#This is like 5% of my power. I have drawn her so much.

[asfodeltide]

[alllgator-blood]

I s2g if you add the layers of these comic pages together, it's over 350 layers. THIS is why I don't do full color for my comics lmaooo- ANYWAY EVERYONE HERE HAS AN AU APPARENTLY, SO THIS IS A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO MINE. I don't know what to call it yet but I'm thinking of calling it "famous prophets" because 1. I like that car seat headrest song, 2. it's about shamura who is prophetic, 3. it's about trying to outrun fate with the Power of Love (and failing. Like the song!!!). It takes place when all the bishops were teens/kids during the age of hundreds of gods at war, and were trying to survive as a family.

I'm really excited to work on stuff for it but it's all gonna be drawn out of order. Maybe I'll write a full explanation of what it's gonna be about when I have a better idea...I want to channel my eldest sibling angst in a productive way, and maybe establish a QPP between shamura and a completely random npc everyone forgets about <3 also kallamar is trans too cause I said so. I'll do a comic about it eventually. Instead of an absence of gender he has TOO much gender. It simply cannot be contained.

I like that nonbinary genders are normalized in cult of the lamb to the point where nobody singles anyone out for being a they/them, it's not like "THIS IS MY SIBLING SHAMURA. THEY ARE NONBINARY AND USE THEY/THEM. ALRIGHT BACK TO KILLING YOU", it's just like "don't you fucking dare make my poor sibling wake up from their nap to kick your ass. Cause they deserve better than this."

But at the same time I like having the freedom to be more specific, and say "shamura is voidpunk and their gender is best described as the feeling that overtakes you during the first snow of the year, when everything outside is deathly quiet". This comic is actually derived from the time I was walking through a forest that's been torn down for a few years, and came out to my little sister as trans. I must've been like 13 or 14 and she didn't really get it as a 10 year old, but it was better than my mom FREAKING OUT about me coming out. So it was a nice little bonding moment between just the two of us. I don't have a good memory so I don't recall how it went unfortunately...

Now, the climate is a little different. My sis tried out transmasculinity for maybe 5-6 years before feeling happier as a woman, my mom is trying to be Based and flaunt her Woke trans children, and my dad remembered "oh yeah trans natives have existed before colonization. Maybe me being transphobic is a product of my culture being erased" and has gotten better about calling me the right thing. I have a mustache (thanks pcos!!) and wear skirts and am not a repressed "tomboy" teenager anymore. But I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I could've been like shamura and just...been nonbinary without people being fucking weird about it. Or been born as a badass war god who will tear you to shreds before you can perceive my birth sex. I know they're fictional but they are my ultimate gender envy GRRRRR BARK BARK BARK

Here is the secret image for this post- I listen to mostly EDM when I draw cause it keeps the energy up, but as I was finishing up shamura's poetry part, I was like THESE ARE JUST KMFDM LYRICS so I made this

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, mentions of shootings

Chris’s POV

It was early Saturday morning when Nate showed up at my place in Somerville, looking like he hadn’t slept a minute. He’d just been let go from the police station after being kept overnight. I could tell from the way his eyes darted around that he was still a little on edge. It wasn’t the first time Nate had found himself in trouble, but this was different. Getting arrested for carrying too much weed while being tied up with our crew was a whole new level of risky.

Nate and I were both part of the Crimson Cartel, a gang deeply embedded in Boston’s streets. His family had been involved for as long as I could remember, and his cousin Danny was one of the big players. I got pulled into it all because of Nate - our friendship was solid, and when he joined, it wasn’t long before I did too. 

“Got a joint, bro?”  Nate asked, his eyes already scanning the kitchen for one.

I laughed. “Seriously? You just got back from being arrested for possession, and you want to smoke up?”

“Hell yeah. What else am I gonna do?” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

I liked the occasional joint. It helped take the edge off, helped me relax when things got too hectic. But that was it - just weed, nothing harder. I knew where to draw the line. Sure, I sold drugs, but I didn’t get involved with any of the other shit. That was strictly for the older guys in the Crimson Cartel. Those were the ones who handled the hits, the intimidation, the gruesome work. They had been in the game for years, hardened by it. Nate and I, we were different.

We were the youngest in the gang - Me being 21, and Nate just 20, everyone else was 30+. We’d been involved since we were 16 & 17. Our job was simple: handle the drug runs, get the product from one place to another. No blood on our hands, no breaking bones or taking lives. It was a clean line, or at least that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t in this for the violence. Hell, I wasn’t even in this by choice, one bad decision snowballed, and now this was my life. My family freaked the fuck out when they found out. Kicked me out, didn’t want anything to do with me. That’s how I ended up living with my uncle Jerry, just trying to get by. I guess it helped having an uncle who liked to smoke too.

Just sell it – that’s what I kept reminding myself. I was good at it. I didn’t have to hurt anyone. I didn’t have to be like the older guys who let the gang swallow them whole. I wasn’t a thug, and I wasn’t going to become one. That’s how I stayed sane in all this.

The older guys in the cartel, though – they didn’t think like that. For them, it wasn’t just about the money. It was about power, about making a name for themselves on the streets of Boston. Nate and I didn’t fit into that. We were runners, sure, but we kept ourselves out of the violent shit. Nate had a reckless streak growing up, especially when he was with his cousin Danny, but even he didn’t want to cross that line.

Still, the older we got, the harder it became to stay in our lane. The more we were around, the more they expected from us. Every time I handed off a package, there was always this nagging feeling that eventually, they’d want more. Nate and I had managed to avoid that side of the cartel for now, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. There’s only so long you can run drugs before they start pulling you deeper in.

The truth was, this life had a way of blurring those lines. Sure, I wasn’t involved in any hits, but I was part of the same machine that funded them. Every deal I made, every bag I handed off, it all contributed to something bigger, something more dangerous. As much as I tried to keep myself at arm’s length from the bloodshed, I was still part of the problem. And deep down, I knew it. But I had to keep telling myself that it was different. That I was different. As long as I stayed on the edges of it, as long as I kept my head down and just did the runs, I wouldn’t have to cross that line. I wouldn’t have to become like Vince or Danny or any of the others who’d let the cartel define them.

We headed out the side gate of my bungalow and settled into the backyard. It was chilly, but the kind of brisk Boston morning you get used to. I pulled out a joint, lit it up, and handed it over as Nate slouched back into one of the old chairs. As he took a deep drag, I asked, “So, what the hell happened?”

He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling up into the air. “Man, it was a mess. I was out helping Danny and Sully with a run. You know, just moving some weight, nothing crazy. But then Danny got a call, said one of the big guys from H Block was back in town, and he couldn’t let that slide.”

I nodded, knowing all too well how territorial things had gotten lately between us and H Block.

“So, next thing I know, we’re driving down Charles Street, street was silent as fuck not a sinner on the place. I’d just smoked a joint and was high as hell when Danny starts shooting. I panicked when the shots went off and I hopped out the car. The car took off, and I was stuck there like a damn fool.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. “You didn’t try to get back in?”

“Nah, man. They were gone, and I freaked out. I didn’t want to stick around a crime scene, so I ran. Ended up at the Public Garden trying to blend in, but it’s October so I’m sat there freezing my ass off. Eventually, I had to leave, but cops were swarming everywhere and I’m still high as fuck so of course, I run into them.”

I laughed a little at the irony, but it quickly faded when he said, “They nailed me for carrying more than the legal amount of weed and suspicion of selling. And there’s already whispers about me being involved in the shooting. If that gets out, I’m screwed.”

“Jesus, Nate. So, what happens now?” I asked, taking the joint back from him.

“I’ve got until Monday to figure things out. That’s when my court appearance is.” Nate said, leaning back in his chair as though he wasn’t too worried.

I took a deep breath. “So, less than 48 hours?”

He nodded, eyes half lidded as the weed hit him. “Yeah, but my record’s clean. It’s the first time I’ve ever been caught with anything, so I should get off light. Worst case? A fine and some community service. I doubt they’ll throw me in jail.”

I passed the joint back to him. “And they don’t have anything solid linking you to the hit?”

“Not yet, I mean from what I remember no one else was around.” he said, exhaling smoke. “But you know how it is. If they start digging, anything could come up.”

I sat there, processing everything. Nate was right, he might be fine, but there was always the chance the cops would sniff out something worse. “You want me to do anything?”

“Yeah, actually” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m supposed to do a run in Roxbury tomorrow, but with the heat on me, I need to lay low. Can you cover it?”

I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Nate nodded, looking relieved. He gave me the address, and I pulled out my phone to type it into my notes app. As I did, I noticed a drop down notification that made me freeze.

“@y/ny/l/n2 liked your photo.”

I blinked, staring at the screen. Y/n Y/l/n? It had been years since I’d heard that name. Curious, I clicked the notification, but by the time the app loaded, it was gone. There was no mention of her like, no new activity on the post. Weird.

Nate noticed I was distracted. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just.. an old name popped up,” I said, pocketing my phone.

“Old girl?” he teased, a grin forming on his face.

“Something like that” I muttered, still thinking about Y/n. I hadn’t seen or talked to her in years, but I couldn’t deny that her name stirred something in me. We had a brief thing back in 2018, nothing too serious, but I always had a soft spot for her.

Nate eventually decided to head home, needing some rest after his long night in the station. I waved him off, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Y/n. What was she up to these days? Was she still in Boston? Why did she like my post after all this time? What made her look at my Instagram?

That night, I went over everything for the run tomorrow, making sure I had everything in place. But no matter how much I tried to focus, I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n.

She was one of those girls who left a mark on you, no matter how brief things had been. And even though it had been years, I couldn’t help but wonder what seeing her again might be like.

Monday came faster than I expected, and I found myself standing outside the Boston Municipal Court with Nate. He looked calm, or at least as calm as he could be given the situation. But I knew better. Nate always tried to play it cool, even when he was freaking out on the inside.

We hadn’t talked much since Saturday, and I could tell the nerves were starting to hit him now. His foot tapped restlessly on the courthouse steps as we waited for his case to be called. The morning air was crisp, the fall chill creeping in, and it wasn’t helping either of us settle.

“You’ll be fine” I muttered, trying to reassure him.

He gave me a tight smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so. Just gotta get through this.”

When they finally called Nate’s name, we both stood, making our way inside. The courtroom was filled with the usual mix of people – lawyers, family members, defendants. Everyone there for one reason or another, all waiting for their fate to be decided. As much as Nate tried to shrug it off, this was serious. The rumors about the hit on Charles Street were swirling, and we both knew if they got any real evidence, he was screwed.

Nate’s lawyer made a decent argument – first-time offense, clean record, no solid evidence tying him to anything worse than possession. They dragged it out longer than I thought they would, but in the end, the judge gave his ruling.

“A charitable donation of $2,000 and 50 hours of community service” the judge announced, his voice echoing through the courtroom. “Additionally, Mr. Doe, you are expected to refrain from any drug-related activities for the next 12 months. Any violation of this order will result in harsher consequences.”

The words were like a weight being lifted off Nate’s shoulders. He was let off easy. I knew he’d be able to pay the fine without blinking, and the community service? It was nothing. But the whole “refrain from drug-related activities” part? That was funny. We both knew that wasn’t happening. Nate just had to make sure he didn’t get caught.

As soon as the court was adjourned, I felt the tension drain out of me. Nate’s future was safe, for now. I clapped him on the back as we left the courtroom. “See? Not so bad.”

Nate grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, man, I guess I got lucky.”

But even though things had turned out okay, I needed to get out of there. The courtroom felt too small, too confined. I needed air, space to think, and to breathe. I left as fast as I could, practically jogging out of the courthouse doors and into the cool October breeze. It hit me like a wave, and I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head.

That’s when I saw her.

The most strikingly beautiful girl I’d seen in years. A face that was hard to forget. Something in my chest tightened as I watched her walk across the courtyard, almost in slow motion. She was looking down at her phone, completely unaware of my presence.

And then it hit me. I knew that girl.

Wait–Y/n?

The same Y/n I hadn’t seen since 2018. The same Y/n who had been on my mind all weekend after that weird Instagram notification.

My feet were frozen in place, and for a second, I felt like time had stopped. There she was, standing just a few feet away, as if fate had decided to throw us back together after all these years.

Y/n.

What the hell were the odds?

I didn’t know if I should walk up to her or just keep my distance, but before I could make a decision, she looked up from her phone and our eyes locked. My heart skipped a beat.

There was no avoiding it now.

Y/n’s Pov

"Y/n?" His voice was deeper than I remembered, smooth yet surprised.

I blinked, still in awe of how good looking he still was. He had that same disheveled charm, the messy brown hair, sharp jawline, and those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through me. Only now, he was taller, broader. He had grown into himself, and it was impossible to ignore.

"Chris" I breathed, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "Wow, it’s been a while."

"It really has" he said with that signature smirk of his. "It’s nice to see you. You look great."

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Thanks. You too."

We stood there for a moment, just taking each other in. It was surreal, seeing him after all these years. I didn’t even know what to say or where to start.

"So.. what are you doing here?" I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nate got into a bit of trouble, as you probably saw in there. I’m just here to support him."

"Right" I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around everything. Chris and Nate, in court. A few years ago, I never would’ve pictured it, well maybe Nate but not so much Chris.

"How’s life treating you?" he said, eyes scanning me in that way that made my heart flutter. 

"It’s good, actually. Just finishing up a big project for college. Still getting used to all the work, but I like it."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "I’m glad to hear it. You always had your head on straight."

Before I could respond, Nate appeared, walking up to us with his usual nonchalance. He looked at Chris first, then at me, a flicker of recognition passing across his face.

"I’ll wait for you in the car, man" Nate said, slapping Chris on the back before giving me a nod. "Nice seeing you."

I returned the gesture, watching as Nate sauntered off. It was so strange, seeing both of them like this. Nate barely glanced back, disappearing down the steps toward the parking lot. My eyes flicked back to Chris, who was still watching me with that familiar intensity.

"We should hang out sometime" he said, almost casually, but there was something more to it.

My stomach did a flip. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Chris smiled, a genuine one that sent my pulse racing again. "You’re still living in Beacon Hill, right?"

I shook my head. "No, we moved once I started college. My parents wanted a bigger house in a quieter area, so we’re out in Brookline now."

He nodded, while giving me a soft smirk. "That’s cool. I’ve still got you on Instagram. I’ll shoot you a message, and we can figure something out."

The casual mention of Instagram made my face burn. He definitely saw the notification. I could feel the heat rising up my neck. But if he knew, he didn’t say anything. He just gave me that same charming smile, one that felt all too familiar.

"Yeah, sounds good" I mumbled, trying to keep my cool.

With one last glance, he gave me a quick nod before turning to leave. I watched as he walked away, feeling the blood rush to my face. The way he moved, the effortless confidence — it all hit me at once.

Chris was back in my life, just like that. And somehow, it felt like things were about to get a lot more complicated.

a/n: first chris povvvv

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69

[burningcheese-merchant]

Can you do a Yan! Burning Spice x Golden Cheese one-shot?

It's okay if you don't want to.

I was going to save this for a later date (and also direct you to my fics on AO3, there's plenty of Yandere Spice in those lol)... BUT SINCE DEVSISTERS DECIDED TO JUST GO AHEAD AND DUMP SOME QUALITY MATERIAL INTO MY LAP, I'LL TAKE THE COSMIC HINT AND DO IT TODAY! This one's for you, Anon! You can thank that extremely suspicious trailer for this!

"Mine Forever More" - BurningCheese Short Story #5

WARNING: This is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice, with Obsessive, Possessive, Yandere-esque Burning Spice. This is not like the other wholesome shorts with the budding romance and cute bickering, Burning Spice is a sick and dangerous man in this one. I politely demand that only adults read this one, please and thank you.

Cold... Why is it cold...? Cold and damp... Where...?

Both light and shadow flickered and danced across Golden Cheese's vision as she struggled to remain conscious. She was... being carried. Someone had peeled her off of the ground, plucked her from the blood-soaked dirt in which she lay beaten and broken, and cradled her in their arms as they ventured away from the cliff and off... somewhere. Somewhere... dark. Dark and cold and damp. A far cry from what she'd come to understand this strange place to be.

Someone... No. She knew who it was. She recognized the strong chest her head was being held against. The thick, powerful, tattooed arms enveloping her body, holding her close to his own. Though she couldn't see his face, she nevertheless sensed his fiery eyes staring down at her. Devouring her. Swallowing her whole.

"You disappoint me, little thief," Burning Spice told her. He spoke quietly, with chilling calm; his words were meant for her and no one else. "I expected better from you."

She did not respond. She wouldn't, even if she could. Even if that wretched taste of iron didn't fill her mouth so completely and the skin and flesh of her back weren't on fire.

"I waited for this. For you. For such a long time... You are not weak. You know this, and so do I. Destiny finally arrives for us both... and you choose to turn it away. You devastate me, little thief. Truly."

There was less vitriol in his voice than she imagined there would be. From screaming bloody murder right into her face as she dangled from a cliff, to... murmuring to her with such... disappointment, for lack of a better term. Sadness, even, if she dared to read into it any further. Perhaps she'd underestimated his... investment in their duel, after all.

"You're lucky..." he told her. "You are very lucky I care for you. You were wise to have stolen my heart as well as my Soul Jam all those eons ago. I would have drawn and quartered you otherwise."

"Care... for me?" Her voice came as a pained rasp, rising from an aching throat and forcing itself through bloodied lips. "Stolen... your... what...?"

"Of course I do," Burning Spice said - so simply, as if it was a fundamental truth of the world. "Would I have dedicated so much of myself to you if I did not? To hunting you? To our battle? Do you think you would be here now, safe in my arms as I carry you to your shelter, if I did not care for you?"

"Shelter...?"

At the cost of a worsened migraine, Golden Cheese opened her eyes wider and focused, scanning her surroundings the best she could. Torches hanging on the walls - the only true sources of light, as far as she could tell. A long, dark corridor. Walls of cool, jagged rock, all dyed deep blues and purples and reds. Dark. Cold. Damp.

A cave... No. Worse. A dungeon.

"Of course," Burning Spice said again. "It wouldn't do to leave you by the cliff, now would it?"

"But-" She coughed harshly. Little droplets of blood splattered onto Burning Spice's chest. She felt him tense instantly, his grip on her tightening. He held her up higher, bringer her head closer to his face... and she felt him lean down and... nuzzle his face into her hair...?

"Hush," he murmured. "We're almost there."

She did not hush. "Why..." Another harsh cough. Another tight, instinctive squeeze that accidentally (or was it?) agitated her aching wounds. Something wet and surprisingly soft pressing into her forehead. A gesture she knew of, one meant to be comforting... but how could he give this to her? Why?

"W-why... why didn't you kill me?" she finally managed to get out. "I don't... understand... Not... like you."

"'Not like you'? You claim to know me so well, pretty bird? I'm flattered." She could hear the teasing smile he wore as he spoke. It made her head ache more. "But if that was true, then you would know why I didn't kill you."

She shook her head weakly. He chuckled.

"What would I get out of killing my beloved?" he told her. "You are the woman I've been waiting for. It was you and your image that kept me alive and sane in that prison. That unspoken promise of a great duel, a struggle for power between me and my other half... I am sorely disappointed in your embarrassing loss, my little thief, but not even that is enough to make me want to kill you."

Beloved? Other half? What in the world?

"No... I simply want you, little thief. I wanted our battle. I wanted your eventual defeat. I wanted my Soul Jam... but I want you, too. Desperately."

He was smiling at her. Grinning. Sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. A starving predator, ogling his captured prey.

"I hunger for you, Golden Cheese," he whispered to her. "I craved you from the moment I laid my eyes upon this pretty face of yours. I waited ages for this moment... for the day we could be together at last." He brought a hand to her pretty face, caressing her cheek with startling gentleness. "And you look so beautiful," he purred. "So stunning, even like this... I can see why they called you 'Your Radiance'."

The words 'Your Radiance' made her suddenly jerk up, eyes wide. "M-my treasures," she stuttered. "My kingdom, my- my p-people- I- I must-"

"Ah ah." The loving hand on her cheek quickly morphed into a punishing one, reaching up and yanking hard on her hair, earning Burning Spice a wince and a soft cry of pain. "No more of that," he growled. "No more of them. No more of your so-called treasures. They're gone. Crumbled to dust. It's time you make peace with that, little bird."

"N-no," she said, turning her head just enough to be able to shoot him a weak glare. "Nonsense. They... they're here. They're mine. I... I'll never let you..."

She paused. Suddenly, her eyes widened again. "Smoked Cheese," she said, her face now frantic. "W-where is he? What did you do- mmph!"

Now that hand was clasped over her mouth, silencing her. Squeezing her face, digging its sharp nails into her cheeks.

"Be quiet," Burning Spice hissed at her. "Your precious little pet is following along behind us, chained up by the spice warriors."

He saw her gaze soften. Felt her shoulders sag, if only the slightest bit. She was relieved.

He hated it.

"Why do you still cling to your little possessions?" he asked. "To these worthless creatures? Those hero friends of yours, where are they now? Where were they, when I took your wings from you? Where were they when your precious kingdom fell? Hm?"

She couldn't answer; not with that large hand still covering her mouth. But the pain and sorrow that briefly flashed in her eyes was answer enough for him.

"I am here," he told her. "I have always been here. Through our Soul Jam in the past, and now standing beside you in the present. In the aftermath of your near-death. Is Smoked Cheese cradling you in his arms while you can't stand on your own? Is Smoked Cheese graciously taking you into his house and home? Is Smoked Cheese willing to look past this act of grand larceny and keep you by his side, for he's come to value you just as much as what you stole from him?"

The visceral hatred that dripped from Smoked Cheese's name made her wince. She tried to lift her head again, aiming to peek over Burning Spice's shoulder and at her old friend - but that hand forced her head back down the moment she did so.

"I will make you see," Burning Spice said. "You're a clever woman. You will understand eventually. None of this matters. None of it! My way is the only way that's fair. That's interesting! You will see it, when I raze this miserable world to the ground."

He stopped walking. He finally pulled his hand away, letting her suck in a breath. The air tasted slightly less stale in this spot. A pale light shone in the corner of her eye- from a hole in the ceiling far above, she eventually saw.

This one beam of light, trapped behind thick, iron bars.

Burning Spice stepped aside and allowed the soldiers behind him to take his place before the cell door. It was open with the swift insertion of a key; the loud, shrill screech that came as it scraped along the ground rang in her ears. She saw Smoked Cheese - hurt, but still alive - being ushered into the cell and forced to the ground wordlessly. His eyes were downcast, his mouth set in a deep, tired frown.

"You look displeased," Burning Spice cooed. "I'm well aware of your high standards, greedy bird, but this nest will have to do for now."

She shot another glare at him. Stronger than the last. Had the sight of her friend invigorated her?

"Don't fret, though," he continued. The corners of his lips curled into a sultry, sinister smile. "It won't always be this way."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. What he said next nearly stopped her heart.

"When you recover," he whispered, "I'll bring you to my bed."

So hard and frantic was the roar of her pulse in her ears that she hardly even registered when Burning Spice commanded the soldiers to leave. They did so with a bow; and as they disappeared into the shadows, Burning Spice stepped into the cell and knelt down, holding Golden Cheese in his lap.

"Look at me. Hear my words."

Against her better judgment, she did just that.

"When I'm done with you," he said, "I will wipe everything you ever held dear off the face of the earth."

At this, she tensed up (how enticing to his senses it was, to feel her muscles clench in his grasp). She gave him the harshest look she could muster - and he let her do so, offering a look of smug endearment in return.

"You... will not crush MY treasures," she spat out.

He chuckled. "We'll see about that." Then he leaned down and crushed their lips together.

Burning Spice heard a sharp gasp off somewhere beside him; he looked up and saw Smoked Cheese watching them, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Frozen in place, powerless to save his beloved queen. With or without the chains binding him.

Good.

The corners of Burning Spice's mouth once again curled into a dark smile, and he stared right back at the hooded prisoner as he deepened his and Golden Cheese's kiss. The only resistance she offered came in the form of nails digging into his arm and a gasp as he lapped up the blood on her lips and forced his tongue past them, into her warm, sweet mouth. She tasted delicious. Just as he always knew she would.

When he eventually pulled back, a thin rope of bloody saliva still tethered his tongue to hers. How he hated seeing it break when he put enough distance between them... but it was alright. There will be more opportunities. They had so much lost time to make up for, after all.

"Consider that my payment for allowing this worm to live," he said to her, gesturing dismissively at Smoked Cheese. "And know that I will keep tally of every single day that he continues to do so, and celebrate when he no longer does."

At last, he laid her onto the ground. Slowly. Gently. His final act of mercy on her. On his beaten, broken, beloved Soul Jam thief.

"Sleep well, birdie," he said as he rose to his feet. With a quick heel-turn, he was out of the cell and slamming the door shut. Back to the darkness he returned, out of sight of them both.

"Your Majesty!" Smoked Cheese called to her frantically, finally regaining some of his dignity and willpower and rushing towards her. He knelt down beside her, trembling hands hovering just above her shoulders. "Your Majesty, speak to me!"

She did not. She was beginning to struggle to even parse his words. Exhaustion was taking hold of her at long last.

"What was that?! Why- why did he do that to you?! What nonsense is all of this?!"

She used the last of her strength to grasp at her headdress - at her Soul Jam. Gone. The headdress felt dull and cold. The socket was long empty. When had Burning Spice taken it? How could she have not noticed?

"Your Majesty, you must stay awake. We need to plan our escape. The Beast has gotten hold of the Soul Jam, we must take it back immediately!"

The room looked foggy. Smoked Cheese's features blurred. The light shining down on them began to dim.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty! Golden Cheese!"

The pain and exhaustion became too much, and Golden Cheese's eyes closed, her mind giving way to dizzying blackness.

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

Burning Spice threatened to kill Golden Cheese in front of him if Smoked Cheese made the slightest noise while they journeyed to the prison cell. He was bluffing, of course; he'd never allow his precious golden thief to die. But Smoked Cheese didn't know that. Nor did he need to.

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: Miscellaneous questions about lore and art!

Tried to address some of the shorter ones, thank you everyone as always for the endless patience as I struggle to keep up with my inbox ☠️

On the upside, found a few that went into my "future art prompt" folder ;)

As someone who prefers animals who roam and largely take care of themselves, only coming around to ask for a pet, a cuddle or a treat when they very well want to - cats would be perfect for him.

Thank you! I'm glad you like her. There's plenty of Orin in the horizon, it's unfortunate that I can only draw so fast 😂

Lacking

Thank you so much for giving it a shot! And I very much understand that personal policy LOL

Hopefully between life, art, and plain occasional laziness we will both live long enough to see it finished 😂 at least the bulk of it is set!

And I'm glad you enjoy my writing! Always a pleasant surprise to hear that considering that I have no idea what I'm doing. But I do constantly try to improve it!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

Hmm I hadn't considered it, but you never know!

