#they were very formative in a very difficult time)

[alice-angel12x]

The Blue Knight ch.5

The complicated heart arch

<- Ch 4 / Ch 6 ->

"The Silver Tree!" White Lily and Y/n Cookie gasped.

The two run past screaming fairies, as chaos takes hold. But in all the panic, it made getting to the tree very difficult. Y/n and White Lily Cookie try to fight against the flow of running fairies.

"Please, Everyone, We Need to get through!" White Lily cookie tried to shout over the screaming.

"That may be difficult," Y/n cookie gasps as they turn White Lily's attention to the transformed faeries.

As Shadow Milk's deceit flows over the kingdom, some unlucky fairies are turning into clowns. Y/n quickly searches around and sees a branch, a ledge, and some jumpable walls.

"White Lily Cookie, we need to hurry. I need you to hold onto me," Y/n says as they extend a hand.

"W-what! Won't that slow us down?" White Lily cookie asked.

"Nah, trust me. I'm a lot stronger than I appear." Y/n knight cookie smiles. "Quick we need to hurry to save the world. “

White Lily slowly looked up to this strange cookie, the light shining down behind them. A confident and kind smile on their face.

“Will this be enough to even consider the idea of redeeming myself?” White Lily cookie asked.

“Do you think so?” Y/n knight asked.

“No.. but… it’s a start,” White lily cookie smiles slightly as she takes Y/n’s hand.

Y/n quickly holds White Lily close as a power courses through their dough. They’re e/c eyes turned a royal blue. With one leap, they were soaring through the air. From branch to ledge to calling the castle walls.

Leaping and avoiding the turned fairies, Y/n made their way to the tree.

————————————————

Pure vanilla Cookie holds his head in pain. Something was wrong, as he slowly opened his eyes to see the other plain.

“Pure vanilla cookie? Pure vanilla cookie,” the light of truth called out. “Aah, there you are. To think you would keep me waiting for so long.”

Something was wrong, Pure vanilla could feel it in his dough.

“ I have already regained my strength. Why are you here?” Pure vanilla asked. “I’ve sworn to use my power for good. For all cookie kind.”

“Your power? Your power?” The voice taunted. “Ha.. Hahaha! Your power. That was my power, it was my powers that the witches took from me on a whim! Why do you get to use it however you want.”

“You’re not the light of truth. Who are you?!” Pure vanilla interrogated.

“You spent so much time here under my gaze for so long,” the voice changed. “And you don’t know who I am?! I’m a little hurt.”

“You.. you used the power of knowledge for evil, and reduced it to deceit. The witches took your power and sealed it,” Pure Vanilla slowly pieced together.

“AND MAY THEY BURN UP IN THE OVEN,” Shadow Milk growled.

Pure vanilla flinches at his sudden burst of anger.

“Phew, Alrighty. You think you have what it takes to defeat me? Your so so so so so silly, oh silly vanilly.”

“That’s enough from you!” Shouted a familiar voice, music to Pure vanilla’s ears.

—————————————————

Gingerbrave and company stare in shock as Y/n Knight and White Lily crash down on Shadow Milk, forcing the beast to face-plant into the ground.

"Y/n Knight Cookie! White Lily Cookie! You came!" Strawberry cookie gasps.

"And miss all this, no way," Y/n chuckles, and they put White Lily down.

"Sorry for lagging behind everyone," White Lilly apologized.

"It's just good to see you here," Wizard Cookie sighed in relief.

As Y/n Knight looked over the small team, their eyes landed on Pure Vanilla. His form was hunched over, hands over his head, struggling to stand.

"Pure Vanilla," Y/n gasps, quickly rushing to his side.

Gently wrapping their arms around him, as his from trembled under their touch.

______________________________

As Pure Vanilla searched for any way of escaping the Shadow Milk's realm.

"Pure Vanilla? Pure Vanilla cookie!" A voice called out.

Pure vanilla looked up, and in the distance, a star shone in the darkness. It was bright and warm.

"You have important things to do, you can't stay here," The warm voice said.

The star started to glow brighter, even crystallizing into the shape of a star in a sphere.

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

"Pure Vanilla!" Y/n Knight called, when Pure Vanilla gasped to full awareness.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie! You're Awake!" GingerBrave awed.

"What have you done to pure vanilla cookie?!" Wizard cookie investigated.

"Aww, it's been so long since we last met! What's an old chat between friends?" Shadow milk mocked.

"I'm surprised you have friends," Y/n snapped back.

There was a brief moment of silence as Gingerbrave stared at Y/n in horror. Shadow milk stared for a bit, slowly taking in a long breath.

"I can't wait to watch you slowly crumble," Shadow Milk said simply.

Pure vanilla stands tall, an arm held out in front of Y/n Knight.

"Pure Vanilla, don't push yourself if you're still gathering yourself," Y/n Knight said to their king.

"I'm alright... Just a bit dazed, that's all," Pure vanilla said.

Elder Farie slowly walked past everyone, standing tall and brave in front ain't Beast Cookie.

"There is no need to be disappointed, for I will devote the rest of my life to casting you back into your prison," Elder Faire said, faltering a bit. He is not the young king he used to be.

"Look at me, your majesty. And see a force beyond your ken!" Shadow milk chuckled.

Everyone turned to see all the transformed fairy cookies. They were clowns, doing dangerous acts and not even being themselves. Shadow Milk chuckled as he called his power. The world around them started to warp and change as a force sent them flying back.

"Ah, my dear audience! The Long-Awaited show is finally about to begin!" Shadow Milk's voice boomed over the kingdom. "I'm heeeere! The world's finest playwright, poet, director, actor, and clown."

Suddenly, a stage appeared in front of the tree.

"Let the show begin! And if any of you is offended by this innocent play, please... Accept my humblest, deepest apologies! Believe me, it was never my intention to cause dismay! Only to entertain! The story is a product of imagination! All characters, unreal!" Shadow Milk announced.

From the stage 5 poorly drawn puppets of the ancient hero. And proceed to make up a falsified tale of the tree and the king.

"Pst. Let's move while everyone is distracted," Y/n knoght whispered to white Lily.

She nods and helps Elder Fairy forward, sneaking past the turned fairies. Sneaking their way to the stage.

The story was an absolute dumpster fire, with Shadow Milk Cookie only keeping a few truths sprinkled throughout the play.

Just as they made their way up the stage stairs, a puppet of shadow Milk plopped in front of them.

"OOOooh! You wish to join me on stage?.. I should give you a most cordial welcome!" Shadow Milk chuckles.

As Y/n readied themself, a vision flashed across her mind. A large wave of terrible drawn puppet warriors, they're going to be outnumbered.

"Ready yourselves! He's going to attack!" Y/n Knight shouted.

Just as Y/n Knight rushes to the front, puppet soldiers swarm the group. Y/n, Mercurial knight, and silver bell fought with all their might to protect Pure Vanilla and Elder Fearie. But there was too many of them.

"There is no other way..White Lily Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie. Please hold on a little longer to buy us more time," Elder Faerie cookie said. "I need time to prepare my final attack."

Y/n turned to say something when their eyes went blank for a moment. Back too in a mere second.

"Yes, Your Highness," Y/n Knight said.

With a powerful swing, the faerie king slashed at Shadow Milk Cookie! Everyone watched in awe at the guardians' might, but Y/n grimaced. It's not over yet, and the king... Collapses.

White Lily rushes over to the faerie king. Pure Vanilla tries to follow, when Y/n holds out their arm to block his path.

"Let her go, this has to happen," Y/n said, sorrow etched in their tone.

Pure Vanilla watched as White Lily ran to Elder Faerie's side. Y/n looked to Pure Vanilla with a serious look in their eyes.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie," They called to attention. " White Lily Cookie is going to go through an amazing change. I know you want to protect her out of some sort of lack in the past, but she does not need that. You need to be there for her as a friend and ally. She is an ancient hero who fought on your side all those centuries ago," Y/n knight smiled gently, as they held Pure Vanilla's hand.

Pure Vanilla stared at Y/n with surprise, as Y/n looked to White Lily as the Faerie king gave her the last of his power. The light of the guardian's power shimmered and shone across Y/n's face. Making them glow in Pure Vanilla's eyes. They slowly let go of Pure Vanilla's hand, but he didn't let go of theirs.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie?" Y/n notices that he still has their hand.

"Thank you, Y/n Knight Cookie... I needed that," Pure Vanilla said slowly. "And.. I'm sorry for how I acted during this time. I was thinking about myself and I wanted. That I lost sight of you. Every step of the way, you were always looking out for me, for everyone."

Y/n Knight Cookie smiles softly as Pure Vanilla turns to them.

"Shadow Milk Cookie... Has been echoing in my head. The closer we get to him... The harder it is to hear my own thoughts," Pure Vanilla opened up.

Y/n slowly tightens their hand on his.

"When that happens, just focus on me, listen to my voice. Can you do that?" Y/n asked softly.

"Of course," Pure Vanilla as he tightened his hold, too.

Y/n knight smiles as they let go of Pue Vanilla's hand and turns to white Liliy. Who was still gathering herself over the loss of one of her friends.

"Are you able to keep going?" Y/n asked gently.

"Keep Going?" She asked, confused.

"Sadly, it's not over," Y/n said, as a vision flashed in their mind.

