthless and never out in the open.

Rook, still a fledgling under Viago’s wing, stumbled upon one such plot by sheer chance. A rival house had devised a plan to eliminate the Fifth Talon during a gathering of the houses. Their weapon was a new, insidious poison, designed to work with a delayed effect on Viago’s body, which had been carefully trained over the years to resist most known toxins. It would act just slowly enough to make tracing the culprit impossible. With the event being a gathering of Crows—friends and rivals in equal measure—identifying the perpetrator would be nearly impossible amidst the crowd.

Rook knew there was no time to warn Viago, and certainly no way to accuse another crow without concrete evidence. Even the slightest hint of an accusation could ignite a power struggle that would destabilize the entire house. There was only one way to ensure the truth would be undeniable.

When the moment of the toast arrived, Rook watched as Viago raised his glass, his expression calm and unreadable as always. Rook’s heart pounded, but they moved with practiced confidence, stepping forward smoothly.

Before Viago could bring the glass to his lips, Rook snatched it from his hand. They turned to the room, raising the glass high with a sharp, defiant smile that betrayed none of their fear.

“Salud,” Rook said, locking eyes with the traitor in the crowd.

And then they drank.

The room fell silent as the glass was lowered, empty. For a moment, nothing happened. But then Rook’s face paled, their vision blurred, and their knees buckled. They managed to place the glass back on the table with trembling fingers before collapsing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Viago snapped, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. He moved to catch Rook, his anger barely masking the edge of concern. Then he saw it—the telltale signs of poison taking hold: the sweat beading on their brow, the way their breath came in short, labored gasps.

“There’s… some left in the glass,” Rook murmured weakly, their voice fading. “For you to analyze.”

Their body went limp in Viago’s arms.

The room erupted in whispers. “Poison,” someone breathed, the word spreading like wildfire.

Viago’s expression darkened, his commanding presence immediately silencing the crowd. “Clear the room,” he ordered, his voice low and deadly. “Now.”

The gathered Crows scattered, their obedience immediate. Within moments, only Viago, Rook, and a few of his most trusted crows remained. 

For hours, Viago worked relentlessly, using every antidote and remedy at his disposal. Despite their training, Rook’s body wasn’t prepared for such a sophisticated toxin, and their life hung by a thread.

Viago’s usual composure wavered as he watched their pulse weaken. “You reckless idiot,” he muttered, his voice rough, as if speaking to himself. “Why would you do something so damn stupid?”

The minutes stretched into eternity. Then, finally, Rook stirred. They managed a faint, tired smirk. “Hey boss...” they croaked, their voice barely audible.

Relief washed over Viago, though his stern expression barely softened. “I should strangle you right now.”

Rook chuckled weakly, their smile lingering. “But did it work?”

Viago exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You proved your point.” His voice dropped, quieter now.

As Rook’s eyes began to drift shut again, Viago leaned in one last time, his voice steady but laced with an unmistakable tenderness. “But if you ever pull a stunt like that again and dare to die,” he hissed, his tone both a plea and a command, “I’ll come after you in the Fade myself just to kill you again.”

[jsbluu]

left on seen - a park jisung smau

you, a first year college student at ncit university, "stumble" upon the twitter account of your campus crush, park jisung. you've had a crush on him since your junior year of high school, but he always seemed to have a flock of girls (one girl) chasing after him.

out of a boost of confidence (and maybe a little too much to drink), you decide to send him a dm. what's the worst that could happen? he has thousands of followers, it's not like he's ever gonna see it.. right?

wrong! will jisung reply to you and fall in love? or will you just become another girl lost in his dms. read to find out!

disclaimer: none of the characters in this smau depict the idol's real personalities. everything you see is completely fictional!

➨ pairing: park jisung x fem!reader

➨ posting schedule: wednesdays & saturdays at 5pm cst

➨ status: ongoing!

➨ genre: failed humor, suggestive innuendos, underage drinking, cursing, slowburn, “strangers” to friends to lovers, ANGST, sewerside jokes, an evil woman trying to come between them, jealous jisung, jealous y/n, for the sake of the story everybody is the same age, mentions of side effects from hangovers including nausea (absolutely NOTHING explicit as i do have emetophobia), random mentions of characters that are not technically introduced, SO much miscommunication it’s actually crazy, may or may not be a smut scene in this eventually..

➨ taglist: closed

➨ a/n: this smau was heavily inspired by "score that goal" by @/lqfiles! score that goal was the first smau i ever read and i immediately fell in love. thank you for inspiring me to make my own! i'd also like to thank by bestie/loml for helping me create this entire thing, from the title down to the plot itself, i lub you >_<

y/n's friend group | jisung's friend group | honourable mentions

chapter 1: party time!

chapter 2: 13 reasons why

chapter 3: it’s so jover :(

chapter 4: new friends!

chapter 5: first day of class

chapter 6: study buddies (not!)

chapter 7: awkward silence

chapter 8: rem

chapter 9: alley oop

chapter 10: shared pages

chapter 11: three’s a crowd

chapter 12: jisung’s tweet

chapter 13: yes or no?

chapter 14: she said yes!

chapter 15: two to one (to two)

chapter 16: the aftermath

chapter 17: blooming confusion

chapter 18: yikes!

chapter 19: damage control

chapter 20: plan a

chapter 21: a long overdue apology

chapter 22: it worked!

chapter 23: jisung is STUPID (ft s’mores and mark)

chapter 24: he’s a directioner?!

chapter 25: a little TOO friendly

chapter 26: the bet

chapter 27: party time pt.2!

chapter 28: mistletoe by justin bieber

chapter 29: go with the flow

chapter 30: they’re onto me..

chapter 31: please invest in a diary

chapter 32: IDGAF!

chapter 33: get that d!

chapter 34: y/nsung official date

chapter 35: hallway couple

chapter 36: step back

chapter 37: ..did he fumble?

chapter 38: plot twist

chapter 39: stinky flowers and tears

chapter 40: mission: confrontation

chapter 41: the showdown

chapter 42: message received !

end

© jsbluu | please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work.

[writing-disability-with-cy]

[ID: A photo of a mechanical push-pull hand control system, with "Driving without legs: Hand controls and modifications" "Disability 101" in white bubble text. /End ID]

One really common assumption I see about people who's disabilities effect their legs, such as leg amputations, spinal injuries or joint dysplasia, is that we can't drive. It's a common enough assumption that it makes its way into media portrayals of these kinds of disability all the time, though often in very subtle ways that are hard to directly point to, but noticeable once you know what to look for, or rather, what's missing. It's also an assumption I see come up more directly in the replies and reblogs to a lot of my content more often than I expected it too, and almost never as a direct question, but as statements that are part of a separate point. "My character is in a wheelchair so they need to catch the bus..." or "My leg amputee is missing the leg they need to drive so their friend/family member has to drive them to the place where the plot happens..."

but the thing is, It's a misconception! Having a disability that effects your legs or even arms in some cases (or results in you having none at all) doesn't stop you from being able to drive, at least not on it's own. It's not even a barrier to driving other kinds of vehicles, like motorcycles, aeroplanes or heavy machinery, and that's because of a type of assistive technology called vehicle modifications.

I've chosen to make this a disability 101 post, mostly because it is just kind of general disability-awareness content, even if I am focusing mostly on authors and creatives, but also because finding resources about this topic can be genuinely difficult if you don't know the names of the modifications or devices, so I've provided some resources throughout (and at the end in the sources section) that could be helpful for disabled people who are interested in getting these kinds of modifications themselves.

I do want to give a quick disclaimer before getting into this though, that I just have modifications, I'm not a mechanic or an expert on how they work, nor am I an expert of cars and other vehicles. Like anything, be sure to do your own research and fact check anything you see here, especially if the more technical stuff is relevant to you and/or your writing.

Ok, with that out of the way, let's get into it!

Cars

Lets start by talking about the vehicle modifications available for cars, trucks and other similar vehicles. For the sake of simplicity, I'm going to be referring to anything with more than 4 wheels collectively as "cars" but know this includes everything from actual cars, to trucks, to even road-trains.

Control Modifications

The most common type of control modification you'll typically see are called "hand controls" and there's dozens of types available for cars. How they do it changes, but they all work by taking the parts of a vehicle that are controlled with your feet, and make them controllable with your hands in some way.

The most common version of this, and the type I use, is called a "push-pull hand control". It works by replacing the foot pedals in (usually automatic) cars with a bar which sticks out from the side of the steering wheel that can be pushed forwards to apply the break, and pulled towards you to accelerate. This is the set-up I have in my car.

[ID: A photo of the interior of a holden car showing the steering wheel and dashboard. On the top left of the steering wheel is a round door-knob shaped grip assist, and on the bottom left is the bar of a hand control sticking out from behind the wheel. The bar has a foam grip on they end, and a circular control buttons for the blinkers, horn, headlights and windscreen wipers, though the top button is obscured by the steering wheel./End ID]

One way to set this up is done by attaching a long mechanism or pole under the steering column that physically pushes down on the pedals for you when you push or pull on the control bar. This is the type that I have, and as I understand, it's one of the cheaper ways to do it.

[ID: Another photo of the interior of the same car, this time showing the area where the driver's legs are supposed to go, which is covered in a lot of dust, the pedals and steering wheel. The hand control bar is fixed under the steering wheel, and a long metal rod connects the control bar to the pedals. /End ID]

(also please excuse the dirt, I live on a farm and it's been raining, so avoiding mud and dirt is impossible right now)

There are also versions of this systems that bypass the pedals entirely and connect the control bar to the car's internal systems. This is more commonly seen in electric vehicles or in cars that are being used by people with little to no control of their legs who might be at risk of pressing the pedals accidently - in which case, the pedals are also modified so they can be either folded up or shut off when the hand controls are in use, and then folded back down or turned back on when someone without a leg disability wants to drive.

There is also portable hand controls, which are very similar to permanent push-pull systems, but can be attached to almost any automatic car and removed as needed. Most I've seen have clamps that attach to the pedals, two adjustable poles, connected by a bar at the top, similar to push-pulls that essentially act as levers to press the pedals, and many are connected to the steering wheel via a Velcro strap. these are by far the cheapest and overall most flexible option, but they also happen to be mostly illegal where I live, so I've never actually seen them used in person. Technically, they can be used under very specific conditions here, but I've never met anyone who had them legally. Most people I know who tried to get approved were rejected. For everyone who doesn't live in or isn't writing a story set in NSW Australia though, Diamond Garrette has a demonstration of how they work on her YouTube channel, which I suggest checking out if you want to know more about them!

This isn't the only way the controls can be set up for the acceleration and breaking though. Other common variations include an over-ring control, trigger controls or joystick controls. In trigger hand controls, you still have a bar that extends out from the steering wheel that you push forward to break, but the accelerator is controlled using a trigger-like button underneath, similar to the accelerator on a motorbike. Joystick controls allow a driver to control steering and acceleration through a joystick (including sometimes the joystick built into the driver's power chair), and are usually a small part of larger modification systems. Over-ring hand controls, also called push-rings, are a type of control where the accelerator is tied to a ring that sits either over the top of the steering wheel, or just behind it, and you either use your thumbs to press down on it while you drive, or your fingers to pull it towards you if it's placed behind. The brake can either be another bar you push away from yourself like the others, or grip that sits beside the wheel that can either be pushed forward or squeezed in towards the wheel. If you'd like a demonstration for how over-rings work, Des Gosling Mobility has a demonstration on their youtube page! Trigger, joystick and over-ring controls are all often used by people who's disabilities effect their arms and legs, and who might have more difficulty with the heavier push-pull bar.

Because one of your hands will usually be occupied with most of these methods though (with the only exception being the over-ring and portable controls), many hand controls also have a second set of blinkers (indicators) controlled by buttons or a small flickable switch on either the hand control itself or a different location like the head-rest for easier access. While not as common, many also include extra buttons for the horn, windscreen wipers and headlights. On mine, I can control all of these "extras" through a small control pad attached to the bar, though only the blinker buttons and horn are actually connected (all the others cost extra).

[ID: A close-up of my hand control, described earlier, to show the buttons. /End ID]

Another thing you'll often see on cars with hand-controls is either a spinner knob or some other style of grip assist on the steering wheel itself. Spinner knobs - which you can see in the first photo on this post, usually look like a door-knob attached to the top left or right side of the wheel (depending on what side of the road you drive on) that allow you to turn easier with your remaining hand, but other options include tri-rod spinners (which are mostly the same, but with three rods the user can place their hand and wrist on if they have problems with their grip) and joystick controls, which I described earlier.

I mentioned before that most of these hand-controls are mainly used in automatic cars, and that's because manual transmissions add some extra complications that, honestly, most people I know just prefer to avoid. That's not to say hand controls are only for automatic cars though, they just aren't as popular due to the extra hassle it brings. One option I am aware of is called the "duck clutch" which is a small leaver installed on the back of the gear-stick that lets you control the clutch pedal. This video from Problem Management Engineering shows how it works, though the person in their video still uses their foot for the accelerator instead of a hand controlled accelerator/break.

There are many other types of control modifications outside of these, including alternate-side foot pedals for drivers who don't have (or can't use) the leg they'd need to reach the accelerator, pedal extensions for people with dwarfism, or chin controls for people with no use of their (or no) arms. It's always a good idea to check and see if there are options available for people with you/your character's disability before making the assumption that they can't drive at all. Obviously, not every disability can be accommodated behind the wheel. For example, some autistic people struggle with the sensory processing and fast decision making needed for driving, and no amount of modification can help with that. Conditions like blindness and dementia are also pretty sure-fire disqualifiers once they reach a certain point (as both these disabilities exist on spectrums), but it's always worth checking if you've never been told for sure, especially if you are not disabled yourself.

Modifications for access

Another common kind of modification you see in cars for disabled people help them get in and out, as well as occasionally where and how they sit.

larger vehicles like vans have the most options available. My previous work vehicle (owned by a disability organisation with mostly disabled employees) for example had a large sliding door on the side that you could open to reveal a small lift. When not in use, it would fold up and sit against the door and when we needed to get in or out, you'd open the sliding door and put the lift in the "open" position, and it would lift you up to be level with the van floor so you could just roll in, or lower you down to the ground to let you out. It was a converted tradie van (a big white van usually used by electricians and other tradesmen to carry large amounts of tools and equipment) that had the back seats and a lot of the interior torn out, so you could take your chair all the way up to the driver or passenger seats and just transfer in, and I've seen similar set-ups with the lift coming out of the back as well. The major downside of these kinds of modifications, is that they require a lot of space, both in and outside of the vehicle. I dreaded taking the work van anywhere other than our planned destinations because finding parking spaces large enough for the lift to fully extend (about a metre, if I remember right) was a nightmare - though many places now have parking spots next to the accessible spaces that are kept empty specifically to help with that (if you've ever seen a parking space with stripes painted over it, that's what they're for).