We all know the answer to that already

I really don't think there is DU drow without the DU part. It's a pivotal aspect of his development not only biologically but in regards to all that happened in his life that eventually led him to be the way he is 🤷‍♂️ Like, his name itself is kind of a joke, he really isn't much of a drow to begin with!

His size, features, strength, it's all due to being a Bhaalspawn, and not a matter of winning (or losing, depending of how you look at it) the genetic lottery. Without it, he'd just be some forgettable Jaluk.

Thank you both so much!

I'm surprised about how often I get this question. He does, but he doesn't react to fear conventionally, he just buries it, powers through, or fuels his anger with it. This ask isn't about fears, but I think it applies better here than any summary or bullet-list I could type out. Feel free to draw your own conclusions!

Thank you so much!! And I'm also sorry to anyone who's had a similar experience, because I've certainly gotten a couple of messages about it by now 😂😂😂 listen If I could make him real I would!

It depends! Usually, anywhere between 1-3 days.

(Right now I'm in the process of dropping the smokes and because of that it's become more of a 5 day process, though. Send aid in the form of nicotine patches I Beg)

What do you mean, don't YOU dress like that???

Astarion is far more Bowie to me, personally, but something to think about 🤔

The only sword I've drawn him wielding more than once is the Balduran's Giantslayer from the game itself! Otherwise, they've just been random designs I made up on the spot.

Hello!

I'm pretty positive that by the time Minthara was invited up to be enthralled, the Dark Urge had already been shipped off under Kressa's care - but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

Either way, I don't really read too much into Minthara's and Orin's "relationship" myself, seems like a pretty clear cut victim/tormentor situation, which Orin and DU drow had plenty of prior.

[mandalhoerian]

sacrosanct | leon kennedy x reader | 5 (finale)

< PREVIOUS

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Leon, a paladin of the temple who became a disillusioned oathbreaker, returns from years of war with a noble title and shattered faith. Once devoted to the Saintess who healed him, Leon's admiration has twisted into repressed desire—feelings he could never express, tainted by guilt and shame. Now a celebrated hero, he’s drawn back not to the kingdom’s praises, but to the chance of one last glimpse of you to move on with his life.

The god he abandoned has other plans for him.

word count: 25K of pure smut

warnings:. here we go... sexual roleplay, submissive leon, light dom/sub, masturbation, kinda body worship, catharsis through sex, role reversal and we shift to soft dom leon, sex education, body exploration, cunnilingus, fingering, intercrural sex, degradation kink, leon tweaks again and goes full dom, vaginal orgasm training, corruption kink, marking kink, edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia, possesive sex, unprotected sex, coming inside. what else? and ooc and fluff. yay!

author's note: we are at the end of my very first multi-chaptered xreader work, thank you so much for bearing with me while i was tormented by becoming what i hated the most and constantly crying over having to bump up the chapter count. to think this was supposed to be a two-shot... special thanks goes to @chesue00 for starting this madness. this plot and pre-written snippets already existed inspired by her art before i reached out to her, but i still can't believe i've come this far since publishing this on september 14th... insane. this is what dopamine and a little attention does to a girl 😭 please look forward to the masterlist because i have to make one now with how long this is....

🌀 READ ON AO3 !

It's a heady feeling, having this strong, powerful man kneeling before you, his muscular body on display for you, undivided attention fixed on yours with a mixture of desire and trepidation. You run a hand through his hair, enjoying the silky softness of it despite being wet, and he leans into your touch, glazed eyes going out of focus for a moment. Your own heart speeds up at how his mouth falls open, panting, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them glistening invitingly.

It dawns on you that you don't know what you're doing right now. Are you trying to prove a point, or are you just indulging in your own fantasy? Is it okay to do this to Leon? You've had many men on their knees in a completely different context devoid of this kind of intimacy, whether it be for healing, blessing, or for sineating. All for the sake of helping them, with the holy light of Ethelion running through your veins, flowing to the believers. This isn't anything like that, but it can be. You can make this a blessing, for him to heal from the self-loathing he seems to be suffering from. That is, if he'll let you help him...

"Are you okay with this?" you ask, and he nods immediately, eagerly.

"Yes," he breathes, his gaze fixed on your face, drinking in every detail, committing them to memory as though it's the most precious gift he's ever been given, even though you haven't even started doing anything. Leon's gaze flickers down to your towel-covered lap and back up to yours.

"You can say no anytime you want," you remind him gently, stroking his hair once more, and he leans into your touch again, this time with a contented sigh. His eyelids flutter shut and open again languidly as if in slow motion, and when he looks at you, there is something different about him. The tension seems to have melted away, leaving behind a man who seems... almost peaceful? It's a startling contrast from earlier, when he seemed like a caged animal ready to lash out at anything within reach, and it makes your heart ache unexpectedly at how beautiful he looks like this.

"I want to do this," he says firmly, no trace of hesitation or doubt evident anywhere within those oceanic depths staring straight into yours without wavering even once. "Please."

"Okay," you reply, nodding in agreement, because how can you deny him this when he asks so sweetly? You tug at his shirt lightly. "Then take this off, Sir Leon."

His fingers move deftly over his shirt's buttons, undoing them one by one until he shrugs it off his broad shoulders easily enough before letting it fall to the floor behind him.

Your gaze trails over every ridge and dip on his bare torso, taking in all the marks left behind after years of battles fought against foes both seen and unseen by others besides himself; some faint silver lines barely noticeable beneath tanned complexion while others remain angry red welts raised thickly above otherwise unblemished flesh. There are several long slashes across his abdomen that must have been painful when received judging by how jagged their edges are where they healed incorrectly. A particularly nasty gash just below his collarbone stands out amongst the rest due to its length stretching almost entirely around the side of his ribcage, and disappearing beneath his arm. Another smaller but deeper cut runs along his hip bone leading downward towards his navel area.

He hasn't received the temple's healing because of his oathbreaker status.

It gives you an idea.

Since he's comfortable within the bubble of kneeling before you as the saintess and reverting back to the holy paladin that he was, then you'll play along and offer him a 'blessing'.

You lean forward, your breath ghosting over the scar on his collarbone, and press a light kiss there. His skin is warm and salty, and you can feel his pulse pounding under your lips. "By the power blessed by Ethelion, I will heal you, his devout and faithful knight," you whisper against his skin, letting the holy words roll off your tongue.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your words, his entire body tensing beneath you. Then he relaxes again, his head tilting back just a tad as he gives himself over to your touch.

Kissing seems to have pleased him, but your vantage point on the bed isn't exactly ideal to reach the rest of his body. "On the bed," you order him softly. "Lay on your back."

He does so immediately, scrambling up onto the bed and settling himself on the center of the mattress. He looks so vulnerable like this, spread out before you, and you can't help but marvel at the sight of him. You take a moment to drink it in—the way his muscles shift beneath his skin with every movement, the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes heavily through parted lips.

He looks up at you, and his gaze is full of longing and anticipation. You feel a rush of power go through you as you realize just how much control you have over him right now. It's intoxicating.

"Stay still, Sir Leon," you command. "My blessing won't work if you move." And then you're crawling onto the bed with him, straddling his thighs, feeling them tense beneath your legs at the contact. You can feel him hard and hot even through his pants and your towel, pressing insistently against you. The sensation sends a jolt straight to your core and leaves you aching for something more that you don't know the name of.

You trail the path of the previous wound you kiss with the tips of your fingers, featherlight touches that make him shiver. Then you lean down and kiss it again, letting your lips linger this time. He sucks in a shaky breath when your tongue flicks out to taste the salt on his skin.

Acting entirely on instinct to keep pleasing him, you move lower, trailing kisses along his shoulder, down his chest, stopping to lick and suck at his nipples. His hands fist in the sheets as he struggles to keep them still, his breathing becoming increasingly erratic.

You move lower still, tracing the lines of his abs with your tongue, dipping into the indentations between each one. He moans softly when you nip at the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his pants. His hips jerk upward, seeking friction against yours, and you have to bite back a moan of your own at the feeling.

"Saintess," he whispers desperately, his hands flexing in their grip on the sheets like he wants nothing more than to touch you but is holding himself back somehow.

"Stay still, my paladin. My blessing isn't finished," you remind him, and he falls silent, biting his bottom lip hard enough that it looks painful. He throws his head back, giving you a sensual look at his throat and the underside of his chin.

You can kiss there as well, you realize, and do so, kissing his chin and jaw, then moving down the column of his throat until you reach the hollow where it meets his collarbones again. His pulse flutters wildly under your ministrations as you continue exploring every inch of him within reach like this: licking here and sucking there, nibbling gently along the way. Your hand rests flat on his pectorals and stomach alternatively, feeling how rock-solid every muscle is underneath his smooth, somewhat sweaty skin, and reveling on the occasional shudders rippling through his body that he can't suppress.

He gasps and whines when you pay extra attention to one spot or another that seems to be especially sensitive or ticklish for him, and his reactions encourage you further. You're enjoying every second of this—exploring his body like a map only you have access to right now—learning what makes him squirm beneath you and what gets those interesting little noises he's holding back loose.

By the time you reach his navel again, he's panting hard enough that he's practically wheezing with every exhale, his entire body trembling finely like a plucked bowstring being tuned tighter than ever before. And yet somehow he manages to remain motionless throughout it all except for the occasional twitch or jerk here and there.

You spend several long moments lavishing attention on his abdomen area alone as you're planning how to go along with this. Your knowledge on sexual matters is scarce since the church was always very particular in what kind of information they allowed the Saintess to access, and the directions given for your wedding night consisted of laying back and letting Leon do his duty on you. Which ended up being useless, and now you have to navigate this on your own. It's thrilling and scary at the same time, but you're determined to see this through.

You decide to try something daring then: sliding down between his legs until you're kneeling on either side of them instead. This puts you face-to-face—or rather face-to-crotch—with his erection straining against his pants. It's hot even through layers of fabric separating it from your skin, and you find yourself staring at it curiously while trying not to think about its size too much before your nerves fail you completely.

"Saintess," he says again hoarsely after what feels like forever spent just staring at him without really doing anything else besides hesitating. There's an unspoken question hanging in the air between the two of you—a silent request for permission perhaps?—but he doesn't ask outright and neither do you answer because truthfully speaking neither of you know what exactly needs to happen next either. "May I remove these?" he pleads, tugging on the waistband of said pants ever so slightly, hinting on what he wants to do next.

It's strange how much more sexual hearing him calling you that title has become when it used to sound so reverent, and now it almost sounds dirty somehow. You find that you like it quite a lot.

Getting an idea to teach yourself a thing or two going forward, you sit back on your heels, careful not to let your towel ride up too far, and nod. "I want you to show me how you please yourself," you order, watching him with rapt attention, your face flushing at your own boldness, and at the fact that you're about to see a man naked and aroused for the first time in your life. "I will bless your body, but I need to see it first."

He lets out a shivering breath as if he'd been holding it in for ages before finally moving again. He lifts his hips off the mattress enough to push his trousers down over them, exposing himself fully before you—his cock standing proud and tall amidst a nest of dark curls at its base—and you can't help but admire how beautiful he looks like this: all long limbs splayed across rumpled bed sheets, skin stretched tautly over chiseled muscle, broad shoulders flexing beneath your gaze...

But then your attention zeroes in on his cock, and your previous thought about its size comes back tenfold as you stare wide-eyed and wonderstruck at its length jutting upwards towards his stomach, thick veins running along its shaft disappearing beneath smooth skin covering its tip almost completely except for a small slit where a bead of clear liquid glistens invitingly under candlelight. You've seen illustrations of male genitalia during your anatomy studies, but those were all very clinical and sterile-looking. This is anything but clinical or sterile; this is raw and primal and utterly fascinating.

His hand wraps around its girth tentatively at first—almost shyly almost—as though unsure whether he should touch himself like this with someone else present even if they asked him explicitly beforehand. You reach forward and place your hand on the head of his cock, the little bead of liquid smearing onto your palm. It's slick and warm against your skin, and you can't stop yourself from rubbing it in circles over his heated flesh experimentally, marveling at its velvety texture, until he sucks in a sharp breath and his hips buck forward seemingly of their own accord.

You immediately withdraw, not wanting to get ahead of yourself and ruin everything by rushing things. "Confess, Sir Leon. You'll only be blessed if you do. Do you imagine anything at all when you're usually doing this to yourself?"

"I–I think about you," he blurts softly between short breaths, his hand gripping tighter around his cock as he begins slowly moving it up and down its length, hissing through his teeth when his palm brushes past the head, which seems to be the sensitive part. "I've dreamt about this ever since the day I met you, Saintess..."

"And what happens in these dreams?" you press further, your curiosity getting the better of you despite knowing full well that you shouldn't pry too much into someone else's private thoughts like this. But it feels so good to hear him talk like this—to know that he desires you even half as much as you desire him—that you just can't bring yourself to stop him from continuing any further.

"In some... I worship you, body and soul," he groans, his hand starting to pick up speed as he strokes himself faster, his hips rising to meet each downward stroke halfway, his breathing becoming ragged and shallow as he speaks, his words coming out in short bursts interspersed with low grunts and hisses of pleasure, "I lick your nethers until you cry from pleasure, and when you can't handle it any longer, I fill you up."

The mental image of him between your legs makes you throb between them, and you squirm unconsciously, pressing your legs together.

To reward him, you lay your hands on his thighs, marveling at how they tense and flex beneath your palms, before sliding up to his hips and then settling on his lower abdomen. You splay your fingers across his stomach and push down, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your touch as he thrust upwards into his fist again. It's a promise you'll do more if he keeps talking.

"In others, you're still back at the temple, and... I break my vows, and I take you to a secluded corner, and have my way with you," he continues, his free hand reaching down to cradle yours gently against his skin while the other keeps pumping steadily away at, and you closely pay attention to how he pleases himself. "Sometimes I dream of taking you in the gardens, sometimes in the baths, and sometimes even at the altar... I dream that you're begging for me, and I have to keep quiet because if anyone hears us... we'll be punished. So I kiss you to muffle your cries."

You swallow hard at the thought of him kissing you like that, imagining what it would feel like to have him pressing his lips against yours like this, tasting him on your tongue as he ravages you completely...

"Do you... do you dream of me doing that to you now, Sir Leon?" you manage to croak out after a few moments spent lost in thought.

He lets out another shuddering breath as his hand slows down considerably until it's barely moving anymore, his cock twitching visibly beneath his grip, his face flushed with desire as he stares up at you from underneath long lashes damp with sweat. His mouth falls open just a touch, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip before disappearing back inside again, and he nods wordlessly.

You lay down on the mattress beside him, and lean in close to him until you can smell the scent of his arousal mixed with his natural musk filling your nostrils—it smells earthy and spicy like freshly cut grass after rain mingling with something else entirely unique to him alone—and you breathe it in deeply before letting it fill your lungs entirely. Then you lean even closer still until your forehead rests lightly atop his shoulder, your nose grazing lightly across his collarbone as you inhale again deeply, taking in more of his scent as though trying to commit it permanently within memory.

"Let me bless you with that, then," you whisper in his ear, and then press your own lips to his.

It's soft and tentative at first—a simple sweep of skin upon skin—but when he doesn't pull away immediately, you press harder, doing whatever feels right; nibbling at his lower lip and sucking it between your teeth, licking along the seam where his lips meet, tasting him fully, feeling him shiver beneath your touch as he moans into your mouth, his hips jerking upwards into his hand once again as he resumes stroking himself faster than ever before.

Remembering that the head was the sensitive part and he liked you touching there, you reach down and cup it in your palm, rubbing it in circular motions, and he groans louder this time, his cock throbbing hard against your fingers, more liquid coming out to slicken the movement.

Something slimy slips into your mouth, and it takes a moment for you to realize that it's his tongue invading past your lips and teeth, seeking entrance further within. It feels strange—odd but not unpleasant—to have another person's tongue exploring inside of you like this, and you find yourself responding instinctively to him taking the lead, opening up wider for him to delve deeper inside of you, meeting his every stroke with one of your own. You're completely inexperienced, but he doesn't seem to care, instead seeming to enjoy teaching you what he likes.

You're both panting heavily now, gasping for air every so often in between fervent kisses, the sounds of flesh against flesh growing louder and louder alongside the wet friction of his hand stroking furiously away at his cock and yours rubbing insistently atop it. He breaks off from the kiss with a guttural growl, throwing his head back against the pillows, exposing his neck which you immediately latch onto, kissing and nibbling along his jugular vein, feeling it pulse wildly beneath your lips, tasting salt on his skin as you suckle lightly there.

"Saintess!" he cries out desperately as his hips start jerking erratically beneath you, his hand pumping frantically faster than ever before, and you know he's close by the way his cock twitches violently within his grasp, his balls tightening up against his body as he approaches climax.

"Perfect, you're doing perfect," you coo, and completely losing yourself in how beautiful the sight of his head thrown back is, you take your free hand and wrap it around his throat, feeling his pulse quicken even further beneath your fingertips as he sucks in a sharp breath through flaring nostrils. You don't squeeze, just hug the sides of his muscular neck, but the effect it has on him is immediate and dramatic: his entire body stiffens up like a bowstring drawn taut, every muscle tensing rigidly beneath you.

"Release, and be blessed," you order, and with one final cry, he does exactly that. Thick ropes spurt forth from the tip of his cock and splatter across both your stomachs and the sheets beneath him, coating everything in their path with sticky white fluid. His hips keep thrusting upwards into his fist for several more seconds after the last spurt has been expelled from his cock, until finally, his body relaxes completely under yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath he draws in, his cock slowly beginning to soften within his grip.

You release his throat and press your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and enjoying the scent of his skin mingled with sweat, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath yours, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow down from its frantic pace earlier.

"Ethelion's grace be upon you, Sir Leon," you murmur against his neck, and you hear him exhale shakily beneath you as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him, curling around you as though trying to shield you from some unseen danger looming nearby. "I absolve you of your sins."

"Thank you, Saintess," he whispers hoarsely back at you after a few moments spent simply holding each other close like this, neither of you saying anything further aloud but rather communicating everything needed through actions instead of words. It feels nice being held like this—being sheltered within someone else's embrace—and it fills your heart with warmth knowing that he trusts you enough to let himself be vulnerable.

He shifts around underneath you, causing you to lift your head off his chest to check on him, thinking he's uncomfortable in the position you're in, but when you look up at his face, you find him staring intently back down at yours, his gaze soft yet intense all at once.

"Where did you learn all of that?" he asks quietly, an imperceptible, suspicious crinkle between his eyebrows. He’s almost searching for the answer in your face before you can give it to him.

"Learn what?" you ask, puzzled by his question. "I just followed your lead"

"You don't realize what you just did?" He frowns just a touch, looking concerned now instead of curious. "That was…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

"God no," he said quickly, shaking his head. "It was incredible. I've just never had anyone take control like that before. Especially not..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at your position.

"Oh," you reply, feeling somewhat embarrassed now that you realize your actions could have easily been misinterpreted as something more sinister than innocent exploration. You wonder if perhaps you crossed a line somewhere without realizing it earlier. "I hope I wasn't forcing you or anything..."

Leon's hand came up to cup your cheek. "You didn't overstep at all. I loved every second of it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat if you asked."

You smile shyly at him before placing a quick peck on his lips, causing him to hum contentedly, his hold around your waist tightening, pulling you closer toward him once again until there is hardly any space left between the two of you at all anymore.

"I'm glad then," you murmur softly against his mouth. "Because I think I liked doing it too."

But there's really this intense pressure between your legs and you think you have to use the chamber pot, so you squirm out of Leon's embrace to do just that. However, as soon as you get off the bed, a gush of liquid comes out of you, and you're terrified thinking that you just wet yourself in front of him. It's not that much to completely have soaked through the towel, and you're able to make it to the washroom without giving anything away to Leon.

You remove your towel and stare at the mess between your legs. But it isn't urine, since the liquid is clear and doesn't stink, and it's thicker, viscous almost. You come to the conclusion that if you did pee yourself then it would feel different than this does right now.

You clean yourself with water and a washcloth, and when you wipe between your legs, you feel that intense pressure again, and you have to sit down to wait to pee this time, but nothing comes out. You try pushing it out, but all that happens is a little bit more of that clear fluid. It's strange, and you're worried about it. You don't remember ever experiencing anything like it before and wonder if perhaps you hurt yourself during your earlier activities or caught a disease somehow, but nothing seems wrong with you otherwise, so you brush it aside for the moment, making a mental note to ask Lady Margaret for advice later when she arrives tomorrow morning. But for now, it's time to get back into bed and cuddle up with Leon again.

You wake up the next morning to find Leon's arm draped across your chest, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, and his body pressed up firmly against your back. It's warm and comforting, being held like this, and you can't help but enjoy the sensation of being surrounded by him like a protective cocoon.

His hand moves in a subtle manner, flicking over one of your nipples, and you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot straight through you from that simple contact alone, your thighs pressing together as a sudden heat blooms low in your belly. It feels good having his skin touch yours like this, making you want more of him touching even more places elsewhere on your body, especially after he had made his desire for you clear last night. He wants you, and that knowledge sends another thrill through you, leaving you feeling giddy and excited.

He lets out a soft groan behind you as he pulls you closer towards him until that want is pressed firmly up against your buttocks. You can tell he's already hard, his arousal evident even in his sleep, and you can't deny the effect that has on your own growing neediness that goes beyond wanting to touch him like that again. You remember how good it felt last night when you touched him, how much pleasure he gave himself while you watched him do so, and you find yourself wanting to experience that kind of pleasure firsthand now, too.

You've been told that the women don't experience it, that they have to endure it and that's why the temple made the act of coupling such a chore. But you know that itch between your legs isn't going anywhere anytime soon, that it was real yesterday as well, and it felt amazing when you got what little friction you could by moving around. You wonder how to alleviate this feeling without Leon's assistance. Surely there had to be a way to do it by yourself?

But as you try to move away from him to try and see how you can do it, he tightens his hold on you and buries his nose further into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. "Don't leave," he mumbles sleepily. His lips brush against the sensitive skin there as he speaks, causing you to shiver involuntarily at the sensation, and you feel his cock throb where it's nestled snugly between the cheeks of your ass.

"Good morning, Leon," you say quietly, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair, and you're rewarded by his cock pulsating again, his hips rolling forward against yours instinctively.

"Mmm..." he hums contentedly, nuzzling into your hand. "Morning." His other arm comes up to wrap around your waist and pull you even closer to him, his body seeming to mold perfectly around yours as though the two of you were made for each other. You can't help but sigh happily at the feeling of being held so intimately like this. It feels right somehow, natural even, and you find yourself wanting more of it, wanting to wake up every day like this, safe and secure in his embrace.

But the feeling of his hard shaft rubbing against your backside reminds you that there's something else you need right now, and that thought sends another shiver through you, the heat in your belly flaring brighter than before.

"Leon," you say softly, trying not to let too much of the neediness you're feeling seep into your tone, though you're sure he can feel the tension building inside of you anyway, especially with the way your hips keep twitching backward indiscernibly as though seeking out friction where there is none yet. "Can I ask you for something?"

"Anything," he replies instantly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "Anything at all."

You hesitate briefly before continuing. "Do you know if I can do to myself what you did yesterday?"

He goes completely still behind you, his entire body tensing as he processes what you've just said. Then he lets out a shaky breath, his grip on you loosening partly as rises on his elbow, leaning over to look down at you. His pupils are wide and dark with desire, his face flushed, and his breathing roughly controlled as he gazes into your own half-lidded ones.

"What?" he whispers hoarsely, his throat bobbing visibly as he swallows hard, his eyes darting everywhere on your face. You bite your bottom lip nervously before repeating yourself.

"I want to do what you did yesterday. To myself," you say slowly, carefully enunciating each word so he understands exactly what it is you're asking of him here. "Can I do that? Will it help this...?" You gesture vaguely towards your groin area, unsure how else to phrase it without sounding crude or indecent. "This itch?"

"Fuck."

Your eyebrows shoot all the way up to your hairline when you hear him cursing for the first time in your presence. He's always so respectful that the sudden change is quite jarring.

"Is everything okay?"

He drops his head back to your shoulder and groans quietly in frustration, burying his face into your hair. "You can't ask me things like that," he says in a pained tone.

"Why?" you ask, genuinely confused by his reaction. It seems perfectly reasonable to you given the situation at hand. "You were enjoying yourself, weren't you? I'd like to try it."

"Shit..." He lifts his head again and looks down at you, his expression serious and faintly exasperated. "That's called 'masturbation'. And you can do it. And yes, it will ease that 'itch' for you."

"Oh. That's a relief." You smile brightly at him. "Will you show me?"

"Saintess!"

"What?"

"It's broad daylight in the morning, you can't do this to me," he exclaims, his face reddening even more than it already is, and you can't help but giggle at how adorable he looks. You turn around to face him and reach out to cup his cheek, gently stroking your thumb across his cheekbone in an attempt to soothe him.

"I'm not trying to torture you," you assure him gently. "Just tell me how to do it and I'll leave you alone for a bit, alright? Please?"

"You play too much," he complains gruffly, but nevertheless leans into your touch, closing his dark-ringed eyelids and exhaling slowly. He seems calmer now, less frantic than he did earlier, though there's still a noticeable tension in his body. You wait patiently, watching the rise and fall of his bare chest under the blanket, listening to his heartbeat gradually slowing down from its earlier frantic pace. "Lay back."

You comply, settling comfortably atop the mattress, and he takes a moment to study you like that, lying naked beneath him, exposed and vulnerable yet somehow comfortable nonetheless. His gaze travels over every inch of your body, lingering here and there, essentially the same way you studied his last night. It's strangely arousing being observed so closely like this, and you find yourself trying to fend off your squirming under his scrutiny, wanting to cover yourself up somehow but resisting the urge to do so. Instead, you let him look his fill, your own cheeks warming in a blush as you return his stare through lidded eyes.

"Spread your legs," he eventually instructs. You hesitate briefly before obeying, parting your thighs slowly, the cool air of the room caressing your skin as it is exposed to the open space. Leon's breath hitches visibly at the sight, his pupils dilating further as he drinks you in.

This is way too embarrassing. Why did he get to lay perfectly horizontal on the bed yesterday while you're the one on display today? You almost want to ask him if you can switch roles and have him demonstrate it instead.

But it's not like you can take it back now. He's looking at you with such intensity that it makes you shiver, and you can feel the slickness between your legs increasing with each passing second. Your nipples are starting to stiffen and tingle, your breasts feeling fuller than usual, and there's a faint throbbing sensation deep in your pelvis, a need building up within you that demands attention and relief.

"Touch yourself," he orders quietly, his tone low and gravelly, his gaze never leaving yours even for a second. You hesitate once more before reaching down, tentatively running your fingertips along your inner thighs until they finally come into contact with your sex without quite knowing what to do next. "Explore."

"Explore?"