They quickly jumped to the front and tried to cast a shield spell. It was faint and flickering. They struggled to expand the shield when a hand gently squeezed their shoulder. As a familiar staff stretches forward.

The shield shone and expanded in time for a wave a fire to crash against it. Pure Vanilla held Y/n close as he effortlessly protected to group from the wave of fire.

"So you have been listening in on my lessons," Pure Vanilla lightly teased.

"Not well enough, it seems," Y/n huffs, slightly tired.

Sadly, the light moment shattered as Pure Vanilla hunched over, clutching his head.

"Cut the Tree! CHOP DOWN THE TREE!" Shadow Milk shouts in Pure Vanilla's head.

"Get Out Of My Head!" Pure Vanilla screamed in pain as he clutched onto Y/n Knight.

Y/n Knight holds Pure Vanilla close, looking towards the tree. Shadow Milk grows more frustrated with his plans not going through.

"Come Out Guardian! I know you still live. SHOW YOURSELF!!" Shadow Milk roars.

"She, for I, the guardian of the seal, stands before you," White Lily cookie says, slowly raising to her feet. "Did you think it was going to be that easy?"

"You Little PEST!!" Shadow Milk Growls.

As Shadow Milk was about to say more when he noticed Y/n Knight holding Pure Vanilla close. Pure Vanilla looked deeply into Y/n's eyes as she helped to keep him out of the beast's control.

"So it's you two getting in my way, fine. Let's make this FUN!" Shadow laughs as he summons his puppet strings. The blue string quickly Snatched Gingerbrave and friends, and Pure Vanilla.

Just a pair of threads reach for White Lily, Y/n was the only one quick enough to push her out of the way. Time slowed as White Lily watched in shock, then horror as the threads wrap tightly around Y/n's neck.

With a hard yank, Shadow Milk drew Y/n Knight close to get a good look at this little smart aleck.

"Outside of your sharp tongue, you're pretty plain-looking Vanillian," Shadowmilk commented. "Vanilly sure has bland taste."

"While you have no taste," Y/n choked out, as Shadow milk tries to hold his cocky smile at that remake.

The threads tighten around their neck as he lifts them to eye level.

"Y/n Knight Cookie!" Pure Vanilla cried out.

_____________________________________________________

Lovely Fanart by @justa-skyourself. (This is so cute and beautiful! Thank you for your beautiful work.

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To be continued

[gffa]

Lore question here 👋 you're so much more knowledgeable than me:

What are the limitations to force bonds? Like can a non force sensitive and a jedi have one if they're close friends? And can one be formed under false pretenses (and without suspicion once formed), such as palpy shenanigans?

*rubs hands eagerly* Force bonds are one of my favorite things to talk about! There's not actually a lot of hard lore about them--what there is I've collected in this post and a few more snippets in my #force bond tag--but the thing about them is that from what I can tell they're very much about how familiar you are with a person. It's not something you can fully form in an afternoon or ever really break, because it's about how much you're familiar with that person. It seems to be more that, the more you know the person, the stronger your bond is with them. If you sat down in one afternoon and spent all that time connecting your minds or simply talking and getting to know that person, then you could establish the beginning of a bond, but I do think it really takes time. And I'm not sure how able you are to break it--Vader recognized Obi-Wan on the Death Star, Dooku was able to use his connect to Yoda in TCW, Anakin felt it the very second Obi-Wan connected to the Force again and Obi-Wan felt him in return, etc.

Once you're connected to someone, unless they actively hide themselves or protect themselves, you always have that bond tying you together. I tend to agree with Dave Filoni about it, when he says (talking about the Rebels episode where they find Luminara): “The material of [Luminara’s] body is the essence that Kanan is somehow sensing through the Force. But he knows there’s something off about it. But since he didn’t really know Luminara, he doesn’t really know. That’s one of the interesting things about death and then the dark side and all these different ways you can use the Force. The sensing of people is one of the biggest dilemmas, I think, in all of Star Wars, because people want to use it like a metal detector. I am very, very certain that it really just relates to how much you know somebody and intention of threat. You take those two things and combine them. So of course when Obi-Wan arrives in the Death Star, Anakin knows about it. Obi-Wan’s intentions are fairly clear, what he wants to do. He even, I think to some degree, knows he’s going to face Vader. And they knew each other so well, they were so close. It’s like a battering ram. “ --Dave Filoni So, can a Force-sensitive person have a bond with a non-Force-sensitive person? Nothing in canon directly says either way, but I firmly believe that Jedi do have Force bonds with their non-Force-sensitive friends, that Obi-Wan would have a connection with Satine, that Anakin had one with Padme, that Yoda had one with Tarfful, etc. And that I do believe, yes, you they can form one with someone under deceptive circumstances, which I very much do think Palpatine and Anakin had a Force bond! What that specifically means is detail that's kind of up to you, because Force-sensitives tend to all be empaths to varying degrees, but we do have some outright telepaths and it does seem like you can push your way into someone's mind through force, like Maul did with Jesse or like Obi-Wan, Mace, and Anakin tried to do with Cad Bane. That's not really a bond (though, I think it could help establish one because it's still becoming more familiar with the person's thoughts and feelings), but it's all in the same area of what bonds are and how they work. Can you form a bond under deception and keep it that way? There's definitely room for other mileages, but I would say that Palpatine and Anakin are the perfect example of how it's possible. I think it would be extra difficult for a non-Force-sensitive to even feel anything forming in the first place unless the other one wanted them to feel it or pushed extra hard into their mind, otherwise they may not even be aware that the Jedi/Sith has a bond with them. But two Force-sensitive people in a bond where one is lying about who they are to the other? It would be difficult and extremely time-consuming and probably couldn't be one where the deceived would be diving deep into the other's mind on a regular basis, but I say it's doable if you're committed. Otherwise, bonds are all about how well you know someone and how deep you're letting them into your mind/heart and how much you're spiritually familiar with them. Limitations are pretty much a) how strong you are in the Force and b) how far you're willing to go with a person in memory/thought/emotion-sharing.

[lvmimis]

cw: during the 2-year time skip. reader is a member of luffy's crew and was staying on amazon lily. fluff. selfship-coded.

You wonder sometimes if a small part of you is being cruel.

After all, the Pirate Empress is overt and honest about her feelings, written clearly on her features, her heart on her sleeve, and you… you remain complicated, poorly understood within the realms of follower-like devotion, platonic love and romantic obsession. Coming to her like this, head lowered and on your knees is a foul move, knowing that no matter how much you irk her, you’re protected by the fact that Luffy cares about you and would not be happy to see her harm you, which only serves to torment her more.

“What do you want?”

She asks, but she already knows. Why else would you prostrate yourself before her like this, rather than remain politely amongst her ranks as the Kuja, learning under the medicine women and the trained fighters?

Your head remains lowered politely as you keep your eyes focused on the ground before her dangling foot, the other leg crossed. The two of you speak notably privately, her entourage of sisters and close attendants no longer around her. Oil lamps flicker around you two almost ritualistically, the shifting shadows adding dimension to her already ethereally beautiful face.

“I know Rayleigh said no visitors, but I just wish I could-”

“No.”

Hancock’s voice is sharp, and a lump forms almost instantly in your throat, but you expected no less. Letting out a deep inhale, you look up at her immediately, and to both of your surprises, your voice is steady as you insist.

“Please let me see him.”

Boa blinks once, then matches the fierceness of your gaze. Leaning forward, her hand stretches out to you, fingers cupping your face as you stand rock steady, manicured fingernails grazing gently on your cheeks.

“Are you arguing with me?” The coolness of her voice is evident, and she’s sultry enough that it’s hard to ascertain whether or not she sees you as a romantic rival or an easy conquest, a fleeting thought of whether or not her Mero Mero no Mi could work on you, turning you into a statue and no longer an eyesore. You can feel your heart rate begin to pick up, but you don’t avert your gaze. Not now. Cool extremities turn warm again.

When you were a child, your mother told you you had a funny internal clock. Timing that was always a little too correct, an intuition for your loved ones that was a little too precise. 

That internal timekeeper says now is the time to see him. Now is the time that Hancock will agree, and now is the time a familiar face will renew Luffy’s resolve, and now is the time you should settle your worry to rest.

“No. I am only asking for your help.”

Hancock’s blue eyes attempt to pierce through your very soul, her palm ice cold. Yet something she sees in your eyes for a moment causes her to soften, like something sharp yet pliable running up against resistance. You’re going to go no matter what, she realizes. Whether she likes it or not, and if you hurt yourself in the process, it only makes her life more difficult.

Will you promise to be nice to her while I’m gone?

Boa sighs. Her hand slips from your face despondently and she settles back in her throne.

“Get up. You look pathetic.”

You pause for a moment, and she hisses a repeat order. You move faster this time.

She looks you up and down once again, and attempts to look bored, but the truth is your eyes bother her when you’re like this.

“Rayleigh leaves in a week. We can make a quick trip to the island, going no further than the shore. You may confirm that Luffy is alive from afar. It’ll be a short visit as I can only take the blame from Rayleigh for so long. After all, I am not helping you. I’m also interested in seeing him as well.”

Boa finishes her sentence, aiming to sound flippant, and lets her gaze shift back to yours but is quickly bothered by how quickly your eyes seem to shine with emotion. Her stomach turns, but she understands.

“Get out of my sight,” she hisses.