Some vans can also have small fold-out ramps instead of lifts, which are a lot cheaper and don't require a power supply, but these tend to only be good if your van is low enough to the ground to keep the ramp small, otherwise getting in and out becomes a challenge. This is the approach I see used the most in wheelchair accessible taxis too.

As for the seating in vans, some people are able to get the driver's seat modified to spin around, making getting in and out of the driver's seat easier. I've also seen this in some cars and trucks, where the seat can rotate outwards to make transferring easier, or in some trucks that are higher off the ground, the seat can come out and be lowered, and then lift the driver back into the truck. While less common, I have also seen a few vans that allow wheelchair users to push directly up to the steering wheel and drive from their chair once it's secured, such as Problem Management Engineering Spacedrive system (The video linked here also contains a demonstration of a joystick control modification).

Some smaller cars and trucks can also have chair lifts installed that store mobility aids like wheelchairs either on the top of the car or, if it's a ute (a truck with a bed on the back) in the open bed.

Getting in and out without modification

Not everyone has these kinds of modification though. In fact, most manual wheelchair users I know don't have any seating or access modifications at all. For people with mobility aids like manual wheelchairs, getting in and out can be done without modifying the car in a few ways:

If someone is able to walk a little bit, they may put their wheelchair (or other mobility aid like a walker) in the boot (trunk) of their car, or on the back seat if they don't have the boot space. If their wheelchair folds, this makes it easier, but even non-folding, rigid-frame wheelchairs can fit in most car boots by taking off the wheels. If, like me, you have a car with a tiny boot where that's really not an option, many people will slide their wheelchairs onto the back seat of the car instead. Usually, this is done by putting the footplate of the chair where a person's legs would sit, and sitting the frame on the seat with the backrest up against the car seat backrest. It kind of looks like a weird booster seat once it's in. After that, wheels sit on-top of the seat. This even works with tiny cars! If a human can fit, most wheelchairs can too.

But what if they can't walk at all? well, that's a bit trickier, but its still doable for a lot of people. If we're travelling with someone, we just get them to do the steps I mentioned before, but if we are on our own, most wheelchair users I know (and myself) will get into the driver's seat, take the wheels off our wheelchairs, put both the driver-side and passenger-side backrest as low as it will go so they're both basically laying down, then pull the frame over ourselves and place it on the passenger seat in the same position as I described before. frame on the seat, footplate in the leg area and backrest up against the back of the car seat backrest once it's sat back upright - or, if you're cars a bit of a tighter fit like mine is, just put the frame and footrest on the passenger seat and leave the car backrest laying down. Then we put the wheels on top (if they fit, they usually don't) or on the back-seat. I'm a bit out of practice, since I usually have someone with me when I use the car, but this is a sped-up video showing my whole process:

[Video Description: A fast-forwarded video of Cy, a fat, white double leg amputee wearing a light purple shirt and blue jeans that cover their stumps as they get into their car, a small, black holden SUV. They start by putting their phone in the car door storage, transferring into the driver's seat and laying the seat all the way back. They then turn their wheelchair away from them and lift it so it is balancing on it's front footplate while they remove the wheels and put them to the side. With a bit of manoeuvring, they pull their wheelchair frame up, over their body, but it gets stuck, requiring them to fold down the handle bars so it will fit. They try again, but their chair gets stuck on something inside the car, out of view. Cy lowers the passenger seat to a laying down position and then continues to pull the wheelchair frame in, placing it on the seat. Lastly, they put the wheels on the back seat behind them. The video then fade-cuts to show them getting back out again, which is mostly the same process but in reverse, starting with the chair frame. They lift it over themself, then lean the chair forward so it is resting on it's footplate again, but the backrest is leaning up against the doors. They pull out one wheel from the backseat and re-attach it to the frame, then rotate the chair around and retrie the other wheel to put it back on the other side. Once both wheels are on and the chair is re-assembled, Cy then lifts their seat back up and transfers back into their wheelchair, and gives the camera a thumbs-up. /End Video Description].

Obviously though, this won't be an option for everyone. Not everyone has the strength or flexibility needed to get their wheelchairs in and over their bodies. I personally struggle with getting in and out of the car by myself because I have short arms and a big belly which gets in the way of getting my chair over the top of me to put it on the passenger seat. For people with joint dysplasia, doing this might risk something dislocating. Some power-chairs can weigh hundreds of kilograms, and no one, even able bodied, is lifting that on their own. and some wheelchairs are just physically too large to fit in a normal car, and that's when these access modifications can come into play.

Less-than-legal modifications

Sorry for yet another disclaimer, but just a reminder that this post is mostly for writing advice, which sometimes includes writing for characters who can't or don't care about doing everything correctly and by the book. It is not a guide on how to do this or encouragement to try. Do not, under any circumstances, try anything in this at home!

Sometimes, for reasons we'll talk about in a minute, “proper modifications” might not always be an option. Maybe you're writing someone who just doesn't care about the law that much, maybe they need to use an unmodified car in an emergency. Maybe its a zombie apocalypse and you can't be picky. Maybe your character just lives somewhere where the law isn't as strict. In those cases, know that disabled people have been Macgyver-ing and DIYing their own solutions for as long as cars have been a thing, regardless of what the laws have to say about it. Being in a rural area with a lot of space to drive off of public roads, I've also personally seen quite a few... creative solutions.

One especially common method to get around a lack of hand controls in cars for someone without the use of their legs, is a walking stick. Just a cheap one you can get from the shops, to help reach the pedals. I have a family friend who used to drive his old farm truck this way (again, never on public roads) and I may or may not have tried it as a teenager. It's definitely not a safe or convenient way to do it, but it's... a way, I suppose? I've also seen a few home-made spinner knobs and chair lifts to help people get in and out of trucks easier, known a few leg amputees and little people who have extended their own pedals in old farm cars so they can reach without things like prosthetics or orthotics.

humans are shockingly creative sometimes. But once again, please, do not try these at home.

Other things to be aware of

I mentioned before that disability alone doesn't always stop people from driving, but there are other things to consider for disabled drivers that you should be aware of if you're writing us (or if you're a disabled person wanting to get modifications yourself) either because they can create extra barriers, or they're just important to know.

Initially, I tried to make this section as generally applicable to people in different countries and with different disabilities as I could, but outside of the "cost" section, I don't really think that's possible unless I wanted to spend weeks researching and trying to get answers out of insurance companies and governments and this post is already really long. So instead, I think the best approach I can make on a limited timeframe is to talk about the barriers I've faced, or that people I know have faced, to kind of give you a general idea of what to look for in your own research. What barriers you or your characters face will change massively depending on your location and disability, but hopefully this will give you a stepping-off point.

Cost

So the first major barrier that a lot of disabled drivers face outside of their actual disabilities, is the cost of these modifications.

The hand controls in my personal car that I've been describing throughout the article are considered basic, and when I had to get them replaced in 2024 due to an accident, I was quoted $8,925 AUD (which is a little over $5,700 USD), just for the mechanical push-pull mechanism, blinkers and horn button, and this is pretty average in terms of price for this kind of system. I have seen them go for cheaper, for example, my first set of hand controls were second hand and it still cost around $2,500 AUD, but this was several years ago now. I think around 2016. prices for everything related to disability in Australia have skyrocketed since then.

I also happened to be working in the office the day the quote came in for the modification to my old workplace's vehicle when we first got it, (the one with the side access lift, which also had a push-pull hand control but no additional blinker/horn buttons and rotating seats) and we were told it would cost over $50,000 AUD to do all the modifications. I'm pretty confident this was also a discounted rate too, since our company had several modified vehicles and we always went to the same place for installation. Once again, this was a good number of years ago now, probably around 2018 at the latest.

Like a lot of disability aids, depending on where you live, either government-run healthcare programs, public insurance or private (usually health or car) insurance can sometimes either subsidise or cover the cost of modifications outright. However, this isn't always an option for everyone and a lot of people end up having to pay for their modifications (and all the other extra legal hoops they have to pay for, that I'll talk about soon) out-of-pocket.

In Australia, the NDIS (A disability-specific public insurance system) is generally considered to be responsible for covering vehicle modifications in the public sector, and on paper at least, they do. But like with most insurance companies, there's a million different conditions and "gotcha's" that let them get out of paying for them. My first set of hand controls were funded by them, but not without a substantial amount of arguing and a small army of both medical and mechanical experts to vouch for both me needing the modifications for my disability, and my car actually surviving long enough for it to be worthwhile paying for them. You see, at that point in time, if your car was less than 3 years old or had less than a certain number of kilometres on the odometer (I have no idea what it was, something ridiculously low), you could get your hand controls covered, mostly no problem. Statistically though, most people with disabilities severe enough to even qualify for these modifications, didn't have the money for a car that new due to systemic barriers. There was a bit of leeway though, as long as your car was less than 10 years old, you could sometimes get them covered regardless, so long as you could prove your car wasn't falling apart on the road already. Unfortunately, my car was from 2004. So... a little bit outside that window. Honestly, I don't know how we got it approved. Today, those rules are a bit different, they've extended the "usually fine" margin to 5 years OR if your car is still under a manufacturer's warranty, but the 10 year cut-off is much stricter than it used to be (because as we all know, after 10 years your car just starts to disintegrate, obviously).

There are also a bunch of other seemingly random things that can disqualify you from getting vehicle modifications covered, including "not being good value for money" or there being other services available (when I applied they originally tried to argue this with me, and suggested public transport was an option). Honestly, whether or not you get approved for them or not just seems to come down to who was working in the office at the NDIA that day and if they'd had their morning coffee when they saw your request. If you want to know more, this is the publicly-available outline the NDIS has. If you live in Australia and you're thinking of getting vehicle modifications yourself, it's worth a read, but be mindful it's never as simple in reality as it is in these kinds of outlines.

In Australia, private health insurance will cover it sometimes, and I know a few people who got theirs that way, though I don't know what the process is like. I do know private car insurance will also replace existing modifications if you're in an accident that destroyed your old ones, which is how I got my second set of modifications. Also after a lot of arguing. You see, in Australia, our disability anti-discrimination law, the DDA, does protect disability-related car modifications as essentials that can't be charged extra for, but that doesn't mean insurance companies won't try to get out of covering them if they can. Many will claim they don't have to cover the modifications unless you paid for "extras" to be insured too, and bet on customers not knowing that's against the law. Unfortunately, the DDA is a massive law and while most people know it exists, they don't know exactly what it covers and this lie ends up working. Even if a person does know it's illegal, if an insurance company refuses to budge once its pointed out to them, many disabled folks don't have the time, energy or money to actually hold them accountable in court, so they still get away with it, and another barrier is created, even if, legally, it's not supposed to.

From what I was able to find, in America, private insurance companies will sometimes cover the cost vehicle modifications (assuming you can even afford insurance to begin with) but even if you get them, another barrier arises in the form of insurance premiums. unlike the DDA, their ADA doesn't always protect the modifications as essentials. Because of that, it's not uncommon to have to pay more on car insurance if you do have them and want them covered, which presents a different kind of cost barrier and makes driving with them legally riskier.

Legal restrictions and getting "approved" for use

I mentioned this in passing before, but in order to get modifications for your vehicle, at least in Australia, you actually have to get "approved" by your state government to be able to use them at all. Also, in NSW, for control modifications like hand controls, once you're approved to use them, that's all you're allowed to use. This means, if you and your friend both own a car with different kinds of hand controls, you're not allowed to use the other person's car. This was actually the case for me and my previous roommate, she had an over-ring, while I had the push-pull mechanism. Legally, we couldn't drive each other's cars. Despite both having hand controls and being physically able to drive each other's cars, we weren't legally allowed to.

This is because in most places around the world, the modification of cars in general and specifically the use of alternate controls systems like hand controls are very heavily restricted for a variety of safety reasons (some of which are reasonable, and others... eh... not so much) - Even some US states forbid things like spinner knobs from being used without state government approval. Australia is... a little extra in this regard, to put it mildly, and their restrictions can be serious barriers all on their own.

Usually, to get approved to use modifications here, you have to go out with an Occupational therapist to test which type of modifications work for you. For control modifications specifically, once a best fit is found, this will be added as a condition to your licence, meaning you can now only drive with that style of control. This isn't too bad if you get your modifications covered by the NDIS or insurance, since they'll usually cover the cost of the OT as part of this, but if you're one of the unlucky people that can't get covered, you also have to pay for the OT, which can be thousands of dollars on top of the other costs.

Access to installation and maintenance

Another major barrier for a lot of disabled people who need these kinds of modifications is physical access to someone who can actually put them in and maintain them.

You see, not just any mechanic can install disability modifications, especially control modifications. You have to go to a specific type of engineer. The only exception to this rule, as far as I'm aware, is the portable hand control, which is a big part of the reason why they're banned in my state, as they can't be assumed to be safe.

Unfortunately, this is a pretty niche area of speciality, so there aren't a lot of options to get the installations done. There are only 8 in all of NSW (which has an area bigger than 3 times the entire UK), according to Australia's National Equipment Database, and the vast majority of them are in the Greater Sydney Region. This means, if you don't live near Sydney, you're out of luck for the most part, unless you can spare a few days to make the trip (since the installation can also take some time). Some companies do offer to come and get the vehicle for you, but not all, and even those that do, may not be able to come get it if you're 8+ hours away.

And that's just the installation. Thankfully, normal car maintenance still can be done by a general mechanic, even with modifications installed, but if anything happens to the modifications themselves, you normally have to go back to the person who installed them for repairs. Personally, I now live around 4 hours out of Sydney, and around Christmas, the wiring in my hand controls failed. It was a simple repair, but my partner and I had to go all the way back to Sydney for it, and we had a lot going on at the time, so we had no choice but to leave it for over a month. Meaning there was a whole month where I just couldn't drive.

Uneducated Law Enforcement

Ok, so this one is kind of a... luck of the draw situation and it's not a common barrier in my personal experience, but I also recognise that, as a white person who can still pass as cis if needed, my experience here won't be universal. Disabled people with intersecting identities such as POC and visibly queer folks, may have a substantially harder time with this.

Unfortunately, because disability modifications are not super common in the general public, it's not uncommon for police to have never seen them before. And when police don't know about something, that can become your problem very quickly. Most of the time, there's no issue, but I have been accused on two separate occasions of having "illegal racing modifications" in my car, because the police didn't know what a hand control was and jumped to that assumption (I'm not even sure what they would have been confusing them for, I've seen racing mods and they don't look anything like hand controls). I was also once told I'd have to get my car towed when on my way to get it checked by a mechanic for registration, because the officer didn't believe me that a regular mechanic could do it due to my hand controls, so obviously I must be lying and trying to drive my unregistered car around town (I don't know what the law is in other places, but here you are allowed to drive an unregistered vehicle to the mechanics if they know you’re coming). Both situations were pretty minor and were resolved quickly, but they could have easily been a lot worse if the officers decided not to believe me, or in the case of the second situation, they didn’t believe the mechanic who had to be called to convince the officer I was telling the truth.