"You're discovering yourself. You have to know where everything is, so you know where to pay attention to the most."

"Everything?" you echo uncertainly. "There's more than one thing?"

"Saintess..." he moans in exasperation, his forehead dropping onto your inner thigh, and he shakes his head slowly, his hair tickling your skin.

"Sorry!" you apologize on the spot. "I just... don't understand."

He sighs again heavily, lifting his head to look at you again, his expression softening. "I'll guide you, okay?"

"Okay but why do you know more about me than I know about myself?"

"Because I've studied it. And I've imagined it a lot," he admits, blushing furiously at his confession, and you can't help but giggle again at how cute he looks like this.

"Oh? You've imagined my... this?" You gesture vaguely towards your groin. "A lot?"

Him looking up at you between your legs like that feels very strange. You're aware of how close his mouth is to you, and it's making the pressure in your belly increase exponentially. It's like there's a string connecting your heart and sex, and every time you look at Leon, that string is pulled tighter, and to what end, you have no idea. All you know is that you want it to keep happening, and you don't want it to ever stop.

"Less talking. Spread yourself open for me. Like this." He takes your wrist in his hand and guides two fingers towards your slit, spreading it apart gently to reveal all its hidden secrets, including the little bud of nerves hidden at its apex. It's so sensitive when air touches it that it's making your hips twitch and your back arch. "Do you see this?"

"Y—es," you stutter, trying your hardest to remain still as he continues guiding your fingers across your folds, teaching you about yourself and your body as he goes along.

"This is your clitoris," he says softly, pressing your fingers against it lightly and causing another shudder of pleasure to course through your entire being, "and it's very sensitive. You can rub it, tap it, flick it, or even suck on it."

"Suck?" You can't imagine yourself bending to that degree, one has to be especially flexible and you're not sure if you are. You've certainly never tried before. "How would I suck on this? There's no way I can bend like that..."

You see that he wants to laugh but presses his lips together at the last second so as not to offend you.

"I can do it for you," he says right after, his tone eager, his words coming out faster than normal, his pupils dilating visibly once again. "I mean... only if you want me to, of course."

You nod shyly, your face heating up considerably at the thought of what he's offering to do for you, and then he shifts lower on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. You instinctively try to close them but he gently pushes them apart again, keeping them open wide enough so he can fit comfortably without hindrance. His hot breath fans across your sensitive flesh, sending shivers up and down your spine, and you have to fight the instinctive urge to squeeze them shut again.

He's looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and the intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming, making you feel vulnerable yet strangely empowered at the same time.

He places a soft kiss directly on your clit and you gasp audibly, arching your back as a wave of pleasure washes over you, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you in an attempt to ground yourself.

He looks up at you again, his dark lashes lowered and fluttering, and then he leans forward and places another kiss on your clit before parting his lips and sucking it into his mouth.

The sensation of his tongue flickering over it is indescribable, and you moan softly as he begins licking it in earnest, alternating between slow, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, each one sending sparks of pure ecstasy that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the embarrassing noises you're making.

"No, don't do that," he protests after a few moments, pulling away from your sex briefly, and then he reaches up and takes your wrist in his hand and pulls it away from your face, "don't stifle your beautiful noises. I want to hear you moaning for me, Saintess. I want to know exactly how good I make you feel," he murmurs, and then resumes his task, his lips closing around your clit once more as he resumes his ministrations, his tongue flickering across it faster than before, the suction stronger as well.

"Le-on, this is... Too embarrassing," you whine, your entire body quivering as he continues pleasuring you, his mouth hot and wet against your most intimate parts.

"You'll get used to it," he says reassuringly, his tone gentle yet firm as he looks up at you again, mouth still wrapped around your clit so his words vibrate through it. He releases it with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to it momentarily, and smiles crookedly. "We're just getting started."

His hands come up to grip your hips, holding you steady as he continues to devour you with his mouth, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your buttocks, kneading them roughly, and you're not sure how much more of this you can handle.

You've never felt anything like this before, and you're not sure you want it to stop either, despite your protests, because the pleasure he's giving you right now is unlike anything you've ever experienced. You're completely lost to the sensations, your mind a haze of lust and desire as he continues to worship you with his tongue, his lips and teeth nipping and scraping across your clit and swollen folds, and you're pretty sure that if he were to keep this up, you would explode from the sheer intensity of it all.

He moves lower, his mouth leaving your clit and moving downwards towards your entrance, and he pauses there for a moment, his breath warm against your slit as he takes a deep breath, his nose pressed firmly into the folds, and he inhales deeply, his entire body shuddering violently. "You smell amazing," he breathes out reverently, fiercely as you squirm on the bed beneath him, the heat in your belly flaring up even brighter than ever.

"Please..." you beg him without knowing what you're asking for. It makes him look up at you with a strange light shining in his eyes, something at the opposite spectrum of the reverence you had seen in them last night, and the sight of it sends a thrill of excitement down your spine.

"Please what?" he prompts softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the skin of your inner thighs.

"Please... don't stop," you plead quietly, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you tightly.

"Okay," he agrees simply, lowering his head back down to press a kiss against your slit.

Then he plunges his tongue inside you and you cry out loud, your back arching as your hips buck upwards. You have to bite down on the noise, because you can't believe the sounds you're making, and you're not sure you want him to hear them, even if they're caused by the pleasure he's giving you. But he doesn't seem to care, too focused on his task, his tongue thrusting in and out of you, his fingers digging into your buttocks so hard that it will likely leave bruises later. You're not sure why but the idea of having his marks on your body sends a new wave of desire coursing through you and you can feel yourself gushing into his mouth.

"Leon," you moan, your fingers finding their way to his head and tangling themselves in his silky hair, "I—I need... I—"

He hums questioningly against your cunt and the vibrations make your hips jump, the coil within your belly tightening even more, and you're not sure how much longer you can last, your entire body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release, and you're pretty sure you're about to explode into a million pieces.

"I'm... I'm...," you pant breathlessly, unable to articulate the rest of the sentence properly.

He seems to understand something you don't, lowering the arm that's holding you down so the thumb of it can draw circles around your clit, and sliding the fingers of his other hand towards your entrance, circling it before pushing inside, causing you to gasp at the intrusion.

He pumps the digits in and out of you slowly at first, then faster, matching the rhythm of his tongue, and you can't help but moan loudly as the pressure builds within you, your muscles clenching around him as the pleasure becomes unbearable, and you can't hold back anymore, you're going to burst, you're going to burst, you're going to burst—

"Wait, please, wait, stop," you gasp, your hands pushing at his head weakly, and he pulls away from your sex instantly, looking up at you in concern. His chin is slick with your fluids and his lips swollen from his ministrations. He's breathing heavily, and in daylight, you can see how red from chest up he is.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks worriedly, his hands rubbing your inner thighs soothingly.

You shake your head, avoiding his eyes as you have to disappointingly say, "I have to use the chamber pot."

You're not sure if this is the right time to say this or not but it feels necessary given the circumstances, and you're afraid that if you don't speak up now, you'll regret it later.

He blinks owlishly, seemingly taken aback by your statement. "What?"

"I have to pee," you say, face burning furiously as you try to explain yourself further. "I don't think I'll be able to hold it any longer if you continue."

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression completely blank. Then suddenly he bursts out laughing, throwing his head back as his entire body shakes with mirth, his shoulders trembling as he struggles to contain himself, his laughter ringing out loudly in the quiet room.

You frown, feeling a bit offended. "Why are you laughing?!"

He wipes away the tears from his eyelashes with the back of his hand as he tries to compose himself, taking several deep breaths before he finally calms down enough to answer you. "I'm sorry, it's just that... Well, it's normal. It's not actually pee, and you don't have to worry about it leaking out or anything."

"It's not pee?"

"No. It's called orgasming, and it's completely normal," he assures you gently, his tone softening considerably. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I did too yesterday when you were touching me, remember? That white liquid?"

You nod, relieved to hear him confirm your suspicions, though still somewhat embarrassed by the fact that he knows what happened earlier. "Okay," you mumble shyly, covering your face with your hands, unable to look at him directly.

"Hey," he whispers, leaning forward until he can kiss each knuckle, and then he pulls your hand away from your face and kisses the tip of your nose. "It's okay. There's no need to feel ashamed of your own body."

You nod again, biting your lip nervously. "Okay."

"Can we continue now?" he asks, his tone hopeful. "I want to make you come."

"I've never... come before," you say, fiddling with the sheets between your fingers. "How would I even know if I did?"

"It's pretty unmistakable," he chuckles, and he kisses you softly then, his tongue darting into your mouth to taste yours, and he moans against your lips as you reciprocate the action eagerly, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

The kiss lasts longer than either of you intended, and by the time he pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed from exertion, the need within you growing stronger than ever, and you can't wait any longer; you want him to make you come, and you want him to do it now.

"Would you like to go to the bathroom first, just to be sure?" he asks quietly, his hand resting on your hip.

You shake your head. "No. Just continue."

"Alright." He smiles and kisses you once more before returning to your sex, and this time, there's no hesitation or gentleness, only pure lust and desire as he plunges his tongue inside you again and resumes thrusting his fingers into you, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, and what's been cooling down starts building back up slowly, and you can already feel yourself clenching around his fingers as the pressure within you grows.

The pressure on your clit dissipates for a moment, and the next, he's removing your hand from the grip you have on the sheets, and places it on his head, and guides your fingers so they curl into his soft locks. "Hold onto me," he says, and he resumes eating you out, his fingers pumping faster than ever, and he's relentless, his tongue and lips working in tandem to bring you closer to the edge, and you're moaning louder than before, your hips rolling upwards to meet him halfway, the coil within you tightening even more.

The noise he makes when you pull his hair goes straight towards your belly, and the way he's lapping and slurping on your sex like that is obscene. You're pretty sure he's licking all the way back to your ass, but you can't really focus on that right now, the pleasure within you mounting rapidly.

"Tell me how I'm making you feel," he says after a few moments, his mouth still pressed firmly against you, the eye contact he's maintaining while he does so making your insides clench.

"I— It feels good," you manage to say through gritted teeth, your entire body trembling.

"Yeah? Just good? Tell me more," he encourages you, his tongue darting into you again, and your hiss transitions into a loud moan as he continues to work you over.

"I'm so close," you gasp, your thighs closing around his head, "I'm... I'm..."

"Come for me, then. Don't fight it. Let it happen," he murmurs, his words vibrating against your clit as his tongue flickers across it rapidly, his fingers pumping in and out of you harder than ever.

"Leon..." you whimper, your grip on his hair tightening as he sucks your clit between his lips and flicks his tongue over it quickly, and you're done. You cry out loudly as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your back arching as your thighs clamp down around his head and your hips jerk upwards, and he holds you steady through it all, his tongue never leaving your sex until every last drop has been wrung out of you. You've been dropped off a cliff, and the fall has your insides quivering and your hips spasming. You're not sure what's happening, but you're pretty sure you've died and got your first glimpse of Ethelion.

The euphoria is incomparable, the pleasure overwhelming, and you're not sure how long it takes before the waves of ecstasy finally subside, your muscles relaxing and your body going limp beneath him.

He pulls away from you slowly, his lips lingering on your sex as he kisses you one final time, his tongue cleaning the remnants of your climax from your slit and inner thighs before moving upwards to lick his own fingers clean, the sight of which sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core.

When he's finished, he crawls up to lay next to you, pulling you close to him, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. "You're so beautiful when you come. It's a shame you can't see it."

You're sure you've made the most embarrassing faces and sounds, and can't begin to fathom why it would be attractive to him at all. But the feeling of him holding you is comforting, the warmth of his body soothing, and you find yourself nodding weakly as he strokes your hair gently, his touch gentle yet firm, and he's so strong, and so solid, and he makes you feel safe and secure, and you know that nothing bad will happen to you as long as he's here, that you're protected from harm.

"Was it as good as you thought it would be?" he asks after a few minutes of silence, his tone light and playful.

"I didn't think I would end up screaming," you say quietly, burying your face into his chest. "How come you weren't screaming like that? It's unfair."

He laughs and kisses your sticky temple, his lips caressing your skin affectionately, and he hums thoughtfully as he considers your question. "I suppose I've had some experience."

"You have?"

"Mm." He tilts his head, and you wonder who he did these kinds of things with. It was probably a lot of people, considering how skilled he is. The thought of him touching other people like this sends a sharp pang of jealousy through you, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought.

You try to ignore the bitter feeling in your chest and instead focus on the way he's holding you close to him, on the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear, on the way he's caressing you with such gentleness and care.

"Is there anything else you'd like to try?" he asks after a while, and you lift your head to look at him, and he's smiling down at you, his dark lashes lowered, his pupils wide and dark, and the expression he's giving you is so full of adoration and desire that it makes your heart flutter.

"I suppose the only thing left is you putting it in?" you suggest hesitantly, not sure how he'll react to the idea of taking your virginity, but he only grins widely, and he rolls over on top of you, his weight settling between your thighs as he presses himself against you, and he kisses you deeply, passionately, and it makes you moan softly into his mouth as you wrap your arms around him.

"There's so much more to it than that, and I'll show you all of it," he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently against yours, and you can feel his cock, hard and thick between your legs, and it feels good, so good, and you can't wait any longer. "But first, let me give you a chance to catch your breath."

He rolls them over so you're on top now, your thighs splayed over his, and he leans forward to kiss you again, his hands running up and down your back soothingly.

"I don't want you to spend your day sore all over, so the sex will have to be postponed to a time where we can afford the time to be lazy," he says, and you nod, understanding his reasoning. It would be unwise to do anything that might hinder your ability to work later today.

"That's fair," you agree, running your fingers through his hair. "What can we do?"

"Let me teach you more," he suggests, and then he's pulling you closer to him, his mouth latching onto your neck, his tongue and teeth grazing your skin lightly. You tilt your head to give him better access, letting out a soft sigh as he sucks on your pulse point. His hands wander down to your hips, gripping them tightly before sliding around to cup your buttocks, squeezing them firmly. He's still hard beneath you, and the feeling of his erection rubbing against your inner thigh has your insides clenching in anticipation of what's to come.

He seems content just to touch you like this for now, though, his lips moving slowly from one side of your throat to the other, leaving trails of kisses along the way, his tongue tracing patterns on your flesh, his teeth nipping gently at random spots here and there. Every so much he pauses and looks up at you, eyelids half-closed and heavy-lidded, and the sight of him gazing up at you sends a shiver down your spine and makes heat pool between your legs once more.

He lays you down on the mattress, then sits back on his knees between your thighs, looking down at you with an intense hunger that has your breath hitching in your chest. His gaze travels over your body slowly, his pupils expanding as he takes in the sight before him, his lips parted just enough to show the tips of his teeth as he runs his hands along your sides and over your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples teasingly.

The next second, you find yourself on your belly, Leon on top of you, the thick head of his shaft pressing against your slit, and he's rubbing himself along it in a slow, tantalizing rhythm, the friction sending little jolts of pleasure through your core.

"This is called," he says, pausing to kiss your shoulder, "intercrural."

You try to concentrate on his words, but finding it difficult as his length slides between your folds, the sensation making you gasp and arch beneath him. His cock is leaking, slicking the way for him as he continues to grind against you, his breath warm against your skin.

You shift to get him inside you, but he moves with you, his length never quite reaching your entrance. You groan in frustration, trying to lift your hips to meet his thrusts, but he simply pushes you back down into the bed with a chuckle.

"Leon, please," you whine, wriggling beneath him impatiently, and he laughs again, his fingers digging into your hip as he holds you steady.

"What do you think you need to do?"

"Ask nicely?"

"Nice try, but no. Do you remember what we’re doing?"

"Intercrural?"

"Yes. Good," he praises, rewarding you by pushing the tip inside you briefly before pulling out again. Your entire body shudders at the feeling of having him inside you, however briefly, and you push back against him eagerly, wanting more. "Up."

With a firm grip on your torso, he lifts you up so your back is flush against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in place, and he resumes grinding himself between your thighs, the new angle letting him slide deeper than before, and the pressure against your clit has you moaning loudly as he rocks against you, his other hand coming to your front to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them between his fingers.

He's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his lips find your earlobe, nibbling on it as he grinds harder, his cock sliding between your folds faster, his hips snapping forward sharply, and the wet sounds of his shaft rubbing against the crevice between your tightly pressed thighs and sex is lewd and loud. The heat building within you is becoming unbearable, your body trembling with need, and you can't help but cry out as he continues to tease you, his fingers pinching and twisting your nipples mercilessly.

"Leon," you whimper, reaching behind you to clutch at his hair, and he growls low in his throat, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he picks up the pace, his movements growing rougher and less controlled, and the head of his erection is bumping against your clit, and it's driving you mad with lust and desire.

"Saintess..." he groans in your ear, and then his hand slides lower to rub circles on your clit, the added stimulation sending you over the edge. "My Saintess... Fall with me. Fall with me!"

You whimper as you come, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, your vision blurring as stars dance across your eyelids. Your walls clamp down around nothing, and you can feel yourself clenching and spasming as your orgasm rips through you, your juices gushing out of you and coating his length in your essence. He keeps rubbing at your clit throughout, drawing out every last ounce of your release until there's nothing left, and then finally, his hips still against yours, his cock throbbing against the crevice of your thighs as he spills himself between them, coating your inner thighs in thick ropes of release.

He slumps forward on top of you, his weight heavy and comforting as his cock softens against you, and he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder blade, his breath warm against your skin. You lay there together for a while, both of you panting heavily as you come down from your highs, and you can feel his heart pounding against your back, its rhythm matching your own. Eventually, however, he rolls off you. He gets up and comes back with a damp cloth to wipe the stickiness between your legs, and the coolness feels heavenly on your overheated skin. Once he's done, he tosses the rag to the floor before climbing back into bed next to you.

"Bath?"

When you wake up again, Leon isn't next to you, but there is a note on his pillow that informs you he had to go to the border for urgent matters and will be gone for at least two days.

The note makes you want to curl back up under the covers and fall back asleep, but you can't. You have duties to attend to as the Lady of the house, and you can't afford to spend all day moping in bed. So instead, you drag yourself out from beneath the blankets, and stumble to the bathing chamber with a pep in your step, where you splash some water onto your face to wake yourself up.

You look at yourself in the mirror, studying the reflection staring back at you. Your hair is disheveled and messy, and there are dark circles under your red-rimmed eyelids. Leon told you he wouldn't push your body to its limits, but wrung every drop of pleasure he could from it, and it left you boneless and exhausted. Every muscle aches pleasantly, and every inch of your skin feels tender to the touch, especially where his bites have broken the surface.

But none of it matters. You've never been happier.

You finish dressing and make your way downstairs. You have several letters to write today, not only to keep the correspondence with Jill and Claire updated, but also with other ladies they've introduced you to. With each letter, you hope to expand your social network a little bit more, so you may form friendships beyond their group. You've been told to be careful about networking before branching out about investments and business deals by Jill, since men tend to take advantage of women who want to venture into those fields, something her mother warned them about. At least she trusts you enough to take things at a leisurely pace to test waters before jumping at every opportunity that presents itself.

Jill has even invited you to have lunch at her mansion and introduce you to more women involved in similar fields as soon as possible the next season, something you happily accepted.

Even though you're tired beyond belief, there's something almost electrifying coursing through your veins that leaves you feeling energetic despite your lack of rest. Gaining back that connection with Leon, now stronger than ever, has you elated to no end. If someone told you years ago that one night would change your life forever, you wouldn't believe them; now, however, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to experience this level of fulfillment and joy in life, because you never knew just how lonely you truly were until he stepped back into your life.

Leon is panicking.

It's a sensation he isn't accustomed to, not since his days of rigorous training, when his captain had drilled into him the importance of remaining calm on the battlefield. Panic had no place there. Fear had no place. In war, emotions were vulnerabilities—open wounds to be exploited. He had learned to close those wounds, to stitch them up tight and keep his composure, no matter the chaos surrounding him. For years, he had perfected the art of restraint, his face a mask of stoicism, his body a fortress of discipline.

But now, sitting in the dim interior of his carriage, away from the sanctuary of your presence, that fortress is crumbling.

His heart hammers in his chest, and his hands tremble where they rest on his thighs, clenched into fists. His pulse thrums in his ears, a deafening rush of blood that drowns out any sense of calm. It’s disorienting, this unshakable sense of losing control, of being unmoored from the anchor he had always relied on—himself.

His thoughts race, each one more torturous than the last. He can't stop them from spiraling, can't stop the rising tide of emotion that's threatening to break the dam he's worked so hard to maintain.

Fuck. He loves you. He’s loved you for as long as he can remember. Since that first moment when he had seen your face at the temple, luminous in the soft glow of the candles that surrounded you, bathed in the light of Ethelion's grace. He had been young then, just a boy, but even then, something had stirred inside him—a yearning, a devotion so pure, so all-consuming, that it felt like a divine calling. To protect you. To serve you. To worship you.

But never to love you. Not like this.

He hadn’t allowed himself to call it love, not in the beginning. It had been too dangerous, too close to sacrilege. How could a man like him—a knight, a mere mortal—dare to love someone chosen by the gods? He’d convinced himself, over and over again, that what he felt was nothing more than infatuation, a boyish admiration for a figure of holiness. He had to believe it. Anything else would have been unbearable.

Because to acknowledge the truth—that it wasn’t just devotion, that it wasn’t just admiration, that it was a deep, aching love—would mean admitting that you were forever out of reach. You weren’t just anyone. You belonged to something greater, something higher. A god. Ethelion. And Leon? He was allowed to stand beside you only as a protector, only as your shield. But never as your lover. Never as your equal.

And yet, despite all of that, despite the walls he had built around his heart, he had fallen. Harder than he could have ever imagined.

He’d done the unthinkable.

He’d claimed you.

The memory of last night surges forward, unbidden, vivid in his mind. The taste of your lips, the feel of your body pressed against his, the way you had called out his name—his name—as he brought you to the brink of pleasure. You, the Saintess, the epitome of purity and virtue, had wanted him, had given yourself to him. Willingly. No hesitation, no fear.

It had been everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever denied himself. And it was wrong.

But it had also been the most right thing he had ever done.

Leon groans, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if he can pull the thoughts out of his head. He feels himself hardening again at the mere thought of you—the way your body had responded to him, the way you had looked at him, not with judgment or disappointment, but with trust. With desire.

And that terrifies him.

You trust him. You, the one person in the world who should be beyond reproach, beyond the reach of sin, had trusted him with your body, your heart, your soul. You had chosen him. And that trust, that willingness to let him in, is what scares him more than anything.

What if I break it?

That’s the question gnawing at him, the one that keeps replaying in his mind like a dark, endless loop. You gave yourself to him, fully and without reservation, and now he’s terrified of what that means. Terrified of what he’s already done.

Because he has defiled you, hasn’t he? He’s tainted you with his desires, with his need. You were meant to remain untouchable, a beacon of light, a symbol of all that was good and pure in the world. And now? Now you’re his.

He half-expects to be swallowed up by hell after that thought.

Fuck, he can’t stop thinking about it.

His breeches feel impossibly tight, and Leon curses under his breath. The heat of arousal courses through him, his body betraying him even now, when his mind is at war with itself. His thoughts shift, darker, hungrier. He remembers the way you had whispered his name, your voice soft and breathless, your body trembling beneath his touch. He remembers the look in your eyes—like you wanted to be consumed by him.

He wants that. He wants to make you his again, to feel your body wrapped around his, to hear you moan his name, to see you come apart beneath him. And the worst part? He knows you want it too.

He should be ashamed. He is ashamed. But there’s a deeper part of him, a part that he’s been trying to suppress for years, that whispers something different. It tells him that you’re his now, that you’ve always been his. And that he has every right to take what you offer. Every right to claim you, again and again, until the entire world knows that you belong to him and no one else.

The thought makes him groan again, low and desperate. He can already imagine it—the way you’d look beneath him, the way you’d whisper his name like a prayer, the way he’d ruin you, over and over, until there was nothing left of the saintess, nothing left of the woman you used to be.

Just his. His to worship. His to defile.

Leon shifts uncomfortably in his seat, willing his body to calm down, but it’s no use. The arousal is too strong, the desire too overwhelming. And it’s not just lust. It’s love. He loves you. He has always loved you. And now that he’s had a taste of what it’s like to be yours, to have you want him in return, he knows there’s no going back.

But even with that knowledge, the fear lingers. The shame lingers. Because you’re still the Saintess, aren’t you? Even though you’re no longer bound to the temple, even though you’ve left that life behind, you’re still... untouchable. Or at least, you should be.

God, what has he done?

Leon feels sick with it, the weight of his own desires pressing down on him like a vice. He’s tainted you, hasn’t he? He’s dragged you down into the mire of his own lust, his own sin. And yet... you came willingly. You wanted him. You chose him.

He can still hear your voice in his head, soft and soothing, telling him that it was okay. That it was what you wanted. That you weren’t ashamed. That you didn’t regret it.

But he does.

No, that’s not quite right. He doesn’t regret you. He could never regret you. What he regrets is his weakness. His inability to stay away, to be the man he’s supposed to be. The man you deserve. He should have kept his distance, should have respected the boundaries between you. But instead, he let his feelings control him. He let his desires control him.

The carriage jolts as it hits a bump in the road, and Leon’s breath catches in his throat, the movement jarring his already fevered body. He’s hard—painfully so—and the more he tries to suppress it, the more it overwhelms him. His hand is still resting dangerously close to his aching cock, blunt fingernails digging into his thigh as he tries to resist the temptation to touch himself.

He should be above this, he thinks bitterly.

Another bump causes his thumb to slip down towards the inside of his thigh because of the force with which he was pressing on it, the friction sending a shiver up his spine. Leon sucks in a sharp breath, his head tipping back against the seat.

Sir Leon, you had whispered during that night, your tone soft, commanding, with a cruel kindness that only made him more desperate. He’d been on his knees before you, trembling under the weight of his own shame, of his desire. And you had looked down on him with that serene, knowing smile, as though you had always known what he wanted, what he needed. You had given him permission to feel, to want, to submit.

He shudders, his hand brushing over the front of his breeches as the memory takes hold, the rush of arousal overwhelming his guilt. His mind drifts back to that night, to the way you had taken control, how you had made him feel safe in his submission. You had taken his hands in yours, guiding him through the motions, making him believe that it wasn’t him acting on his desires. It was you.

“Sir Leon,” your voice echoes in his head again, and Leon’s breath hitches as his fingers twitch involuntarily over the bulge in his pants. He tries to ignore it, to focus on the scenery passing outside the carriage window instead, but it’s no use.

His hand moves of its own accord, cupping himself through the fabric, the pressure making his hips jerk forward. He can feel himself growing harder, the ache intensifying. He shouldn’t do this. He can’t do this. He’s already defiled you enough. He should have more restraint.