You nod, overjoyed. Taking two steps away that appear too energized, you pause then stand still. Turning back to her, you can see her bite her lip. Perhaps regret. Perhaps annoyance.

And somehow it doesn’t stop you from running back over to her and wrapping your arms around her against your better judgment for just a moment, and whispering a ‘Thank you’ before running out of the room before she can decide to turn you to stone for real and apologize to Luffy later.

—

If you were even a second late, Hancock’s crew would have set sail without you. 

Coming down to the dock early with a woven sweater and a pair of cloth shoes feels ridiculous after not having seen each other for 18 months, but it’s all you felt you could produce in such a short time.

Unlike you, Hancock has money and power, and the ship is loaded with fruits, vegetables, and of course meat, bundles and bundles of warm clothing and other linens despite the fact that Rayleigh strictly forbade it, and it makes your own offering seem meager. Wrapping them carefully in a blanket, you wonder if you should leave it on the ship as you sail through the Calm Belt.

The Gorgon sisters watch your every move a little too carefully while Marguerite and Sweet Pea are kind enough to ask you how you’re feeling. The pitter patter of your heart and the warmth of your ears when Marguerite gives you a knowing smile is almost unbearable. She’s seen through you faster than you could see through yourself. 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, is something she should only know of in books, and yet she can see your heart growing all this time.

“Fine! Just making sure he’s alive, he’s my dear friend and my captain and all, why would I be nervous, I’m sure he’s fine?” you stammer but the jig is obviously up.

Marigold, overhearing, rolls her eyes but Sandersonia smiles. You wonder why Hancock ultimately chose to stay behind, but remain thankful just the same.

Just a short visit. In and out.

…

The ship lands on the shore of a peaceful Rusukaina by noon, the sun high overhead. You’re not sure what you expected to see, aside from a brief stretch of sand melding into dense brush. Despite what you were told about storms, it seems like there isn’t a single cloud in the sky, much like Amazon Lily itself. You realize you might have forgotten what rain felt like or snow.

Luffy lives here somewhere, you think as you take the stairs down from the ship, your sandals sinking a little too deeply into the sand once you touch down. You take another step and Sandersonia reminds you that the island teems with dangerous wildebeests. 

“We have to wait for him to find us,” she adds as the others unload food in large parcels from the ship and set it on an almost comically large picnic blanket.

“If he doesn’t make it down here in the next 3 hours, we’re leaving.” Marigold adds. 

3 hours is not a long wait, you think, and the island is so large you wonder how long it takes to travel along its circumference, likely on the order of days at your own pace. But you nod, it’s not like there’s much else you can do.

—

Luffy finds you, the surprise visitors, probably lured by the scent of roasting meat on the beach, in less than an hour.

You see him from afar, possibly before he sees you, and the first thing you notice is that his straw hat is nowhere to be found. But that’s the least of your concerns.

Your legs move before you can really think about it, and you find yourself stumbling on the sand, but too stubborn to let yourself fall, you continue to scramble, running towards him, screaming his name.

“Luffy!”

To him, your voice is unmistakable, something he hasn’t heard in a long, long time.

“____!!!!!”

Luffy is faster than you, impossibly fast. You may be running towards him, but he’s crossed 90% of the distance, pulling you towards him with a quick wrap of his arms all at once. You snap against his chest almost painfully, the wind knocked gently out of you, but soon you find yourself bursting into laughter, as if it’s just been a couple hours since you last shared a hilarious joke. Pulling apart in seconds to look back at each other, his smile is wide and you realize you haven’t seen it since even before you left.

But one thing first.

“Luffy… you’re kind of-” you choke out.

“Oh!”

His arms loosen quickly and you can breathe easy again. Wiping small tears of joy from the corners of your eyes, you ask each other the first pressing question in unison:

“Have you been well?”

Your face warming as you stop but him grinning widely, he nods, and his eyes slide quickly past you to the food behind you, nose sniffing the air almost puppy-like.

“You brought food?” he asks, pulling you along by the wrist already, and quickly waving at the remainder of the crew coming over.

“Hey everyone!!!” He’s calling all their names incorrectly somehow - all but yours - but is cheery nonetheless, and the entire time you’re hyper-aware of the calloused fingers closed around your wrist, and the absence of bandages around his torso. He’s no longer facing you, but the rough edges of an x-shaped scar on his chest are new to you, as is the new definition in his back and shoulder muscles, and there’s a new peace, the kind that comes from processed grief and renewed steady confidence, that emanates from him. His dark, spiky hair remains roughly the same, perhaps slightly overgrown but evident from the jagged ends that it’s been cut at least once.

The crew greets him kindly, and soon, you’re sitting next to each other as he eats, and it occurs to you don’t know what to say now because you have far too much to say.

He notices your quiet but doesn’t say anything, too eager to stuff his face with properly seasoned foods he hasn’t seen in forever, but kind enough to push bread onto your plate and wave away bold seagulls that would ruin your meal. 

The chatter from the rest of the crew starts to sound far away as you struggle for something to say. Soon, the conversation goes to a lull - he’s asked about Hancock, and why she isn’t here, and why you’ve been allowed to come, and why you have that look on your face like you feel out of place - and while the food is all gone and he’s been encouraged to make it just another six months, the time allotted is up.

Sandersonia is the first to say that it’s time to leave.

“___ wanted to see you, but otherwise we have to go back.”

Luffy turns to you, who has found yourself clumsy with your tongue suddenly. All manner of thoughts over the past 18 months, and suddenly you can barely speak.

“If you were worried, I’ll survive,” he says. “I’m strong now!” He’s cheerful, flexing an arm but it doesn’t reassure you enough, the smile on your face doesn’t have enough depth.

That’s not it. Not all of it at least.

“Hey. There’s more you want to say, isn’t there?” he asks.

Ever since Luffy practically dragged you onto his ship, he’s been pulling the truth out of you like a magic trick. The Kujas are starting to clean up and load the ship but the two of you remain together, quietly. You think before speaking, then lie by omission through your teeth.

“No, I’m just really happy to see you.”

It’s true but it’s not everything.

Luffy tilts his head as he listens to you then crosses his arms over his chest.

“I am too, but…” 

He trails off. You snuff out the lunch fire, the same way you snuff out the yearning in your chest, then rise to your feet.

“I’ll see you when you’re done with your training, Luffy.”

You grin at him, as best you can, and offer him a hug that is slightly less enthusiastic than earlier but still heartfelt. Luffy’s arms linger a little longer by the time you want to pull away, and you sense it.

The loneliness he hasn’t thought about in months, but has been unearthed just with the sight of your face.

His chin presses against your shoulder gently.

“Do you have to leave?” 

It’s barely a whisper, but you hear it as though sucked into a vacuum, loud as if spoken from inside your own head. Unintentionally, you pull back and give him an odd look, as if you’re questioning whether or not he knows.

He has to know.

“If you stayed, I could keep you safe, and I promise you wouldn’t distract me. You don’t even have to stay the whole time. I just miss you. So much.”

Luffy’s face is softer now, and he’s not truly pleading - his smile is careful not to apply pressure with his feelings, stating a genuine fact as opposed to making a plea. Whether you decide to stay with him or not is purely your decision; that he wants you to stay is all he wants you to know.

Your heart races.

Marigold suddenly yells for you to come aboard the ship before they take off. You look at her, then look right back at Luffy, and there’s a quick panic that forces you to blurt out words you don’t mean immediately.

“I… can’t.”

“Okay.” Simple as that.

Luffy offers you a small smile in understanding. “But don’t worry about me. The crew will be together again in 6 months. I’ll come find you, and I’ll be stronger. I promise.”

“I…”

Your mouth opens and closes. You can’t tell him you love him, not now.

But it’s all you want to say, and nothing else wants to come out except that simple fact.

You nod instead, and run back towards the ship.

Luffy waves back at the ship, at you, up until you’re out of sight.

—

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Hancock says to you upon this audacious next request, finally at the end of her patience.

And yet, a week later, you arrive back at the shore of Rusukaina island, this time with no one else but Boa Hancock and her sisters. Hancock can’t help but wave at Luffy from the boat, the obvious deep girlish blush obvious in her cheeks, but she doesn’t set foot on the island.

Instead, you are the only one who descends, a small bag strapped to your back and enough food to last a week practically tossed onto the sand before the ship sails off.

Sandersonia can barely hold in her laughter, and Marigold’s deep frown is evident as they sail away. Hancock turns haughtily once Luffy and you are out of sight.

“Maybe she’ll get eaten by beasts and I won’t have to see her ever again,” she murmurs under her breath. 

“Unlikely.” Sandersonia quips quickly. Marigold rolls her eyes.

“Are you just going to allow this?” she asks finally. Hancock gives her a look, then leans onto the railing of the ship and sighs in defeat.

“God forbid a woman have good taste. Unfortunately, Luffy seems to care about her too.”

Sandersonia slides next to her sister, bumping shoulders with her.

“I’m getting the feeling he’s not the only one who might like her. Maybe he’s the one with the shared good taste.”

Hancock raises an eyebrow, and Sandersonia giggles again. “Never mind me.”

Not another word is said.

…

“So… I did remember how to make a house from when I was a kid but not how to make a comfortable bed…” he reminds you, sheepishly, as the offered tour of the island comes to a close and you end up right back at the center he’s designated home base. He hadn’t thought about it before but now that you’re there, physically there, it’s occurred to him that maybe you don’t want to sleep on the ground and you don’t want to eat meat from sun-up to sundown, that it’s cold in the winter and hot in the summer, and rainy and wet and the thunder is too loud, and you’re not built like him.