Other Kinds of Vehicles and Modifications

Cars aren't the only vehicle you can modify to drive with a disability, they're just the most common! Honestly, each other vehicle was originally going to be it's own segment, but this post is already incredibly long, so here's just a quick overview of the modifications I know about for other vehicles!

Motorbikes and trikes often don't need much in the way of control modification for most riders, but many bikes can be modified to be easier to balance on or hold a wheelchair, either on the back or side, and trikes can be made to allow the rider to stay and ride from their wheelchair directly.

The laws for this are different everywhere, but in Australia and the UK, light aircraft can also be modified to be accessible to people with some physical disabilities, including wheelchair users with hand controls. Wheelies With Wings is a Melbourne based organisation the specialises in helping wheelchair users learn to fly . For those in the UK, Freedom of the Air offer similar services. Though as you might expect, there are some pretty substantial cost barriers involved for this.

I also know a few people who have also (legally) modified their farm equipment, like tractors or even heavy machinery, like bulldozers.

Pretty much anything can be modified. More often than not, if something can't be, it's usually more due to legal problems than it being physically impossible.

Conclusion

There's so many kinds of vehicle modifications out there, for all different kinds of vehicles, this is really just a general overview, so be sure to research what would be applicable to you or your characters

Sources

Over Ring Accelerator Demonstration

Driving With A Disability - Portable Hand Controls

Duck Hand-Operated Clutch System

NDIS vehicle mods PDF

Vehicle Modification Agents Vehicle Modification Agents Database

Wheelies With Wings Facebook page Link

Freedom of the Air Link

[i-like-media]

Maybe the most telling and fucked up thing about all of this is that, if Belinda never existed as a character, all of this would've made sense. Like, if Ruby had taken her place.

Belinda gets 0 character development (which would make sense if it were RUBY bc she already got that character development)

The sudden forced shift in Belinda's interest in having a child (would make sense if it were Ruby bc she's got trauma about being abandoned as a baby)

Ruby being the only one to remember the old timeline (if she were in Belinda's position as the mother Also, it'd make a lot more sense for her to miss her.)

The doctor getting romantically paired with Belinda in Conrad's world (I'm sorry but Belinda and the Doctor are like barely friends to me. She wanted to go home. It feels more likely for Ruby and the Doctor to be paired together bc Conrad maybe believes a tight platonic friendship between a man and a woman can't exist.)

Ruby's forgiveness towards Conrad as a b-plot (If Ruby was in Belinda's position, her choosing to wish him happiness would be so much more powerful and make more sense as a main plot)

Belinda getting locked up and still forgetting Poppy (again, if Ruby had gone into that box, it would make sense for her to still remember Poppy as a sort of side effect)

Belinda's sudden excitement about travelling with the Doctor and out of character third wheeling of Ruby (The Doctor and Belinda speaking to each other felt more like dialogue between him and Ruby... which makes the fact that she was still there silently watching really awkward.)

And there's likely more that I've forgot to mention. But I mean... Can we just stop and realise how fucked up this is? That Belinda and this wonderful actor's role is so devoid of substance and character, that she could easily be replaced with another character and it'd make MORE sense??? It's, frankly, disgusting!

Even Rose and Donna couldn't replace the void Martha left behind. Racist episodes and poor treatment of her character aside, she at least was respected enough as a character to have motives and grow as a person. Belinda was given none of that respect...

[summertiide]

THE BIZZYBOYS BLOCK YOUR PATH!

(link to the other part of these!)

got an ask about their fight in a continuation of the OFF-styled ones i did before, and i'd been procrastinating these for a while, so i finally got around to finishing them!! boss fight thoughts below the cut! :-]

this might be a little rambly so apologies in advance!!!

so to start with, i feel like it would be shortly before the Inspekta fight as sort of a miniboss - none of the bizzyboys on their own have a ton of health, but its a 6v1, so the difficulty comes in from that! with direction from Capochin, they're more organized, and if he's defeated, they're able to do more specialized attacks, but they're more scattered in turn order/lacking the previous flow to the fight, making it more clear which ones need to be defeated sooner than others

here's some ideas for each bizzy on their own:

Capochin (Bizzy Captain): potentially able to use a "rally" attack to bring back fallen bizzyboys, uses his turns when they're all up to make one of them do an extra attack - doesn't do all that much attacking, himself, but you'd wanna get rid of him first to keep the bizzyboys that you've already defeated down

Grujaja (Bizzy Brute): with Capochin still active, he's got a moderate attack recharge, and deals some pretty heavy damage, inflicting Palsied as a sort of "knockback" from each hit / when Capochin goes down, he still deals as much damage, but takes a significantly longer time to charge attacks, and has lower accuracy

Patty (Bizzy Defective): "defective" in the sense that she doesn't want to fight you and, when Capochin goes down, the fast but light-damage-dealing attacks almost entirely stop, save for reactive attacks when she's dealt damage

Bananathaniel (Bizzy Chatterbox): STATUS EFFECTS FOREVER!!! he's sort of the support of the two "casters" of sorts, boosting bizzyboy stats and giving them Hasty, while rarely doing anything to the enemies directly (if there's no other bizzyboys, he might have a low-damage attack, but i'm not certain on that one)

Alexei (Bizzy Glutton): moderate to heavy damage, occasionally healing himself from a snack-break turn! when Capochin goes down, he'll do a lot less attacking and a lot more healing, which makes him hard to take down, but easy to avoid damage from

Vibiano (Bizzy Couturier): the other "caster" of the group, but specializing in afflicting the enemy with status effects - Blinded, Madness, Poisoned, and Asleep are the main ones among those! similarly to Bananathaniel, when there's no other bizzyboys left, he has an attack, which is just slightly higher damage than Ban's, but a fair bit slower to use

ANYWAYS that's all i got!! i might find some excuses to do more art for this (idk if it qualifies as an AU at this point, i haven't thought about how it'd go plot-wise!), but thank you again for asking, anon, i love thinking about this stuff!!

[saturn-sends-hugs]

see the thing about daredevil is that matt’s relationship with foggy is such an essential part of his character as a whole that it just feels empty without him. you NEED foggy the silly ray of sunshine as a contrast to matt’s constant brooding! he’s “the beating heart of daredevil” after all!!

in born again, we’re missing that. some characters fill in temporarily, like kirsten or… no ok it’s just kirsten and she BARELY gets enough screen time as is. Karen and Frank are great companions for him, but none of them fill in the space left by foggy and no one can. we don’t have that consistent anchor for matt that’s so important. matt has no more “angel on his shoulder” so to speak like foggy was for him.

and yeah, that’s the point of the season. without foggy, matt is lost, makes sense. but that problem is NEVER RESOLVED. matt has lost the closest thing to family that he had and we only ever saw him avoiding his grief, and there’s so many ways they could’ve resolved that plot point that the fact they didn’t is a little sad to me.

if foggy was revealed to be alive, this would obviously fix the problem. matt would have his anchor and even if everything wasn’t instantly fixed, that part of the plot would’ve been wrapped up.

but even if foggy wasn’t still alive, there could’ve been a better resolution for this. matt could’ve finally broken down and grieved for him, recognizing just how lost he is now. karen could’ve helped him and it would’ve felt SO much more impactful if everything wasn’t better, if he didn’t feel strong enough to fight for the city like he needs to, but if he decided to try anyway for foggy. some sort of tribute to his best friend would be the perfect motivation for him to put in the effort.

and what if things just got worse instead? what if, after having lost his best friend and rebuilt his life only to feel like it’s all fake, he just kept spiraling? what if he completely stopped caring, pushed everyone away again, and went to get revenge on vanessa alone? it would be a bit of a repeat of season 3, sure, but it still makes sense and follows through on the sort of impact foggy’s death should have.

idk, i think i’m just a little sad that they’re trying to make a whole show about daredevil while leaving out one of the most crucial pieces. even if he was to stay dead, the effects of that should have a way bigger impact than what we’ve been shown, especially in the finale if matt’s problems were supposedly “all about him”.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Hear Me Out, Keep Me Guessing

Steddie || wc: 2.5k || rating: T || tags: alternate first meeting, pre-S4, Eddie is a rollercoaster of emotions, Steve is over it, fluff and flirting || ao3

Inspired by my own post

☆☆☆

“Okay, Munson. What’s your fucking problem?”

Eddie hops on top of the wooden picnic bench to gain a slight height advantage over whoever’s decided to fuck up his day, when he spots none other than Steve Harrington headed towards him through the trees, fighting his way through brush and bramble.

“Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen. Crawling through the dirt just to visit his former court jester.” Eddie smirks, hears Harrington mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like jesus christ before he finally makes his way over.

Harrington’s looking up at him, squinting into the sunlight, and Eddie’s slightly repelled by his sudden desire to run a hand through King Steve’s hair. It shines in the sunlight, matching the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

Eddie takes a step to the left, casting him back into shadow again where he’s just his normal, asshole self and not the angelic image Eddie conjured from his horny, queer little brain.

He can’t remember if it’s his turn to talk or Harrington’s, but it seems the King’s lost the plot as well. Completely zoned out, he’s just standing there staring up at Eddie, mouth dropped open and eyes wide in a way Eddie will certainly not be thinking about later tonight. Absolutely not.

Eddie coughs. Loud and obnoxious enough to break whatever trance they’ve found themselves in. Harrington awkwardly chuckles, running a hand through his hair. An image of Steve leaning against lockers, towering over a girl with heat in his eyes and a hand in his hair floods Eddie’s brain before he can shake it out like an Etch A Sketch. What the fuck is even happening to him?

“Yeah, Munson. Like, what the hell is your problem?” It lacks punch and drama the second time around, but it gets them back on track. Harrington props his hands on his hips, his lip juts out into a tiny pout, and Eddie wonders if he thinks standing like a disappointed mom is effective in getting what he wants, or if being adorable just comes naturally to the former King.

“You’ll have to be more specific, my liege.” He watches as Harrington brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and he makes a mental note to develop a better, more refined taste in men.

“The kids, man. Why aren’t you friends with the kids?”

“Kids? What the hell– what kids?” He hops down from the table. If this is going to be a legitimate conversation and not a shake down, he figures it’ll be easier on even footing. Harrington takes the seat opposite him, his shoe accidentally knocking Eddie’s ankle.

Steve doesn’t move his foot. Neither does Eddie.

“My kids, man. They said they tried talking to you all week and you wouldn’t even hear them out!”

Eddie watches his fingers tap absently on the table top. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, and it’s shocking that Eddie is just now realizing that Steve’s actually anxious. Normally Eddie considers himself better at reading people, when he’s not distracted with puffy, pink lips and a confusing line of conversation.

He looks down, rewinding the past week. He’d made it through his first week of his third senior year without anyone getting in his face. Maybe he’s old enough now that even asshole seniors like Jason Carver have decided to leave him alone. Thankfully it seems the offer also extends to Gareth, Kenny, and Jeff, who’ve only reported minor name calling and a light shove.

That’s where he spots them, stops the tape midway through lunch on Wednesday when a group of three freshmen approached the table. He’d spotted the curly-haired kid earlier in the week, bravely decked out in a Weird Al shirt and a hat from some science camp. The kid was enough of a freak to earn free admission to Hellfire, but the other two required a bit more thought.

Eddie clocked Little Wheeler through the station wagon window Monday morning when he’d cut Nancy off in the parking lot. The kid seemed alright, but with a priss like Nancy as a sister, it was a tough call. The other kid seemed a bit too sporty, and a little too interested in basketball tryouts.

When the three amigos started talking DnD, the guys invited them with open arms. It was a relatively peaceful lunch. Exciting even, at the prospect of adding new members to their campaign. They’d mentioned trying to convince a few of their friends to play. A girl named Max Mayfield, who turns out lives a few trailers down from Eddie.

But when the curly-haired kid mentioned Steve Harrington, the Hellfire boys clammed up tighter than nun’s ass. His named dripped from their mouths like it was covered in gold, the hero-worship rotting them from the inside and Eddie wouldn’t stand for it. No true freaks would stand to be friends with an asshole bully like King Steve.

Of course the freshies tried to argue, saying he’d changed. It didn’t matter to the Hellfire boys. Clearly the freshmen were corrupted, and they couldn’t be trusted. So he’d sent them on their way, and the three of them posted up in the corner of the lunchroom every day since. Far away from jocks and freaks alike.

Now, Eddie looks across the table and sees false bravado slathered over the anxiety etched into the former King’s face. He doesn’t know how three freshmen freaks found themselves under the wing of Steve Harrington, but it seems the feeling is mutual. Steve cares about these kids.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I remember them. What’s it to you, Harrington? Aren’t they a little too old for a babysitter.” The joke falls flat when Steve sighs, heavy and exhausted, like somehow a rich boy from the Loch carries the entire world on his shoulders.

But he plays it off, trying to meet Eddie’s quip halfway. “Babysitters get paid, dude. I do it from the goodness of my heart or some shit.” Steve leans back, scrubs his hands over his face like he can erase whatever’s behind his eyes.

Eddie stares at him, hoping to catch a glimpse. The only consolation is Steve puts his other foot on the opposite side of Eddie’s, his ankle now fully cradled between Steve’s.

“They’re nerds, man.” Harrington states it like it’s a fact and not an insult he’s hurled at Eddie a hundred times over the years. “They’re freaks, you know– like you.”

Moment officially broken, Eddie scoffs, pushing away from the table wondering why he ever entertained talking with Harrington in the first place. As he grabs his lunchbox off the forest floor, he hears shuffling behind him.

“Wait,” Harrington shouts. “Just, fuck man, can you just let me finish?”

“Finish what, exactly?” Eddie snaps, whirling around to crowd into his space. He wears big and scary like how the King wears his crown and how assassins wield their blades. With enough power and confidence to scare off any enemy. “Finish listening to you shit on the little guy? Listen to you harp on the freaks of the world, or how you corrupted your little pions?”

“What?” Steve asks, lips pursed and eyebrows scrunched. Eddie’s not surprised his jock-rattled brain couldn’t find that word in its very limited dictionary, but what does surprise him is that Steve doesn’t back down. They’re practically nose to nose, so close Eddie can spot a small freckle on his lash-line, and Steve’s standing here like he doesn't have a care in the world while Eddie screams in his face.