In his mind’s eye, you stand before him again, the ex-Saintess, your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down until he’s kneeling in front of you. The image is so vivid, so real, that he can almost feel the warmth of your touch, the softness of your skin against his.

“Look at you,” you say softly, your tone so sweet it feels like a knife twisting in his gut. “Kneeling there like a dog for me. You’ve fallen so far, haven’t you? My Sir Leon…”

Leon lets out a choked breath, his hand moving to unbutton his breeches as he succumbs to the fantasy, his body trembling with need. His cock springs free, hard and throbbing in his hand, and he bites down on his lip to keep from groaning aloud. The carriage is still moving, the faint sounds of the wheels turning and the horses trotting providing a strange rhythm to his spiraling thoughts.

He strokes himself slowly, his mind lost in the fantasy, in the way you had looked at him that night with such grace and poise, your words cutting into him with a cruel, gentle precision. You had known exactly how to break him down, how to strip away his defenses until there was nothing left but the raw truth of his desires.

"How pathetic," you say in his fantasy in mock sympathy, your lips curling into a smile. "What would Ethelion think of you now? His most devout, debasing himself for me, stroking yourself like a common pervert. You’re not fit to call yourself a knight, Sir Leon."

He shudders, balls tightening as he imagines you standing over him, watching him with that amused, almost bored expression, like you’re barely interested in his suffering, in his need. It’s humiliating, degrading, but somehow that only makes the pleasure sharper, more intense. He can almost hear you laughing softly, a cruel, teasing sound that sends a shiver down his spine.

"Look at yourself," you say, dripping with scorn. "You’re a mess. A disgrace. You’re not worthy of serving me. Not like this."

The words cut into him like a blade, but instead of recoiling, Leon finds himself pushing closer to the edge, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his hand moves with a frantic urgency. He’s so close, so damned close, and your voice only pushes him further, deeper into the depths of his own shame and lust. He doesn’t care if Ethelion sees him like this, doesn’t care if the world sees him like this. He just wants to feel, to chase the high of release that only you can give him.

"You want to come, don’t you?" you ask him, and he nods, a choked sob escaping his lips as his strokes become more desperate. "There are people right outside of this carriage listening in to their lord shaking his hips like a dog in heat with his tongue out, and you want to come. You’re not even a man, you’re a slave to your own desires. A slave to me. Go ahead, Sir Leon. Make a mess of yourself. Show me how pathetic you truly are."

And he does, he begs and pleads for mercy, for relief. His hushed words are a jumbled, incoherent mess, a litany of pleas and apologies as his hips buck wildly, seeking that final release. You watch him with that same knowing smile, your eyes glittering with something like amusement, like satisfaction, and Leon can’t help but wonder if you’re enjoying this, if you’re reveling in the power you hold over him. The power to reduce him to this, to this desperate, needy creature, pleading for your mercy.

"Come," you command, your voice soft but firm, and Leon’s breath catches in his throat, his body tensing as the orgasm finally hits, a wave of ecstasy crashing over him as he spills his seed onto his cupped hand, his body shuddering and shaking with the force of his release.

For a moment, he feels weightless, euphoric, the world fading away until there’s nothing but the pleasure, the relief, the satisfaction of being broken down and rebuilt under your touch. He collapses back against the seat, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat as stares down at his hand, sticky with his own cum, and a wave of guilt washes over him, the shame so intense that it nearly chokes him. But even as he feels the guilt, the shame, there’s a small part of him that revels in it, that takes pleasure in being the broken, debased knight, the one who has fallen from grace and found solace in his own humiliation.

He sits there for a long moment, his breathing slowly returning to normal, the guilt and shame settling over him like a heavy cloak. With a sigh, he reaches into his satchel for a handkerchief, cleaning up the mess he’s made of himself, trying to erase the evidence of his sin, of his desire, of his submission. But no matter how much he tries to scrub away the stain, he knows that it’s there, a permanent mark on his soul, a reminder of the man he’s become.

He’s a sinner, a lost cause. But he’s also a man in love, a man willing to sacrifice everything, to debase himself, to surrender to you, his Saintess, his salvation and his downfall.

Leon arrives back at the manor well past midnight, the long hours of travel evident in the tightness of his shoulders and the way fatigue clings to his bones. He’s exhausted, mentally and physically, but the thought of seeing you again fills him with a strange mix of yearning and dread. After weeks spent at the border, surrounded by soldiers and the heavy tension of political unrest, all he wants is to be near you, to feel your presence.

The halls are silent as he walks through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. His boots are heavy against the stone floor, but he keeps his steps quiet, not wanting to disturb the sleeping household. His thoughts race as he makes his way toward your shared bedroom, the weight of his emotions settling heavily in his chest. He’s been gone for so long, and every step brings him closer to the moment he’s been imagining for days.

When he finally reaches the door, Leon pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he takes a deep breath. He pushes the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly in the quiet night, and steps inside, and the sight that greets him makes him linger on the threshold.

You’re curled up on the bed, fast asleep, the blankets twisted around you as though you’ve been tossing and turning. The soft rise and fall of your chest are a sign of peaceful slumber, face turned away from the moonlight spilling in through the window, the gentle curve of your body bathed in a soft glow. Drapes of rich fabrics adorn the canopy above you, creating an intimate space that wraps around you like a cocoon, making it appear as if you were held aloft, suspended in time. It's a painting come alive, the kind he'd seen in temples and palaces on a much grander scale, a testament of humanity's greatness. It makes him feel insignificant yet like a god among men to share his room, his life with you.

The sight makes his heart swell with affection, the worries and concerns that had been weighing him down giving way to something warm, something tender. He closes the door behind him carefully, not wanting to wake you, and begins to undress, shedding his clothes as quietly as possible until he's left only in his tunic and trousers.

As he slips into bed next to you, he lets out a contented sigh, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He feels restless and worn out in equal parts, but there's comfort too in having you so close. The warmth of your body radiates against him as he lies there, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, marveling at the delicate curve of your jaw, the softness of your hair splayed out against the pillowcase.

He reaches out tentatively, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, and you stir in your sleep, a soft murmur escaping your lips. His touch lingers on your skin for a moment before he withdraws his hand, not wanting to disturb your slumber. A small part of him wishes you were awake, that he could talk to you about the events at the border, but he pushes those thoughts away.

You stir again beside him, rolling over to lay on your side and facing away from Leon, and it feels as if he's somehow in the shadows away from the gaze of god, the moon, and the stars.

It starts small, innocent enough. His fingers barely graze the fabric of the blanket bunching around your waist, a featherlight touch, as if testing the waters. The warmth of your body seeps through the material, igniting a spark in his chest that quickly spreads, making his breath catch in his throat. He pulls his hand back, flexing his fingers as if he’d been burned, but the sensation lingers, ghosting over his skin.

What the fuck is he doing?

He squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to shake off the haze that clouded his thoughts, but the need only grows stronger. Listening for any changes in your breathing, making sure that you were deep asleep, he inches closer, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

He's zeroed in on the bare skin of your shoulder where your chemise has slipped down. His hand moves again, slower this time, hovering just above, fingers trembling. He wasn’t touching you yet, but the proximity alone made his pulse quicken. He could feel the warmth radiating from your skin, so inviting, so tantalizingly close.

This isn't exactly wrong. I'm allowed to snuggle up to my wife.

The thought gives him permission, or at least that’s what he tells himself. He lets his fingers skim over your shoulder, the contact sending a jolt through him that makes him let out a long sigh. The softness of your skin beneath his fingertips is divine, the smoothness so different from anything he’s ever known. He can feel your warmth seeping into him, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing against his touch.

A small part of him knows he should pull away, that this was crossing a line, but the need was too strong, the desire too potent. He traces a finger along the line of your collarbone, marveling at the delicate curve, at how something so simple can make his heart race. He lets his hand rest at the crook of your neck, feeling the soft thump of your pulse beneath his palm. He can't help but think of the way your heart beats, how it's the same rhythm as his own, and how this shared lifeblood connects him to you in ways he never thought possible.

You shift again, humming something incomprehensible, and Leon freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. But you don't wake, and after a moment, he relaxes again, his fingers resuming their gentle exploration.

He lets his hand drift lower, tracing the dip between your collarbones, the hollow of your throat, the slope of your sternum. The fabric of your chemise shifts beneath his touch, the material so thin that it feels like almost nothing at all. He can feel the swell of your breasts, the way they rise and fall with each breath, and he aches to cup them in his hands, to feel the weight of them, the softness.

Fuck. Fuck.

He bites back a groan, his cock growing uncomfortably hard in his trousers. He wants you so badly it hurts, wants to bury himself in you, to claim you in every way possible. But he holds himself back, contenting himself with these small, stolen touches, the ones that make him feel alive and terrified all at once.

He's so hard that it almost hurts, and he wants to grind his hips against you to relieve the pressure building inside him. But the thought of taking things that far, of crossing that line without your knowledge or consent, makes him recoil from himself.

No. This isn’t right. It’s not right at all. You’re better than this, Leon.

With a sigh, he withdraws his hand, pulling away from you reluctantly. The absence of your warmth leaves him feeling cold and empty, but he knows he's done the right thing. He rolls over onto his back, his body rigid with tension as he stares at the ceiling, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock and the ache in his chest.

He closes his eyes, taking deep, measured breaths, willing himself to calm down.

He tries to focus on the sound of the wind outside, the creaking of the old house as it settles in the night, the distant hoot of an owl somewhere in the forest. But no matter how hard he tries to distract himself, the image of you—soft, vulnerable, trusting—is seared into his mind.

Yeah, he needs a bath.

Careful not to disturb you, Leon pushes himself up out of bed and pads across the room, the cool floorboards soothing against his bare feet. He opens the door, the hinges weakly creaking, and slips out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The corridor is dark and silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering in through the windows. He makes his way down the stairs, his footsteps echoing softly in the stillness, and heads to the bathing chambers.

Once inside, Leon lights the candles, illuminating the room in a warm, flickering light. The room is spacious and luxurious, with a large tub of gleaming marble and an assortment of bottles filled with fragrant oils and soaps. He walks to the wooden bucket and pumps water, the rhythmic sound of the handle filling the room, and once it's full, he pours the water into the tub, letting the steam curling off the surface fog his face and warm his skin.

He strips off his clothes, his muscles tensing as he feels the cool air against his heated flesh. He can't ignore his erection, the way it throbs and aches with a desperate need.

He steps into the tub, hissing at the sensation of hot water against his skin. He sinks down into it, submerging his body until only his head remains above water, and he lets out a sigh of relief. The heat soothes his tired muscles, relaxes his tense shoulders, and he feels himself drifting, his thoughts becoming hazy and unfocused.

He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the insistent throb of his cock, the way it strains against his stomach, demanding attention. He tries to focus on the sensation of the water against his skin, the way it licks at his flesh, caresses him, but his mind keeps wandering back to you. To the soft curve of your shoulder, the way your skin felt against his fingertips, the warmth of your body so close to his.

The marble of the bath feels cool against his nape as he rests his head on the rim, the heat from the bath causing sweat to bead on his brow and dampening his hair. His breath echoes off the walls of the bathing chamber, the sound of the water sloshing gently against the sides of the tub providing a soothing background noise. But even that can't drown out the insistent throb of his arousal, the way it pulses with each heartbeat, demanding attention, demanding release.

He ends up dipping under, the water enveloping him, and he opens his eyes, staring up at the distorted image of the ceiling through the rippling surface. His hair floats around his face, and he feels weightless, suspended between the reality of his desire and the fantasy of his mind. It feels like an eternity passes, his lungs burning as his heart thrums, and just when he thinks he can't hold his breath any longer, he resurfaces with a gasp.

He combs his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it away from his face, and—

"You're back."

He startles, jerking upright and causing the water to slosh around wildly, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he turns to face you.

You're standing there in the doorway of the bathhouse, your silhouette outlined in the candlelight, and there's a look on your face that he can't quite read. You seem surprised to see him there, your eyes wide and bright, reflecting the flickering flames. Your lips are parted slightly, as if you're about to say something, but the words seem caught in your throat.

He can't help but admire the way you look in the dim light, the soft curves of your body visible through the sheer fabric of your nightgown. His eyes linger on the way the material clings to your hips, draping over your thighs and accentuating every movement as you step further into the room. He has to force himself to tear his gaze away from the outline of your breasts, the delicate swell of them drawing his attention despite his efforts to remain respectful. He's suddenly aware of his own nakedness, of the way the water licks at his skin, the way it exposes him to you in a way that makes his breath catch and his pulse quicken. He tries to sink lower in the bath, hoping that the water will hide his body, his desire, but it's no use.

"Why did you come all the way over here? We have our own bath," you say quietly, sitting down on a stool and leaning against the edge of the tub, resting your chin on your folded arms. The fabric of your nightgown shifts slightly, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder, and his eyes are drawn to it like moths to a flame. He's acutely aware of how close you are, of the way he can reach out and touch you, the way he can smell the faint scent of soap and perfume on your skin from your nightly bath. He wants to lean in closer, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and inhale your scent, but he holds himself back, his muscles tensing with the effort.

He swallows hard, trying to find his voice, the sound echoing off the walls of the bathhouse. "I didn't want to disturb your rest."

There's a beat of silence, the sound of dripping water and crackling candles filling the space between you. Your gaze is steady, unyielding, as if you can see right through his flimsy excuses and straight into his heart. And maybe you can, because you've always been able to read him like an open book, ever since that day in the temple gardens when you found him as a young boy, struggling to breathe through an asthma attack and crying from the fear of dying.

"You're not doing a very good job at that," you finally say, the corner of your mouth quivering in a wry smile that makes his chest tighten and his pulse race. You know him too well, know all his secrets and fears, and yet you're here, sitting beside him in the bathhouse, offering him comfort and companionship.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. And he is sorry, sorry for waking you, sorry for being so distracted, so consumed with thoughts of you that he can't seem to think straight anymore.

"Don't be," you reply, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your touch is gentle, tender, and it makes him ache with longing. "I missed you."

His eyes flutter close when you start carding your fingers through his hair. It feels so good to be close to you again, to be touched by you in such a simple, affectionate way that he can't help but savor it. But then his thoughts wander again, imagining you in the bath with him, your naked bodies pressed together, the water lapping at your skin as you move against him. He can picture it all too vividly, the way your breasts would feel against his chest, the way your legs would wrap around his waist as he thrust into you, the way your voice would sound in the stillness of the night, gasping and moaning in his ear. He shudders, biting back a groan, and tries to push those images away, but they cling to the corners of his mind like shadows.

"You're so tense," you observe, your fingers still moving through his hair, and there's a hint of concern in your voice.

"It's...it's nothing," he lies, trying to sound casual, but his voice comes out strained and breathless.

"Too tired, huh? Let me wash your hair. Can you hand me that?"

He hesitates for a moment, the water swirling around him, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, slowly, he reaches over the edge of the tub, grabs the bar of soap, and hands it to you. You dip the soap into the water and rub it together in the palms of your hands until suds form. You begin to work the soap into his scalp, massaging it in slow circles, your fingers firm but gentle against his skin. His eyes drift shut, his body relaxing under your touch.

The feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp is almost unbearable, and the way you're looking at him, with so much affection and tenderness, makes him feel weak. He can't remember the last time someone has touched him like this, with such care and intimacy.

"This is lily soap," you muse, your fingers continuing their slow, deliberate movements. "Did you know these were on the brink of extinction in the capital for a while that I thought I could only find one on an auction or something? Fun fact, when you're a maid, you wash both yourself and your clothes with the same soap, so it has a shorter lifespan. But even with that it was so jarring to find out store after store and apothecary after apothecary didn't have this. I wasted an entire off-day running around to find a bar of soap that the next day it was like I worked on a construction for a week. It's funny to think how I used to have to be so careful in not wasting even the tiniest bit, and now I can have a whole basket to myself."

Leon listens to you talk, his mind foggy. He's never washed with your signature smell before, and now it's clinging to his hair and skin like a second layer. It's like you've somehow claimed him as yours without even realizing it. The scent is so strong that he can almost taste it, and it's making him lightheaded in a way that has nothing to do with the steam from the bath. His scalp tingles, and he has to fight back a groan when your fingertips brush against the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

He wants to tell you how much he's missed you, how he thought about you every day while he was away, how he's been longing to feel your touch again. But the words catch in his throat, and all he can do is sink further into the tub, letting the hot water envelop him as you continue to wash his hair and entertain yourself by twirling strands into shapes and figures, or perhaps just to play with it.

"Don't fall asleep, now," you say with a laugh, splashing water on him.

"I won't," he murmurs, but his eyelids are already growing heavy, the warmth and comfort lulling him into a drowsy haze.

"You're not very convincing," you tease, your voice low and soft, like velvet. "I can see those eyes closing. What's so interesting about a bathtub's rim anyway?"

He opens his eyes to look at you. Your face is hovering upside down from his perspective, and you're giving him a small smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. There's a playful glint in your eyes, like you're enjoying teasing him. He can't help but smile back, feeling a surge of affection for you.

You lean down to give him a chaste kiss, your hair falling in curtains around him, your mouth warm and sweet against his, "I'm going to wash this off, alright?"

He closes his eyes as you begin to rinse his hair, the water cascading over his head in a soothing rhythm. The scent of the soap fills his nostrils, and he can't help but breathe it in, letting it envelop him like a warm blanket.

"Alright, I'm done," you announce, your hands moving to massage his shoulders. "Feeling better, Leon?"

"Much better," he murmurs, his voice low and soft, his eyes still closed. "You're too good to me." He can't remember the last time someone has taken care of him like this, with such care and tenderness. It's a feeling that he's not used to, but one that he finds himself craving more of.

"Let's get you to bed, then."

He opens his eyes to find you standing beside the tub, a towel in hand. He stands up slowly, the water cascading off his body in rivulets, his skin flushed from the heat and the attention. As he steps out of the tub, you immediately wrap the towel around his hips, pulling him close to you. He's acutely aware of his nakedness, of the way his skin presses against the thin fabric of your nightgown, of the heat radiating between your bodies.

You move another towel in small circles across his arms, his shoulders, his chest, the fabric soft and absorbent as it soaks up the water from his skin. Droplets from his hair trail down his neck, and you follow them with the towel, pressing it against the back of his neck and gently patting it dry, your fingers soothing against the damp curls that cling to his skin. He can't help but shiver at your touch, his breath catching in his throat as you work your way down his body, your movements slow and deliberate, like you're savoring the moment as much as he is.

"Turn around for me," you instruct, and he complies, his skin tingling with anticipation as you start to dry his back, the towel gliding over his skin like a soft caress. You move the towel down, tracing the lines of his muscles and the curve of his spine, and his heart races as you reach his hips, the towel brushing against the edge of the one wrapped around his waist. He can feel your fingers slipping underneath the edge of the fabric. It's harmless on your part, but he's so sensitive to your every touch that he has to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud.

And his erection had just gone down as well.

"All done," you say, your voice soft and a little breathless. He can feel the warmth of your body as you move around to his front, your eyes lingering on his chest for just a moment. "I didn't think to bring a bathrobe instead. It's a bit of a walk to the room, would you mind if I go and get it now?"

"It's fine," he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough. "I can handle a little cold."

It takes every ounce of willpower not to take advantage of the situation. Not because he doesn't want to — God knows he does — but because you deserve better than some desperate coupling in the bathhouse. It's going to be your first time with each other, and even though your body isn't technically new to him, he won't make it uncomfortable for you, not when you haven't actually been together. You should be somewhere familiar, comfortable, with sheets clean and soft enough to let you drift off afterward, wherever sleep may take you both. You've deserved better than what life has given you so far, so damn right he'll deliver on the bare minimum.

The night air is cool against his skin as you lead him from the bathroom. The corridors are quiet and shadowed, and there's something oddly intimate about walking naked through the sleeping castle with only you by his side. You don't speak, but he doesn't need words to know what you're thinking; your hand clasped tightly in his says more than anything else could.

It doesn't go according to his subconscious expectations, though, as he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed and you between his legs, furiously drying his hair while he's trying to avoid getting hard. He has to say that the vigorous motion of your arms is helping his case.

He's not sure if he imagines it or if he actually hears the small, suppressed giggle.

"You look like a sheep," you say, and now he's certain the amusement in your tone isn't imagined. You reach down to press your lips to his temple, the sensation of the towel on his head halting abruptly, and he's left staring up at you as you straighten.

Before he can think better of it, his arms sneak around your waist and pull you closer until his head is resting against your stomach. You don't hesitate in wrapping your own arms around his bare shoulders in return, holding him close, and the two of you just breathe together for a moment.

"Thank you," Leon murmurs after a long pause, his voice muffled by the fabric of your nightgown. He's not sure what he's thanking you for exactly, but it's the only thing he can say. You've taken such good care of him tonight, made him feel loved and cared for in a way that he hasn't experienced, and he's not sure how to express that gratitude in words. But the way you hold him tight tells him that you understand.

He lifts his head to look at you, and he's struck by the beauty and affection in your gaze. It's the kind of love that he's dreamed of his entire life, the kind of love that fills his soul with light. And for the first time in his life, he realizes that he doesn't have to dream anymore. He can reach out and touch it, feel it, hold it in his hands.

You reach up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the feeling yanks him from the edge of sleep. "Do you want to sit in front of the fireplace?" you ask him. "Or would you rather just go straight to bed?"

"Stay," Leon says, his voice thick with emotion. He doesn't want this night to end, doesn't want to let you go just yet. He needs more of you, more of this warmth and love that you're offering him. One arm unhooks from around your waist and he trails a path down your forearm, his palm closing on the back of your arm as he turns his head around to rest his lips on the inside of your wrist. His eyes never leave yours as he speaks. "I want to stay here a little longer with you."

"Alright." You nod, and then your hand is trailing up his neck, your palm coming up to cup his cheek, fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone and then the edge of his ear. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and his throat works to suppress a shudder. He can feel your gaze on him like a brand. "Let me just... get this off of you."

You reach up and pull the towel from his head, tossing it onto the ground behind you, and your fingers comb through his damp hair. He's never realized how good it feels, how much he craves the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp, the way you scratch your nails lightly against his skin, the way you tug on the strands to angle him how you want.

"Will you take me tonight?"

Your voice is low and husky, full of desire, and Leon can't help but let out a groan, his fingers digging into the fabric of your chemise, bunching it up as he tries to maintain control. His cock is fully erect again, straining against the towel still wrapped around his hips, and he's so turned on, so desperate for you that it takes all of his willpower not to push you onto the bed and take you right then and there.

"Are you sure? I know this is your first time, and we can wait, take things slow—"

"I want this." One knee goes on the side of his left thigh, making the mattress dip. And then the other, and then you're straddling him, hands cupping his face as you press your lips to his, the kiss slow and languid. Leon melts into your embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you. The taste of a sweet treat is on your tongue, something fruity, perhaps a dessert wine, and he chases it, wanting more. "I love you, Leon," you whisper against his lips, and he can feel your breath fanning across his face. "I want you to make me yours."

Those words are like a key, unlocking something deep inside Leon.

"You love me?" he repeats, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye.

"Yes." You nod, your hands still cradling his face, your touch gentle and loving. You look at him like he's the center of your universe, your eyes shining with affection and desire, "Yes," you breathe out, your fingers trailing down his neck to rest on his chest, right where his heart is beating wildly beneath his ribcage. "How can I not?"

"God," Leon murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion, "I've dreamed of hearing you say that for so long, I—" His throat tightens, cutting off his words, and he pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, and he can feel your pulse against his lips. He can't believe this is real, that he has you here in his arms, that you want him just as much as he wants you. He can feel your heartbeat, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the warmth of your body seeping into his bones, and it's all so overwhelming that he can't hold back the emotions that flood him. "I love you too," he whispers, his voice breaking, and he presses a kiss to your collarbone, feeling your skin warm and soft against his lips. "I love you so much."

Your fingers are in his hair, tangling and pulling as he leaves a trail of kisses up the column of your neck. His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin behind your ear, and he feels you shudder in his arms, your breath quickening. "I can't believe you let me pull you down from Ethelion's arms," he says, his voice muffled as he sucks on the lobe, tongue dipping into the crevices, the heat between you making him dizzy. His hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your hips, your waist, the dip of your spine. "No... I can't believe you willingly fell for me. That you're here. That you're mine."

"Always," you whisper, your nails scratching against his scalp, and Leon groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Your touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure through his body, and he can't get enough of you, can't stop touching you, tasting you, feeling you pressed up against him. "I have always been yours."

You tilt your head, baring your neck, and Leon is powerless to resist. He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a mark, and you gasp, your body arching into his. "So beautiful," Leon says, his words coming out in a low growl, and he's almost embarrassed by how animalistic he sounds, but he can't bring himself to care, not when you're looking at him with so much desire, so much love. You're perfect like this, with your hair disheveled, your lips swollen from kissing, and your eyes glazed over with want.

"Then why do you keep me waiting, my lord husband?" you whisper, and Leon can't help but smile at the teasing tone in your voice, the way you're challenging him, daring him to take what he wants.

"Because I want to make this good for you," he murmurs, his hand slipping under the hem of your chemise, his fingers dancing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shiver, and he can feel the muscles in your legs tensing as he gets closer and closer to your center, but he's in no rush, and he wants to make this last. "You need to be ready to take me."

"I am," you say with a breathy moan, and Leon can feel your wetness as his fingers glide against your entrance. He's been dreaming about this for weeks, fantasizing about what it would feel like to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him, and he's not going to rush things now. He wants to make sure you're as ready as you claim to be, wants to make this experience as pleasurable for you as possible.

He can't wipe the smile off of his face. "In spirit, maybe. But I need to open you up first. I don't want to hurt you."

He can see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way you bite your lower lip, and it's endearing, but also a little heartbreaking. You're so young, so inexperienced, and he wants to make sure that your first time is everything you deserve, that it's perfect in every way.

"Don't hold back," you whisper, and it's a plea, a request that makes his heart swell. You're saying that without even knowing what that truly entails, but he's not going to question it, not now when he has you in his arms, when you're so willing, so eager. "I want all of you, Leon. Please."

And who is he to deny you?

He stands, lifting you with him. The towel hanging on for its life around his hips drops to the floor, and he can feel your eyes on him, on the way his muscles flex and strain as he moves you to lay on your back in the center of the bed, the soft mattress cradling your body. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling between your spread legs, his cock jutting out from his hips, hard and heavy. Leon reaches down and takes hold of the hem of your chemise, lifting it slowly, his eyes devouring every inch of skin that's revealed to him, the way your stomach tenses as the air hits it, the way your chest heaves with each breath you take. He leaves it bunched right underneath your breasts and wraps his fingers around the waistband of your drawers, tugging them down, down, until you're completely bared before him.

"Look at you," Leon breathes, and there's wonder in his voice, reverence, as if you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he's trying to memorize every curve, every freckle, every inch of your skin. He runs his hands up your legs, parting them further, and you tremble. He's basking in the pride of your body responding to his touch like a flower opening to the sun.