But selfishly, he wants to be with you, and you want to be with him.

“We’ll figure it out,” you say.

To this, Luffy grins and, unable to contain his joy, his hands are on you again, grabbing you and spinning you around, until the whole island is filled with the sound of your laughter.

Once you’re all calmed down and the sun is about to set and you’ve had your final meal of the day, you realize that despite the fact that the words ‘I love you’ have yet to come from your lips, perhaps it’s understood with your choice to stay with him for the next few months.

Luffy is half-asleep by the fire, laying on a pillow of wadded-up cloth. Your eyes focus on the large scar on his chest you’re still getting used to. 

The big X that’s his trauma worn proudly on his chest. And yet, to you, that X marks your very greatest treasure, Luffy, the man you love.

[hotluncheddie]

wc: 1.6k | rated: G | tags: Fluff, getting together, recovering Eddie Munson, they're in love

‧₊˚ ⋅

It’s Wayne’s idea first.

Eddie has to take talking again slowly, his throat ruined by the bats; some of it reconstructed and most of it heavily scarred. It’ll all return: talking and singing and silly voices. But only with time and patience.

But patience is not something that comes easy to Eddie Munson.

He seemed to take the ‘no talking’, ‘take it slow’, and ‘only do so much’ rules like it pained his soul. And they all realised quickly that asking Eddie questions to have him practise doesn't work because Eddie can never get his fully formed response out before the pain became too great. It became quickly apparent that no answer was better than something half-finished.

To help, he’d write long, sprawling journal entries, song lyrics and letters. Scratchy handwriting etched all over notebooks and loose pieces of paper, receipts, napkins and pill packets. Some he’d share, and others were squirrelled away, too honest in their pain and intensity.

But he still needed to practise; he needed to learn to speak again.

The doctors said keeping a catalogue of how he’s progressing would help with treatment; the more information available, the better they can help. To have something consistent to gauge Eddie’s ability to talk and to keep a note of the pain scale day to day or week to week. To see how far he has to go, but eventually, hopefully, to see how far he’s already come.

Dustin tries first with lines from Lord of the Rings. But the prose holds too many memories and, like the questions, too many opinions and connected tales he’s unable to voice.

Steve tries mundane stuff, like the back of the little hospital shampoo. But that quickly bores them both to tears and the idea is put away to never be spoken of again.

Robin tries asking him trivia – where do penguins live? Who was the first president? And that works for a few days, until they seem to step on some long-buried trigger, the demand too much like schoolwork, the unknown answers stinging too closely to past teachers' bitter berating of his academic failures. So trivia gets thrown out with the shampoo.

Then, one afternoon, Wayne walks in with the funnies pulled out and tucked under his arm. Spreading it out under his mug of freshly brewed coffee from home. The little grumpy Garfield looking up at Eddie from his hospital tray table.

‘I hate Mondays.’ Eddie rasps, a complex mix of frustration, relief and endearment on his face. Pain 7, words clear but slow, M most difficult because of the damage to his lower lip.

And so it goes: Garfield, pain, clearness and any details that might be important. Every day.

Steve can’t seem to let it go and becomes fixated. Garfield clearly being the answer to their problem. But more so, maybe, is the little smile the comic is able to get out of Eddie. Even on days where his pain is high and it really, really hurts him to talk, words coming near garbled, Garfield works. He talks even when he doesn’t want to, which makes him smile, small and quiet and pleased again. It’s progress.

Steve sees this, and Steve really can’t let it go. He’s a numbers guy, a bit of a stats lover – when he lets himself be honest and ignore the little voice in his head that says it’s embarrassing and he’s too dumb for all that. So he makes the chart anyway. Keeps note of when a new comic comes out and which ones Eddie’s already read. Finds old newspapers and clips the comic out of them, pilfering them from anyone who will let him – he's not above knocking on doors and asking. Not if it means Eddie might smile again, just like the very first time and so many times after.

He has a little chart for that too. A secret chart, just for him. It catalogues which lines made Eddie smile most, which made him outright laugh. Which he read when it was raining and he ached more. Which were the hardest to get out, that Steve wants him to try again one day, if just to hear him say it without the strain. Say it one day, hopefully pain-free.

Steve hopes Eddie can one day say them all with a smile and an ease, because seeing just a glimpse of it made something in Steve’s heart bright.

//

‘I’m sick of not being able to eat proper food.’ Eddie rasps, pouting. Steve is fiddling with Eddie's knuckles, drawing lines across his skin, over the dark hairs that sprout on his fingers. Steve tugs one, Eddie smiles. Cheeks dusting pink.

‘Two more weeks, then you’re released. As soon as possible after that, you come over and I make you lasagne; how about that?’ Steve says.

‘Like Garfield?’ Eddie asks, voice small, smile teasing. Steve watches him swallow, watching the scar on his neck move as he does. Steve’s fingers tingle; he wants to reach out and cup where he had to before, when they were in the upside down. Steve searching for that little bit of life, fingers slick with pooling blood. Once he’d found it, he’d ripped off his shirt and pressed it against Eddie’s neck. Steve wants to press against it now, just to feel the skin again, as it is now, raised and lumpy. But safe. Warm and dry with life.

‘Like Garfield.’ Steve smiles, his finger shifting between Eddie’s own, joints brushing, linking and locking. Almost holding hands.

//

Steve lays the table and lights a candle, smoothing his hands over his jeans and checking his hair in the reflection on the microwave again. He admitted to himself after the sixth time that it’s because he wants to look nice – make a good impression.

The doorbell goes at exactly 6pm. Steve doesn’t run, but he walks more quickly to the door than he thinks he ever has, pausing a moment to breathe and tuck a lock of hair behind his ear.

He opens the door and has to resist kissing Eddie right then and there. He tears his eyes away and waves at Wayne instead, who’s backing out of the drive in his truck.

Eddie’s using his new cane, shiny black with a silver handle. He’s wearing black Livi’s and a grey check flannel. His hair is curly and shiny as it falls over his ears but above his shoulders, trimmed shorter than Steve’s ever seen it. Steve doesn’t resist the urge to reach out and wrap his fingers around a strand, tugging lightly. (Steve knows it looks different because he read an article about curl care in the hospital waiting room. Which led to buying Eddie the nice shampoo and conditioner it recommended, partially as a welcome home gift, partially as another reason to be in the room with Eddie, with something new for them to talk about. And partially because Steve watched El try to brush Eddie’s hair for him. Steve having to look away whenever she caught a tangle, Eddie wincing, the halo of frizz around his head growing.) Steve’s fingers comb through easily, locks slipping between his knuckles.

Eddie looks at him with his big eyes and his lips slightly parted, eyelashes fluttering, and Steve has to resist kissing him all over again.

Wayne honks as he pulls off down the street. Eddie starts. Steve ushers him inside, through to the candlelit dining room table and napkins Joyce taught him to fold into swans.

‘Garfield’s favourite.’ He declares, laying the pan down between them, sauce oozing through bubbling cheese.

And Eddie’s eyes are big and brown and beautiful in the candlelight. He smiles up a him so big, Steve thinks his heart will jump right out of his chest.

He gets a little excited, serving Eddie almost a whole quarter of the dish. Handing it to him before realising, ‘Sorry, sorry, that’s way too much. Oh my god, you do not have to eat all of that.’

But Eddie smiles at him, licking some stray sauce off of his thumb. ‘S’fine, Stevie.’ And he digs in.

Steve watches Eddie, tearing a piece of garlic bread with his teeth. The movement of his jaw as he chews and swallows. The curl of his fingers around his fork.

He is here. He is beautiful.

Steve feels tears well behind his eyes. His knife clattering as it drops from his fingers. ‘Sorry, m’sorry.’ He sniffs, looking up at the ceiling and placing his fork down against the plate more quietly.

‘C’mere, Stevie.’ Eddie says gently.

Steve steps around the table, hunched and fevered, and he falls at Eddie’s feet. Knees hitting hardwood as his forehead collided with Eddie’s chest. Steve turns his head, his hair rustling against his ears, Eddie’s heartbeat coming next, solid and steady and perfect.

Steve lets his fingers crawl up Eddie’s arm, up to the scar at his throat. Holding it, palm against suture, fingers against jaw and tissue and skin.

‘You’re here.’ Steve says. Voice wet and desperate.

‘I’m here.’ Eddie whispers kindly. ‘I’m here, baby.’

And choked sob leaves Steve, wounded and animalistic, and Eddie almost died. Almost died in his arms, his hands covered in Eddie’s blood. Trying to keep his insides inside.

But he’s here, and he’s beautiful, and Steve wants Eddie to have everything he ever dreamed of, anything he didn't get time to dream of yet. Because he’s here, and he deserves it.

Eddie’s palm rests over his own, connected over his neck. The other cradling Steve’s cheek, swiping a tear away from below his lashes. Gently he pulls Steve closer, pulling him up and in.

Steve can’t resist it anymore; he can’t resist when Eddie’s so close.