It’s quiet again. He can hear the rustle of tall grass and birds overhead. He can feel Steve’s breath on his lips and Eddie can’t remember what they were talking about. Again.

Steve grabs his shoulders, and in his daze, Eddie lets himself be maneuvered back to sitting at the picnic table, while Steve stands in front of him.

“Are you always big and loud and obnoxious? Can you just cut the shit for like, five minutes so we can have a normal fucking conversation. Jesus christ, you’re practically perfect for them.” The last part is quieter, seems more like an unfiltered afterthought.

“Ok,” Eddie says. If Steve’s willing to take the crown off long enough to talk with Eddie, then maybe he can shed his own metaphorical battle vest. “Say what you have to say, then.”

Steve clears his throat, shuffles slightly as he gains his footing. He looks at Eddie with a determined set to his shoulders.

“Henderson, Sinclair, and even Wheeler– they’re my kids. I’ve spent the last nine months watching out for those little shits because all they’re good at is getting into the worst kinds of trouble.” Eddie tracks him as Steve paces the forest floor, rambling and raking a hand through his hair like it helps him think. “But I remembered you didn’t graduate, right? And you run that Dungeons and Dragons club–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie interrupts. Steve stops, turns to face him, and shoots him the bitchiest glare Eddie’s ever seen, but before he can say anything, Eddie pushes on. “You, Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, leader of meatheads and bimbos alike, know what Dungeons and Dragons is?”

Steve sighs, hands back on his hips as he rolls his eyes. “Ha ha, Munson. Don’t worry it’s all against my will, okay? I’m not coming to steal your freaks and weirdos so I can lead them too.” He smirks, and it pulls a laugh out of Eddie, shocked that Steve’s willing to joke around with Eddie at all, let alone when it’s at his own expense.

“Now, quit interrupting me, you’re as bad as Henderson.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips closed, only to open his mouth to swallow the imaginary key. Butterflies explode in his chest at the sound of Steve laughter, and Eddie wonders if bashing his head into a tree would be a decent excuse to explain the red flush erupting on his face.

“Anyways,” Steve chuckles. “They’re smart as shit but don’t know when to give something up just to get out of a fight. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten their asses handed to them already, and everyday I pick them up all I'm thinking about is which one of them I’m gonna have to stitch up. Sure, some of the guys in the grade below were alright, like Andy. But guys like Hargrove, like Carver.” Eddie can practically see the dark cloud form over Steve’s brow.

He remembers as well as anyone the fallout of Harrington v Hargrove, Fall 1985. There’d been endless rumors about what happened, each one more ridiculous than the last. Now he’s left wondering if it’s not really about Nancy, or drugs, or Billy fucking Steve’s mom, but about these kids. The timing checks out, nine months on babysitting duties lines up pretty well with when Steve showed up to school beaten and broken.

Maybe Steve isn’t all he seems to be.

“Guys like Carver won’t mess with you. They’re too scared you’re using DnD to worship the devil and get kids into sodomy and drugs and shit like that. I told them that you’d be cool. That you’re big and loud, that you play DnD like them. You're smart and you read the same nerdy books. I told them they’d be safe with you, man.” Steve rubs his face again, until his hands fall to the sides and he tilts his head up towards the sky. “I just need to know someone’s looking out for them. Please, Eddie, just–”

“Okay.”

Steve’s attention snaps back to him, relief written plain as day in the wide set of his smile. “You’re serious?”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Steve smile so unguarded, and never aimed his way. The sheer brightness of it fills him with warmth he wants to wrap himself up in.

All on top of the fact Eddie's never gotten this many compliments from anyone before, let alone from a guy as gorgeous as Steve Harrington. His ears are practically on fire.

“Yeah, Harrington. I’ll share custody of your little nuggets.” Before he knows what’s coming, Steve sweeps him up into a hug, lifts him fully off the ground and can feel the tinkling of his laughter on the shell of his ear.

“Thanks, Munson. Damn, you have no idea how freaked out I’ve–”

“What about the other stuff?” Eddie can’t stop himself from asking. He has to know, deep in his bones, that Steve is thinking this through. That Steve won’t change his mind in a few days or months and decide it’s time for Eddie Munson to eat dirt.

He lets Eddie go, but holds his shoulders at arms length to look him in the eye. Any lingering mirth has been replaced with intent curiosity. “What stuff, Munson?”

He can tell by Steve’s tone they’re both talking about the same thing. Rumors that’ve haunted Eddie since eighth grade after Davey Richardson beat him up under the bleachers. It didn’t matter that Davey kissed him first, all that mattered was he was popular and Eddie was weird.

He’d grown numb to the slurs over the years, but how could he forget hearing the reason why Byers beat the shit out of King Steve. The only surprise from that fight was it sounded like he never even tried to fight back.

“Harrington, if I don’t get to act loud and obnoxious, then you don’t get to play dumb.” The intensity of Steve’s stare reminds him of the few conversations he’d had with Chief Hopper before he’d died. The man could tear Eddie down to the bones with one glare, and he’s sure it’s the only reason the Chief brought him back to the trailer instead of a jail cell.

“Eddie,” Steve says, tone firm, “I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t care about the shit people say, especially self-righteous assholes like Carver. The only thing I give a shit about is you watching over the little gremlins and not selling them drugs, so I can breathe easier when I don't have eyes on them.”

Steve shakes him lightly, like it’ll sift this world-changing view into his brain, then pats his shoulder as he passes by him.

“Wait,” Eddie shouts, always a glutton for punishment. He spins around to catch Steve walking backwards away from him, hands in his pockets, effortlessly cool. The sun’s catching his hair again and there’s a smirk on his lips. “You really don’t care?”

Steve laughs, taking a step back. He chews on his bottom lip, and he smiles when he catches Eddie looking. Because he knows. Steve knows now, before Jeff or Wayne or anyone else.

“Eddie, whoever you decide to love or fuck– or not– is none of my business.” He turns to leave, and as Eddie relaxes he hears Steve call out, “unless you want it to be.”

Steve’s light laughter follows him out of the woods, and Eddie plops himself down in the same spot on the same wooden bench in the exact same forest as he always does every Friday after school. Except a twenty minute conversation with Steve Harrington leaves Eddie feeling like his world's been turned upside down.

Maybe ‘86 will be his year, after all.

[thalwri]

TEACH ME SIR! pt. ii

part i!

STARRING: art professor!rafayel x art student!reader

synopsis: after the supply closet incident, finishing your final assignment wasn’t easy. but at least you reaped a good reward in the end.

warnings: porn with plot, all characters are aged up (and in university), fem!masturbation, listening to an unintentional sex tape, overstimulation, public sex, beach sex, fingering, oral (m!rec), body worship, dirty talk, pussy slapping (once!), cum eating (technically), creampies, underwater sex, overstimulation (again).

wc: 8,7k

a/n: forgive the delay, uni has been at my neck these past few weeks so i wanted to take the time to make this really good for you guys. hope you enjoy part 2!

MINORS DON'T INTERACT!

you hadn’t slept. 

not because of the final practical you had to hand over in three days time, not because of the submissions you’ve already see (which were phenomenal), but because of him.

your hands were stained with dried clay– you’d made countless attempts to wash it off and try again until you realised it was too futile. you’d end up thinking about rafayel again.

you’d end up thinking about what happened in the supply room two days ago.

every. single. fucking. time.

your mind was clouded in a buzz. your body was vibrating. your hands were shaking. you couldn’t even will yourself to touch the clay in fear that you’d mess up the progress you had already put countless hours into. 

you had mastered– you had hoped you did– rafayel’s face almost to the exact image of him. from the shape of his lips, to the height of his jawline, to the moles you indented into his face, everything.

and that just made it so much worse.

you could see him blushing before he kissed you. his eyes slowly rising to meet your gaze. the unmistakable lust that choked up that cramped room to the point where you could only smell each other. 

you had wanted him. and you failed to force that desire down your throat. in fact, it just sunk down to your pussy and pooled there waiting for him to consume you.

and he almost did. he was so close. his lips pulled at your now wet underwear, teasing your clit with his drooling tongue as if a mere piece of fabric meant nothing to his desire to taste you. 

his cock was rock hard. his body was like a fire. his voice was hypnotic. but the memory wasn’t enough.

fumbling through your phone with your nerves trembling right to your fingers, you found the voice note you had recorded. you had forgotten it was still ongoing even after rafayel had left. you were left in shambles, panting and huffing out moans of shock and despair. you needed more of him. 

your finger hesitantly hovered above the button to play the audio. what were you thinking? it was wrong. not only was it illegal considering you were going to use it as blackmail, it was corrupted with the most lewd experience you had gone through to date. none of your previous lovers could contest the impact rafayel left on you.

the effect he had on your mind. you couldn’t let it remain a memory.

without another doubtful thought, you quickly tapped the screen and pushed your phone away from you. his voice immediately flowed into your ears through the earphones, silencing every other noise in the private studio.

“where were you?”

your eyes fluttered shut, visualising the state he was in. shirt unbuttoned, chest heaving up and down, veins pulsating from his forearms to his wrists. his voice had a rasp to it, roughening out each syllable with unprecedented anger. almost like he missed you and your absence pissed him off.

your voices clashed in argument in the playback, waves of spiteful satisfaction resonated in you. at least you reminded him that you still had the backbone to fight back. then the pause came in, slowly raising your pulse. you could feel the tension rising as if you were witnessing it for the first time.

“you think i’m pretty?”

your legs pressed together, thighs rubbing almost instantly. you couldn’t fold that easily. you had already lost your grip. you couldn’t do it again. you felt for the edge of the table and gripped on it hard, afraid that if you moved your hands would fly to tend to your sobbing pussy.

“say it again.”

you almost did too. jolts of unanswered arousal pooled from your core all the way up to your throat. a gust of air was caught in your throat, your chest began to tighten. it was becoming too much to hold yourself. but you had to. just a little longer.

he laughed right down to your heart. his lips drew in a slow, deliberate breath before his next words came in a sultry whisper. “say it.”

“make me.”

you groaned into your hand, so vividly seeing the remnants of your sinful interaction you wouldn’t be surprised if that alone made you cum.

sounds of your lips colliding with sharp breaths shot shivers down your spine like a bullet. a soft moan escaped your lips, the rubbing of your thighs stimulating your clit ceased to allow your legs to spread wide open as you leaned back on your chair.

your hand crept down to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to grant you access to your heated core. your fingers tenderly brushed over your sensitive bud and instantly brought out a pleasured response from it. your wetness somehow leaked from you even more just from a single touch.

the hushed breaths, wet kisses and soft moans filled your ears just like how you’d idealised his cum stuffing your needy pussy. your fingers delicately wandered around your swollen clit and eventually pressed down over the hood, rubbing it in cruel circles.

you sucked in your gasp as you fell deeper and deeper into the memory accompanied by the audible reminder of your mischief yet justified vice. your back curved into an arch, fingers rubbing faster and faster until your poor cunt was squelching from neglect and completely overwhelmed by your wetness that it soaked past your clothing onto the chair beneath you.

shudders and shivers brought your body to a shameless tremble– your legs pounced on the leg of the chair, struggling to maintain what drop was left of your composure. the joint melody of your moans and his lips smacking your skin sent you into a drunken frenzy. 

you could still taste him in your mouth, you could still feel his hands all over your body ghosting your skin in a layer of unabashed desire. 

“want to eat you,” his voice whispered. “taste you.” fucking hell, you were gone. a loud cry slipped out of your lips as your fingers finally answered your body’s call and plunged right into your pussy.

your lips curved into a ferocious grin, your fingers wasted no time to cruelly curve and push deeper and deeper into you. your gummy walls clenched around your fingers but it didn’t feel the same. it couldn’t resemble what he could do. how deep rafayel’s could go. 

how much deeper it could have gone.

you leaned back on your chair to give your hands more access to your weeping hole. you were so warm and wet– it’s no wonder rafayel lost his mind so quickly. your fingers slowly pumped deeper and deeper into you as far as they could go. one more slipped in, stretching you wider and a pitched whimper broke the silence in the studio. your pussy squelched and cried in arousal, practically begging you to move faster. 

but your sick mind couldn’t help but relish in the thought of holding yourself back just enough for your legs to twitch and shake. 

the audio had long ended and continued in an endless loop, repeating the hushed whispers, his laughs, the wet smacks of your lips, the amalgam of your lewd noises… fuck. 

again and again, your body shook at the precipice of your climax and yet you held back, keeping your wits sharp and your sensitivity even sharper. your fingers curled and thrusted deep into your cunny as far as it could. usually it was enough to push you over but ever since rafayel? your fingers were null and void compared to those smooth, rude fingers.

your legs spread wide apart, back arching to the overwhelming stimulation, moans literally hitching into slutty whimpers. the shadows of his touch burned your flesh driving you half insane. 

“f-fuck–“ the way his clothed length pressed against you, hard and hot was so deliciously sexy you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d feel inside you. 

first in your salivating mouth, still hot and intoxicated in his taste, so you could taste his cum shoot right down your throat. then all over your chest and face after he fucked your tits. then slowly and eventually deep inside you, stuffing you to the absolute brim. 

your head tilted far back over the chair as the pleasure bundled itself like a bursting supernova, throwing you into an endless abyss for you to drown and relish in the memory of his touch. the memory of his taste. the memory of your desire for him. 

waves of ebbing pleasure vibrated into your bones. but it wasn’t enough. 

you rocked your hips slowly against your palm, shivering from the aftershocks of your recent orgasm, needy for a special someone’s touch to replace your own. disrespectful, lewd, arousing whispers of his voice laced with your own ran into your ears in a continuous loop. you could listen to that damned audio for days.

your fingers dipped in and out of your soaked cunny, spreading your folds to feel how truly wet you were– and fuck damn. you were so sensitive to the touch and yet so desperate for more. 

you twitched, shook, and whined all in the midst of grinding yourself over your hand. you were making a mess, dripping all over the chair and your clothes but you couldn’t care less. you were so overindulged that you’d even stopped holding your noises back. 

his voice– his damned voice– begging to taste you, his fingers pressing so deep into you, his lips suckling at your bud– it was all too much on top of how sensitive you were. 

“need–“ your moans swirled into loud, whiny sighs as you drew closer to your edge. “need it–“

your hands trembled at the sight of the sculpting tool before you. no. you wouldn’t. you couldn’t. 

but you needed to. you needed it. your poor pussy was practically begging for more and who would you be to deny yourself of the pleasure you deserved? 

you gripped the handle of the tool and settled it neatly between your legs, ensuring the barrier of your wet panties protected you from the tool. your hips rocked back and forth over it, both cold and hard, ensuring it abused the life out of your swollen bud.

it was almost as thick as him but just as hard. you clamped your hand over your mouth, whimpers getting louder the faster you moved. his name slipped out of your lips in a devastated moan followed by rambles laced with unabashed filth.