“I want you to relax,” he whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

His fingers trace a path from your ankle to your knee, the muscles in your thighs tensing, and his touch is feather-light as he reaches the apex between your legs, the place that's already wet and aching for him. He teases you, his thumb circling your clit, "I know how good this feels for you. But we need to get you used to being penetrated. I'm going to start with my fingers. Is that okay?"

"Yes," you gasp, and there's no hesitation, no doubt, just a desperate need for him.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, and his voice is thick with desire, with love, as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "So brave. So perfect. So beautiful."

His fingers slide between your folds, and he's slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches your reaction, the way your mouth opens, the way your eyelids flutter shut, the way you shift around on the bed, your hips arching towards him, wanting more, always more. He pushes one finger inside of you and you sigh, your walls clenching around him, and he can't help but hiss in response, his own pleasure mounting, his cock throbbing as he imagines what it will feel like to sink inside you, to feel your heat, your slickness, your tightness.

He watches you closely, looking for any sign of discomfort as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of you, the tight walls of your cunt gripping it like a vise. It's not long before he adds the second one, stretching you further, and he curls them both inside you and searches around.

"Fuck," Leon mutters under his breath as the tips of his fingers come into contact with a patch of slightly roughened skin and your body jerks like you've been struck by lightning, your hand shooting down to wrap around his wrist in an iron grip. "There," he says, and there's a smugness in his voice, a satisfaction, as if he's discovered a secret treasure that only he can access. "Found it." He rubs his fingers over that spot again, and you writhe beneath him, your grip on his wrist tightening even further.

"Leon," you whine, and there's a note of desperation in your voice, a need that makes him shudder. He leans down, pressing his lips against the side of your knee as he hooks it over his shoulder.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your skin, and there's a promise in those words, a vow that he intends to keep as he starts to fuck you with his fingers, slow and steady, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit, rubbing circles into it in time with the thrusts of his hand. Your grip on his wrist tightens even further, the bones grinding together in your grip, and it's only through sheer force of will that he manages to keep a slow pace. "Can you try to loosen your grip a bit, love? You have quite a vice grip there. You'll break my wrist if you're not careful." You whimper and ease the grip a bit. "There you go. Don't be afraid to feel it. Talk to me, let me know how this feels."

"It's..." You gasp, and your hips jerk up, trying to take him deeper, your walls clenching around his fingers as if you're afraid he'll take them away. "Not enough. More, Leon. Please." You're panting, your chest rising and falling, and he can hear the desperation in your voice, the way it cracks and wavers, and it only fuels his own desire, his own need to take you, to make you his, to make you come undone. "Up. Touch up."

"I need you to focus on the feeling inside," he instructs, and there's a hint of a command in his voice, a firmness that you're not used to from him, but it's not unkind, not harsh, just insistent. He knows you mean your clit, and eases off the pressure. "I don't want you to focus on the outside right now. Just on how this feels." His fingers crook and curl inside of you, and you whimper, your head falling back against the pillow, your eyes squeezing shut. "Can you do that?"

You nod, a shuddering sigh escaping your lips, and he can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, gripping and releasing.

"I can't with this," you whine, and you sound wrecked and frustrated, your words almost slurring together. You release his hand to grab at the pillow behind you, your knuckles white as you grip the fabric. "It's not enough." Leon chuckles. He knew it would take some time to make you come like this, but that's half the fun. He wants to watch you struggle and squirm as he takes his time, opening you up for what's to come. He wants to savor every second of this, wants to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

"I suppose I can indulge you, just a little," Leon murmurs and presses his thumb against your protruding clit. "I want you to tell me when you're about to come. Focus on what your cunt's doing." He's rewarded with another shudder and a broken whimper as he rubs slow circles over your clit, his fingers still thrusting inside you. "And remember to breathe. You need oxygen to come."

You do as he instructs, taking deep, shuddering breaths, and he can feel the way your body relaxes, the tension in your muscles easing as you let him guide you through the pleasure. Your hips begin to rock in time with the thrusts of his fingers, and he can see the way your toes are curling, your heels digging into the bed. You're close, he can feel it, the way your walls are fluttering, gripping him, trying to keep him inside.

"Leon," you moan, and your voice is so full of need that it sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin, making it throb. "It's... I'm going to... Please, don't stop."

He leans down and presses his lips to yours, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that's more teeth and tongue than finesse, his fingers never stopping, his thumb still rubbing mercilessly against your clit, "Let me see you fall apart."

As if on cue, you shatter beneath him, your back arching off the bed, your hips lifting up as you come, a guttural cry tearing from your throat, and he swallows it, his mouth still on yours, drinking in the sound of your pleasure. He keeps moving his fingers, drawing out your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you're twitching and gasping, your body writhing beneath him.

"So beautiful," he murmurs against your lips, his voice ragged with his own desire.

He doesn't let you come down, doesn't let you catch your breath. Instead, he continues to work his fingers inside of you without touching your clit, taking that orgasm to associate it to what his fingers are doing. He wants you to come on his fingers, wants to teach your body to respond to his touch in this way, and he's not going to stop until you do.

"I can't," you gasp, your hand coming up to press against his chest, trying to push him away, to create some distance between your bodies, but he doesn't let you, doesn't relent, his fingers still working you open, stretching you wide. "Leon! Ah, it's too sensitive! Too much!"

"Shhh," Leon soothes, and there's a note of authority in his tone, a command that he doesn't realize slips through. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing over your lower lip, and your mouth parts, a soft moan escaping. "You can, and you will. I'm going to take care of you. I want to see you come apart on my fingers. Can you do that for me? Only from my fingers? Not from the outside?" He presses a kiss to your temple, and your breath stutters, your eyes squeezing shut. "I'll stop if you really can't handle it. I know it's a lot, but I promise, it'll feel so good if you let it."

"I don't know if I can," you whisper, and there's a note of fear in your voice, a hesitation that he understands. You've never done this before, never had someone touch you like this, never had someone take you to the edge and then hold you there, dangling over the precipice, and he's asking you to trust him, to let him take control, to let him guide you.

"You can, I'll get you there," he assures you, his voice soft and gentle, and his fingers never stop moving, never stop stroking, never stop stretching. "Listen, you hear that? How wet you are? That's your body's way of telling us you're ready for more. You're taking it so well. Just try to relax, and let me show you what your body's capable of."

A third finger teases at your entrance, and you whimper, your hips canting up to meet his touch, your body responding to him in a way that he knows is instinctual, primal. You're so wet that his fingers are practically dripping with your juices, the sound of your cunt squelching obscenely with each thrust, and it's music to his ears. "Gods," you gasp, your head falling back, your neck exposed, and he can't resist the temptation to lean down and nip at the sensitive skin there, to suck a mark that will bloom on your skin like a brand.

"It's just me in here with you," he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his words a whisper of reassurance and encouragement, and you shiver, your body trembling beneath him, as if you're trying to hold on to his words, to let them anchor you, ground you. He has to hold you down with his body weight to keep you from thrashing and bucking too much, the pressure on your clit gone and you can't grind up against him to get the relief you need. "Just us in here. No God. Just my fingers. Just focus on what my fingers are doing. Can you feel how wide they're stretching you?" He nips at your earlobe, and then soothes the sting with a swipe of his tongue.

"Oh, god..." you moan, your voice low and ragged, your hands fisting in the sheets beside you, your knuckles white as you cling to the fabric.

"No God," Leon repeats, and there's a dark satisfaction in his tone, a possessiveness that you can feel in every fiber of your being. "I'm not going to let you rely on Him. I'm the one who's going to take care of you from now on."

One kiss mark on the side of your neck turns into another, and another, and soon, he's sucking bruises into your skin, marking you as his, claiming you in a way that goes far beyond the physical. He wants to leave his mark on every inch of your skin, to erase every trace of Ethelion's influence, to make sure that you know that choosing Leon meant choosing to fall to his level, not the God who abandoned you. And when you're covered in his love bites, when you're writhing and gasping, your body shaking with need, he'll move on to the next patch of unblemished skin, and start all over again. Because for all the shame and guilt he felt for tainting you, he can't help but feel a dark thrill at the thought of corrupting you further, of showing you pleasures that you've never known before. Plucking an angel from Heaven and making them his. This is his worship. This is what he wanted to do all along.

"Leon!" You cry out his name like a prayer, and it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, the desperation and need in your voice like a siren song that he can't resist. There's hardly any resistance against his fingers, you're so soft inside, and you're so wet that his hand is drenched in your slick, his palm starting to rub against your clit, the heel of his hand putting just the right amount of pressure there to keep you teetering on the edge, but not enough to send you tumbling over. He wants to keep you here, in this place of pure sensation, where there is nothing but him and his touch, his love, his desire. "Oh, God... please, please... Please, no more, I can't do this, let me off, please, let me..."

"Beg for me more," Leon groans against your neck, and his voice is rough, his own need pressing insistently against the mattress, and he can feel the way his cock is throbbing, the way his balls are aching, and he can't ignore it anymore, can't resist the urge to take his own pleasure in hand, his hips grinding against the bed as he fucks himself against the mattress, head buried against your neck as he licks and bites his way up to your ear. "Tell me what you need."

"I can't," you sob, and the tears are flowing freely down your cheeks now, and he's mesmerized by them, by the way they shimmer in the candlelight, and he catches one on his tongue, the taste of your sorrow and desperation mingling with the salt of your sweat, and he wants to devour you, wants to swallow you whole. "Let me come, Leon, please, let me... I need it, I need you, I need you to make me yours, please, please..."

He kisses you, hard and deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim every inch of you, and you moan into the kiss, your hips bucking up against his hand, and he knows that you're so close, that you're right on the edge, and just in time, he takes all pressure away from your clit and focuses everything on your insides, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you're so wet, so tight, so perfect, and he can't get enough of you, can't get enough of the way you feel, the way you taste, the way you sound as you call out his name, for him to let you come, to give you what you need.

"I'm not going to let you come from the outside," he says, and he's panting too, his own desire clawing at him, the sheets below him damp with pre-come as he grinds his hips against them, his cock seeking relief, but he denies himself, because he wants this to last, wants to make sure you're thoroughly satisfied before he even thinks of his own release. "You need to come on my fingers, need to get your cunt to associate this with an orgasm. Come on, baby. Come for me. I know you can. You're doing so well, you're being so good, you need to breathe," he reminds you, and you do, your chest heaving as you gasp for air, your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin, and he welcomes the pain, revels in it, because it's a reminder that you're here, that you're his. "That's it. Just let go and let it happen. I'm here. I've got you. I'll always have you."

"I love you, I love you," you chant, like a litany, like a prayer, and it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, the words falling from your lips like a benediction, and he can't help but groan, his own need pushing him to the brink, his hips grinding harder. "Please, please, please—"

Your voice breaks off in a keening wail as your body goes rigid, your back arching off the bed, your head thrown back in ecstasy, your mouth open in a silent scream as you come, your cunt clenching around his fingers, your thighs shaking, your heels digging into the mattress as you ride out the waves of pleasure. And he can feel it, the way your walls flutter and pulse around his fingers, the way your body grips him, and he's so close, so close, so fucking close...

"That's my good girl," Leon grunts against your neck, his own breath coming in ragged gasps as he continues to thrust his fingers into you, prolonging your orgasm, drawing it out until you're limp and trembling beneath him. "That's it. Let go. Give in to it. Give me everything."

He milks you for every last bit of pleasure, and when you're finally spent, your body lax and boneless beneath his, he kisses you again, softer this time, his lips gentle against yours.

"You're so perfect," Leon whispers, and he means it, he means it with every fiber of his being, because you are, you're everything he's ever wanted, ever dreamed of, ever imagined. "I knew you could do it. I knew you were a good girl. You were so good for me, so perfect, and I'm so proud of you, so proud of you for letting go and trusting me. You did so well."

"Leon..." His name is a whisper on your lips, a plea, a prayer, and he cups your jaw, nestles your chin in the slope between his thumb and pointer, and pushes your head back to kiss you again, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim every inch of you. You're exhausted, spent, your body limp and heavy, but you still manage to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close, and he can feel the way your heart is still racing, your pulse fluttering like a captured bird. Your tongue can't quite reciprocate the movement of his, and he can taste the exhaustion, the way it's settled into your muscles, made them weak. "I love you," you breathe against his lips, and he's sure his heart is about to burst, it's so full of joy and adoration and love.

"I love you too," he murmurs, and he means it, he means it more than he's ever meant anything in his life. His hand is still between your legs, cupping your sex, his fingers still buried inside you, and he feels the reaction those words elicit, "Fuck, you want more, huh? Even though you're exhausted." You nod, expression woozy and slackened, and he smiles, his lips curving up against yours. "I can feel you clenching down on me, even though I'm barely moving my fingers. I wonder if we should see if you can have another one like this, on my cock this time. Do you think you can do it?" He pulls back, and you blink slowly, eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, lips swollen from his kisses. Your shoulders, neck and collarbones all littered with bruises and bite marks.

"Yes," you say without hesitation, without a single doubt, and it's a miracle that he can even think straight, that he can focus enough to move his hand, to slide his fingers out of you. Your slick clings to them, a thin string connecting you to him before he smears it all over his length, the slide of his palm against the shaft as he coats it making him groan and his hips stutter. "Please. Please, Leon, I need you inside me."

He's never heard anything so sweet, so perfect, and he's powerless to resist you, helpless in the face of your desire. "Anything you want," he murmurs, and he means it, he means it more than anything he's ever said before.

His hands have a faint tremble to them as he helps you out of your nightgown, baring the upper side of your body to him completely. The jarring difference between the marked skin from the clavicle up and the blank canvas of your chest makes his dick twitch in anticipation, and he licks his lips as he imagines how much further he can take things with you. You let out a soft sigh as his palms skim up your sides to cup your breasts, massaging them gently as his thumbs roll across your nipples. You arch your back, pressing your breasts into his palms, and Leon grins as he continues teasing your sensitive flesh.

"Always so responsive," he breathes, crawling up to nestle between your legs, his broad form draping over yours. His hands drop down to grip your waist, his fingers tightening slightly on your heated skin, and then he tugs you against him, rolling his hips forward, grinding his erection against your center, and the friction is delicious. "Do you like having my weight on top of you?"

"Mm-hmm," you nod, your breath coming in quick pants as he starts rocking his hips, sliding his length along your slit, coating it with your slick.

The feeling of his cock gliding against your folds is intoxicating, the sensation amplified by your previous orgasms. You squeeze your thighs around his hips, and he moans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he continues to move against you. His movements start to spasm when the tip of his dick catches on your entrance, and he sucks in a breath between clenched teeth, unable to help himself as he pushes forward slightly. You gasp at the pressure, and Leon pauses, knowing it must be overwhelming after he spent the better part of an hour working you open with his fingers. You'd be incredibly tight even if he was average sized — which he isn't—so the size difference has the potential to cause real problems for you both.

Your hips jerk forward, and Leon groans loudly as your body wraps tightly around the tip of his cock. A wave of intense pleasure courses through his veins, radiating out from his pelvis. It's almost enough to make him come right there and then, but he manages to regain some self-control, despite how badly his body yearns for release. But damn... it feels incredible, and he needs you, needs to feel that again.

For a while, he loses himself in the repetitive motion of popping the tip of his penis inside of you only to withdraw immediately afterward. Over and over, again and again, until you're sucking him in on your own. Each time, he struggles not to plunge himself fully within you. Every single ounce of restraint is focused on holding back, letting you adjust. By the time he's able to sink past halfway without making you squirm or whimper, you're coated in a layer of sweat. Your breath comes quickly as your fingers wrap around his forearms caging your head, clutching him, nails scraping red lines over his skin, like scratches from wild cats.

You tremble beneath him, gasping, biting your bottom lip to contain the sounds building in your throat. When the crown of his dick hits something solid inside of you, you shout his name.

"Leon, please! So big. Oh gods, oh gods. That can't—that shouldn't fit." The sudden shift into awareness worries him, breaking his concentration, and he nearly slips completely free of you. You're looking down between your joined bodies, and seeing yourself spread wide over his girth, pupils blown, sends you right back to delirium, arousal winning out over panic. "Why do I want it? I'm so full, Leon. I'm gonna explode."

"Not yet you aren't. Don't be tense, I’ve got you, everything’s okay. Relax."

But he needs you to let go for just a minute. A second. If he keeps trying now, he'll hurt you.

Breathe in. Breathe out. He waits, stroking your clit lightly, bringing you back to that blissful state of near-orgasm where all coherent thought ceases, as the passage softens. Finally, he hears it, the soft pop and subsequent sigh of relief. The muscles loosen around his cockhead as he slides further in. Only a little more now. Just enough to—there. Home base. Sheathed entirely within you.

His control frays dangerously close to snapping as he stares at your face, overcome by raw desire. Sweat runs down his spine, drops clinging to the strands of hair at his nape, threatening to fall into his eyes, but he doesn't dare blink lest he miss a single instant. He wants to remember every detail.

Your eyelids are half closed, dark lashes fanning flushed cheeks as your eyes roll back. Lips parted slightly, you pant softly, each breath a moan. "So full."

A thin film of moisture coats your brow, glossy trails winding down your temples to disappear in your hair. Chest rising steadily with each inhale. Hips undulating instinctively against his restraining palm. Inner walls squeezing and releasing sporadically like a massage. His own breathing speeds up and stutters. You feel amazing. Better than he ever imagined. More than anything his dreams could conjure, you are perfection, wrapped in silk and honey and lust.

He starts babbling. "You feel divine. Look at you taking me, being so good for me, relaxing, opening up for me. Gods above I love watching you let go," he groans huskily, leaning forward to nuzzle your jaw. Your soft skin pressed against his forehead, your fragrance filling his nose. The tip of his tongue darting out to lick along the seam of your lips before dipping in between them. Without pulling back from where he's sheathed, he starts slowly rolling his hips, careful not to thrust hard yet; just shallow rocking movements meant to get used to the stretch. Gradually easing both of your bodies into a rhythm. "I was so afraid to ruin you, break you, destroy everything you represent..." A harsh intake of air, followed by a low rumble as he pushes forward, drawing another moan from you, "And now you're here... giving yourself over to me like this..."

He traces the line of your throat with gentle kisses and nibbles. "Tell me how it feels. Is it painful? Am I hurting you at all?" Another tremor, another groan. Your fingers dig deeper into the muscle of his triceps. "If something becomes uncomfortable, tell me immediately. Okay?"

A stream of whimpers and garbled words drip from your lips as they descend lower to trace along your throat. One hand lifts up to twist through his long locks while the other seeks out the small of his back to pull him closer, urging him deeper. "Oh, f-fuck! Shit..."

His motions change from rolling strokes to short thrusts. The pace remains slow but steady. The angle forces the base of his erection to drag over your swollen clit with every inward slide. It stimulates that tiny bundle of nerves continuously. Your legs lock tighter around him. Feet pressing against his ass to lift you higher and push down at the same moment. Seeking more stimulation. Greedy for more sensation.

"It does hurt," you gasp as his lips latch onto a particularly sensitive area below the curve of your jaw, teeth grazing over delicate tendons before licking across to soothe away any soreness left behind. He hums low in his chest at the admission, and you add quickly, "But it's a good kind of pain, I don't know...! Ahhhhnnn—yes!" You lose track of your thoughts briefly when the head of his shaft bumps into some resistance deep inside you, causing an involuntary flinch and then a strangled keen.

"Oh yeah, right there? You like that?" Leon asks wickedly, repeating the action while reaching down with a hand to grab one leg above your knee and toss it over his shoulder. There's plenty of give to allow flexibility even with his broad frame crowding yours but with this new position his penetration increases dramatically. When his hips press flush against your pelvis, his whole length stuffed inside, his cock reaches even further than before and hits that exact spot dead center.

"Oh my gods--"

"No God," he snarls possessively, lowering his head next to your ear, "Just me. Can you feel how deeply you've let me in?" With purposeful intent he bucks sharply upwards, knocking a startled grunt out of you.

His mouth latches onto your neck again and sucks hard, pulling blood vessels to the surface and creating red blooms all along both sides of your windpipe. As his hips rock back and forth, their tempo picks up until you're practically bouncing from the force. "Who is filling you right now? Sinking into this tight little hole, fucking you into oblivion?" he growls savagely against your damp skin. In return, he earns more unintelligible cries mixed in with the occasional affirmation. The words "please" and "more" fall frequently off those lips. "Do you like it when I talk to you like this? Hm? It turns you on to hear filth instead of reverence, doesn't it? I know," he smirks before switching to something equally vulgar, "because you are dripping wet. Dripping... down... your thighs. Oh, Saintess. My filthy little saintess."

Leon rumbles deep within his chest when there's no answer forthcoming aside from pleasured whines and moans. In retaliation he nips roughly at your jugular, catching sensitive nerve endings between sharp teeth and threatening to break skin without actually biting down. His wide open hand finds your slick back and pulls you up a little to latch onto your chest, and rests the other forearm above your head to brace himself against.

Your chest is covered in a layer of perspiration that he laps away eagerly, swallowing gulps of water between every swipe with his tongue over stiff peaks. You writhe beneath him like an animal caught in its death throes. The movement only serves to intensify the friction between your bodies; both the external teasing of your clitoris rubbing against him and internal massage as his length scrapes against hot walls.

Everything smells like sex, like heat. Like two humans consumed by each other. Everything feels slippery wet, slippery soft. Every time either one of you moves the slightest bit there's a squishing noise emitting from somewhere beneath that makes your face twist and his manhood jump harder within its confines.

"So warm, so tight." Leon grunts harshly after diving down to bury his head between the valley of your breasts. "Can't hold back any longer..."

"Leon..!! Oooh gods...!" Your nails dig into his biceps, raking red streaks over smooth skin, sending goosebumps racing along every inch of exposed flesh.

When the initial shock wears off, he takes advantage of his current location and attaches his lips firmly onto one nipple while snaking a hand underneath your derriere and lifting slightly to tilt your pelvis upward so that with his next thrust there's a direct strike straight into your core, striking gold repeatedly.

Leon lifts himself back up, bracing against the bed for leverage, to hover over your limp body; chin resting atop his knuckles pressed deep into the mattress between your bent knees, staring intently at where your connection joins. Watching hungrily as he pistons into your soaked cunt with quick, shallow strokes meant for maximum friction. His balls swing forward in rhythmic thuds, slapping against the curve of your ass, coating themselves in sticky juices. "Keep looking," he commands gruffly. "Don't take your eyes away for a second. Want you watching stuff you full and mark what is mine."

Your breaths become more labored but your gaze remains fixed, focused solely on where they join together repeatedly. Your lower abdomen clenches tighter as he pounds into you, your head arching backward exposing delicate pale skin for him to continue littering love bites all over.

"Leon, I'm close, I'm close again please!" You cry out, chest rising rapidly off the ground, pushing against his mouth still ravishing one nipple between blunt teeth, swirling his tongue expertly over hardened nubs. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't ever stop I want more forever, please...!"

His movements are erratic, desperate. Frantic to reach his own climax. He hasn't had enough yet though, so he resists it stubbornly even as his vision threatens to blur around the edges due to sheer sensory overload from all angles.

"No." And abruptly he ceases thrusting entirely, simply leaving his dick sheathed inside your fluttering cavern, letting you feel how deeply he fills you. How closely he presses against places that have never been touched by anything other than a fingertip before tonight, if ever. The word itself wasn't spoken with hostility or anger but rather affectionate reprimand. "Tonight is about training. About making sure you learn this lesson properly. It won't do if we finish prematurely when there's still so much to learn and do first."

When your frustrated whines subside to mere frustrated whimpers, he begins again, slower now but with firm intention aimed directly toward prolonging the experience further, ensuring maximum pleasure and education. His head lowers once more into position directly beside your left ear, voice whispering huskily and intimate against your cheek. "My sweet saintess," he murmurs soothingly while rolling his hips slowly forward, eliciting several soft sighs and gasps from below. "Let go completely. Surrender yourself to me."

He slides out of you with agonizing care before helping you turn onto your stomach. Once finished positioning you just so, he straddles your calves in order to lay atop you. Your torso is completely flattened out onto the bed, pinned under his weight. He brings a hand behind himself and guides his engorged cock into your wetness once again; guiding, encouraging your thighs apart while simultaneously spreading those soft inner globes wide open until your entrance yields readily beneath his tip. Then slowly pushes home until bottoming out against your deepest barriers, whereupon he withdraws nearly completely again before repeating the cycle.

"I'm going to go weird," you warn feebly. Not exactly coherent speaking material given present circumstances but still understandable nevertheless. "I'm going to break, please, I'm sorry, I can't stop—" You sob as another wave of warmth crests, rolling down from somewhere deep within, drowning everything else in its wake, dragging under and tearing apart all preconceived notions of reality and time and place until only bliss remains, eternal and infinite.

Fuck, yes, he thinks, fighting not to come prematurely when your walls start rippling around him uncontrollably. It's him who did this to you. Who took apart your composure piece by piece until nothing remained but trembling limbs and whimpers escaping dry mouths, lips parched for air. His chest swells with pride at witnessing your body react viscerally to his touch. It's like staring Ethelion right in the eye while he fucks what is His, claiming ownership without reservation or remorse. No god will ever fill you more than Leon can—will always satisfy you beyond compare, leaving you a shattered wreck incapable of coherent thought besides Leon.

"Yeah?" he whispers hotly against your nape, pushing your hair to the side with his nose before nibbling gently on supple flesh beneath. He wraps himself around your back like a blanket, enfolding you completely within the cage formed by his arms, his hips slapping mercilessly into your asscheeks as he continues pummeling relentlessly onward, faster and harder and deeper than before, stretching you far beyond capacity yet somehow never enough. "Break, then. Go ahead and shatter for me. I'll catch you every single time, hold all the fragments together. Give yourself entirely until nothing matters anymore except how good you feel when I'm fucking you."

The sounds he lets out against your ear is embarrassing when your instantaneous orgasm squeezes violently down around him, milking him furiously even though he hadn't been expecting it.

"Fuck! No, wait, waitwait—don't do that, I'll—" His cock twitches painfully within your spasming walls as they begin contracting uncontrollably again despite his orders otherwise; not stopping nor slowing for a second, forcing the rest of his sentence to trail off into a broken groan. He's fucking coming. Already.

Against his best efforts, a guttural whine tears loose from deep within his lungs, echoing throughout the room as he pumps out rope after thick rope into your welcoming womb, coating every possible surface until saturation point has already surpassed capacity and excess seed oozes out copiously around his shaft as evidence of his release. He keeps pumping, desperately seeking extra traction whenever possible but soon running out of reserves to keep up pace. After a few final shuddering thrusts that border on overstimulation, he sinks further into you one last time before allowing himself to collapse and spoons you securely from behind with both arms cradling tightly around your front like a protective shield, breathing heavily.