He leans forward the same time Eddie does. Steve keeps his eyes open just to watch Eddie’s close; he looks blissed out and perfect. Steve lets their lips collide, dry and soft and sweet, his own eyes fluttering close. Then Eddie tilts, leaning into the hands on his neck, their noses brushing, and then there’s tongue and teeth, and Steve whines weakly, shuffling closer, chest to chest, between Eddie’s spread thighs. Exactly where he was meant to be. Meant to be here. Eddie’s here and they can be together, at last.

‧₊˚ ⋅

Taglist: @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @sweetiepeabob

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair @wheneverfeasible @hbyrde36

@bookworm0690

[frvnkcastles]

I PRAY YOU LOVE ME STILL ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You lose your temper at Frank and he tries to mediate.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, reader hits herself (briefly), reader has (implied) BPD, language, implied female reader

Word count: 1.8k

Author’s note: May is Borderline Personality Disorder Awareness Month and so I wanted to do something in honor of it because it is majorly important to me as someone who is impacted by this disorder on a daily basis. It’s not explicitly said in the fic so anyone who struggles with anger can read this but this is very much about the experience of splitting. It’s actually hell and no matter how much you love someone, it still happens. But I think Frank would 100% help me (and all the other BPD baddies out there) regulate emotions :) See y’all next month for PTSD awareness lol <3

The air in your apartment had never been quite so tense, so full of something uncomfortable and unresolved. It wasn’t easy to rattle Frank, but right now, as he was carrying his bags from the front door to the bedroom, his shoulders were drawn tight and his jaw clenching incessantly.

He wasn’t angry — he was uneasy and full of guilt, because he knew you were upset with him. You had pleaded him to stay with you tonight, to not go on that recon mission because you had had a bad day and you could really use some company. And against his better judgment, he had gone and left, anyway. Now that he was back home, he had half-expected to find you asleep already, but instead, he had found you curled up in the corner of the couch with the TV still on, as if to punish him with the reminder that you couldn’t sleep without him. He could tell you were mad and hurt, not just from your body language, but because you had tilted your head away from his kiss and barely acknowledged his return.

It was growing difficult to stomach. He couldn’t stand the lack of resolution, the wound of your argument still open and bleeding. He wasn’t good with these kinds of situations, and he knew that he needed to act. His first instinct was to tell you to cut the attitude, but he knew he was in the wrong tonight and he needed to do some groveling.

”You need anythin’, sweetheart? Something to drink?” he called out to you from the kitchen, a peace offering. His boots were untied, his bags unloaded, his vest hidden in the back of the closet. He was ready to shift back into boyfriend-mode, and to extend an olive branch, but you more or less snapped it in half.

”Since when do you care about what I want or need?” you snapped from the living room, your voice quiet but venomous. His eyes widened, and his lips parted to say something in return but before he could, his gaze fell on your form. As he assessed you, he could tell that this wasn’t just being bratty — you had those days, too, but now… The way you were clenching your fists, practically vibrating with angry energy, your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying anything else.

Oh. It was one of those times.

”Hey, hey, sweetheart”, he started, his tone concerned and not at all offended by your words, not anymore. ”You need your space, that it? Need a moment?” he asked, trying to understand what you needed as he approached the living room, maintaining a respectful distance. This had happened once or twice in the past, and you had tried to give him guidelines to helping you, but the truth was, you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

You finally looked at him, huffing. Your jaw ticked, and he could tell you were straining with the effort to not lash out at him. ”You don’t have to baby me”, you said in a warning tone, gathering your pillow from the couch as you stood up. ”I’m just gonna go to bed, Frank, it’s whatever”, you continued, but he was quick to act.

”Hey, uh, you don’t have to do that. Yeah? If that’s what you want, I’mma let you but if you just wanna sit here and watch your show, I ain’t gonna force you out. I’m more than happy to get in bed and let you be, huh?” he stepped closer to you, eyes narrowed as they still scanned every inch of you. He was good at that part; analyzing you and figuring out what only ticked you off more. But at his proposal, you stopped, slowed down even. It seemed to appeal to you.

He suspected you didn’t want to admit that it was a good idea, though. ”Aight, hey, I gotchu. There ain’t no rush”, he continued, padding past you. He ached to stop and hold you, to kiss the top of your head, anything — but he knew better, knew you didn’t want that right now. He weaved past you, and once at the door of the bedroom, he turned back to you. ”Lemme know if you need anything, yeah? ’Cause I… I do care.”

With that, he slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. You sighed heavily and returned to the couch, trying to sink back into the show, to distract yourself. But the more you sat there, the worse you felt. At first, it was anger at him — your brain spewing hate at him, telling you he was the worst person in the world who hated you, too. He didn’t care. He just wanted to hurt you. Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t he do what you asked, what you needed?

But then, your thoughts shifted and you started to feel bad. You probably scared him away for good now. He saw what an ugly, awful person you really are. You hurt his feelings, so why would he stay? He could never love someone like that. Someone so mean and vicious, someone who can’t even control themselves. He was probably laying in bed thinking of ways he could leave you. He wasn’t the worst, you were.

Your eyes burned with tears and you no longer wanted to be alone. Reluctantly, with your tail between your legs, you shut off the TV and slid into the bedroom, praying Frank would already be asleep.

He wasn’t.

The sight of him looking at you so expectantly made you cry, the regret and guilt overwhelming. You hugged your pillow as you stood in the doorway, and Frank swore you had never looked more vulnerable and small than you did in that moment. You breathed raggedly, trying to find the right words, but in the end you went with your first instinct.

”I’m sorry.” Your voice was weak and faint, and he could hear the waver in every word. Sighing sympathetically, he nodded at the empty space next to him in your shared bed, and with a sniffle, you trailed to your side before climbing in with him.

”C’mere.” He gathered you into his arms right away, closing you against his bare chest, so warm and firm, both of you sitting against the headboard. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing but you felt embarrassed about it — why were you crying? God, this was so manipulative of you. Hurt him, then cry to get out of trouble. You hated yourself in that moment.

”I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m so sorry”, you whispered, trying to contain your sobs, ”I shouldn’t have—I didn’t—I know you care, Frank, I know you do. You care more than anyone, I don’t know why I would say something like that.” He tried to shush you softly, caressing your shoulder as he hugged you, but you just kept going.

”I don’t deserve you, really, I’m such a fucking bitch”, you continued, smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead. You didn’t get to do it more than twice when Frank was quickly grabbing your wrist, gentle but firm.

”Hey, hey, stop that. None of that, baby, hear me?” he spoke sternly but with love and care. He tilted his head down at you, his grip on your wrist loosening just so he could move to wipe your tears. His dark eyes were full of concern as he observed your flushed face, his heart aching for you.

”You ain’t a bitch, sweetheart, I don’t even like hearin’ that. And there ain’t a single thing wrong with you, yeah? You just…”, he swallowed, trying to find the right thing to say. ”You’re just someone who struggles with certain things. Just like everyone else struggles with somethin’. It sure as shit don’t make you bad, in fact I think you’re fuckin’ brave”, he went on, praising you, stroking your cheek softly.

You chuckled dryly, shaking your head. ”You shouldn’t be saying that, Frankie. You shouldn’t be comforting me. I was the one who was mean and hurt your feelings, so it-it’s not fair that I’m making you make me feel better”, you hiccup, sniffling. You drop your head on his broad shoulder, feeling sick to your stomach as you sit in the guilt.

”Darlin’, you ain’t makin’ me do anythin’. And you couldn’t hurt my feelings if you tried. And I guess you did try, huh? I’m perfectly fine, peachy even. I ain’t scared of you”, he chuckled softly, a small smile on his lips as he looked down into your eyes. ”Besides, I was an asshole for leavin’. You asked me not to and I disrespected that. Way I see it, I deserved a lil’ feedback”, he continued, making you giggle softly.

”You’re too good to me, Frankie”, you whispered, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. ”I feel like an awful person and an even worse girlfriend.”

He shook his head, kissing the top of your head like he had longed to do earlier. ”Nah, that doesn’t sound like my girl at all. You’re all good, baby, I promise. We’re all good”, he murmured, winding his arm around you and caressing your shoulder.

You sighed in relief, closing your eyes to just breathe him in. It grounded you, his scent in your nose and his warmth spreading across your limbs. His breathing helped you pace your own, and his gently drawn patterns on your skin made your heart happy. The guilt wasn’t all gone, but it felt like it could be okay. You felt at peace in the bed, in his arms, his defined body right at your fingertips and his soft reassurance in your ears.

You sat in the silence for a while, just enjoying his calming presence, but eventually he spoke up, that gruff voice sending a shudder down your spine.

”I, uh… I dunno if this is crossing some kinda boundary but uh, I guess I tried looking up some ways to help before you came in”, he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head nervously. ”Found some ideas if you want me to keep ’em in mind for next time. Like, uh, I guess icy water and a quick exercise might help? There’s-there’s others too if that sounds like bullshit to you.”

You looked up at him, eyes blinking in disbelief and amazement. He looked cautious, almost sheepish, but you broke into a smile and it alleviated some of his nervousness. ”Baby, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me. You tried using the Internet for me?” you asked with a goofy smile, earning a snort from him.

”Yeah, yeah, alright. It’s like that, huh?” he huffed, making you giggle.

”But seriously, Frank… That’s really nice. It’s hard for me to remember all those tips and skills when I’m really in it so if you can look out for me… I’d really like that. Only if that’s okay”, you exhaled, a soft smile on your lips.