“wish it was you,” you could feel the muscles in your neck constrict and strain the further you arched back. “wish it was you– fuck!”

it had gotten so noisy. all that wet slick noise that squelched right from your core had gone straight into your head. the recording had turned into white noise and your only interest was bringing yourself to your climax once more. 

you hated how you were making such a mess over him. you hated how you were getting so wet over the sound of him just seconds from fully eating you out, fully devouring you. and yet you loved it more than anything in the world. 

you swiftly pulled the tool up and huffed out a shaky moan just from the sight of how soaked it was– just from you grinding on it. your fingers tugged your panties aside and plunged deep inside you once more, not wasting time for you to lose your edge. 

your shaking hands dragged the handle of the sculpting tool up your body and nestled between your open cleavage, painting your lewd nectar all over your flesh. it was so sticky, so debaucherous, and so damn good that you couldn’t help but giggle at how fundamentally wrong it was. 

“fuck– please, oh god, please!” your lip caught itself between your teeth, your body unable to handle the overwhelming pleasure you were torturing yourself with. but you couldn’t stop and you didn’t want to.

the table shook from how tight your grip was, practically vibrating from how hard you rolled your hips into your hand. your skin was hot and sticky. the room was thick with your breathy, slutty moans and the noises your fingers expertly pulled out of your cunny. just one more push and–

as if it were divine timing, rafayel’s muffled moan broke you out of trance, absolutely breaking you. 

your nails clawed into the wood. your eyes rolled back. a hoarse cry ripped straight out of your throat and your body crumbled down, orgasm so intense that you collapsed right onto the table, body trembling, lungs gasping for air.

you glanced down to your hand and chuckled. wrinkled and soaked in your cream, you brought it to your lips to taste what had driven rafayel so mad. you felt manic. all that from a kiss and a little more. 

you expected the feeling of shame to kick in. but it didn’t. if anything, you felt pride. pride that you were the only one to have touched him, kissed him. the only one to have driven him to the point of tasting you. 

the mixture of sighs and nips came to a halt as you pulled your headphones off to analyse your crime scene. your chair was dripping, that clay sculpting tool was drenched, your heart was pounding. and the sculpture before you serenely stared at your disheveled state, almost like he relished in watching you fall apart.

oh, you were fucked.

and zayne could tell.

sitting in your usual spot barely an hour later, you were an absolute mess. shaking, stuttering and nervous at the mention of rafayel’s name. you had tried to maintain composure or at least give a front of being unbothered but your body literally decided to fuck you over.

“every time i say his name you shiver.” zayne deadpanned, stabbing into yet another cake slice with his fork. 

goosebumps coated your skin like a layer of fur. you felt like it was about to start snowing based off how violently you were shaking. almost like your body was screaming for you to attack your pussy with your fingers again. “no i don’t.”

“oh really?”

you slowly nodded with a forced grin. 

“rafayel.” and a sharp jolt ran down your spine, this time pulling a whimper out of you. his eyes slowly narrowed before widening in realisation. “oh my god, did you have sex with your professor?”

“no!” if oral sex counts… 

“so you did fuck him.”

“not exactly!” you conceded, burying your face in your hands. what better way was there for you to explain it other than saying ‘oh, it turns out he’s actually interested in me and probably finds me hot because he kind of ate me out’?

you could just make him listen to the audio– but you couldn’t. you didn’t know if you were under the influence of selfishness but it felt too sacred. too personal. and even though zayne has seen and heard a lot from you (mostly against his will), this was something you weren’t fully willing to share.

but he knew everything about you, hell, he’d accidentally found you using your vibrator (the only way to reimburse him was to send him a text or keep a note on your door and to buy him desserts for three months). but that recording? no. not that.

so instead, you gave him a watered down summary but did not spare any details just to spite him a little. by the time you were done, his decadent cake was long abandoned, replaced with a look of great disdain.

“while i’m eating my cake.” he grumbled, scowling at the dessert in reminiscence but he knew his appetite would not grant him the pleasure of eating more. he slowly leaned back into his seat, pushing the plate as far as his arm could reach. 

“so you’re telling me your professor dragged you into a supply room to ask why you weren’t in lectures and he ended up eating you out?”

hands still covering your face, you nodded. 

“well, you’re not going to handle your lecture if you keep shivering just from hearing his name.” 

“do you think i don’t know that?!” to make matters worse, you had an upcoming lecture that you had originally intended to go to. it would be like a revision lecture, filled with tips and advice to assist you before you had to submit your final assignment.

you were planning to go. were. and then that psycho ate you out.

“do you think you’ll be fine to sit there?” zayne poked your hand, voice laced with concern. honestly you didn’t know. maybe you could sit in the back of the lecture hall so that way he wouldn’t see you. or maybe on the last seat in the row so you had an easy escape. 

“stop overthinking.” your best friend’s voice snapped you right out of your daze. “if you think you’ll be fine, start going. if not, i’ll come with you–“

“no, nope!” you shot up to your feet, deliberately ignoring the rush of blood leaving your head. you were falling into a daze of dizziness– but not like how rafayel’s fingers did– fuck. “i’ll see you later, yeah?”

“unless you actually fuck him this time.” zayne muttered just loud enough for you to hear as your rushed off.

“choke!”

all you had to do to survive the next forty-five minutes was to rawdog it. just take everything that would be thrown at you and bite back hard. shouldn’t be that bad right? 

wrong.

the fucking asshole ignored you. he didn’t even look at you as you walked in. he was occupied with some of the maintenance staff carrying sculptures into the lecture hall. was he going to do a presentation to praise the makers?

as you walked to the nearest vacant seat, you had heard snickers. not a lot, but enough to know that some people still remembered what had happened. 

“rawdog, rawdog, rawdog.” you muttered under your breath, glancing at the table in the front of the hall. that wasn’t there before. just what was he planning?

just as he turned to face your class, all noise instantly fell to silence. but not like it usually did. something about his demeanour seemed a bit different. more crude. rafayel stared in four specific directions for long, without blinking or uttering a single word. his face was blank. and that was what made it terrifying.

“usually, these revision lectures come with written notes,” his stupid bioluminescent eyes glanced down at the four statues before him, scanning each detail noting its perfections and marking its imperfections. “but i believe a demonstration would do far better. especially with these finalised sculptures that were submitted early.”

he walked to the furthest sculpture, made of clay that was still slightly wet. it depicted the head of a lion– its details designed almost expertly. your skin prickled in the heat of envy. of course he would brandish the best works in the class. of course he’d act the same.

crack!

the sound was like punching drying mud. still slightly wet but dry enough to sound painful. 

the lion’s head was deformed, ruined and defiled by rafayel’s hand without a pinch of remorse on his face. a horrified cry erupted behind you following by choked sobs. you glanced over your shoulder to see one of the girls that bullied you crying into her hands. as much as you wanted to feel bad, you just couldn’t.

“that one was still dry.” he nonchalantly shrugged, wiping the excess clay on the edge of the table as if it were sludge. “don’t submit your work if it’s unfinished. that includes the clay not being fully dry.” 

he gracefully glided to the next, picking up a very heavy hammer. he tossed it into the air, watching it quickly plummet down landing directly on the sculpture beneath it. that one had fully dried. shards of dried clay flew as far as the first row of students, resulting in a flurry of screams. 

“that one was just ugly.”

the third he had pushed off the table to meet its end with a crash!

“boring.”

the last sculpture remaining stood as the most beautiful. it looked as though hours of sleep were lost to craft it, delicately held and carved and made with something deep. not love. desire. rafayel stared at the sculpture, lazily scrutinising each part. he held up a jug of clear liquid and poured it all over the sculpture until it was drenched completely. 

he picked up a box of matches. gasps and murmurs slowly arose. your eyes widened. 

he pulled out a match and dragged it across the sandpaper to set it alight. gasps turned into screams. your hand raised up to your lips in disbelief but never quite reached its destination. 

it was almost as if time had slowed. those purple-blue eyes slowly blinked as his gaze reached up directly to yours. and the match fell, slowly gliding down to the head of the statue, engulfing it in divine flames. divine vengeance.

he kept his word.

a loud scream sounded across the lecture hall, the only noise made in the otherwise silenced hall. the shock had silenced you. and yet his eyes– his eyes were now blue. like the flames drowned out the regal poise and gentleness in him and left only the cold cruelty behind.

it scared you. and it made your thighs press tightly together. it made your breath hitch. warmth almost as hot as the flames pooled in your core, only amplified by his gaze on you. your fingers twitched intuitively, almost like an urge to reach out to him. as if his eyes were a silent song calling to you.

he kept his word.

“i do not tolerate bullying in this class.” rafayel reluctantly pulled his gaze away from you to glare at the four culprits.

it did not take long for him to figure out who had destroyed your trial sculpture. with a bit of bribery and pushing up marks, it took him less than a day. it took a lot of self restraint for him to not attack them the moment he found out.

but he knew that this would be more satisfactory. their devastation and humiliation. your shock and relief. 

he couldn’t help himself. he just needed to avenge you. to see you happy. to have you in his presence again. you were dragging him deep into your abyss, singing to him, alluring him, drowning him– and he was more than happy to drown with you.

and if that meant showing you just how far he was willing to go, then so be it.

“you will not be passing this class under my guidance, and by extension will not complete this degree to graduate with your classmates.” devastated sobs were the only response. 

“to the rest of you, those are the ‘tips’ you need to keep in mind if you want to pass your final assignment.” and with that, he stalked out of the lecture hall. and chaos erupted. 

the maintenance staff had begun to clean up and extinguish the still burning flames. the statue had long burned to ash but the flames surged strong. 

you had to find him. you needed answers.

you rushed out of the hall buzzing with heat and shock. you needed air. but not on campus. you would find rafayel later. for now, you needed to breathe.

so you went to the beach. the first one you could find. you didn’t even bother listening to the security guard shouting behind you when your only interest was to be able to get air.

salted air filled your lungs as soon as you stepped onto the sand. it was relieving, soothing. as soon as your mind had cleared itself, you would start planning how to find rafayel and corner him.

but you weren’t going to have to look far.

“was that a worthy apology?” that voice. that same husky tone reserved solely for you had erupted your senses. struck your nerves. sent jolts of relentless heat right down to your core. 

he stood right beside you, blazer hooked on his arms and hair wildly blazing with the wind. 

“how did you–“

“i normally come here to paint.” he said as if it was obvious. like you totally knew. “how did you get past the guard?”

you weren’t going to tell him how you almost pushed the poor old security guard into a bush when you stumbled all the way there. “don’t worry.”

“right,” rafayel scoffed. “i won’t worry that you travelled all the way from campus when you should be working just to come here. it was to get air, yes?”

oh, he was insufferable.

“you’re unbelievable.” you huffed as you stormed deeper through the shore until your legs kissed the waves. rafayel followed almost intuitively, as if there were a magnetic string holding him to you. 

“and you’re unavoidable.” he spun you back in his direction. “i’ve barely been able to concentrate on anything apart from you. from avenging you. from the memory of you in that room.” 

your breath hitched. you’d assumed he moved past that event, let it go and allowed it to be a mere memory. it was more than a shock to see that he felt something too.

rafayel found his hands travelling around your body, the same way it did a few days ago. the way you were reacting to his touch… those gentle sighs, your leans into his hands, you were calling to him. and he just had to answer you.

“after what happened that day,” his head pressed onto yours as if touching you as much as he could would stabilise him. “all i can think about is you. and no matter how hard i try to satiate myself–“

a low growl pooled from the depths of his throat. “it’s just not enough.”

your held your lips within your teeth, leaving a gentle sting in your flesh. a soft finger flew to your chin, tugging it down just harshly enough to pull your lip out of your teeth’s grip. 

“don’t.” he whispered. “you know what that does to me.”

you couldn’t help yourself but smile. back to his authoritative act again. the only difference was that this time you knew that it wouldn’t last.

“make me.”

you had to admit it. you missed his lips. you missed kissing him. 

it felt so deliciously intense, so hot, so arousing. your hands naturally found comfort in his soft purple curls while his held your waist to press you two as close as possible. the cool bite from the waves kept you hyperaware and awake, intently noticing every movement he made, every sound that escaped his lips, and his growing length prodding your core.

“professor,” you sighed as you willed yourself to pull away to breathe. 

“rafayel.” he corrected, leaning in to peck you. he was addicted and more than proud to admit it. “call me rafayel from now on.”

you had said his name many times to curse him, to gripe at him, and to complain about him. but never like this. never this intimately. it almost felt too delicate to say.

“say it.” peck.

“say my name.” peck.

“or i’ll make you.” his next peck quickly deepened with his tongue welcoming itself. his cock pressed hard against you, burning right through the layers of clothing between you. you were going to fucking explode. 

“rafayel.” you moaned into his lips. his grip on you tightened.

“rafayel.” you said again. his hips jutted up.

“rafayel.” a low groan disrupted the peaceful crash of the waves on the shore.

“again.” rafayel pressed boiling kisses along your jaw to your neck, biting and suckling bruises into your skin.

the damn cold really woke you up because you slowly remembered that this was your professor you were kissing and were about to fuck in the middle of the beach. “rafayel, we shouldn’t–“

“please,” kiss. “need to be inside.” kiss. “need to feel you.” kiss.

“i punished those that wronged you,” he fell to his knees, completely ignoring the waves pushing him back and forth. he was too needy, too aroused. “forgive my wrongdoings, cutie. let me please you again.” 

he was good. he was too good at reminding you of just how much you wanted him. just how much you ached for him. you’d be a fool to deny yourself of that pleasure. your pussy was just begging you to be blessed with that delicious feeling only he could provide.

but, again, you were both in the middle of a beach. empty, yes. but anyone could walk around.

“rafayel,” his eyes twinkled in glossed desperation. “we’re on a beach.”

“it’s a private beach.” oh. so that was why the security guard chased after you. “i own it.”

your eyes widened. he owned a beach?

that annoying chuckle sounded beneath you as rafayel rose to his feet. he cradled your face in his hands, pressing warm kisses on your cheeks. “i said i like to paint here. but i’d never do that with strangers looking. so i bought the beach and the properties surrounding it.”

of course he did. the man was literally rolling in money. 

“so you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” his hips rolled onto yours, reminding you of the delicious hard on you had imagined while you fingered yourself just a few days ago. “unless someone runs past the security guard.”