"You almost sucked the life outta me." Leon mumbles into the nape of your neck, panting hard against soft skin, still half-hard and buried inside of you. "Wasn't supposed to happen like that. Had plans. Wanted to make this perfect for you, wanted you to remember this night forever."

"Are you kidding me?" you slur, sounding delirious. Your head lolls sideways against his shoulder, eyelids fluttering weakly. "That was incredible."

"Really? I didn't hurt you?"

"I mean... I definitely think I would have died if we kept going according to your plans. But honestly? I think that's a small price to pay considering what happened instead."

He chuckles lightly at that, relieved and delighted by your positive response, before turning your chin towards him and pressing his mouth to yours, kissing deeply and tenderly. He tastes the saltiness from sweat and tears on his tongue and smiles inwardly knowing that he was the one who made you cry. That you willingly let him have this, give him everything without question or doubt. That's the real victory here, isn't it?

As you relax further, relaxing into the mattress, your breathing evens out, becoming slower, calmer. He watches intently, fascinated by how peaceful you look lying next to him. His cock twitches inside of you once more, reminding him that he is still hard. Still wants more.

"We can still keep going," he offers quietly, reaching between your legs, fingers trailing lightly along the outer edges of your labia, stroking softly, coaxing them to part further. His thumb brushes gently across your clit and draws out a hiss from you, and a delicious roll of your hips that forces him deeper inside of you.

"You're going to kill me," you whisper, leaning in for another kiss, and he complies readily, capturing your lips with his own. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press yourself against his chest, sighing contentedly as his fingers begin working their magic.

"If you die, it'll be because I loved you too well. Which would be an acceptable way to go."

The golden hour of late afternoon casts long shadows over the estate, the air warm and filled with the gentle hum of life—buzzing bees, chirping birds, and the occasional rustle of leaves as a breeze passes through. Everything feels tranquil, as if the estate itself has finally come to rest after the flurry of its construction. Leon basks in the glow of success, having achieved something worthwhile here with his own two hands—or at least supervising its creation. It's comforting to feel like a person instead of a weapon, especially when such simple pleasures bring so much joy.

And there you are, kneeling amid the lilies you’ve finally managed to grow. They sprout from pots scattered throughout the greenhouse, adding bright pops of white to the green of the plants already thriving. You hum happily while tending to your collection; you've taken great care to tend the soil carefully, pruning away any brown or yellow leaves, keeping them watered regularly, and providing proper sunlight each day. And they've paid dividends, resulting in a stunning display. Each pot contains a variety of different types, ranging from delicate trumpet flowers to majestic magnolias.

Leon watches fondly from the doorway as you work diligently, using the watering can to dampen the rich black earth before tucking a fresh bloom into place amidst the greenery. He'd bought the seeds specifically with you in mind when he heard of their beauty, hoping to surprise you upon delivery—but was disappointed when it took longer than expected. Now here they stand, proud and vibrant, blossoming fully in preparation for spring, brought into existence by your tender loving care.

Much like him.

Leon isn’t sure if you realize how much those flowers represent more than just your determination to build this garden. He does hope that perhaps you recognize a hidden truth embedded within these stems and petals; that as long as someone believes enough to nurture growth, nothing will ever truly perish—especially not love.

He takes a step forward, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. You don’t turn, too engrossed in your work, your fingers gently brushing over the petals of a nearby flower. He watches the way your hands move with such care, such tenderness. It’s a far cry from the woman he first met—so unsure of herself, so afraid of what the world might think. Now, you are here, fully in your element, having created something beautiful from nothing. And he cannot help but admire how far you've come, how brave you are, how determined to make a new life for yourself.

"They've grown well," Leon says, coming up beside you, taking care not to disturb your concentration. His eyes follow your motions, noticing the way the sunbeams bounce off your cheeks, highlighting the curves and lines of your face as you smile proudly.

"Look, my pretties. He's praising you," you say fondly, caressing another blossom with the back of your finger. "Go ahead, praise them more."

He laughs softly. "Alright, then. Um, very nice job, lilies..." Leon trails off awkwardly, unable to shake the feeling of foolishness that comes with complimenting plants like they understand human speech. "Good work on the pollination?"

You burst into giggles as soon as his words leave his mouth and he smiles sheepishly, trying his hardest not to blush. Maybe this kind of thing doesn't suit him, but he wants you to know how happy it makes him seeing your efforts come to fruition. All of this—the flowers, the greenhouse itself, even your little house down by the lake—were ideas that came straight out of your brain and were built here by your hands. And damn it, he wishes there was a manual for what to say to express just how amazingly impressive that is!

But when you glance back at him with shining eyes full of excitement, Leon realizes that maybe he doesn't need fancy vocabulary after all.

"And great job growing garden, my lady." He grins broadly, patting the top of your head fondly. "I knew you would do it if you believed enough."

Suddenly you turn to him fully and throw your arms around him tightly in an excited hug. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Nah, this was all you."

"Okay fine, yeah it was pretty much just me... But seriously!" You insist, looking up at him with serious eyes that glitter like gemstones. "Thank you."

"What is this, 'thank you'? You should be saying 'I did a good job!' Come on, say it."

A smirk curls at the edge of your lip before morphing into an expression so warm, Leon feels it spread deep within his chest like sunshine melting snowfall. "We did a good job. Thank you for believing in me enough to see it through. For sticking by me during tough times, cheering me on no matter how discouraged I got. This is our home now."

A soft sigh escapes his throat involuntarily and he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist loosely while resting his chin atop your hair. "Mmhm... That sounds much better."

Hearing those words, hearing you accept this space as theirs, makes him incredibly happy. Part of him wonders if you truly comprehend just how significant this moment actually is—that neither of you have belonged anywhere since childhood; tossed aside or forgotten, ignored or scorned, pushed around by others' expectations—yet here stands a place where everyone knows exactly who they are meant to belong with and where they belong. A sanctuary of peace built around love alone.

After all those years trapped in that crumbling temple and their orders, forced to endure pain and suffering under constant scrutiny from those seeking power through control, Leon never could imagine things turning out so perfectly for himself. Not when he lost faith so long ago, surrendering himself entirely to Ethelion's command in hopes he might someday find salvation elsewhere; yet ultimately falling short of such aspirations time after time. Yet somehow now, even despite everything—despite being branded a traitor, exiled, stripped away of everything including his name—he is grateful, contentment flooding through his system, settling comfortably within his bones.

In your arms, there is freedom. In your heart beats a home.

[danikamariewrites]

First off, I always love reading your work. Makes me smile when I’m going through it 🫶🏻

Could you do rhys x reader or maybe a batboys head canon for how they’d take care of you while life seems to be out to get you? Like every time you think your problems are solved, something blows up in your face? Maybe like something breaks in your flat, and then something crazy happens at work, and then like you get sick or something and reader is just super down and rhys/batboys are trying to bring her back up? Taking care of her and stuff?

Sorry if this is too confusing or similar to anything you’ve had before, my brain is a little short-circuited tonight lol and I’ve been kinda going through it so I can’t think straight

Dry Your Tears

Bat boys x reader

A/n: I dream of the three of them taking care of me. Also I’m sorry babe, I’m also going through it so we’re together on this

Warnings: Tamlin being mean to reader, anxiety, and fluff

Your luck for charming High Lords and their advisors has finally run out

You were on a roll on your little tour of Day, Winter, and Summer

But coming home from other courts empty handed sucked

Especially when it was the spring court

With Tamlin finally back in power with a group of advisors and his court put together he’s been full of himself acting all high and mighty

Yesterday was your first time there since the court was put together

Of course it was all males who didn’t respect you one bit and Tamlin was no help either

The spring high lord was very condescending and it brought out your insecurities about your place in the court

Tamlin also targeted your relationship with the boys, pointing out other flaws there

You slept in your own bed once you arrived at the town house since you left Spring so late

As you fell into a fitful sleep you dreaded the paper work you had to do in the morning

The next morning you found a note on the kitchen table from Rhys that read, Sorry we missed you darling. Emergency in Windhaven. We’ll be back tomorrow morning. We love you very much

You frown at the note but smile at the little heart drawn at the end

After breakfast you set out to do paperwork with infrequent visits from Amren about updates on court matters

Getting to the Spring Court report drained you

Just thinking about it makes your skin itch

You get up deciding to take a walk to clear your head

The walk didn’t help. It simply made things worse

There was too much around the town house that didn’t feel right to you. Like you needed to reorganize

But now you wanted new furniture and things bc the throw pillows didn’t look right and the couch looked too old

To distract from that you went into the kitchen to find a snack only to realize none of the boys went grocery shopping (who are you kidding it’s Nuala and Cerridwen that do it)

You slammed the cabinet shut

With the slam of the cabinet a cough crept up your throat

It was dry and you felt like you couldn’t breathe

You shouldn’t have traveled to Winter then Spring

Ignoring what the cough meant you remembered your report for Rhys and stomped back to your office

The report took way longer than you would’ve liked

Thinking about Tamlin and his comments about your relationship made you blood boil

As your anger washed away it turned into anxiety and sadness and doubt

Are you capable of this job if these males get to you so easily? Is your relationship and mating bond with the boys going to last?

You needed to shake this off. You closed your side of the bond as to not worry your mates. They don’t need to worry about you right now

You kept stewing in your anxiety and anger for the rest of the day

Amren left at 5 so you had dinner alone with what was left in the house. You’d go shopping tomorrow when your head was clear and you weren’t pissed at the fact that the boys forgot

Sleep evaded you that night as you wished your boys were here to hold you and whisper sweet nothings to you

Your cough kept you up all night as well

By the time the sun was up you were curled against against the headboard. Your eyes watering from that dry cough you’ve developed. You didn’t feel like moving, you were too tired. Too tired to even greet your mates at the door

Cassian’s heavy, booted footsteps come up the stairs first

Tears pricked your eyes from exhaustion and anxiety

Azriel silently pushed your bedroom door open, making his way over to your bed. “Hey princess, whats wrong?” You sniffle and start to cry harder into his chest

Without hesitating Az picked you up, rushing you to your shared bedroom. Rhys and Cass stop unpacking and move to comfort you

“My darling, why are you so upset?” You look up at the three of them with the saddest look on your face. Cassian wipes your tears with his thumbs giving you an equally sad look

You look back at Rhys tapping your temple for him to look at your memories. Rhys nods and you close your eyes

He shares your memories of the Spring meeting and your day yesterday. When it was over you opened your eyes to see Az and Cass fuming. Rhys was giving you a sympathetic look. “Darling, no. You do not listen to a word they say. You do not believe them. Everything they said was a lie, alright.” Rhys said firmly, cupping your face in his large hands

“You are our world, sweetheart. Don’t think for a second that you aren’t important.” Cassian stressed, kissing your forehead

The next few days are spent taking care of you and cheering you up

You read together, go out for meals, shopping for clothes books and anything else your heart desired or whatever the boys felt like spoiling you with. The boys even did the grocery shopping

They take turns holding you on their laps, keeping you tucked into their chest as they tell you stories from camp or when they first fell in love with you and other relationship stories

You have to admit, it was hilarious to imagine the people of Velaris staring as their High Lord, the General, and Spymaster food shop

Laughing about it did make you feel better

They spent the next few nights worshiping your body. Paying attention to every part of you that gets a reaction. Working you up to the most earth shattering orgasms you’ve ever had

By the end of the week you had put Tamlin and his court out of your mind, feeling overjoyed at the amount of love your mates show you

[bluginkgo]

Ep 8 Thoughts and Details Part 1

Some thoughts and details I had while watching ep8, and some parallels I found. And yes, I had to split this into 2 parts because Tumblr said "fack you, you can only upload 30 images :P"

Spoilers, duh

Already starting strong, the song that plays through the radio is "Cyn's theme" if you will, that is heard all the way back in ep5 (time stamp about 2:34)

Ep8 showcasing the first teaser image that was released on Liam's channel. Quite bittersweet, in a good way.

Well, uh, Uzi is a true god now XD She's got the AS that was originally in Cyn as well, double powerful and double traumatized/damaged OC!

"A How-to guide of overcoming the existential dread evoked by murdering innocent sentient robots capable of emotion and independent thought. Real life JCJ engineer testimonies. Thought provoking analysis of life and the benefit of being the apex predator. Insanely philosophical advice such as, 'Get over it,' 'Shut up and keep working,' 'Do you want a job or not.'"

Bleh >:P The fact that the AS is still playful is something a bit silly to me, in a funny way. Despite it being the god of the universe- almost- it has a silly side to it.

The amount of times there were cuss words either almost said/implicated made me so happy and burst out laughing one too many times XD

I've seen some people mention how the reunion between Uzi and Nori was unsatisfactory. In my opinion? It was perfect. The awkward feeling of meeting someone you should have known your entire life, all the while trying to the world was perfectly translated here. The silliness that Uzi inherited from Nori shines here. But most of all, N's kindness shines through Uzi. I think if Uzi was still her angsty rebellious teen like she was back at the beginning of the series, she would have not had as nice of a reunion with Nori as she did now.

Omg, you have no idea how happy I was in this scene. The animation, VAs, the DETAIL- ALL OF IT was so amazing! N looks so silly and goober-y <:3 Another thing I took notice later on was the timing. It's not really stated how much time it took for Uzi to go from falling down the AS hole to being punted into space. But assuming about minutes, that implies N facking booked it. The moment he got tossed out of the cathedral with the keys, he absolutely booked it to the ship without evening thinking whether Uzi was alive or not. He needed to see the evidence for himself. He didn't give up on and assume that Uzi was gone.

Recently one of the animators posted the scenes they worked on, giving us a clearer view of expressions. The work done by Xoriak was amazing and really pushed the expressions on these characters to the limit. What used to be Uzi's anger, quickly melts into relief an sadness as she realizes that N didn't give up on her in this scene. While she sacrificed herself, N did not accept her possible death as the only answer. No, he chose to look for her, and he would have done the same with V had the elevator not been blocked off.

This made me happy too. N has grown so much from who he was in the pilot. He used to be the push over that made friends with rocks, that accepted any order from the higher ups and didn't dare question any rebuttals. Now? Now he's confident enough to even voice the fact that he was mad about what Uzi did.

Give me like- giv- give me a second- LKJD;OIADKNVKVNAKDJF;OIWAEJFANVKJASDJFAOIWEFNAKJSDBV For the longest time my hyperfixation has been BONKS. Evident enough with what I've drawn (looks back at the 4-5 bonk drawings I've made). The fact that I got to see them bonk in canon made my sad sorry soul ascend into the upper plane of existence XD Oh and "die man bit-"

I grew up watching Studio Ghibli, so to see this moment- of NUzi falling and holding hands, of course my brain said- YOYOYOYO LOOK LOOK THEY'RE SO CUTE-

The moment of respite, the hug, the tail wrap around and the quick release from Uzi's part after having a heart to heart- it was all so perfectly beautiful ;w; NOT TO MENTION THE MUSIC, as usual AJ DiSpirito absolutely delivered. I REQUIRE THAT MUSIC TO BE PLAYING LOUDLY IN MY EARS 24/7 PLEASE AND THANK YOU AJ.

"I owe you 1 spaceship" -N

Couple things:

It's funny how J just either gave the ship up without a fight, or N was so stupidly fast that J couldn't even do anything about him taking it XD

N is an absolute machine at speed drawing XD

"I'm FINE, and calm, and GO AWAY." J is the embodiment of the entire work force TwT Couldn't help but say "same, honey, same ;w;"

Excuse me while I just- ITS VVVVVVVVV SHE CAME BACK OH MY GOSH- passes out On a more serious note, I've seen plenty of people mention that if V came back, her sacrifice would be for nothing. I don't think so. V came such a long way and grew to be more kind and honest thanks to her interactions with N, Uzi, Lizzy, and even her "death." It shows, because she chose to side with Uzi and N, and they all fought together in an amazing dance.

There were many moments in the episode that were a bit "slower" pace as many have put. That these moments took away from the intensity that was supposed to be in the episode. I don't think so. These moments are needed not just for the comedy part of it, but to give our brains to rest. To take a second, process the fighting we just saw, and be ready for more action. This is often used in Studio Ghibli movies, where after heavy action, it is followed by moments of quiet serenity to give you time to let the events sink in.

This, this right here TwT CRIES. These three have been together, hanging out, figuring out the eldritch mysteries- of course they'd pick up habits from each other. From N becoming more confident with himself and allowing himself to be mad at someone. To Uzi picking up on V's crawling on the ceiling habit. To V picking up Uzi's "bite me."

The amount of hand holding that was in this episode gave me enough serotonin for a life time. And the way that N always ended up wrapping his tail around Uzi, be it a hug or a cool pose. All of my NUzi hyperfixations are becoming canon and making me go FERAL.

Something that is interesting and always comes back to us, is the AS's interest and fixation on N. The way I have always seen it was Cyn was the reason for it. The AS tends to take something from the host and amplify it ten fold. For Uzi's case the perfect example was when she felt anxious or upset. Ep4 and ep7 are great examples of that. For Cyn's case it would seem that she got attached to N after she entered the mansion as a Solver host. The AS probably took that thought and amplified it to unhealthy amounts.

Oh.MY.GOD. THESE GOOBERS SEND HELP THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL ME WITH HOW CUTE THEY ARE. N first attempts to protect Uzi, and she says "nuh uh" and covers his hand instead. This. This right here. It's far too beautiful TwT

Great frame, but uh, how the fack are we able to see the AS symbol? XD Cause uh like, her face has a split for the nose section still and all of a sudden it just... went away? XD Don't get me wrong, the animation is TOP NOTCH in these last episodes, but silly little moments like this- where it's super tense and scary, but after a rewatch it just seems silly.

When I first saw this I figured "oh shit, it's ep7 all over again, they're gonna be obliterated." The demonic screams I let out were a bit embarrassing to say the least XD

This little shit. She's just playing with them, and she knows it. This entire fight was nothing more than a little game for her. Like a cat playing with a mouse before killing it.

In this scene you can actually hear the first notes of Eternal Dream, but in a super distorted way, much like it sounded in ep6 (timestamp about 15:30)

Alright, Ginkgo what now, why include this blurry frame of nothing? I really admire Cyn's VA. Fitzy has always done an amazing job at making my favorite character- Cyn- the creepy silly goober that she is. So of course I would have watched and unwillingly memorized laugh takes that Fitzy also shared. One of which was here (time stamp of about 0:47. The laughs are similar, and most likely reused from ep7 takes that never made it into ep7 but carried over to ep8. Just a fun little detail I noticed.

OMFG LMAO AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHA THE WAY I BAWLED THE FIRST TIME I HEARD IT XD

Split second frame but I see it. I SEE IT V. SHE COVERED UP N'S CORE TwT Despite all of the comments she made, despite all of the things she did, she still cared for him. And the entire show, her entire character growth shows that. She didn't run in that moment- she could have much like she did from Cynessa mere seconds ago, but she stayed, and tried to protect N too.

OMG BAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA YESSS UZI XD

The entire fighting scene between Uzi, Cynessa and J was so amazing. As usual, AJ DiSpirito did an AMAZING job with the songs, but more so the fact that Uzi is able to hold her own against J and Cynessa, that just amazes me. She has always been strong, but seeing it in battle made me appreciate it all that much more. Another thing about this episode, it seemed like the animators didn't particularly try to hide anything sneaky. All of the glitched sections (ex: Uzi's visor after she at the AS) were code that general population is unable to read/decipher- unless someone with an actual expertise tells me otherwise, I can only assume its code of her CPU functions- once again, remember, I know next to nothing about computers and that language TwT But the moments that were evident were these- they were even changed to BLUE. From the pilot time, everything was sneaky. I mean from the way the Murder Drones logo switched briefly into the AS symbol, to N's waking up having administration "CYN" written on his visor upon reboot. All of that was sneaky details put in for us to hunt down. This time around, it didn't feel much of like a hunt and more like silly easter eggs.

Wanna see the rest of it? Yeah, here's part 2 because Tumblr doesn't like more than 30 images per post TwT

[decafdoodlez]

RenRina NSFW Headcanons/Dynamics

A short list of self-indulgent NSFW headcanons and dynamics for my TPoF OC and Fox, though I think some of these could be applicable to Fox x Reader scenarios. ❤️‍🩹

a/n: I am cringe™️, but I am free (part 2), but a little spicier~🌶️ To be honest, I’ve drawn plenty of NSFW, but I’ve never actually written it, so apologies if anything sounds a little disjointed, this is my first time writing anything remotely raunchy! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

word count: 1.1k

warnings/tags: NSFW | written with AFAB OC x Canon in mind, captive/captor themes, toxic dynamic, power imbalance, age difference (both adults are 25+), just lots of fucking headcanons

Marina was a virgin before meeting Fox. Marina had only ever focused on furthering her career, so relationships and sex (or lack thereof) were very much the lowest on her list of priorities in life. (She would’ve been content e-fucking anime boys for the rest of her life, lmao)

In their second livestream, Fox states that it doesn’t matter to him one way or another if she’s a virgin or just inexperienced, though he can’t help but find it adorable seeing Marina fumble her way through and gagging while giving him a blowjob, or her legs giving out and becoming Jell-O immediately from trying to bounce up and down on his knotted member.

Marina isn’t completely clueless about sex, having played 18+ otome hentai games, but putting what she learns in theory from these games into practice is another story. Fox lavishes in her sweet, sweet ignorance, and ever so “lovingly” teaches her everything he knows to get the two of them to the peak of ecstasy.

Despite being a sadist, Fox isn’t only interested in getting himself off. Fox also derives pleasure from getting Marina off. Seeing her go from the prim and proper picture of untouched innocence into a broken, crying, and filthy whore for him and him alone makes his cock twitch at just the thought of it.

Fox at his core is a versatile switch, enjoying roles as dominant or submissive depending on his partner, but because of Marina’s inexperience and role as “pet,” he performs a dominant top role in the bedroom. Though, he does encourage (force) Marina to top him, just to see her buckle under the pressure of having to perform well enough for him as she grinds her hips against his.

Though he has retired Marina from gore torture streams, he still fucks her on camera occasionally, without going too extreme on her in terms of physical pain with the requests that roll in from the chat. These streams are not as popular as his snuff streams, but they still hold an audience of devoted Fox fans who just enjoy watching their favorite furry DILF fuck pretty and sweet little pets.

Fox is not a tit or ass man, to him, they both have their merits. BUT if he had to choose, his preference is for whichever part of his partner is larger, so in this case, Marina’s breasts are his favorite part of her body.

Speaking of Marina’s breasts, her large nipples are quite sensitive and she gains pleasure from them being teased and toyed with. Fox takes advantage of this fact, and often finds himself suckling on her tits and leaving bleeding marks on her areolas like a leech. >:3

Marina’s bust size is 34F, and Fox will never let her get a reduction. But conversely, he doesn’t need her to get an augmentation either; he likes her big naturals just the way they are.

Fox’s cock is an average length at 5 inches from tip to knot, and 6.25 inches from tip to base. The stretch from his knot is absolutely delicious.

Fox’s pubic hair is a thick white fur that trails down from his navel to the base of his shaft. His fur also cutely runs from his lower back into his ass crack, to around his hole and trailing up to his taint and balls. uwu

Fox’s nicknames for Marina as he fucks her are a far cry from the sweet names he usually purrs out for her. Some of his more raunchy favorites are “Fuck doll,” “breeding bitch,” “fuck bunny,” “cum slut,” and “cocksleeve.” His more standard nicknames are “pet,” “naughty little girl/slut/whore,” “crybaby,” “needy little baby,” “baby/babydoll,” and “my (little) girl/baby.”

Though Fox enjoys fucking as a whole, his favorite position would have to be doggy or prone. (Shocker /s) Having one arm pulled back and her face pressed into the surface she’s being bent over is the most intoxicating position for him. Seeing his cock go in and out of her puffy and slick folds while he has a firm handle on her round and reddened ass as she has no way of escaping him pounding into her drives him animalistic.

Marina’s favorite position is missionary. It’s a bit on the safe side and a more standard position, but it makes her feel loved when Fox looks her in the eyes as he slams his cock into her needy hole and his balls slap against her ass.

Missionary may not be Fox’s favorite position, but he does enjoy how romantic it can be. Plus, he gets to watch her breasts flop around rhythmically as he pounds into her.  

Fucking with Fox can go one of two ways, fast & rough/primal, or soft & slow/passionate. It’s all dependent on how he’s feeling. He’s got beastly and feral qualities for sure, but at his core, he is a bit of a romantic, and likes to display that side of himself on occasion.

Despite his age, Fox has better stamina than one could expect for a man pushing 50. He can keep a steady stroke pace, and usually cum twice or three times in a fuck session.

Marina on the other hand taps out quite easily, and whines and cries as she convulses from the overstimulation, while Fox continues to pump in and out of her, chasing his own high.

Fox is not averse to having Marina pass out as he fucks her, but he will smack her face a bit to wake her up if he sees her falling unconscious. He’d just prefer if she’d stay awake as he ruins her. He wants her to remember the feeling of every inch of his cock and how it stretches her out…and unfortunately, “you can’t do that while sleeping, darling.” uwu

Fox gets very excited when hearing Marina’s shrill whimpers and whines. With each mewl that leaves her pretty little lips, his tail thumps harder and faster, and his grip on her supple flesh becomes tighter and rougher.

Fox has taught Marina how to squirt. (Or fucked her well enough to squirt, rather.) The first time she squirted was while he was eating her out, sucking and nibbling on her clit until the last bit of composure inside of her just snapped. After coating his face in her fluids, Marina thoroughly apologized to Fox, thinking she had done something wrong and off-putting by making a mess, ultimately thinking she would be punished for it. However, Fox with a predatory gaze licked his lips then continued to work away to Marina’s sensitive clit, over-stimulating her further to the point of her releasing her juices again and again as she shrieked in the pain derived from the pleasure.

a/n: This list was a bit all over the place, but I feel like I could go on and on, haha. I could certainly do a part two to this! I think I may want to pick a kink and do a one shot for my next writing though. I want to play around with dialogue, hehe. Thank you for reading!~ ❤️‍🩹

[morningstargirl666]

hi! do you have any long canon klaroline fic recommendations?

i’m missing klaroline and actual canon isn’t gonna cut it

I'm going to assume by long fics you mean multichaps? I've always found this fandom seems to be lacking in them, and I'm not talking about the 5-10 chapter fics --- I mean the long ass, epic-length fics that transport you to another dimension and rob you of nine hours of your life in a back-alley because you couldn't close the ao3 page at 1am. Other fandoms seem to have dozens of them but klaroline? Not so much. Writers here seem to prefer the 50k one-shots or playing with a different AU altogether, which is fantastic of course, but sometimes you crave something different, you know? Something you can lose youself in. It's what made me write TBBW, initially. However, that doesn't mean the fandom doesn't have some canon-divergent gems.