Frank returned the smile, kissing your forehead. ”Kiddin’ me? Of course I’ll look out for you, sweetheart. Always will.”

[cultkinkcoven]

hihi! i'm not asking to bash, just to understand: what is there to empathize with in a child rapist? i appreciate the take that all humans deserve at least basic empathy, but i'm just not quite sure what's left over to extend that sort of grace to after an act like that.

they did something evil and irredeemable (at least that's how i'd view it), they chose to commit the act, so what's left to understand and empathize with? is it remorse/regret/etc for their crime you're referring to?

thank you for your time :)

Thank you for asking a genuine and thought provoking question that is not a backhanded assumption or insult :)

Empathy is a word that means the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. Empathy does not mean kindness. Empathy does not mean justification, and empathy is not sympathy.

I feel absolutely no sympathy for predators in any form. I believe they should be subject to the harshest of punishments.

I do feel empathy though, for all people. It is very difficult to emphasize with a child rapist. It is very hard for me to understand how and why someone could possible do that to a child. It's not an easy task. It is a challenge, and it is a burden I take on because I am a Luciferian, because that is what my God asks of me.

I also understand that people are not born predators. I can empathize with a rapist and understand that maybe he has mental damage that makes him unable to understand what he's doing. I can understand that maybe he had an abusive upbringing, or I can understand that he was raised by men who taught him rape culture. I can understand that he does not respect women, that he does not have self control, I can empathize and understand that if I were him, I would be a danger to society.

I can understand these things, I can view him as a person with a back story. He is not a monster, he is a human being who did something heinous. And he should be punished as a human being who did something heinous.

But no, not like an animal, and no, not in any way that infringes upon his most basic human rights. I see no benefit in responding to violence with violence. I'm not going to rape a rapist. And I am not going to stoop to the level of abusing another person, even an abuser. I will not let myself stoop to their level, nor will I pretend their human life is void due to their actions.

This is not a satisfying or easy way to approach deplorable people. It is easiest to say "yeah he deserves to die," and it would feel better too.

But I am not here to do what is easy and comfortable. I believe that all people are deserving of empathy. Extending empathy is the only way to truly seek accountability.

I understand you, I understand why you did what you did, I understand everything that lead up to that action, and I understand the results of it. I can now determine that you deserve to serve retribution, just retribution that is appropriate for the crime. Not cruelty for the sake of my enjoyment, not cruelty because you were cruel first. Retribution and accountability. I will not become an abuser in retaliation to abuse. I refuse.

I will not excuse abusers and I will not enable them. I will empathize with them so I can effectively disarm them.

[otsukare-katsukare]

the sami zayn and kenny omega relationship is one i wish i knew a little more about. kenny's continued to speak so fondly about sami well into the present day, he's talked about them rooming together in japan, hanging out watching nerdy old movies, how sami used to be his guy he could really talk to and discuss ideas about wrestling with, even before the bucks, and how he's still one of his favourite people he ever wrestled even though their last match was well over a decade ago. and notably he's never said, as quite a few others have especially those who spent prolonged amounts of time with sami in his early years, that sami was difficult to work with or annoying to be around. and then you think about what a weird little nerd kenny is, what a ruthlessly self-critical (and pretty generally critical) perfectionist he is about wrestling, how passionately he cares about it as a storytelling art form, his affinity for the silly comedy side of it, all of which is shared by sami. how these characteristics and their general lack of interest in the more conventional locker room activities e.g. drinking probably isolated them from their peers a fair bit before people warmed up to them. of course they got along, of course kenny wouldn't find any of sami's quirks off putting or annoying, he's got the same ones he's just quieter about it. it very much puts me in the mind of that first true friend you make as a kid at school, who has to leave sooner than you'd like, but you never forget them as they were the first person that made you feel understood, even if you find your true lifelong besties later down the line. i hope they do stay in touch.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion) (Boba Count: 2):

This is the woman who always has anything you might need in her bustle. Portable phonographs, certainly, but what else? Alcohol, without doubt. Knives? Probably. More knives? Wouldn't be surprised. Candy? Always good to have something to mollify Hampton with. More alcohol? Well, James can always do with a little nip. Another knife? Why not? Lockpick set? I mean, where do you keep yours?

Everyone messaging us “please let Madge kiss [redacted]” we will remember your support during this difficult time should this go our way

But MADGE NEEDS TO WIN THIS ONE, JUST LOOK AT THE PROPAGANDA MAN

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats) (Boba Count: 2):

What on earth could possibly be sexier than being presumed dead by the village she lives in at large. She genuinely cares about funerals as an art form, she puts so much care into her work. Possibly bisexual if that helps. Ghost wrote a wildly popular erotic novel with the help of village’s reverend. Come on just please vote for Antigone I’m so very sleepy and I can’t think of more reasons but I promise they’re there

Antigone's mess might be an acquired taste, but I think it's a deeply attractive mess.

SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH A BLOND GUY ONCE SHE EARNED HER REST

Art of Antigone Funn with thanks to @acornzest.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Madge Stallion (Fawx & Stallion):

Madge Stallion was submitted without propaganda.

we gotta get our girl some propaganda. she would hate it, but the mystery of it all is kinda part of the appeal here.

Madge stallion NEEDS no propaganda

Madge: so sexy she needs no propaganda

#madge stallion is a great woman to lose to

#Madge she's a sassy lesbian detective what else do you want

#madge stallion needs no propaganda #by virtue of being madge

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Raging lesbian in a lavender marriage

Seduced someone working for the enemy

Is just as chaotic and at time brain cell-less as her male companions

Loyal but still willing to call her friend since childhood out on his bullshit

She canonically fucks. Like in canon she fucks so much. See above about seducing the enemy and then pepper in her on again off again romance with Martha Hudson.

#madge propaganda time : #she will flirt with basically any girl she sees and oh she does it so well #also !!! she once flirted and got on with technically an enemy in the middle of a spying mission ???? #she went like 'oh sorry just gotta go to the loo' to go spy in the house got caught and flirted so well she 1/ got laid 2/ got information #3/ came back like nothing happened #with some motivation she could flirt and get a boner from a dead rock tbh #madge stallion IS THE SEXIEST

#it's that time again #madge madge madge #she's earned it

#!!!!!

#home stretch

MADGE MADGE MADGEEEEE

Madge propaganda from a show that had the pleasure of guesting with her! At the end of the day no matter how you squeeze or present it, a great character is a great character and Madge is the best by a mile. Wonderful one-liners, complex and layered relationships with everyone in the cast around her, a messy and real depiction of female sexuality (especially a lesbian!) that she is never punished or demeaned for, and all of this brought to life in a performance that could make a phone book fun. Look and you’ll see: Madge’s writing and acting speaks for itself!

#madge here #yes you have to choose #choosemadge #we need the points #much appreciated #very sincerely yours

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats):

Amazing character arc/growth; shadows follow her around; afraid of the sun; methanol is her drink of choice; is often told “I thought you were dead” despite a complete lack of evidence other than her deathly paleness; the morgue is her personal sanctuary; absolutely hilarious character; demanded to be co-owner of Funn Funerals with her brother rather than allowing him to continue running the business alone;(spoiler) decided NOT to get with her frenemy who she had been doing a will-they-won’t-they thing with the entire series!; writes smut in her free time

#antigone!!!!!!!!! #i just need one chance with her #she's perfect

#antigone!!!!!

*Cracks knuckles* Team Antigone is back and ready to do some damage. #antigone sweep year 2

#YEAR TWOOO

#Antigone sweep #!!!!

#thrilled to participate as always

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

VOTE FOR ANTIGONE!!!

What on earth could possibly be sexier than being presumed dead by the village she lives in at large. She genuinely cares about funerals as an art form, she puts so much care into her work. Possibly bisexual if that helps. Ghost wrote a wildly popular erotic novel with the help of village’s reverend. Come on just please vote for Antigone I’m so very sleepy and I can’t think of more reasons but I promise they’re there

EVERYONE VOTE ANTIGONE FUNN PLS

I'm voting for Antigone not because she's sexier (she is) but because she needs at least One Win in her life. #girl failure solidarity

1. she is very sexy. We know she's deathly pale, she's described as transparent more than once as well as green and blue-skinned, she's 35~38 depending on what season you're listening to. She's allergic to like everything.

Her hair is canonically always a mess and she uses it to hold on to bones and things she's gonna need later. She wears the same dress every day (it has a hole in it)

She's one with the shadows and can blend in with her surroundings to a supernatural degree.

2. She is rough and socially inept and artistic and the most passionate person you can imagine. She puts her heart and soul into her work as a mortician, SHE CREATES PERSONALIZED EMBALMING FLUIDS TO MAKE THE CORPSES SMELL NICE and she WILL tell you about it.

She is somehow always angry or flustered about something and she will pull victorian era phrases you cannot imagine. She's been saying Christ Alive since before it was cool.

3. SHE LOVES SEXY THINGS!! she is the most fitting for this tournament cause she's the queen of learning to accept her desires!! She loves old french films and their weirdly shot sex scenes, she's canonically really good at writing erotica and likes to read it too. There's a whole episode dedicated to her conquering her fears and appearing on a naked calendar. Also we hear glimpses of her fantasies and she wants to tie up and dom the guy she likes so there's that too I guess.