“mean.” but so sexy while doing it. but since you two were safe to engage in your shenanigans… “then let’s do it.” you slowly leaned away from his hold to peel your clothes back layer by layer. 

rafayel silently watched you unbutton your blouse, unveiling your pretty tits, one nipple slipping out the hold of your bra. he quickly followed in suit, tugging of his drenched dress shirt to toss it onto the sand. 

you watched his shirt slip off, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen. he must have been sculpted by gods– or was potentially a god himself. you couldn’t help but look further down. down the tense line of abs to his v-line, to the trimmed purple tufts leading down to the tent growing in his pants.

your pants had fallen to the sand along with his, and fuck me sideways the print of his cock was orgasmic. could you even hold all of that with your hand? 

rafayel stepped closer, reaching his hand up your spine until it reached the lace enclosure of your bra. “you sure you want this?”

“you have no idea how much i want this.” a soft click instantly echoed end the endless range of the beach, giving your spine and chest relief as rafayel slipped your bra off your body. his hands delicately caressed your tits, deliberately pinching your hard nipples to perk out even more. 

“raf–“ you gasped, feeling a foreign sense of pleasure spread down to your core. that was new.

“mhm?” his eyes were practically fixated on your chest, fondling and massaging your mounds. his tongue slowly swiped over his lips and in an instant, he latched himself on one of your nipples suckling on you like a man starved. 

any response you would have made – which was most probably you cussing him out – was replaced by a sharp cry. while his mouth nibbled and suckled marks onto one his hand massaged the other, switching positions in intervals until he believed he gave your chest enough attention.

“see what you do to me?” his hand guided yours down to the huge bulge in his pants. it was rock hard. fucking leaking. “getting me so riled up just from the thought of satisfying you.”

his fingers hooked around the hem of your panties – lace again, you must be doing this intentionally – and tugged it down until he could see the string of your wet arousal connecting the fabric of your underwear to your sweet pussy.

“fuck, you’re soaked.” 

“and you’re rock hard.” you attempted to retort the obvious but your flustered state gave away your nerves. you tugged his underwear down, freeing his cock with a spring. 

it slapped his stomach, shooting drops of precum on his milky skin. fuck damn, he was so big. so thick your hands wouldn’t even be able to wrap around it, and long enough to stuff you to the brim. and those veins? you could count three. his mushroom cockhead raged a dark pink colour, leaking copious amounts of precum. you were tempted to lap it up right there.

rafayel must have caught you staring like a dickmatised sucker, judging by his giggle– he fucking giggled.

“don’t be shy,” his hands reached to hold yours as he pulled you deeper into the ocean, like a siren calling upon a sailor. it was unbearably cold and yet it didn’t bother you. “it’s all yours to touch.”

rafayel guided you behind a large rock sitting not too far from the shore, tall enough to hide you and shallow enough for the water to reach your upper thighs. the rough, mineral surface was much warmer than the water, making you melt as soon as your back touched the rock. 

“do you want me to stop?” his lips drew dangerously near yours. so damn close. 

the ocean fell quiet, serenely whispering to you with its waves gently lapping at your skin. the wind whistled through the air, blowing through your damp hair, bringing you to a shiver. rafayel leaned closer, pressing himself as close to you as your bodies could allow. 

it all felt so hot, so comfortable that the cold water couldn’t do anything. his hands wandered down, down to the perked pebbles on your chest. your eyes fluttered shut as his fingers ghosted over your skin, shivered gasps escaping your lips. 

“no,” your head fell beside his own, pressing hard on the need to protect the last of your restraint. “don’t stop.”

he hummed in approval, moving his hand lower and lower until it reunited with your weeping core. “you did something to me that day,” rafayel did not waste a breath to touch you, running his fingers along your folds and deliberately avoiding your swollen bud. “i haven’t been able to concentrate. just been craving you. needing to touch you.”

his hips bucked up rubbing his cock up and down your abdomen, precum painting your skin. you felt like his canvas, just waiting to become his best artwork. you were so wet you couldn’t think. you knew he could tell.

“i couldn’t contain myself after,” rafayel gripped your chin to pull you into a lascivious kiss. his fingers circled around your wetness, dragging your wetness up ever so slowly until it touched your clit. your breath hitched at the feeling. “i just kept on touching myself to the thought of you. but it was never enough.”

his fingers were humbly invited into your entrance, ruthlessly rubbing your wetness all around you, mixing it with the cold water beneath you. his tongue stuck out his lips, heavenly eyes focused and enamoured by the pure wetness you could produce. he could almost smell it over the ocean’s salt.

he devoured your whimpers, slipping his tongue deeper into your mouth. the way he drilled into you, curving in an utterly delicious angle and taking in every moan, sigh and sultry noise you created was almost too much. it felt divine. 

“my favourite thing about you,” he pulled his fingers out of you, giving your pussy a harsh smack as you whined. he brought his fingers up to his lips, sticking his tongue out to lick and taste your delicious nectar. the mere contact of it on your tongue made him groan. 

“your taste,” his eyes darted from his hand to your soaked cunny then to your lips. “it’s been stuck in my mind. and how it tastes with mine? fucking amazing.”

oh, he was nasty. good. because you were too. “let me taste you,” your body intuitively leaned closer to his fingers, lips spreading wide enough to take him in your mouth. “taste us.”

the noise that erupted from him was more than enough to make your walls clench. rafayel took the invitation your lips gave him and slowly pushed each of his pussy drenched fingers in, one by one. 

he was right. you tasted good. that’s one point to you for taking good care of yourself. but what roused you was the way he looked at you. 

his lips were parted, breath heavy, eyes glossed over and darkened with lust so intense that the purple-red tint of his eyes were drowned by the blue. he pushed his fingers deeper inside your salivating mouth up until you gagged around him.

“now imagine this,” he pushed his fingers back and forth, watching your bob your head as you sucked and swirled your tongue around what remained of your juices off his finger. “with my cock.”

oh fuck damn. that man had a way with his words. it felt like a dream come true. you must have manifested it while you were fucking yourself earlier that day. 

“you wanna try?” your eyes widened in erratic excitement. you pulled your head away and slowly sunk to your knees, making sure to kiss the exact spots he had kissed your skin in that supply room. 

slowly, teasingly, rudely, you dropped to your knees while ensuring your mark was etched on his skin in bites and bruises. rafayel’s pretty eyes were fluttering, face completely flushed red. you looked even better than he imagined. more delectable. it took so much more than his restraint to stop himself from fucking your mouth there and then.

but he let you tease him. just a bit longer.

you pressed a hot kiss right at the base between his heavy sacks and his cock, bringing him to a shudder. your finger trailed up his shaft until it reached his slit to dance little circles around him until drops of his nectar dribbled down to your tongue.

of course he fucking tasted good. just how much more divine could he get?

your tongue lapped him up slowly to take each and every drop until your lips wrapped over his tip. that alone was almost too much for you. fuck that, you were going to finish what you started. adjusting yourself to see him clearly, you raised your gaze to his glossy eyes and winked before sinking his cock into your mouth as deep as you could go.

rafayel’s hands flew to your head, gripping your hair to hold himself back. his chest heaved, rapidly moving up and down, and his lip trapped itself within his teeth. god, he was so fucking handsome.

you slowly brought your head to a rhythmic bob while your hands (both) stroked what your mouth couldn’t take. you traced each vein with your tongue as you moved back and forth and sucked hard on his cockhead every time you drew back for air. your jaw loosened just a bit to accept more of him down your throat, more and more until your nose was tickled by his purple hairs.

“oh, you evil woman.” rafayel huffed, watching a twinkle of mischief grow in your eyes as you pulled your head back. “i swear, if you– fuuck–“

the way his cock filled your throat had your pussy soaking even more. your jaw was widened to its limit, tears were burning at the corners of your eyes and your hands gripped his thighs to keep a strong hold on him. you took a quick mental notes. deepthroating was clearly one of his weaknesses.

your rhythm had gone much faster and deeper now that your throat became accustomed to his size. you quickly became sloppier and wetter, leaving a mixed trail of precum and saliva travelling down your chin to your tits. the gargled moans and gags leaving your lips drove both of you into a lust-fuelled frenzy.

“cutie–“ his moans grew louder the faster you went. “cutie,” his moans slowly turned into whines. “fuck, cutie–“ 

his hands gently pushed your head back to free his cock from you. he held his hand up as he panted, practically begging to get some air. you could only grin and wipe away the wet slick covering half your face as you rose to your feet.

rafayel’s lips crashed into yours, worshiping your lips in pure reverence. in a swift move you found yourself in his arms, leaning right against the rocks as his cockhead aligned with the entrance to your long neglected cunny.

“i hope you’ve had your fun,” his voice had dropped down an octave. you didn’t realise you could be so attracted to him more than you were just moments ago. “want to make you feel me deep inside.”

his lips coated your neck in wet, hot bites and smooches to draw out more of your sighs and moans. he deliberately attacked what he had learned to be your most sensitive spots until you were writhing in his arms.

“please, raf,” you pleaded. “stop teasing.”

you could feel his lips curve into a smile. “since you asked so nicely.”

rafayel slowly lowered your onto his cock but made sure you felt every part of his tip spread you wide open for him. your nails clawed into his shoulder and back, the sheer girth was overwhelming.

he whispered short praises to soothe you all while pushing his tip in and out of you until you welcomed more of him inside. the slight pinch of pain quickly became pleasure, allowing your pussy to soak him in your juices and suck him deeper into you until he bottomed out completely.

“fuck.” you both sighed into the air, eyes fluttering shut.

you felt complete. you could’ve stayed just like that for hours. 

“‘m gonna move, okay?” rafayel mumbled into your neck. your patted his shoulder in response. his cock slowly drew back and jutted right into you, making you gasp. 

he rolled his hips in and out of you slowly, just to get you both nice and comfy before picking up the pace until you both moved in tandem with each other.

one hand held the back of your neck while the other had a death grip on the plush flesh of your ass, feeling it ripple each time your hips collided. he kept pounding until his hips drew back a bit too much, pulling his cock out of you. he swiftly pushed back deep into you, ripping out the most lewd scream from your swollen lips. 

“oh, cutie,” he gasped out a handsome, breathless laugh, moving faster into you than before. “i thought you were worried about us making– shit– noise.”

“this–is– ah- your fault!” slutty stutters were all you could muster, and that only egged him on to go harder. deeper. rougher.

“what was that?” his tongue slithered up your neck, licking the salt off your skin. “didn’t catch that. ’s my cock too much for you?”

“g-god, fuck you–“ 

“yeah,” you could just feel him smile on you all while being balls deep inside your cunny. “yeah it is. let me– fuck– lemme fix that, cutie. how ‘bout i make you cum a few times so you can let all that anger out, yeah?”

so filthy. his words were practically drenched in debauchery and desire. and for some reason it had you fucking yourself back into his cock, desperate to feel those delicious veins running up and down your fluttering walls. 

you relished in the debauchery spewing out of your lips, trembling from the heat literally radiating off his body contrasting the chilling cold from the waves slapping your skin. your cunny squeezed so tightly round his cock that he almost came right there. he needed more. he needed to feel more.

rafayel swiftly pulled out of you and pressed a wet kiss on your shoulder as an apology to your whines. 

“do you trust me?” his husky whispers brought you to a shudder. you could only nod. he lifted you off the rock, sitting down in the water with you on top of him. with your waist was submerged the pressure within your core had increased astronomically– especially since he was still lodged deep inside you.

rafayel held you still by your hips, breath heavy and laboured. “didn’t know you could get tighter than that, cutie.” you couldn’t help but squirm, rocking your hips back and forth to make him move just a little. everything was so hot inside you to the point where the cold no longer bothered you.

it felt so damn thick and big, stretching you out even more than you thought you could tolerate. just as you were about to settle on him, rafayel’s hips snapped up pushing his cock further into you than before. 

it’s like the waves moved in tandem with the way his cock fucked up into you, bouncing you up and down, splashing with the colliding water every time your hips returned to each other. 

your moans turned into relentless cries into the wind, muted by the ocean’s song. the shifting sand dragged your further and further into the ocean unbeknownst to either of you, so encapsulated in chasing each other’s pleasure until you were chest deep.

rafayel ensured every part of you was touched by his lips, tasted by his tongue, and marked by his teeth. you were struggling to keep up with his smooth, godly pace. he couldn’t catch a break. he just kept going on and on to the point where you wondered if he was even human.

“do you feel that?” he groaned, not wasting the opportunity to slither his tongue around the shell of your ear. his grip on your waist tightened indicating his impending finish on its eve. “how warm you are, how tight you are around me– fuck– you’re burning.”

“you feel– you feel so much bigger!” your hands tangled in his drenched locks, tugging just as hard as his thrusts. 

that annoying chuckle rumbled from his chest. “don’t make me blush,” using the incoming wave as a booster, he raised your hips until only his leaky cockhead stayed lodged in your cunny– which was sucking him so hard he couldn’t escape if he tried– and dropped you back down until your folds brushed his swollen sacks.

your vision had gone white for a second, and rafayel– the cruel, mean bitch that he is– took that second as your ‘recovery time’, getting right back into working you to your limit.

deeper and deeper the waves carried you in, raising the pressure in your pussy as he pistoned in and out of you, his tip practically kissing your most sensitive spot– something you couldn’t even achieve reaching. 

your head threw back just far enough to touch the rising tide, throwing you into a dangerous mix of shock and pleasure. it so intense that your walls fluttered around him in an explosive finish, dragging out the most melodic cry he had ever heard. 

“oh, cutie–“ he was about to pull out– just about to. but he couldn’t, it all just spilled right out of him. the way your pretty cunny literally tightened around him… it was almost like you intended to milk him of all he had.

a breathless gasp left your lips at the feeling of his borderline boiling cum just filling you up. to think you almost stopped taking the pill. you would be more than happy to spend the rest of the year being stuffed like this– with him.

“i’m sorry, i am so sorry, i–“ you silenced rafayel’s apologies with a hungered kiss– so devoted and starved that you subconsciously nipped at his tongue and lips, rolling your hips to feel his seed spread deeper into you. and he hadn’t stopped. it was practically endless.

“i’m on the pill,” you whispered against his lips, pecking him with each word. “don’t worry.”

rafayel looked so precious under you. it’s like the ocean decided to bless him by making him even more handsome. he looked godly. sculpted by the most poetic artists, given the voice of a siren, the eyes of the deepest most beautiful coral and the hair of the most beautiful mermaid in the known abyss.

and you had the privilege to watch him unravel just for you.

his worry almost made you feel bad. he held you close, cock still pumping his sticky seed into you, soft plump lips spread as he heaved for air. the tide was still high, and the waves began to rage. but neither of you were willing to return to the surface just yet.

the waves were rising to your necks, just moments away from submerging you. your legs trembled, your breath hitched at every movement. and a mischief idea came slithering into your mind.