Epic-Length Wonders:

Red Queen by KS_Caster / @ks-caster

3-Part Series, Over 200k+ words. Season 4 Canon-Divergent. The last part is a WIP. I absolutely adored this fic when I first read it and I still adore it now. Klaus puts Caroline first and continues to put her first during the search for Silas' cure and it is fucking amazing. The werewolf/hybrid world building in the second fic inspired me to write more fics like it. It's not had as much attention since it was moved to AO3, but trust me, this fic is a hidden gem.

Wicked Schemes by willowaus / @willowaus

30 Chapters, 260k+ words. Season 1 TO Canon-Divergent. Ignores the baby plot. Caroline inherits the powers of a harbringer and the way its weaved into the fic so flawlessly makes you question if it wasn't just canon to begin with. Honestly epic world building. Wolf!Klaus also makes an appearance! A true klaroline classic.

make them bow. by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

35 Chapters, 220k+ words. Season 1 Canon-Divergent. Klaus is dropped into season one while Caroline is still human. Klefan bromance. Damon retribution. Forbes family dynamics. Klaus covered in blood. Council Members and Founding Family warfare. There's a reason this is the most commented-on fic in the entire fandom even though it's barely been out a year.

Binge-In-One-Sitting Multichaps:

Til I Tasted You by KiryTheStitchWitch / @kirythestitchwitch

4 Chapters, 22k. Canon Divergent/Soulmate AU. Will ruin you with single most devastating declaration of love in existence, forewarning you now.

throw roses into the abyss by marxandangels / @marxandangels

7 Chapters, 99k+. WIP. Technically Season 6 Canon-Divergent (after Liz dies) but ignores canon for the most part, especially TO wise. Explores the concept of humanity-less vampires so well, with a dash of world building on the side. Klaus and Caroline's relationship is also explored with such nuance --- like these two aren't just attracted to each other but entwined by their very souls, kind of nuanced. Oh, and the bloodsharing scene drawn by here by @stardust414 lives rent-free in my mind.

Someone's First Choice by unpublishednovelist

10 Chapters, 29k+. Post-Canon. This one's a WIP but I'm keeping my eye on it because it's good. Like hella good. Caroline decides to say fuck it and goes with some college friends to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, accomadation covered by our favourite Original hybrid. She breaks up with Tyler over voicemail. Queen shit.

All I Need by emeraldvixen

14 Chapters, 60k, E rated. Canon-Divergent/Wolf Mate AU. In the mood for some hot and steamy smut? Emeraldvixen's got you covered.

the fate makes for a lousy poet by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 50k+. Season 3 Canon-Divergent/Soulmate AU. The Originals in pajamas. Need I say more?

Who put Bella down the Wynch Elm? by for_darkness_shows_the_stars / @stars-and-darkness

7 Chapters, 60k+. Post-Canon. A murder mystery whodunnit with original side characters and Caroline in all her bad ass glory, after she's left Mystic Falls and its hellmouth-worthy shenanigans. Just - for a minute - imagine canon expanded on the tvd universe and revisted the fact the Originals are little more than nightmarish stories in the supernatural world, or that Stefan is the most infamous mass murderer on the east coast and maybe you'll understand how amazing this fic is.

Important to note these were all specifically Canon-Divergent multichaps. There's plenty more gems out there, just for different AUs and lengths. I also only looked at my ao3 bookmarks for this, so like, I'm probably forgetting several.

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Courting Ayelýn

Series Listing Found Here

Aonung x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Pressured by his parents to enter a formal courtship, Aonung rebels in his own way and what starts as a ruse, turns into something real. 

Note before reading: This is a spin off of my Safe Haven Series.

Reading Safe Haven is not necessary to follow this story.

Some characters have been aged up. Aonung in particular is 25.

Ayelýn is my own creation. *Pronounced Aye-Lin

Warning!! This part is pretty much pure smut.

~

Part 5 - When They Fucked II

The deep rumble of Aonung’s grunt of annoyance sent a rippling vibration through Ayelýn’s body.

With another warning, he pushed her hand away. 

“It’s not- ngh!” A strangled whine broke from her lips as his thrusts sped up. Lýn tried yet again to reach a hand between them- to where they were joined, but the skxawng snatched her hand away. Again!

“Stop, Lýn,” he said firmly, pinning her wrist above her head. 

“It’s not going to work,” she snapped, fixing him with the sternest glare she could muster. It was difficult… especially because her entire body was thrumming with pleasure. 

Like an annoying sneeze that refused to come, Lýn felt her impending orgasm lingering- right there on the cusp. It was so close, she could just about taste it. All she needed was the slightest hint of attention on her poor clit. She couldn’t come without the stimulation of it- she’d never had. 

But Aonung, like a stubborn man on mission, was adamant that she didn’t need it- that he could make her come alone from his ‘oh so wondrous co-’

Lýn gasped when he suddenly pulled out of her. 

Feeling empty as her walls pulsed around nothing, he manhandled her into another position. And with a yelp, she was flipped onto her stomach. Hips drawn up to bring her to her knees, in one swift thrust, she was filled again. 

They moaned in unison as they adjusted to the new angle.

He was so far in- it was as though she forgot how to breathe. So deep it felt as if he were in her lungs- her throat. And when he began to move, she saw stars. 

Fingers tightening in her hair, he yanked her head back and mouthed along the span of her exposed neck.

“You feel amazing, gorgeous. Soo, fucking tight and-” he grunted when she clamped around him. 

Hips setting a ruthless pace against hers, Lýn whined and keened- barely able to hold herself up as her fingers clenched into fits around the material of the mats beneath them. She quaked at the tug of her tail and was so far gone, all thoughts from her mind were wiped clean. 

Breasts shaking with every jerk, on one particular thrust, Aonung hit something inside of her that made her cry out. Her back bowed as she ached into it and- Eywa. 

“Ayelýn,” he growled into her skin. He could feel her fluttering around him, squeezing him so tight he damn near came. 

When he reared up onto his knees, he slipped out for a fraction of a second despite her mewling protest. He pumped himself once, twice, before lining up and slamming back into her with a powerful thrust, using her hips as leverage.

Lýn’s arms gave out as white hot pleasure wrecked her- face hiding in the crook of her arm. 

Near delirious as she came, the tides didn’t stop- she felt it from the tingling of her scalp- hair fisted in Aonung’s hand- to the ends of her toes and the tip of her tail. 

And all the while her body spasmed, Aonung talked her through it- drawing out her climax with languid thrusts, murmuring sweet words of praise in her ear. 

Not long after that, he spilled into her, releasing a deep, satisfied sigh as if coming home from a long journey. 

~

“Told you I could make you come like that,” he gloated, nipping her hip bone. He smothered his chuckle into her tummy when Lýn smacked him with her tail. 

Sprawled on her back, her chest was still heaving as she recovered. Aonung had slipped one of her legs over his shoulder when he’d settled between her thighs, chin perched on the same spot he’d just kissed as he peered up at her. 

A hint of light broke through the hideaway, signaling that morning was near, yet neither of them hustled to right themselves- both secretly wanting to stay in their little bubble just a while longer. 

Since their heated encounter a few weeks ago, there was an undeniable change between the two of them. Subtle at first, it had flickered into a maddening and almost uncontrollable fire. 

When it started, Lýn had made halfhearted objections, reminding him of her rules- despite the fact that they’d already been broken on multiple occasions.

But Aonung was ridiculously persuasive and she just about folded every time he promised it’d be, “the last time.” 

Oh the liar.

It began…

With kissing.

Needy, frantic kisses- all for show of course- when a very persistent Ezly kept trying to get Aonung’s attention at another feast they’d attended- despite the fact that it was well known by now that he and Lýn were in “a secure courtship.”

Followed then by soft goodbye pecks that Lýn would try to shy away from, only for Aonung to claim her lips entirely and have her caving in seconds. 

Then there were the kisses that came naturally, almost as if there was no thought to it- fleeting little things that happened in the blink of an eye- her, bringing him a drink of water while he and his team were sweat soaked from working on rebuilding a Keftxo pier- and him, ducking to brush his lips over hers in thanks. 

They happened so often now that Lýn found herself leaning in expectantly in moments she thought he’d kiss her- even freezing once or twice in embarrassment when she’d read the moment wrong. Aonung read her all too clearly however- his grin would be so wild and wicked while she feebly denied her intentions- words quieting as he gladly silenced her with his lips. 

Gradually, their public displays of affection continued in private, with a feverish intimacy that confused them both when they eventually went their separate ways.

Aonung’s hideaway had become a secret haven for them- one that was put to good use in the past couple weeks. 

Any excuse was used to end up at the little shack, and although they skirted around each other, playing with fire in an odd sort of foreplay that turned bickering into flirting- without fail they collided- exploring each other's bodies with a passionate intensity. 

It wasn’t always passionate though.

Sometimes it was playful and sweet, others simply exploratory, where they taught each other what they liked. There were of course the moments where it was pure animalist fucking- raw and savage that left them with bites and bruises. 

And then there was the type that they both secretly liked the most- the one that didn’t feel like fucking. It was the type of fuck that felt like making love…

But no matter the kind, after each time, while they basked in the afterglow, they talked. 

Some nights they’d whisper and giggle as they swapped childhood stories. Some mornings, on the brink of sleep and wake, they’d revealed hidden fears- him, not knowing if he was good enough to be Olo'eyktan, and her- worried about the unknown, about her future. 

There were also the rare occasions their tongues slipped up- admitting things they’d buried deep inside of them- 

I want you to keep me forever.

And... 

I wish you were mine.

- all said when they were both delirious and reeling from multiple orgasms- sweat slicked skin, roaming hands and mouths playing between hovering and fused as though trying to steal each other's last breaths. 

Today however, they were content to just be. 

Aonung drew shapes along her skin with his fingers, the digits trailing up the side of her thigh and over her flat stomach- circling her belly button.

It was quiet and calm- comfortable, and like always, they didn’t acknowledge what they’d just done. 

Lýn smiled lazily- the kind of blissful smile she usually gave him after a thorough fuck. She cupped his cheek and ran a thumb across his bottom lip. 

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, staring at him. 

He kissed her palm in thanks, doing a terrible job at not blushing. 

He didn’t fucking blush.

And when he peered back at her- she had to look away- heart beating with a little bit of excitement, a little bit of fear.

It was that look again.

The one that spoke deep meaning.

The one she mistook for love…

After collecting her thoughts, she was the first to make a move. Aonung groaned grumpily, but let her untangle herself from him. 

“It’s still early,” he complained, sprawling onto his back without a shred of modesty. 

“I’ve been late twice already this week,” she said, reaching for her discarded tweng. “Slwen’s known for her hash warnings and you know she’s not quiet when she speaks. I think she’s on to me.” 

“Slwen likes me- just tell her you’ve been with me.”

Lýn laughed. “And be given another lecture like the one my mother gave us? Yeah, no way.” 

Tweng secured low on her waist, she scanned the mat covered floor in search of her top while her hands desperately tried to tame her wild hair. 

Aonung covertly tucked her top a little more under him with a smirk, enjoying the view of her pacing. Her pretty little breasts had love bites scattered all over them. It was the only place she let him leave his marks. 

“Have you seen my top?” 

“No,” he lied. 

Lýn zeroed in on him and held out her hand expectantly. It was not the first time he’d tried this. 

“Aonung, come on, we have duties to get to today. I already have a long swim ahead of me.” 

He obliged and got to his feet. “Let me drop you off, my skimwing will be faster.”

“You can’t,” she said, turning her back to him when he gestured for her to, and lifting her hair as he helped her with the ties of her top. “You have trainees to meet with this morning, remember?”

“They can wait,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her nape as he hugged her from behind- one hand sneaking up to fondle a breast. 

“Be nice to them, today.”

His face screwed up at that and before he could talk, she was speaking again. 

“They’re just kids and they look up to you.”

“They’re not kids- and also, did they seriously tell on me?!” 

They had. 

Lýn had thought it quite amusing, yet adorable when the teenagers had shyly approached her to say hello during one of her visits to the main village.

Mid conversation- Anoung’s overly strict tendencies had come up, and though to the trainees she supported their leader’s choices, she still found herself speaking on their behalf.

She turned in Aonung’s arms to smile at him. “That’s not important. Just be a smidge nicer, yeah?” She moved to walk away, but Aonung pulled her back to him with a firm tug on her tail. 

One large palm sinking into the strands at her nape, he gave her a firm kiss.

And when he pulled away, his face was a mask of seriousness. “We need to talk later,” he said without releasing her from his hold. 

She licked her lips with a frown. “About?”

“I heard you had a visitor a few days ago. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Lýn rolled her eyes. “Who told you? Kaii? My mother?” 

“No, your father actually.” 

She snickered. “I swear, you two are such terrible gossips.” 

But Aonung was not laughing. “Why didn’t you tell me Ezly visited you?” 

Trying to deflect, she glanced downward at the appendage currently poking her. “Can you put that thing away if you insist on talking about this?” 

Aonung sighed and let her go.

In the few seconds it took him to find his tweng and cover himself up, Lýn inconspicuously tried to sneak out. Before she could cross the threshold however, Aonung was quickly snagging her around the waist and tutting in disappointment. 

He kept her pinned with his body against a bamboo beam. “We’re not done talking, Lýn. You still haven’t told me why-”

“Because of this,” she pointed at him. “You always get so worked up-”

“Ayelýn.”

“Almighty Eywa!” she hissed. “Nothing terrible happened, alright? Erzo-”

“Ezly.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Her, yes... She came by all rude and huffy, telling me that it was only a matter of time before you ended things- that you’d grow bored of me- which is nothing I haven’t heard before- but this was much more worse than your other little heartbroken women- you’d swear she owned you! I told her she might as well just peed on you like a stupid dorado verde trying to keep predators away from its pilfered carcasses with how she was behaving.” 

Aonung snorted. “You told her that?”

Lýn shrugged. “Well yeah… and-” she mumbled something that didn’t quite reach his ears.

“I didn’t get that last part, gorgeous,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I might’ve- sort of… made her cry- just a little!”

He blinked- lips curling into a wry smile. “You made… Ezly… cry?”

She showed him her index fingers- fingertips inches away from each other. “Just a little,” she admitted with a pout.

Aonung released a breathy laugh and pecked her jutting bottom lip. “What am I going to do with you?”

‘Keep me,’ she wanted to say. So she did, keeping her tone light. “Keep me.”

“Fine by me,” he answered, lifting her in his arms. 

She sank further into his embrace. “You owe me by the way… Elzra and I had a serious conversation. I know for sure she wasn’t pleased, but I believe she’s gotten the message now… I don’t think she’ll be bothering you anymore.”

“Thank Eywa for you, gorgeous,” he said before covering her mouth with his.

Fuck. 

She was definitely going to be late again. 

~

Awa’atlu was the busiest Lýn had ever seen. 

They were after all preparing for an event that rivaled all others. 

Visitors from not only from the Omaticaya clan were all traveling to Awa’atlu to celebrate the official union of Lo’ak and Tsireya. 

Fishing expeditions occurred in grand fanfare as fleets returned with double the amount of their usual hauls.

Harvest gatherers and land hunters, stockpiled the village’s cashes and many worked overtime on the more time consuming matters- meat and fish smoked or salted, grains ground into flour and nectar painstakingly collected from pods. 

The beach and sea were combed for any hint of debris. Torches and fire pits- including a massive bonfire in the center of their communal area were constructed, and extravagant designs- tapestries, painted fabrics and flora arrangements were scattered in harmonic decor. 

A multitude of temporary mauri pods along the northern sealine were also constructed in preparation for the influx of guests the village was expecting, whilst drums and flutes were tweaked and tuned- their melody flowing through as songs were practiced. 

Fermented and brewed ales and wines were dug up from their resting place and Lýn spotted many with busy hands as they put finishing touches on their garmented designs. 

The Sully family in particular were arriving a few days before the designated festivities were to begin- expected to land in the early hours of tomorrow morning, and Lýn, to both her and Aonung’s surprise, had been asked by Ronal to be present at the greeting party. 

Not only that but the Tsahìk also expected Lýn to be part of all the traditional festivities and ceremonies spreading across the next two weeks… something Lýn was quite nervous about. 

One of these ceremonies included the official meeting of the two families- something that was traditionally done in the earlier stages of a couple’s courtship, but allowances had been made because of the evident distance.

It was also a tradition that was strictly practiced by the couples family. 

Lýn wasn’t family.

~

When night came, she made her way to the pod she had been directed to.

Aonung’s private mauri was small but cozy and far more homey than the shack on his little island. 

Tossing her overstuffed satchel of things onto his table, Lýn spun in a slow circle, taking in his space for the first time. 

He had a couple collections of odd knick-knacks, a plethora of weapons and fishing gear and surprisingly, even a few hanging plants that appeared to be well kept. 

His sleep mats- although untidy, looked inviting. Lýn wasn’t tired, yet she wanted nothing more than to sink into them- she bet they smelled like Aonung. 

Instead, she perched behind his little table and waited for him whilst fiddling with the odd human-made device she’d seen him use to communicate with other clans. 

At the sight of her when he finally entered a while later, he grinned like a child given a treat and Lýn couldn’t help the stupid giggle that bubbled at her chest. 

“What are you so happy about?” she asked, twisting to face him. 

“I have lured the Ayelýn Te Azuei Lou'ite into my home. What man wouldn’t be happy?” he half joked as he hung up the towel that had been resting around his shoulders and the soap pouch dangling from his fingers.  

“Oh shush! I’m still not sure how you managed to convinced me of this. I can still go home, you know? It’s not even that late. I’m sure I’ll get here on time tomorrow and I don’t see why I need to stay for all two weeks.” 

He huffed as if saying, “Not this argument again.” 

Placing a palm dramatically over his chest, he approached her. “Why must you always wound me with your words?” His hands reached for her expectantly, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. “You’re always trying to leave me.” 

“Am I?” she whispered, eyes closing when his clean scent washed over her.

A soft sigh escaped her as she let him kiss her- head tilting to the left as he went to the right. 

Threading his fingers through her hair, he claimed control of her movement, bending her to his will as her palms trailed up his chest- one resting flat over his heartbeat while other reached high to cup his neck- fingertips toying with hair strands she found there.

Nothing between them felt like pretending anymore.

“Aonung,” she murmured as he forged a path down her throat. Something in her core tightened and Lýn knew she was seconds away from making another terrible decision- one that would make things harder when it came time to end them. 

After selfishly stealing a couple more kisses, she reluctantly broke their connection. “We should sleep.”

He swallowed and gave a shaky nod, failing to mask his disappointment. “Sleep… Right.” 

“Mhm. We have a busy day tomorrow. An early one too.”

It was why Aonung suggested Lýn stay with him from that night on, so that she didn’t have to wake at an unreasonable hour to make the journey over. She’d found it logical yes- but didn’t think it was a good idea for them to share a space… much less for her to stay the entirety of the two week celebration. 

But of course, and to no surprise, she folded. 

Ayelýn wasn’t even surprised that the man was also able to get her parents to agree to it as well- even promising her brother he’d craft him his very own official spear since he would be stealing Lýn away for so long. 

Soon enough, Ayelýn was settling in and making herself comfortable in Aonung’s sleep mats. And she was right… they did smell like him. 

Aonung sat near the edge of the fabric. He pulled her feet into his lap and tickled the underside of one foot, gaining a playful kick to the chest in retaliation. 

Crashing waves in the distance echoed comfortingly and a cool breeze blew into the marui. 

For Ayelýn, it all felt rather domestic. She’d already eaten dinner with him and his family that evening. Now here she was, curled on her side, observing him as his fingers released his hair from its usual tidy bun. 

“Should I be worried about meeting Toruk Makto and his family tomorrow?” 

“No, why?”

“Aonung, I’m not family, and I know your mother was the one to invite me but-”

“I want you there tomorrow,” he said firmly. “I want you to meet the Sullys. I want you to meet Neteyam and Xilä, and their son.” His hands abandoned his hair to squeeze around her ankle, one palm running up her calf. “When you start to feel that stupid feeling like you don’t belong there with us, just know that I want you there. Yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

Lýn hid her blush under the pretense of adjusting herself into a more comfortable position. Once settled, she nibbled on the tip of her thumb and squinted at the man before her. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, gorgeous,” he said as he continued with the twists to the front of his hair. 

“What’s the real reason you don’t want a mate?” 

“Who said I don’t want a mate?”

“Um, you did? When you asked me to help you with this elaborate plan of yours.” 

Aonung shook out his loose hair with a sigh, digits combing through the strands. He looked good like this, she thought. His curls were long and shiny and she was itching to run her fingers through them. 

“I want a mate. I want a wife.”

Lýn swallowed. “Then why-”

“It’s difficult to explain.” 

“Try,” she whispered.

He held her gaze for a long minute- expression soft and one of vulnerability. 

“Being who I am, sometimes I can’t tell when women are-” His brows scrunched, and he shook his head. “They don’t see me. They see, son of Tonowari. The chief's son. Future Olo'eyktan… And I know I am those things- there’s no escaping it... But I'm tired of being casted in my father’s shadow.”

His hands found her foot again whilst he spoke. Fingers tracing her ankle, thumb pressing into the ball of her foot. 

“I liked this one girl when I was dumb teenager. Thought I’d ask her to court once I completed my rites… but thankfully I didn’t since I overheard her and her friends gushing that she'd managed to nab the chief’s son and what it meant for her- her title. Her status. Her, her, her. ” 

Aonung snorted self-deprecatingly. “I wasn’t Aonung. I was a goal to her. A fucking thing to win… Anyway, from then on I found that women tend to only want me because of my title. It gets them attention. Other men are suddenly interested in them- because they’re seen with me.”

He rolled his eyes. “And sure, maybe it wasn’t all of them, but they began to blur, and it was hard to tell who was being genuine… So over time, of it happening over and over again, and getting hurt- I leaned into it. I lowered my expectations and gave no fucks.”

His thumb rubbed along the space above her heel, and Lýn had to bite back a moan. His fingers felt sinful and it wasn’t appropriate for her to, given that he was currently opening up to her. 

“So yeah, it’s not that I don’t want a mate. I do. But I don’t want a loveless match… I don’t want to have children and spend an eternity with someone I only bonded with out of honor and duty. My parents did it and were lucky to eventually find love… But I can’t. I’ve seen the unlucky ones with my own eyes. I don’t want that.”

“Aonung,” Lýn whispered, as though feeling his pain. “Thank you for telling me,” she said gratefully. “I understand… and I hate that for you. You deserve love to find that love you’re looking for.” 

He gave her a sincere smile of appreciation. “What about you?”

“Me?” she asked, shifting onto her back and nudging her other foot into his hands, sighing in relief when he began to massage it. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes trailing up her body, from the feet in his lap to her slightly parted thighs, to her chest that was barely covered by a strip of cloth, patched with tiny seashells, to then finally landing on her face- eyes closing as she enjoyed his working fingers. 

“Why’s no man managed to grab you up yet?” 

Lýn snorted at his wording but since he was so open with her she decided to be honest too.

“Actually, a couple months before we met, I thought I was going to be.”

Aonung swallowed but managed to keep his tone leveled. “Who was he?”

“He’s a patroller from the Malti village. We met at a clan gathering and he was sweet and attentive. He had a way with words and he made me think that we really did have a future… I mean it wasn’t love but…” 

“What happened?”

“Keftxo, I think? He ended it after saying that it was too far a journey to make each time to see me… that the courting phase would never last.”

“That’s the poorest fucking excuse I’ve ever heard. Awa’atlu is farther than Multi is to Kefto and I make the journey out almost everyday!” 

“I know,” Lýn said gently. “Seeing that had me rethinking the entire thing. Maybe he just didn’t want me anymore, or maybe he just hated Ketfxo.”

“Well, his fucking loss then,” Aonung grumbled while he crawled in beside her, snagging her around the waist and making himself comfortable. 

Lýn turned in his arms, fingers coming up to fiddle with the talon around his neck and Aonung stayed still, watching her through hooded eyelids. She brushed a strand of hair off his cheek and traced down the line of his jaw, letting the tips of her fingers linger over his lips. 

If this moment could last forever, he would take it. 

Fingers still trailing, they burned a path downwards, stopping over his heartbeat. 

Calm washed over Aonung, and all he wanted was to be closer to her. He pulled her to him and affectionately nosed the space at the junction of her neck.

“Can I make you come?” he asked against her skin, fingers playing with the material on her hip. 

His request was so soft and casual, one would think he was simply asking for them to go on a late night stroll. 

Ayelýn’s body responded without her permission. She craved him, yet a tiny part of her rebelled. Her fingers sank in his hair- on their own accord, marveled by its softness. 

“Didn’t we agree that none of it ever happened and that we would never talk about it? As in never, ever?”

“Mmm, you agreed, yeah... I didn’t.” 

“Aonung… I’m not sleeping with you again. It’s a bad idea- you know it too.”

His head lifted out from her neck. “Who said anything about sleeping?” he asked in faux innocence. “I was planning to fuck you, Ayelýn. I wanna hear those little noises you make just for me.” 

Lýn squeezed her thighs together despite rolling her eyes in annoyance- though, she wasn’t really. “Do you only ever think with your dick?”

“Not always. My fingers and tongue do a lot of thinking too… and my tail.” He wiggled his brows. “And I know you’re into that.”

Head tossed backwards, she cackled. “Oh that was good. That was really good. No wonder you lure so many women in here- and speaking of-” She shuffled. “I hope these mats are clean.” 

She’d meant it as a joke, but an odd expression crossed his face. 

“What?”

“I don’t- I never brought women here.”

Lýn’s heart fluttered at the comment. “Never? You’re lying.”

“No, honest. Usually we just did it whe-”

“I don’t need or want to know where you and your entanglements happened,” she interrupted, causing him to release a breathy laugh. 

“Fair enough.”

She wanted to ask him why he’d brought her here but couldn’t bring herself too. “Can I ask you another question though?”

“If you keep doing what you’re doing right now, then yeah, go for it.”

Her fingers were still in his hair, tips gently dragging against his scalp.

“That woman- Ez something-”

“Ezly,” he corrected with a stupid smile on his face. “I’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose.”

“I’m not!”

“It’s okay, gorgeous. Jealousy looks good on you. You’ve got me blushing over here.”

“Oh hush! What I’m trying to ask is- is she the one from your story? The girl you liked?” 

Aonung’s smile dropped. “How’d you figure that out?” 

“You said you never slept with her. Right?” 

“Mhm.” 

Aonung’s jaw was clenched tight, so she soothed a palm over it, happy when he leaned into her affection. 

“Whenever she’s around it’s like you can’t stand to look in her direction and you get all tense and irritated whenever she talks… Then there’s also the fact that she had this crazy sense of entitlement over you, which since you said you never slept with her… could only stem from something else. She was the girl you wanted to ask to court…”

He couldn’t deny it. It was clear as day all over his face. 

“And I’m guessing,” she continued. “That based on her behavior alone- even after all these years, she still had hope, she still thought that after you’d “had your fun,” you’d go right back to her.” 