She spent 17 years locked in her mortuary cause she was sad. SHE WANTED TO BECOME A CLOWN AS A KID. She is everything to me and I love juno very much but she is sexier and deserves to be known that way. VOTE ANTIGONE

[gynandromorph]

I've said before that I think Shiloh's parents were. Emotionally neglectful. Very checked out, never had more than one kid because they realized after the first that they hated being parents. So Shiloh got attention by pissing them off. Sort of formative to their interest in pushing people's buttons. So when they get into this relationship with Jessie? Yeah, the red flags in Jessie spending time with them CONSTANTLY are probably clear to them. But it's probably also deeply gratifying in a way that's difficult to resist, a way that appeals to a part of their brain that was there way before any sense of rationality

[purefandomonium]

This made every neuron in my brain go off like a fireworks display so y'all better be ready for this. I plan on fixing it up and adding more for a legit AO3 post, but for now have this wild piece of my imagination.

The inside of the FC was much different than the outside. Outside it was cool,—though never cold—precise, collected, and powerful in a muted way that you wouldn't notice unless you were fending off its harsh glow as it snarled at your bumper; likewise, keeping pace with the legendary comet as it rocketed down the mountain left a heavy taste of danger in the air. The car was much like its driver in the sense that you'd have to be pretty close to see its true form, and even then you'd have to be able to withstand the brilliant glow it exuded.

Inside, however, was warm, comforting, and oddly familiar despite this being the first and only time he'd ever ridden shotgun in Ryosuke's prized FC. Which begged the question: where was this odd sense of familiarity and warmth coming from? The only car he truly knew was his own Eight-Six. So if it wasn't the car, then that meant-

"Did you get that, Fujiwara?"

Takumi blinked and, despite having been staring for—how much time had passed, exactly? Despite staring right at the man the entire time he spoke, he found his mind drawing a blank as to what exactly his mentor had been saying. Still, a response was expected.

"…Yes." It was much too meek and his brain screamed at him for sounding like such a spaced out dumbass. He braced for Ryosuke's sure-to-come reprimand at how obvious it was that he wasn't listening.

Instead, "Good. Now onto the more difficult part of the course. These upcoming hairpins are no easy feat, and your opponent is a professional."

He knew he should be paying close attention to the words, this was important stuff and Project D needed to win this race. But Ryosuke's actions were just too distracting. The way he shifted gears and glided around the first hairpin made him feel like they were soaring. It was so natural, the way he adjusted his line, the way the FC bent to his will, the way the very road itself seemed to shift beneath them, completely at his mercy.

Was he always this smooth when he drove his Eight-Six? Would he ever be this good?

"Don't be surprised if your opponent pulls something here," Ryosuke went on, oblivious to Takumi's own oblivion. "It's a prime opportunity to make a move, especially since the remainder of the course from here on out becomes an uphill. If he passes you, you'll have to bide your time until you're traveling back downhill again."

He felt his head dip down once against the smooth push and pull of the FC as it danced about, tires shrieking in the background. Even that held a sort of elegance to it. It seemed everything Ryosuke did was graceful and easy.

Dark locks swayed as Ryosuke sent the FC around the final few corners before easing it to a stop at the turnaround point. He spared a quick glance at his passenger—mostly to be sure he was still listening—but the words caught in his throat at the way Fujiwara's eyes shone with something like awe, mouth slightly agape. A rare bout of shyness flooded his nerves at being the center of such rapt attention.

In an instant, Takumi realized he was staring again and blinked. He refocused his eyes on the road ahead. It took more force than he would've liked to keep them there. His mind's eye, however, was all too happy to replay the scene on repeat. Every graceful motion was locked into his memory and as he took in the empty pavement before them, he realized it felt just as unfamiliar as yesterday. His cheeks felt hot.

An awkward silence hung between them as both pondered how much the other had seen in the milliseconds their eyes had met. Ryosuke, ever cool and collected and not currently blushing madly, was the first to recover.

"I know this is a lot of pressure on you," he began, watching his ace from the corner of his eye, "but just do what you always do and you'll be fine. Trust your instincts and be on the lookout. OK?"

He knew that, he always trusted his instincts in a race. They hadn't let him down yet, which was what prompted him to even consider his next question. "I… um…" This was stupid. This was so incredibly stupid. Project D's most important battle yet was upon them, and here he was looking to do something so utterly idiotic-

"Yes?" His brow furrowed at Fujiwara's sudden apprehension. Which was odd, seeing as how he'd been fine just moments ago, albeit more than a little flustered.

His head drooped, bangs falling over his face. This was so dumb and selfish-

"I, uh, I know this race is really important and all…" Why was he like this? Why couldn't he just… just… be normal? He sucked in a breath and met Ryosuke's gaze to to apologize for wasting time-

"I was wondering if maybe you'd show me how you'd race this course." Fuck.

Ryosuke blinked, momentarily stunned by the request. That brief pause was all it took to crush Fujiwara's sudden resolve to dust.

"I'm sorry. That's a dumb question. I need to focus on my own lines and-"

"It's good to observe other racers' styles, you know," he said, cutting off the nervous rambling. "You can pick up all sorts of things by watching others." The faintest smile pulled at his lips when the tension radiating off his passenger dissipated like mist. "Besides, I'm honestly flattered you're so curious."

Takumi's eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise. "Wait… Seriously? Are you sure you don't mind?" Ryosuke wasn't annoyed at him for this?

He chuckled. "Not at all. But I must warn you: I won't be taking it easy." He'd give it 110% if it meant Fujiwara would look at him with that start struck expression once more. It was different from the rest. He was no stranger to such attention, but when it was coming from Fujiwara it made something warm blossom in his heart.

Takumi couldn't hold back his smile. A front row seat to watch Ryosuke tear down the mountain full throttle like the comet he was? He hoped his cheeks weren't turning red again. "I'm ready."

A simple nod was all the response he gave before the FC rushed off in a blur, darting around the mountain in a blinding flash of white.

………

I want to do so much more with this, but I think this little bit will do for now. I wholeheartedly agree that there's no way Takumi wasn't distracted as hell by Ryosuke and honestly? I can see Ryosuke being flattered by the attention, especially since he tends to be so impressed by Takumi. So being on the receiving end by his protege would probably make him happy in his suave and cool way lol.

If Takumi had been blushing that bad when Ryousuke handed him his cell number, I sincerely want to know what it was like for Takumi to ride with him in the FC before the Honda EK9 race

The amount of disbelief i have about Takumi being able to focus on the line Ryousuke took on that course, nevermind what he was saying, is more than I have about the random cat in the road

[icewindandboringhorror]

"We can get through this by working together, reach out to your friends, community is all we have, a social network will be your security in the world, now is the time to lean on others!"

I do agree, and it's scientifically sound (pretty sure there is data about how people with better social networks live longer and etc) but also....augh..... what about the severe social issues, difficulty to leave the house, physical issues which lead to like zero socialization energy a majority of the time, etc. etc. Social support can be a replacement for structural support, but.. I guess I just wish it didn't have to be. Community is extremely difficult to build, even moreso if you're someone who has issues with social cues or group conversations or even just being around others in the first place. And blah, nuance, of course I'm just complaining or maybe being too negative or maybe misunderstanding, but, I hardly have the energy to brush my hair once every 2 months.. how am I supposed to maintain a wide social network and be active in a Community and Join Groups lol... sometimes it kind of feels like "er.. well if thats my only option then...... ruh roh". It's overwhelming

[britneyshakespeare]

i'm very interested what ppl find to be the harder shakespeare plays and which they found to be easier. bc i was googling out of curiosity and i found a sparknotes article (link if you're curious) that ranked ten of the most commonly-read plays on difficulty and it put king lear kinda down low whereas it put julius caesar pretty high because of the politics/complicated conflicts. that kind of baffled me because julius caesar was the first tragedy i read outside of the classroom and i found it very approachable; it's one i often recommend to people trying to get into shakespeare because the plot is already familiar to most ppl and you can just enjoy the poetry and how shakespeare chooses to characterize these figures. on the other hand i read king lear a few years later in my shakespeare journey, and to be honest i still kind of have a hard time with lear. maybe i just don't connect with it on some level; i'm not sure. it's not a very tightly-organized play where the action is as centered as in the other tragedies like hamlet or macbeth. that's certainly a me thing and maybe that'll change with age. but i'm always a little surprised when i find someone's experience with the plays so much different than mine.

anyway if you're reading this feel free to reblog and tag or comment which shakespeare plays you found yourself falling into most naturally and which worlds you felt like you had to force yourself into. i'm interested in what ppl feel on this subject

[swallowtail-ageha]

Its always so funny to me to see people on tumblr lose their shit over discovering the oh hellos' songs are religious. Tumblr users discover analyzing the lyrics instead of going on vibes

[motomamita]

fugitive!könig × naive!farmer!reader

warnings: smut, +18, no condom, innocence kink, breeding kink, baby trapping, virginity loss, female reader, dub-con!!

fugitive!könig who managed to escape the law, after committing several crimes, and now travels throughout the country hiding his identity.

On one of his many trips he ends up arriving at a small town, almost lost in time, where its few inhabitants live off their animal farms and orchards. Apparently no one had televisions, and the few radios only broadcast music that was overshadowed by static. This ensured that no one there would be able to recognize him and gave him the opportunity to stay and rest for a few hours.