“i wanna try somethin’” you slurred, almost drunk on the feeling of him so deep inside you. even the cold water began to warm up as your pussy tingled through the last of your orgasm. she wanted more. you wanted more. 

you leaned down to his neck, licking a wet line up his neck, to his jaw, to the corner of his lip. “but you’re going to have to trust me.”

in good timing his hips jutted up into you, cock still rock hard and throbbing. “anything. do anything.”

questions of doubt began to flood your mind but you decided to through caution to the wind. you'd gone far enough– there was no turning back. “take a deep breath and hold it.” 

splash!

rafayel’s senses spiked completely to a new level. your lips were pressed tightly on his, enveloping him in a stronger erotic embrace. you had gone deep underwater until you were both completely submerged, using only the breath you held as your lifeline. 

everything felt so deliciously tight. so soundless. so weightless. like there was no limit to what you could do. rafayel wanted to take advantage of that. he swiftly flipped you over, ensuring your back gently landed on the seabed. breath still bated and lips still in a ferocious dance, rafayel slowly and gently rolled his hips in and out, feeling his cum seep out of you with each delicious thrust. 

the contrast between hot and cold was overwhelming, his blood rushed through his veins as the pounding in his chest translated to intense throbbing in his cock. your fingers dug into his flesh, squeezing at the pleasure and clawing for air but every time he tried to bring you both up to the surface you pulled him back down. 

the pressure alone brought you to yet another orgasm, pussy clenching around him even more. rafayel could practically hear you moan the last of your air right out of you just as he came again, both overstimulated and faint.

you both pushed past your body trembling highs swimming up higher and higher until you finally breached beyond the ocean’s grasp, returning to sweet air. within the first gulp of air you could gather, you returned to hungrily devouring each others mouths, hands caught up in each others hair and flesh like neither of you could let go. 

the ocean carried you back to the shore, blessing you and sending you off until you touched the sand. you found yourself back on top of him, still vibrating and in the midst of your orgasmic finish all while he was lodged inside you.

“underwater,” rafayel huffed as his thrusts came to a final halt. your lewd juices had mixed with the water, cleaning most of it away. what remained was mostly still inside you, plugged by his girth. “fucking underwater is a first for me. how’d you even think of that?”

“i’m creative.” you grinned, arching your back just enough to make him groan. “maybe you’d be nicer if you considered that.” 

his eyes darted between your own, flashing a glimpse of guilt. “i am so sorry for what has been happening to you. truly.” he pressed a kiss on your lips.

then your cheeks.

then your jaw.

“was my apology good enough?” destroying four sculptures just for you? most definitely. but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“no.” you sighed as his lips tickled that one spot on your neck. “i need more than that.”

“what can i do to make it up to you?” another kiss on your neck.

“give me full marks for my last few assignments." you huffed. "especially the trial sculpture.”

a low, breathy chuckle rumbled into your skin. his grip on you tightened to hold you closer. his eyes twinkled. “i already did.”

[bluesunss]

Bad movies lead to bad decisions Choi Su-bong x F! Reader

Bad movies part 1

part 2 part 3

summary: "wanna make out?" "sure." in which -> two great friends decide making out is more interesting than watching the crappy movie playing on screen.

warnings: none, make-out session?, no game au

word count: 1.2k

a/n: enjoyy

The movie was garbage.

Se-mi was the first to warn you: it was new, the poster looked amateur, and the director had a bad reputation. You hadn’t really listened. She turned down the invitation - though you had a theory she just wanted to see her girlfriend.

Min-su rarely went out without Se-mi; she was his protector of sorts, and he absolutely feared Nam-gyu and Su-bong together. Gyeong-su had a blind date, and Nam-gyu actually did show up at one point - only to last about two minutes before saying, “Fuck this shit, I’m leaving.”

Which left just you and Su-bong.

It shouldn’t have been awkward. You’d known each other for a while, and he was more than goofy enough to carry the conversation. Except he was bored, and you had to admit, that was on you. You were the one who suggested this. Now, you regretted it deeply.

Su-bong wasn’t a patient man. He was holding back for your sake, but give it a few more minutes and he’d cave, just like Nam-gyu had. He had some empathy, but not much to begin with. And besides, he kept glancing at your skirt, which had ridden up to your upper thighs thanks to the uncomfortable seat.

Among the group, you were closest to Se-mi and Gyeong-su. Min-su was like a toddler or a kitten, too shy sometimes, always retreating behind Se-mi, making it hard to interact with him directly.

Nam-gyu was an insufferable little shit, but you tolerated him like an annoying little brother. And Su-bong… well. You’d gone to the same high school, even shared a class for a year. You used to hate him, he was the class clown, and you were a study freak, which made focusing ten times harder.

On top of that, you actually felt bad for the teachers. But over time, he grew on you, especially after that one evening when you were stuck on cleaning duty alone. That night, he wasn’t as talkative. You noticed bruises on his arm. But the second he caught you looking, he grinned and started flirting again, snapping the moment back to normal. After that, you decided to go a little easier on him.

After high school, you didn’t see each other again - until one night, walking down a random street, you spotted him with Nam-gyu in the middle of a fight. He was spitting insults at some guy over money, looking as feral as ever. You’d been with Se-mi and Jun-hee, a uni friend, when Jun-hee suddenly recognized her boyfriend in the mess and stepped in, effectively ending the brawl.

A few weeks later, the group had formed. Gyeong-su joined in, Min-su followed Se-mi, and Su-bong, for whatever reason, dragged Nam-gyu along.

Which brought you back to now.

The movie was utter garbage. No plot, awful cinematography, chaotic lighting, a soundtrack that made you want to gouge your ears out. Cliché. Half the theater had already walked out. Su-bong kept shifting in his seat, glancing over his shoulder planning the moment he’d eventually leave too - before his eyes inevitably landed back on your skirt. His breathing was heavier than normal, fingers hovering above his pocket as he wanted to reach for his vape but knew he wasn’t allowed.

“Girl, this is trash,” he finally muttered. “Like, I know you wanted this bad and I’m sorry to hurt your feelings, but I can’t. Plus, I wanna smoke or sum. My throat’s dry as fuck.”

When you did not respond immediately, he frowned slightly, looking at you properly for the first time in the past hour. “You mad, mama? I mean, I can buy you a soda or sum and wait for ya outside. But it’s hot as hell in here.”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s shit. I agree.” You lowered the hem of your skirt slightly, only to realize he was still watching. You already knew he was dirty-minded - that was a given - but the poorly shot sex scenes in the movie had planted some less-than-pure thoughts in your own head, too. “Wanna leave?”

His gaze dragged up from your thighs as he ignored your question. “Why’d you wear that? It’s cold outside.”

You smirked. “Like you mind. You’ve been checking me out for the past thirty minutes.”

He grinned, unashamed. “Yeah, well. Your thighs’re more interesting than whatever the fuck’s going on up there.” He stretched his arms behind his head, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Ahh, bro. My neck hurts like a bitch. I’m so fucking bored.”

Without changing his position, he continued.

“Wanna make out?”

Your heart skipped. Maybe it was the dim lighting. Or the shitty movie. Or the over-exaggerated moaning sounds blasting from the speakers. But the thought didn’t seem so bad in the moment.

He wasn’t even expecting a response - just fished around in his pocket and popped a few candies into his mouth. “Want some, señorita?”

“We could.”

He didn’t get it at first. He was too busy trying to swallow, tongue pushing against his teeth to get rid of the candy bits. Then, he stilled. Blinked at you. “What?” He stared, confused. "M'sorry mama I got no clue how you answered 'we could' to wanting a candy."

You swallowed. “Not the candy. Before.”

Silence.

He stopped chewing altogether. His eyes flickered from your face to your lips and back again, mouth slightly agape.

“Aight. Bet.”

His fingers reached up, grazing the side of your face, finding a spot behind your ear, and you let go of your necklace to meet his stare. The back row was empty. The entire theater was silent, save for the occasional shifting of seats and the low hum of the movie. And you didn’t give a damn about the movie.

And… and he smelled fruity. Artificially so. A mix of his detergent and some cheap cologne. And… and he was close.

With no second thoughts, you closed the gap. Hesitantly, at first. Just a peck. But he knew his way around this - his teeth caught your lip, teasing, and his tongue pushed past before you could react. Cold rings brushed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. What started slow quickly turned into a mess - sloppier, hungrier, his hands cradling your face as if he couldn’t get enough. Then, they dropped.

He found your thighs. Gripped. His fingers kneaded at the bare skin, pushing your skirt higher.

“So fucking smooth, señorita,” he murmured against your lips before swallowing them again.

It should’ve felt normal. Like any other make-out session in a club, with any other guy. But fuck. It was so damn different. His lips tasted like the candy from earlier, and your chest was burning, your pulse hammering out of control. Every touch scorched. You needed this.

And when you tilted your head slightly, giving him more room to move, he lost it completely - grabbing your waist, lifting you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs squeezed tighter, and the friction between his pants and your bare skin sent sparks through your nerves. The theater didn’t exist anymore. The people coming and going didn’t exist. Just the sloppy noises of your mouths, his breath against your skin, the way his hands roamed over every inch he could reach.

Your fingers found his hair, tangling. His fingers dug into your thighs. And beneath you - you felt him.

He needed you just as badly.

Halfway through a kiss, you both froze at the same time.

Light. Doors opening. Voices. The screen dimmed. The movie was over.

Reality hit like a slap to the face.

You broke apart, breathless, wide-eyed. He ran a hand through his hair. You scrambled off him, smoothing your skirt, trying to shake off whatever the hell that was. He grabbed his jacket.

Neither of you said a word.

As you stepped into the cold night air, Su-bong just did his usual quick handshake you like usual. Neither of you spoke.

Of course, he wouldn’t mention it. He said goodbye after calling you an Uber and left.

The movie really really was garbage.

guysss lmk what you think or if you want a part 2!!

[whatremains-if]

PLAY THE DEMO (TBA) 

Nothing could quite match the thick tension of a young, emotionally detached adult stuck in the same space as their equally distant and emotionally disturbed family…well, maybe everything except a mysterious illness outbreak. 

As the virus begins to spread like wildfire, suddenly faced with unimaginable grief and loss, forced to kiss all sense of normalcy goodbye.

With life as you knew it falling apart and danger lurking around every corner, pushed to confront the same past you tried to escape. Reconcile with your estranged family, band together with an unlikely group of survivors, and learn how to navigate through the end of the world as you know it.

content warning: Intended for mature audiences rated 18+. Contains strong language, sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, graphic violence, body horror, mental health struggles, references to assault, and both physical and emotional abuse, depictions of sexual content and other potentially triggering material.

what will remain?

Dragged along to some boring town in the middle of Midwest butt-fuck nowhere in the middle of your college semester. Being ripped away from the big city life, your college friends, even what was left of your father's lasting physical memory—all because your mom fell head over heels with some new guy who made her feel like the best thing to do was move on and start over. 

She promised your brother and you that it was all supposed to be a fresh, blank chapter. Promises of having a new job, making a few new friends, and a whole new start—things being presented on a perfect silver platter. It sure is a shame that none of those promises will be fulfilled.

What starts as a weird news report on the news about some virus sweeping the nation spreads into full-blown chaos. A bloody cough. A sudden scream. A neighbor turning into a feral, flesh-eating monster before your eyes. 

The world begins to fall apart faster than you can process it. One moment you’re rolling your eyes at your mom’s hopefulness, and the next you're hopelessly fending for your life. 

Suddenly, you’re no longer just the new city-slumming family in town. It’s all on you to protect your family members, navigate around a collapsing world, and figure out who you can trust when everything feels like it’s rotting from the inside out. The days of peace are gone, and in the end, the question isn’t just whether you will survive…but what kind of person will remain of you.

STORY FEATURES.

Choose your survivor's name, pronouns, sexual identity, appearance, survival style, and more.

Form stronger or ruin the current and new relationships that you have, with the choices you make throughout the story effecting your survival experiences and significant plot changes.

Figure out just how far you're willing to go when it comes to the safety of your family and those that you consider your allies.

Customize your favorite melee or ranged weapon of choice.

Choose whether to form platonic or romantic bonds with other survivors.

Engage or escape, loot or shoot. Learn which fighting style truly fits your character.

Decide who you should indulge your trust in: family, friends, or the government.

ROMANCE OPTIONS.

Along the way, experience unique character routes depending on your section of RO's. The possible romance options being:

.ᐣ  Callan ( M ) — The Realist … Cal is known for his blunt, sharp-tongued, and annoyingly impossible demeanor. He’s the type of guy who somehow managed to make his presence known without actually needing to raise his voice. He’s not the type to sugarcoat or give pep talks. Just the facts, the plan, and the quickest route to survival. Efficiency is his guilty pleasure, and anything outside of that tends to get side-eyed into the dirt. Hardwired to prioritize logic over feelings, he clashes easily with anyone who moves on impulse or emotion, especially in high-stakes situations. His version of loyalty is heavily armored but earned through grit. Trust isn’t freely given, and it’s even harder to earn back once it’s lost. His past is a landmine of choices he doesn't speak about—and likely never will. Still, under the right conditions, his sarcasm cuts through the tension like a blade, delivered so dry it could start a drought. He might never call himself a hero, but when it counts, he’s the one keeping the group from completely falling apart.

.ᐣ  Ezra/Eliza ( M/F ) — The Sparkplug … All bright eyes, fast hands, and a running commentary that never quite turns off. Their curiosity is relentless, their energy infectious (or exhausting, depending on who you ask), and their pockets are always filled with scribbled notes, a cassette player, or that dusty camcorder they use to “document something real quick". They’re the type who lights up when talking about random stuff, old tech software, hero comics, or why the government is secretly terrifying. Most people tune them out before realizing they actually know their shit. And they do. They just don’t always know when to shut up about it. Born into a warm, affectionate home, they carry that love on their sleeve. With impulsive touches, shoulder nudges, and zero understanding of personal space. Beneath the corny puns and awkward cadence is someone afraid of being dismissed but still unwilling to back down when it counts. They’re not the strongest, or the fastest…or even the bravest, just someone trying. And sometimes, that’s all that matters.

.ᐣ  Saint ( M/F ) — The Live Wire … There’s something about them that just feels… off. Not in a dangerous way (maybe a little), but in that “why are you smirking right now?” kind of way. They talk like they’re halfway into a dare and halfway into calling your bluff. And the worst part? They’re usually right. They have this unnerving ability to pick things apart: small details, route patterns, people’s behaviors. The twitch in your voice, even the flick of your eyes when you lie. They clock it all. They won’t mention it until it matters or until they’re bored and want to watch you squirm. While most spiral under pressure, they just power down. Their emotions don’t flare, they simply just flatline. But don’t mistake the quiet for calm. Confrontation is their second language. Their humor? Sharp, inappropriate, timed just wrong enough to kill a room. But some people laugh anyway. Maybe it’s honesty. Maybe it’s chaos. Or maybe that’s just how they know how to truly connect with someone.

.ᐣ  Raymond ( M ) —  The Quiet Heart … Ray’s not the kind of guy who takes up space when he enters a room, he’s the kind who fills the cracks. The one handing out dad jokes like candy, patching up moods with lighthearted banter before people realize they needed it. Humor isn’t just a shield for Ray, it’s a bridge. A way to keep things moving when standing still feels too close to falling apart. There’s a quiet strength in how he exists: always listening, always helping, always moving. He’s at his best when his hands are busy.  Always hauling supplies, fixing busted gear, anything to avoid thinking too hard. When the past sneaks in, it shows. He zones out. Shuts down. Then he tries again. He’s not loud or commanding, and that makes people underestimate him, until they see how steadily he shows up when it matters. He doesn’t need to lead or save the day. He just wants to help. To ease someone’s burden. Ray’s not trying to be a hero, just not helpless again.

.ᐣ  Zoey ( F ) —  The Reluctant Medic … Zoey wasn’t supposed to be anyone’s lifeline. She’s only a pharmacy tech because her family owns the place, and her “expertise” comes from memorizing pill names and dosage charts well enough to keep the old folks’ bottles full. No real education, just enough to stay employed. She doesn’t look useful in a crisis: quiet, twitchy, and standoffish by default, but dangerously impulsive when it counts. Raised in a strict religious household with more siblings than boundaries, Zoey never fit the mold. The town treats her like a recovering addict. She barely talks about her family, when she does, it’s clipped, like she’s pulling words from a wound. Most see a snappy girl who flinches when you’re too close and doesn’t trust easily. They don’t see how hard she works to stay upright. Or how loudly she hates herself, second only to her parents. But when someone’s bleeding or breaking, Zoey’s there. Shaky hands. Quiet prayers. Trying, always. Even if she doesn’t believe she’s worth saving.

OTHER LINKS.

ro intros.

playlist.

pinterest.

kofi jar.

....dedicated to all the apocalyptic loving losers like me and most importantly @anya-dev and her inspirational interactive novel scout :)

[xoxoaugust]

high school sweethearts

in which: You knew Rin for a long time, you lived right down the street. You guys never really interacted until he saw you playing at the soccer finals for your school's varsity girls soccer team. The start of something that neither you, nor Rin would ever imagine.

an: this was a request from a dear friend, it's based off of HSSH by Melanie and terrified by Jazmin Bean (minus the freaky deaky stuff) If you don't like Melanie just ignore it, it's just a small plot piece, it doesn't have much effect on the story.

wc: 2.9k

goalkeeper! reader x Rin Itoshi

"MOVE UP." You screamed.

Playing goalkeeper with basically imaginary defenders was like hell. The team wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for you. Your team was good sure, but you were definitely the foundation of your team's wins.

You were constantly yelling the whole game because for some apparent reason, your teammates were only trying to score, meaning you were working overtime. You finally won 4-2 after a grueling 90 minutes of face-planting into the dirt trying to block the ball.

Your yelling definitely turned a few heads, one head in particular though.

Rin Itoshi.

The school's golden soccer player.

He recognized you from his neighborhood, he had always thought you were pretty quiet and pretty nice. You always had your headphones on and he saw that you were pretty artsy, always coming back from school with a new project with you or apparent from the splattered ink all over your hands. He knew you were on the soccer team, but he had always thought you were probably average so he never cared to watch, until now.

He couldn't take his off of you, he didn't know why. You weren't a striker, but you outshined your team on the field.

Right after your game, he had to play. While he was warming up, you glanced over to see the guy who was staring at you earlier. You recognized him, but you were confused as to why he was staring. He never talked to you, like ever. You shrugged it off as you continued to walk over to the benches. You had to stay for the last game because your friend Rumi wanted to watch her boyfriend play and she was going home with you.

You watched how Rin played, he was merciless. He didn't pass unless absolutely necessary, he scored every single time. You stared at how concentrated he was, but it seemed so effortless. He was flawlessly getting past each defender and scoring easily. If he wasn't a borderline asshole, he'd be really cute, you thought.

The guys also won 4-2, all four goals were by Rin. The final game ended around 6:30 PM. You packed your bag and drove you and Rumi back to your house to get dressed. You put on the comfiest thing you could because your muscles were killing you after the diving. A regular band t-shirt and a pair of baggy jeans that would probably fall down if you jumped too hard. Rumi was wearing was white dress with tights and earrings that she probably borrowed from you (with your permission ofc).

You drove to the restaurant that you all had planned to meet up at, fashionably late too.

You greeted your teammates before sitting down, you sat next to Rumi. Her boyfriend showed up maybe 5 minutes later before plopping down right next to her on the opposite side, leaving you on the end of the table with on seat left at the very end. He said he invited a friend of his to come join them as well.

What you didn't know, was that the friend he invited was none other than Rin Itoshi, who was now walking to the empty seat right next to you.

Rumi's boyfriend greeted Rin before he sat down.

You had no complaints but why is he sitting right next to you?

After a while the food was served and you spared not a single minute before inhaling your food, you were hungry and sports left your body demanding. When you slowed down, you thought, maybe you should talk to Rin. He seemed pretty uncomfortable and Rumi was already preoccupied, might as well.

"You're Rin right? Congrats on the win".

He met your gaze before replying with

"Yeah, thank you. Congrats to you too".

a man of a few words I see

"You were great out there, you scored like every goal, that's really impressive! When did you start playing soccer?"

"Thank you, I started around when I was three or four."

"Woah, I started around the same time, you're a forward right?"

"Yeah I am, why?"

"That's a pretty demanding position, you make it look so easy." You smiled, glad that the conversation has been great so far.

"I could say the same for you, you're a damn good keeper."

Your eyes widen before a smile took over your face.

"Thank you, I try."

"You're pretty passionate about, judging by how you were yelling at your defenders earlier."

The smile of joy quickly blended into a smile of embarrassment.

"I'm not like that normally, just on the field, I just got mad because my defenders had basically vanished and... sorry it just ticked me off."

He paused, and looked at you.

"Why would you feel bad about that? Your lukewarm defenders couldn't even do their jobs right."

You laughed a bit, a loud silence taking over before you broke it once again.

"So... what got you into soccer?"

He gulped, and he felt his jaw clench. You noticed the slight change in his demeanor.

"My elder brother, he and I played together for a while."

You remember vaguely of the older Itoshi. You remember that he was a nice but quiet boy, and that he went to Spain three years prior for soccer.

"Oh yeah, he went to Spain for soccer right?"

"yeah."

"Okay, cool cool cool."

He noticed that you didn't really care about his brother, you didn't gush over the great Sae Itoshi, and by the looks of it, you might not even know who he is.

He felt a bit guilty for not reciprocating the conversation as much, so he decided to play his hand.

"You're an art student right?"

You blinked.

"Uhm, yeah I guess? I enjoy making art, it's fun. What about you, do have any hobbies aside from soccer?"

He paused, he really didn't have any.

"No, aside from soccer I don't have anything that really interests me."

You laughed out loud at how serious he looked.

"What's so funny?"

You couldn't help it, he was just too freaking cute.

"I'm sorry, the way you're responding makes it sound like i'm interrogating you."

He felt his face flush a bit, out of embarrassment and your laugh, it was genuine and innocent humor. He couldn't explain what he was feeling at the moment, but it was foreign.

The pair of you talked and laughed the whole night, and you went on to exchange numbers.

Rumi decided to leave with her boyfriend, so you had to go home alone, or so you thought.

Rumi's boyfriend, Haru being the smug little shit he is decided to propose an idea.

"[name] you're going home alone right? Take Rin with you, he walked here!" He yelled in the parking lot loud enough for the entire city to hear.

You looked over at Rin

"If you don't have a ride I can take you."

Rin froze, like actually froze.

"If that's okay with you."

You smiled before walking over to him and leading him to your car. You started your car, but you forgot that your car automatically connects to your phone and plays the recent playlist. The screen in your car read "terrified" and there began the first verse of the song. You lowered the volume a bit so you could concentrate on backing out of the lot. Rin sat there stiffly as he kept glancing back at your laser focused face. He sat there lost in thought before he heard you hum the lyrics under your breath. You were so unlike anyone he'd ever met, people usually would avoid talking to him or either kiss his ass to get on the team (since he was captain). You were just a genuinely kind person, and you were fun to be around. You were quiet but still talkative, kind but still confident in your abilities. You and Rin were so alike but so different. He was honestly jealous of you.

You finally reached his house, you watched him get out of the car and said goodbye before driving yourself home. You laid down on your bed before picking up your phone to text his number.

you: this is rin right?

Rin: Yes.

you: woah are you mad or something? did i say smth out of line?

Rin: No? Why would you think that?"

you: oh nevermind you're just a good grammar texter

Rin: Is that not normal?

you: nope, but you're not normal cause who walks 20 minutes to a restaurant?????

Rin: That's how I gain endurance, I do what I can.

you: you're smth else 😭

Rin: Why are you crying?

you: oh my god.

You laughed out loud before going back in.

you: do you text anyone our age?

Rin: I don't really use my phone, usually just for music.

you: what do you listen to, Beethoven?

Rin: I listen to whatever comes up, I really like Prayer X

you: THE BANANA FISH SONG??? rin are you okay??? do you have something to tell the class???

Rin: What? It's a good song.

you: its good but its such a sad song

Rin: Its a good song.

you: i need to broaden your music taste thats my next mission, im going to send so many songs

Rin: You're so annoying.

you: i'm rubbing my hand together like an evil fly im so excited

Rin: I can add odd to the list too.

you: okay sassy

You put your phone down before smiling to yourself, you felt giddy after speaking with him. You stared at your ceiling in the dark thinking about him before falling straight asleep.

The next morning, you got up and ready to walk to school (it's like 5 minute walk) before you saw Rin right across walking as well.

"Rin!" You yelled loud enough to catch his attention.

He turned around and waved slightly, he waited for you to catch up to him so you could walk together. Rin knew this was unusual for him, he didn't like talking to people that much, he didn't care enough, but something about you pulled his attention and grasped it tightly.

He listened to you as you rambled about your favorite artists and favorite songs, making a mental note of what to listen to when he got home later. You forced him to give you his spotify tag, he had no profile, just one playlist labelled 'playlist 1'. You laughed at how unbelievably unbothered he was.

The next few weeks of his life were consumed by you, his spotify once plain, was now littered with playlists organized by mood color and genre. His texts were starting to get normal, he was relatively happy when he was with you. He noticed how many boundaries he would push for you. He even let you into his room once when it was raining on the way back from school.

"Woah are these your trophies?" You asked while eyeing the dozens of trophies on his shelf.

"Yeah they are." He deadpanned.

You looked at each and every single trophy before a framed photo that was facing down caught your attention. You picked it up to look at it, and when you saw the picture you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. You quickly placed the picture back down before turning around, just to see Rin already looking at you. You felt a knot tie itself in your stomach.

"Rin i'm so sorry, I shouldn't have picked it up, i'm so sorry for invading your privacy." You spat out faster than the speed of light.

He just stood there, he should feel angry at you, but then again he doesn't think he could ever be angry at you. He simply walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder.

"It's fine, I don't really care about him anymore." He said plainly, but you could see somewhere in his eyes he was really hurt, he just couldn't say it.

He hesitantly took his hand off of your shoulder, he didn't even know why he put it there in the first place, I guess having like two friends makes you pretty socially inept.

You took a sigh of relief, you were glad that Rin didn't hate you for this but you also wanted him to communicate more openly with you. He should know that no matter what you'll always be there for him when he needs it.

"Rin, if you don't mind me asking, what happened between you two? It's completely fine if you don't want to tell me though."

He turned his head down to look at you before picking up the frame.

"Sae was basically my hero when I was a kid. He taught me how to play, he was the best brother I could've ever wanted. We had a dream together, to be the number one and number two strikers. I was okay with being in second place as long as it was him. Watching him go off to Spain was painful, but I wanted him to succeed. That was until he visited last year. He basically came back to tell me that he didn't care anymore, he wanted to be the best midfielder and that he didn't care about our dream any more. Told me I was lukewarm and that I was mediocre compared to guys he had seen in Spain."

You stared at him in utter shock, how could someone do that to their own brother?

"Pathetic excuse of a brother right?" He scoffed.

You didn't hesitate to walk over and hug him tightly, he didn't give in initially but before he knew it, he collapsed into your arms with his head nestled tightly in the crook of your shoulder. When you pulled away, you could see the redness of his eyes withholding the tears that were pooled in his waterline. He tried, he really tried to hold in the tears, but when his eyes met yours he couldn't do it. He tried looking in the other direction to spare what little dignity he thought he had left before you held his cheek and made him look at you. You wiped the tears off his face and took the frame from his hands, placing it right back where it was, and pulling him back into an embrace.

He was terrified, the effect you had on him was terrifying. It scares the shit out of him everyday that no matter what happens, all he wants to do, all he looks forward to is coming back to you. You fish out his smile on his worst days, you showed him what it feels like to be cared for and to care for. As much as it terrified him, he knew that you would always be by his side, reeling him in and tying him down.

"Rin, it wasn't your fault. You don't even understand how much you surprise me everyday, if you are anything it is not lukewarm. You are the most hardworking person I know. I have never someone as talented as you, you surprise me everytime I see you play, and just in general. You are so talented and so smart, who cares what he thinks? In my eyes, you are perfect."

His eyes turned wide, he didn't know what it felt like to be loved by anyone (aside from his family), but he could tell this is what it felt like. The warm smiles, the kind words, the little details you would remember about him, like how he hated having his hair pushed back because it would make him look like his brother.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, stuck together like pieces in a puzzle. When you finally pulled away, you couldn't help but get lost in his eyes.

You didn't know what took over you, but you leaned closer and closer to him before giving him a peck on the lips, and pulling away almost instantaneously out of fear that you've ruined the moment.

You attempt to turn away to hide your humiliated self, key word attempted.

Rin pulled you back in, staring wistfully into your eyes before pulling you closer to finish the kiss you had started. It was gentle, unadulterated innocence.

Pulling away, he finally broke the silence.

"[name], i'm not good at these things, but I want to try for you, if you'll give me the chance."

You couldn't help but squish his face in your hands, he was too freaking cute.

"You don't even know how long i've waited for you to say that" You giggled.

"Rin, i'm not good at this either, but we will figure this out, together." You smiled before moving his bangs out of his face to kiss his nose.

And thats how we're here, with him down on one knee and a velvet box in his hands.

xoxo, august

@gh0stlygh0st