Tired of walking and extremely hungry, König sat down in a small cafe to have a drink. The people around him looked at him strangely, not only because they didn't know him but also because of his intimidating appearance. His back was broad, he had long legs, and the muscles in his arms were noticeable even though he was wearing a wind jacket that covered him. However, no one seemed to be bothered by his presence, the people there loved tourists and König seemed completely like one.

When it was time to pay, he noticed that he had ordered and consumed more than he could afford. He was about to offer some of his "camping" knives in exchange for the money he was missing until a figure approached him.

"Don't worry if you don't have the money to pay." you spoke with a sweet voice and doing everything possible so that Konig would not feel embarrassed. "I sell the fruits to the owner of the place so I'm sure I can reach an agreement with him."

König was fascinated by you. Not only because of your timely friendliness but also your very natural and almost unique appearance that was very difficult to find in other places. You were wearing a jean gardener, some comfortable shoes and you were carrying a basket that minutes ago was full of fruits and vegetables from your garden. König looked down, somewhat shy and not knowing how to react to you, the truth is that during his escape he had not met many friendly people.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return." You smiled when you saw that no words came out of his mouth. "Here we greatly appreciate tourists and travelers, after all they are the ones who keep this small town from turning into a ghost town."

You invited König to take refuge in your small house for as long as he needed before leaving again for another place. König accepted, surprised at your remarkable naivety in letting a complete stranger into your house and providing him with all the care.

When he arrived, you showed him where the shower was and what his room would be where he could rest. You left a clean change of clothes on his bed and selflessly went off to make dinner. Once he cleaned, König followed the delicious smell and came to the kitchen where you were on your back stirring a large pot of what seemed to be a stew. You were so focused that you didn't notice the presence of the big man behind you. he thought about how easy it would be to cut your neck with one of those long knives you had there. But the idea quickly disappeared when you turned around and a wide smile formed on your face when you saw him.

That stew was the best he had tasted in a long time, so much so that he served himself 3 plates, leaving you totally pleased. The next morning, König didn't really know exactly what to do. He could stay one more night and wake up in the middle of the night to raid your entire home, even leave after having a trip with you. He was hesitant, and that hesitation turned into doubt when you offered to cut his hair and trim his long beard, which he accepted.

That same afternoon König sat down to drink a lemonade made by you while he watched you harvest super large, red strawberries from a distance. He fixed his gaze on the way your pants hugged your butt in a tempting way and how you hummed a melody quietly that he couldn't make out. A tingling appeared in König's tummy and he suddenly noticed an erection growing inside his pants. You looked so pretty, so innocent. It was obvious from afar that you didn't kill a fly and that your care for him was sincere.

The days passed and König seemed to have no intention of leaving, that didn't bother you at all. Now he helped you with the heavy work on the farm, carrying large amounts of hay on his shoulder and feeding the animals. His favorite activity was watching you milk the cows, fantasizing about your hands and the way the milk dripped from them.

His approaches to you intensified, taking advantage of the slightest opportunity to touch you or rub against you. he soon discovered that you had no idea about any sexual activity, acting confused at his double meaning words and insinuations. You were the perfect muse to fulfill all his fantasies without anyone being able to stop him.

Your parents had died a long time ago, leaving you alone in charge of the big farm and all the obligations of the adult world. That led König to think that life on that farm couldn't be bad. He knew how to handle hard work well and you did everything you could to teach him and please him. The idea of ​​starting from scratch, with you there, totally convinced him.

You were a healthy, hard-working woman and you needed someone like konig with you. But König needed to have something that would force you to keep him there with you, forever and that would confirm the mutual love that you both had to give each other. That's when he found the solution: he had to get you pregnant.

That afternoon he made a point that you wouldn't leave the stable until you were full of his cum. He started by complimenting your dress and how pretty that color looked on you. Then the caresses that increased in intensity until he managed to let you be carried away by him and his carnal desire. Now he had you under him, with your skirt up and your underwear hanging from one of your feet. Out of desperation, König only lowered his pants to his heels, even with his work boots on. You were on a large pile of hay, sweating from the great summer heat and moaning loudly.

His thrusts were brutal, making their way inside you that you barely had time to understand everything that was happening. The pleasure was so much that you could barely think about anything other than König's gaze and the way his balls slapped your ass.

"Oh, baby. You're so so tight.. And wet, shit" König groaned, sighing loudly at the pleasure your pussy was giving him. "Tell me, how did a cute little thing like you stay a virgin for so long, huh?" You opened your mouth to answer but only moans came out. "Uh? Talk to me, sweetheart, talk to me.."

"I.. I don't know.." you managed to say, overstimulated by everything. König's rough shirt rubbed against your clit, giving both pleasure and pain. König was so big that he covered you with his entire body, leaving you with almost no place to breathe air other than his breath.

"Uh? Don't you know? These farm boys are idiots... They wouldn't know how to please a pretty thing like you..." König cut off his sentence to get even closer to you and kiss you, putting his tongue inside your mouth. You tried to keep up with him but that triggered the kiss to be even wetter and hotter for him.

"König.. Give me more, please!" He smiled as he heard the urgency in your broken voice. You looked so pretty like that, almost not understanding what was happening but still pleased and eager for him to give you even more.

He, ready to please you, grabbed your legs and raised them to your shoulder, adopting a new position. His thrusts continued, his fat cock forcing its way into your no longer so virgin pussy and the simple sound of your skin slapping together made your warm walls embrace him. Not really knowing what to do, you brought your hands to König's big, muscular shoulders, feeling a few scars on them.

"Oh, my pretty little thing.. I'm going to fill you inside and you're going to be the prettiest mom in this whole damn town.." You dug your nails into his shoulder and your gaze was filled with confusion. "You like it, huh? You're going to make me so happy, isn't that what you want?"

You hesitated for a few seconds, not sure what he meant but his cock rammed even deeper into you leaving you almost without any thought. Tears formed in your eyes from the pleasure and absolute adoration with which he looked at you.

"Come on, mommy.. Make me happy, carry my precious baby.."

In the same way that König had managed to get his way in prison, he had gotten his way with you. Now you both lived together as a couple on the farm, happy and with a baby on the way inside your fertile womb.

[reasonsforhope]

"A medical technology company in Australia is aiming for a world-first: it wants to launch a blood test for endometriosis (sometimes called 'endo' for short) within the first half of this year [2025].

In a recent peer-reviewed trial, its novel test proved 99.7 percent accurate at distinguishing severe cases of endometriosis from patients without the disease but with similar symptoms.

Even in the early stages of the disease, when blood markers may be harder to pick out, the test's accuracy remained over 85 percent.

The company behind the patent, Proteomics International, says it is currently adapting the method "for use in a clinical environment," with a target launch date in Australia for the second quarter of this year [2025].

The test is called PromarkerEndo.

"This advancement marks a significant step toward non-invasive, personalized care for a condition that has long been underserved by current medical approaches," managing director of Proteomics International Richard Lipscombe said in a press release from December 30.

Endometriosis is a common inflammatory disease that occurs when tissue similar to the lining of the uterus grows in other parts of the body, forming lesions. The disease can be very painful, and yet the average patient often suffers debilitating symptoms for up to seven years before they are properly diagnosed.

While there are numerous reasons for such a long delay, symptoms of endometriosis are often highly variable, unpredictable, difficult to measure or describe, and dismissed or overlooked by doctors.

Today, the only definitive way to diagnose endometriosis is via keyhole surgery called a laparoscopy, which is expensive, invasive, and carries risks.

Proteomics International is hoping to change that.

In collaboration with researchers at the University of Melbourne and the Royal Women's Hospital, the company compared the bloodwork data from 749 participants of mostly European descent.

Some had endometriosis and others had symptoms that were similar to endo but without the lesions. All participants had a laparoscopy to confirm the presence or absence of the disease.

Sifting through the bloodwork, researchers ran several different algorithms to figure out which proteins in the blood were best at predicting endometriosis of varying stages.

Building on previous research, a panel of 10 proteins showed a "clear association" with endometriosis.

For years now, scientists have investigated possible blood biomarkers of endometriosis to see if they could differentiate between those who have endo and those who do not. Similar to cancerous tumors, endo lesions can establish their own blood supply, and if cervical cancer can be diagnosed via a blood test, it seemed possible that endometriosis could be, too...

Proteomics International claims patents for PromarkerEndo are "pending in all major jurisdictions," starting first in Australia.

It remains to be seen if the company's blood test lives up to the hype and is approved by the Australian Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA). But that's not outside the realm of possibility.

In November of 2023, some researchers predicted that a "reliable non-invasive biomarker for endometriosis is highly likely in the coming years."

Perhaps this is the year."

-via ScienceAlert, January 9, 2025

--

Note: As someone with endometriosis, let me say that this is a HUGE deal. The condition is incredibly common, incredibly understudied, and incredibly often dismissed. Massive sexism at work here.

I got very lucky and got diagnosed after about 6 months of chronic pain (and extra extra lucky, because my pain went away with medication). But as the article says, the average time to diagnosis is seven years.

Being able to confirm endometriosis diagnoses/rates without invasive surgery will also lead to huge progress in studying/creating treatments for endo.

And fyi: If you have a period that is so painful that you can't stand up, or have to go home from school/work, or vomit, or anything else debilitating (or if any of those things apply if you forget to take pain meds), that is NOT NORMAL, and you should talk to a competent gynecologist asap.

[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.”