“It took me a long time to get over her,” he revealed. “Like I said, I was a dumb kid… When I finally did, I wondered- what exactly did I ever see in her in the first place.” His head fell, face nuzzling into Lýn’s cheek as she wrapped him up in a comforting hug. “You were right by the way. She got the message- avoids me now… Still can’t believe you made her cry though… and I must say it’s kind of hot seeing you so protective of me.” 

Lýn laughed. “Ezra had it coming a long time now.” 

“It’s Ez- you know what- call her whatever,” he said through a snicker. 

Shuffling their position, he rolled them over. Lýn laid on her back now to accommodate his massive body. 

‘He was such a cuddler,’ she thought in amusement. 

“I’ve never told anyone any of that before,” he admitted. “I'm also surprised by how much you figured out too.”

“Really?” She soothingly caressed his back. He was getting a tad heavy being draped over her like this, but she didn’t mind. “Why is that so surprising? I do pay attention when you talk.”

His head popped up at that and Lýn internally squirmed at the intensity she found in his gaze. There was a question in his eyes and it was clear as day what he wanted.

“No,” she said, despite her body screaming, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’

“You know, gorgeous… that’s what you said when I asked you to kiss me the first time… and guess what? We kissed. No, is also what you said right before we fucked- and damn, I think lost count of how many times it’s been now,” he listed in a silly tone.

“Aonung-”

“No,” he continued, fingers trailing up her side, “is what you said when I asked you to court-”

“Fake court.”

“Fake court,” he corrected. “And now look at where we are…” He shook his head as though disappointed in her- so serious with his acting that Lýn had to mash her lips together to not laugh. “I have to say… I’m starting to think that your no’s don’t really mean… no.”

Lýn swallowed and forced herself to not look away from his intense stare- his eyes almost daring her to refute him. 

“So I’ll ask again,” he said, voice low rumbling, causing her tummy to clench, “Can I make you come?”

Playing along with his game, her eyes spoke volumes and when her mouth spewed the word, “No,” Aonung grinned. 

Head descending, he kissed her for a long, drawn out moment. “Fuck. I love kissing you,” he rasped when he pulled away. 

Love. 

The word did something to Lýn, and as Aonung studied her expression- she knew that he knew it too. 

Not wasting another second, he kissed her again, harder this time- a kiss so passionate, it burned through her veins. 

The arousing sound of her needy moan was his undoing and unable to hold himself back any longer, he pulled away again and made quick work of removing her top and tweng. 

When she was bare to him, he was everywhere. Lips, hands- tail pushing her legs open so his frame could sink right into her. 

She bucked her hips and pulled on his hair as he sucked on a pebbled nipple, teeth nipping around her skin before he swallowed her breast in its entirety. 

“Aonung, please-“ She tried to guide one of his hands where she wanted him. 

“Not yet,” he answered around her breast.

Lýn grunted impatiently. “I thought you were going to fuck me- ow!” She hissed when he bit her in warning and stubborn like always, he continued with his path of leisure down her body. 

He worshiped her skin with kisses and quiet words that went unheard by her, all the way until his wide shoulders settled between her stretched thighs. 

And only using his tongue, he licked her into oblivion. With broad sweeps and sucks, he kept her held down with a firm grip and Ayelýn could do nothing but take it. 

Ears gone muffled and no longer able to hear the lewd sounds of his tongue at work, much less her own moans and cries, she arched, fingers fisted in Aonung’s hair as an orgasm rocked her. 

He kept her thighs spread and opened when they tried to clamp closed, tongue lazily and gently overstimulating her as she came down from her high. 

Blinking into awareness and senses returning to her, she cursed and shoved his head away. Usually she wasn’t this sensitive, but right now, she needed a breather. 

Aonung didn’t seem to mind, if anything he appeared mighty proud of herself and how quickly he got her to break. 

Crawling back up to her, he captured her lips in a messy kiss- licking into her mouth as mercilessly as he’d licked between her thighs. 

As they kissed, Lýn reached between them. She fumbled for a second, but with his help, his tweng was gone, allowing her to take him in her fist- an action that made Aonung grunt and break their connection. 

Forearms planted on either side of her, he stared right into her eyes as she stroked him from root to tip. Over and over. Every time she reached the top, she gathered the moisture dripping from there and dragged it down his length. 

His jaw dropped with a soft “ah” and Ayelýn responded with a sweet sound- as though she wasn't trying to kill him with each squeeze- with each pump. 

Eyes clenching shut, Aonung groaned. Eywa. The pleasure was maddening and when spurts of pre-cum escaped him, he had to stop her. “Fuck. Fuck- Lýn I’m -”

Lýn could feel the tremble in his body. With two more strong strokes she released him, and no sooner had she, his lips were on hers again. 

“Aonung,” she sighed. “Please.”

“What, gorgeous? Hmm? Tell me.”

“I want you,” she begged against his lips, legs wrapping around his waist. 

He reared up onto his knees and stared down at her. “So pretty,” he murmured. Lining himself at her entrance, he pushed in- just the tip. 

Lýn’s moan was music to his ears. 

Aonung watched her body’s reaction to him- watched how well she took him with each slow press, watched her chest heave in anticipation, watched how hard she bit her lip and clenched the mat beneath her. 

Using her hips, he dragged in and out- falling deeper with each measured thrust, stretching her to fit him perfectly. 

“This what you needed, sweetheart?” 

“Ye- ngh!” Her eyes widened and she mewled when he fell over her, propped by one hand as he slid in all the way- right to the hilt. 

Hitching her thigh higher up hip waist, he moved with deliberate thrusts. “Eywa. You always take me so good, gorgeous. Just look at you.” 

Lýn cried out when his angle changed, hitting a place inside of her that had her breathless. 

Aonung himself was losing his mind, muttering words falling from his lips as the pleasure built. 

“Perfect, so perfect,” he said against her temple, lips and nose trailing across her skin as they moved. 

Lýn pressed kisses to his jaw- breath heavy in a pant while clinging to him. 

“There’s only- ah fuck- one thing that could ever make this better.”

His whisper was so quiet, she almost missed it. 

“What?” she asked, body tensing as she felt that telltale sign of release coming. 

His rhythm had become erratic now, pace a little more desperate and demanding. And just as Lýn reached her peak, he emptied inside her, heaving one word that had her coming harder than she ever came in her life…

“Tsaheylu.” 

~

Hello friends! 💛

This is way over due. I'm sorrreh! As a token of my apology, one last part will be released, a little while after this one.

Also, I did not by any means think this part would be so heavy handed with the smut- it just happened... sigh, so much for all that angst I envisioned.

See you at the next ending then!

And as always, please let me know what you think.

~

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes @staymentallystable @neteyamslovrr @melsunshine @tadomikiku

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: fuck it i'm updating twice today because i'm impatient

part 5: eye and ears open wide

word count: 1,620

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Late afternoon at the Shelby estate, the dense air fell with the scent of freshly lit cigarettes and the faint remnants of damp earth from the previous night's passing rain. Polly sat at the head of the table in the sitting room, legs crossed, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers. She called you in under the guise of discussing business, but it was clear this was something else entirely.

She didn't say anything at first, just watching as you sat opposite her. Her sharp eyes washed over you, taking in every detail—the way you held yourself, the deliberate neutrality of your expression with the playful tilt of your head, the way you met her gaze without flinching.

“Do you drink?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“If the occasion calls for it,” you replied, your voice steady.

Polly smirked faintly, as if amused by your careful answer. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “And what does this occasion call for, then?”

You sat back just enough to allude your disinterest towards whatever would proceed. “That depends. Are we celebrating, or are we negotiating?”

She chuckled, low and dry. She took a drag of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. “Neither. Not yet, anyway. You don't talk very much, do you?"

“I imagine you wouldn't believe anything I do say regardless."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but in intrigue. “Good answer. I'll get straight to the point then. Why are you really here?”

“Because I'm here to collect. Because Tommy asks things of me.”

Polly raised her eyebrow. “And you always do what Tommy asks?”

A flicker of a smile crossed your lips. “Only when it’s in my best interest.”

Polly laughed, a genuine sound that surprised even her. “Clever." She nodded, sitting back and tapping ash from her cigarette. “But clever only gets you so far in life and in this family. Exchanging loyalty for loyalty—a concept not easily recognized by anyone, let alone Tommy—is an empty compromise. And still, loyalty is everything.”

You nod slowly. “You're right. Loyalty is shown and wordlessly given. Not something to be promised. As is trust.”

Polly studied you for a moment, the silence stretching out between you like a drawn wire. Finally, she nodded, as if coming to a decision.

“You’ll do.” She quickly averted her stare to the table, standing and smoothing her dress. “For now.”

As she walked past you, she paused, placing a hand lightly on your shoulder. “But remember this,” she began her heavy threat, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Tommy might trust you, but I don’t. Not yet. And if you’re not who you seem to be...” She let the implication hang in the air before straightening and leaving the room. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor.

You sat with an amused grin, understanding this was Polly's sly attempt at determining how much of a threat you were. This wasn’t just a meeting—it was a test. And you weren't entirely sure if you passed.

"You know..."

Polly paused just before reaching the door, sensing your presence still lingering in the room, the energy charged in a way that demanded further acknowledgment. She turned back, the faintest trace of curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“I’m curious.” You broke the silence, resting your elbows on the table with your chin propped up with your fingers. “Do you really believe Tommy trusts me?”

The question landed like a well-placed card in a high-stakes game. Polly tilted her head, her expression unreadable, but there was no denying the sharpness in her gaze as she stepped back towards the table. “You tell me.”

You took a short, deliberate pause before answering. “I think Tommy trusts me as far as he can throw me. Which, to be fair, is probably farther than most. But trust? That's not something you or I can properly determine. He doesn't seem like the type who trusts without conditions. Then again, if it is conditional, that isn't actually trust, is it?”

She clearly enjoyed your insight. She sat down again, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray with an elegant flick. “You’re not wrong. But it isn’t the same as dependence. Tommy depends on people to do their jobs, to play their roles. And he depends on them not to stab him in the back.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you know what happens when they do?”

“I imagine it’s not something they live to regret. Then again, any regrets that have followed me have been buried for some time. Best to let the dead rest."

Polly let out a short, sharp laugh. “You can turn a phrase, I’ll give you that.” She leaned forward, mirroring your posture. “You seem like someone who knows how to play the long game. You're fully aware that you're entertaining me with this conversation. There must be something you can explicitly admit, what you're trying to gain from all of this.”

You tilted your head again, as if considering her question carefully. “You said it yourself. Loyalty is everything in this family. Maybe I’m after the same thing you are—the same thing everyone around you is after—keeping Tommy alive long enough to make all of this worth it.”

Polly’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. There was a flicker of something—respect, perhaps?—before she hid it behind a veil of calculated indifference. Her voice softened, almost reflective, as she muttered something inaudible under her breath. She stubbed out her cigarette and stood once more.

As she turned to leave, you called out again.

“It works both ways, you know.”

Polly paused mid-step, glancing back over her shoulder. “What does?”

“Trust,” you said simply. You gently massaged the tension under your eyes with two fingers. “You trust Tommy—only you don't. Not really or else you wouldn't be in here trying to understand me. You trust him conditionally, and as I've said before, conditional trust is anything but. If you want this to get a little more complicated, the one aspect of Tommy that you don't trust is his ability to trust people. That would imply you’re still waiting to see how far you can trust me.”

For a moment, there was silence, heavy and charged. The word sounded funny at this point, and you very clearly hammered down your perception of her, Tommy, and their world. Words continuously were thrown around until someone believed them, and to believe them blindly would never be a smart decision. Polly let out a low chuckle, shaking her head slightly as she walks toward the door.

“Well,” she sighed just loudly enough for you to hear, her tone carrying a note of amusement, “maybe you’re smarter than I thought.”

She didn’t look back as she left this time, but there was something in her stride that suggested she was more intrigued than she was willing to admit.

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Tommy sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey untouched beside him. He stared at a ledger, though it was clear his mind is elsewhere.

It quickly became evident that watching the bookshop was a fruitless effort. Everyday, on schedule, you'd open the shop, and before noon, you were at his office. Some days, it would be past noon, but regardless, it seemed like whatever you did there was of no concern to him. This was another miscalculation, and Tommy grew tired of misunderstanding you.

The door opened, and Finn stepped inside, his movements casual, almost careless.

“You took your time,” Tommy says without looking up. His tone is sharp, the kind of tone that’s both a question and a warning. "Were you running errands or on a fucking train to London?"

Finn shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Sorry, Tommy. I just got held up at the bookshop,” he said easily, tossing his cap onto the coat rack.

That got Tommy’s attention. He glanced up, his expression neutral but his eyes razor-sharp. “The bookshop?”

“Yeah,” Finn replied, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “I know you said that we were done, but it's on the way back, you see. Just thought I’d say hello.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been spending time with her?”

Finn frowned at the edge in his brother’s voice. “Not like that. We talk. That’s all.”

Tommy didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch until Finn shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“What do you talk about?” Tommy asked finally, his voice low with an unmistakable tension coiled beneath the words.

Finn shrugged again, his casual demeanor returning. “Stories, mostly. Things she’s heard around town. Little bits and pieces about people. She's been all over, y'know. London. Some ruddy spots in Scotland.” He grinned slightly. “She’s got a way of making things sound... lighter.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “Lighter?”

“Yeah.” Finn uncrossed his arms and stood straighter. “Y'know, not like all this.” He gestured vaguely around the office, at the heavy ledgers, the endless stream of problems.

Tommy studied him, his expression unreadable. “And she doesn’t ask you anything?”

“No,” Finn said firmly. “She’s not like that. She just talks. It’s... easy.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked back at the ledger, though his focus had clearly shifted.

“Don’t make a habit of it.”

Finn smirked. “What, you scared she’s gonna steal me away from the Blinders?”

Tommy shot him a sharp look that immediately wiped the grin off Finn’s face.

“Go on.” Tommy gestured towards the door. “I’m busy.”

Finn nodded and left without another word.

As the door closed, Tommy leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. His gaze shifted to the window where the faint outlines of the city stretched out beyond the glass.

[carlyleandco]

okay my fellow Cdrama fanatics, I’m in need of some recs as someone who is still fairly new to the scene…

Historical Cdramas I’ve enjoyed

Story of Minglan ~ this show is my Roman Empire…like I don’t go more than a couple of days without thinking about it. Love how much depth there was to the characters and their relationships. I got so much satisfaction from watching Minglan run circles around every one else using her intelligence and wits. Every time Gu Tingye popped up in the background as her backup support I lost it! Talk about power couple.

Love Like the Galaxy ~ first historical Cdrama I have watched and apart from Minglan, I think it has ruined the rest for me. This drama has so many layers. Niao Niao is an intelligent, and opportunistic female lead. She is unabashedly herself, and the story is not afraid to depict her as unlikeable at first instance. I deeply appreciated the focus on female relationships and family. And Ling Buyi has ruined all other antiheroes for me lmao

Destined ~ I thought this one would be on par with Minglan at first, but it did lose its way in the latter half. I felt the female lead was relegated to the background, which was frustrating as they built her up to be this shrewd businesswoman and then we never get to see her in action. I did appreciate how wholesome and untoxic Jiu Si was as a romantic lead. I thought her relationship with the SML could have been drawn out more, however.

Romance of Tiger and Rose ~ I don’t think this drama is anywhere on par with the above three, but I still enjoyed it. Definitely a fun and unserious romp. Zhou Lu Si is just so likeable in all her roles.

Xianxia I’ve enjoyed:

Love and Redemption ~ I literally fell down a hole with this drama. I could not stop watching. Even though the female leads starts with that token immaturity Cdramas are known for, it’s explained in-world and she goes through a noticeable growth/stepping into adulthood arc. I also LOVED how powerful she was and how often she got to use her powers. Also the romance? Sifeng?!!? Yeah I was a mess. However, one thing that irritated me was the lack of agency Xuan Ji had toward the end of the show.

Eternal Love ~ it’s a classic for a reason. I loved Bai Qian’s resolve, steadfastness, and maturity. Her relationship with Ye Hau blossomed naturally, and they had different obstacles to face as a couple as opposed to what I have seen so far.

Love Between Fairy and Devil ~ speaks for itself, and I love enemies to lovers.

Extra: points if the female lead is powerful, or is on a journey to realising her power. Whether that’s through her intelligence, empathy, or in the case of xianxia, actual mystical power. Bonus points if she’s a character like Xuan Ji who can go supernova and destroy everyone lol

Historical dramas I have not enjoyed:

The Sword and the Brocade ~ I didn’t even finish this one. My overall impression was, having already finished Minglan prior, eating cardboard after having been to a 5 star Michelin restaurant. Everything was so bland and dull, even down to the cinematography.

Princess Silver ~ I dragged myself to the finish line with this one. The plot just became so utterly ludicrous and relied on the audience being invested in the main leads without actually letting them spend screen time together. I also hated that we had glimpses of the female leads power but that she never got to fully realise this. Just overly contrived and trite.

Xianxia I did not enjoy

Ashes of Love ~ this was the first xianxia I ever watched some years back. Given I was new to the genre, I think I found some of the characteristic features a bit jarring and I stopped watching Cdramas as a result. If I watched it again I may be able to make it through. Ultimately, I just could not stomach how naive the main female character. I understand this is typical, but it was another level of nauseating that I have not found an equal to since.

[defira85]

With the proviso that I have not finished the game and I in a really shitty mood about my Rook's body type breaking in the romance cut scene specifically, I have thoughts-

I saw a post that said that Veilguard is so fundamentally determined to say nothing that sometimes it comes out as incredibly offensive with just how aggressively noncommittal it is

and that's really it, isn't it

Shadow Dragon Rook got into trouble for saving slaves, and the Viper is a vigilante saving slaves, but we never SEE any slavery. We see poverty and abuse, but there's no talk about the rigid castes within Tevinter. Maybe the Venatori were drawn primarily from the lower classes of mages, those without family seats in the Magisterium, who were drawn to the promise that they could accumulate power instead of being trapped in a system that dooms them to failure and looks down its nose at them for being born not important enough

Tevinter's whole thing across the series has been slavery!!! And we get one or two codex entries about how Dorian gave such a nice speech about "slavery bad :c" and that's it

The Crows are so utterly toothless. Just an aggressively white-washed cool vigilante group, no hint of their child abuse or slavery practices, where's the acknowledgement that they make a lot of their money from slavery?

Lucanis' year in solitary confinement and torture is just window dressing. Again, haven't finished the game, but no examination of it at all 45 hours in. There's so much literature about what solitary confinement does to a person, how it's a form of torture, and just thinking about how much of Zevran's past abuses were woven into his characterisation so carefully... it's like chalk and cheese

Davrin once again filling the role of Bioware's obligatory "elf who hates being an elf and aggressively denies all elven heritage" companion

And like... every mini villain is just someone who was too ambitious and that made them eeeeevil. All the companions' rivals get dropped on Rook without any build-up, no casual conversations to say "oh I had this ex-friend/rival/foe who shaped me". Maybe I've been spoiled by Baldur's Gate 3 and how carefully all of the companions' abusers were woven into who they were as a character and how it shaped them and their story. Gortash didn't just come out of nowhere, Karlach was mentioning him in chapter 1! There were codex entries about him to be found weeks before you met him! But who the fuck is Johanna Hezenberouasertrousers or whatever the fuck her name is. She was ambitious, TOO ambitious, so she's evil and Emmrich's mirror. Cyrian joined the Forgotten Ones, and sure the Evanuris turned out to be super evil abusers that all the myths and religion was super wrong about but this is WORSE CYRIAN HOW COULD YOU

Don't get me started on whatever the fuck the game is trying to say about religion and about faith. Gods, it's so mid 2000s atheist edgelord memeing "unfortunately for you.... I have reason and logic on my side....... checkmate religion..." There's no nuance at all!!!!! Just "religion is a lie so faith dies now" no acknowledgement of faith as a cultural force!!! Of CULTURE being shaped by faith!!!! Okay I said don't get me started, I'll stop now

Whatever the fuck they're doing with the Qunari. They really just have gone back to their incredibly racist roots of "islamic borg" as David Gaider called it but they've made it even more offensive by making them all so... I don't know what word I'm looking for is, but it's about the sex appeal. How they've got their entire chiselled asses out. They look like they're trying to take part in Mister Bodybuilder Treviso, not a vaguely regimented army that was incredibly carefully structured up until about 5 minutes ago

This was more than what I intended to write lmfao. It's a fun game! I'm enjoying myself, as a fun action RPG. But after Baldur's Gate 3, it's just so utterly spineless. It has nothing to say. Evil people are evil, good people are good. It doesn't take a stand about anything. It is so determined not to be offensive to anyone at all that I find it gross

I'll finish it, and then I'll go back to BG3

[miasudare]

THIS ONE IS IMPORTANT!

This is one of my delusional cotl theories, I worked about a few days for it so don't wait too much. It's very long, just so you know

Today, our subject is the bishops. Though in cult of the lamb wiki's story segment states a few events, no evidence and connection is shown. And considering that wiki pages are written by people, it's not a %100 correct.

Death of bishops

Ever wondered why Narinder is the only bishop you can make a follower before Mystic Sellers appearance? Or why don't the bishops end up with Narinder when they die? Let me tell you.

When we kill a bishop, they don't end in the death realm but end up with Mystic. That's why we can only get them back after being introduced to the seller. They own them.

And Narinder? He already lives in the death realm and if you notice, you don't entirely defeat him until the option segment, his life bar still having a bit of hp. You only hurt with him until he can't fight. When you choose to kill him, he then gets sent to Mystic for us to claim him later on.

Mystic's thoughts

"I recall Leshy. Prior to yourself, he was the last to bargain with me. Adept as he was, he rose quickly to the challenges of Godhood, aided by his siblings. Many were drawn to his chaotic ways."

Mystic Seller seems to observe and know everything that had gone through Leshy's godhood even moments of help from his siblings. Tho, not the first godhood.

"I am not inclined to emotion, the way your kind are. Though if I were, Heket would certainly inspire amusement. She was perhaps the most vicious of them. Wicked beast."

No matter how badly the Mystic Seller spoke of Heket's actions, they seem to find sadistic inspiration in her actions. They do not have characteristics such as emotion, but observation expands their world. Which is weird, because that's probably a look you'd wait for Leshy.

"It did not matter to Kallamar that his ears were lost, for he was never inclined to listen. Foolish though he may have seemed, he wielded the power of his Crown without discrimination."

We all know Kallamar's cowardice. But Mystic does not see this as cowardice and even interprets this fear, which has become a self-protection mechanism, as a strategy. Cause Mystic has no emotions and can't understand fear.

"Shamura and I did not barter much. In truth, they need little from me. Truly, 'twas shame what became of them."

Mystic and Shamura seem to actually talk and have a conversation unlike the other siblings Mystic talks about. And Shamura is the only bishop that Mystic sees higher, thinking that Shamura didn't need them at all.

"A toy for you. Benefactor, comrade, malignant foe... redemption or punishment, 'tis yours to confer as you see fit." Gifts you Narinder as a Follower in his exclusive Follower Form. (Without the immortal trait)

This section is important because Mystic doesn't say anything about Narinder's past. While they normally talk about an event that happened in his siblings' own lives, Narinder doesn't seem to mean much to them. They neither belittle him nor exalt him. Narinder is very unimportant to them.

Now, I'd like to think that Mystic were there. Before the whole argument, it wasn't only the 5 bishops. Mystic saw it, Mystic heard it. Maybe even lived with them. Raised them, even. Mystic Seller, is the creator of them. Yeah. I said it. God of gods. How else can you explain him just replace the very gods you killed and put them back in their purged realms? Or idk, carry the ex god of death by their little tiny winy legs? Literally posses the body of the new god??? Tho, it seems like they are not the same realms anymore as if those places were... Altered.

Shamura. Wanna talk?

Shamura is both refered to as the god of war and god of might, which are quite the opposite of each other.

War, is something that grows from misunderstandings, greed and not thinking straight, which isn't very fit for god of might. And well, that made me think... I think... The bishops didn't/was supposed to have these roles before their fight with Narinder.

"I am not what I once was. Though no longer wise, I am no fool."

Shamura is aware that they are no longer the god of might, yet something another.

So this might mean, before the betrayal, the bishops had opposite godhoods. Or were supposed to have these godhoods.

Kallamar = God of health

Heket = Goddess of abundance

Leshy = God of peace

This makes sense when you consider the people that follow them. Why would someone follow a god who just means nothing but trouble? Even in our cult, we teach people about death and after life, reassure them or teach them. We make sense.

"I introduced him to ideas of change; for my domain is knowledge, and it is ever evolving. An organic state of being for myself, but for him… most unnatural. Death cannot flow backward." -Shamura

This. That green? Yeah that one. That's when Narinder's betrayal happened. Shamura, showed Narinder that there was a way to change things, which Narinder ended up doing so. And what did he do? Death cannot flow backward, he tried to give life. Narinder, the only member in the family that probably ended up with such negative thing as being the god of death, tried to make life.

"Bonds of familial duty, turned instead to chains. Most voracious of appetites, curbed and contained. Most infectious of ideas cut off and cauterised before given chance to rot and spread. Cruel, verily. Alas, what other recourse was given? How does one kill Death? ... Alas. One cannot." -Haro

Haro also seems to confirm this. The infectious ideas said there are, or rather is, Narinder's wish to change. Narinder's idea to change his own godhood. Tho, why would the bishops be so against it?

Notice how Haro has a "fallen" crown? Haro, probably back in the day, was the owner/god of Darkwood at some point. His unused animation also looks a lot like Leshy's transformation animation.

Haro, is possibly the first god that tried to change their godhood. In return, he got punished by loosing his crown and getting expelled from his godhood. This would explain why Leshy is the youngest, because he was a replacement.

"But as millennia wore on, he grew discontent with his role. He began to question. He was gluttonous in his ambition. And in my imprudence I loved him. For it, I lost my mind. For it, he lost his freedom. Can you fathom such betrayal, Lamb?"

Shamura knew what happened to Haro. After showing Narinder that there was a way to change things, they regretted it. Shamura genuinely loved their brother, no matter if it was by blood or by creator. The idea of Narinder might end up like Haro was what made Shamura loose their mind. Killing Narinder wasn't a punishment, it was a way to protect him and the remaining ones. The betrayal Shamura say is not Narinder's hostile acts but rather the way he thinks even tho Shamura had warned him.

Now, i know. I said that Mystic knew it and saw it and blah blah. But Mystic were there after Leshy lost his eye, Heket lost her throat and until Narinder's imprisonment. We can understand this from their dialog of witnessing Leshy and Heket's godhood and them saying "It's a shame what become of them" for Shamura is their disappointment of knowing someone like Shamura have ended up like this (Explained at timeline section)

Haro what do you have to say?

"Eons agone, these lands were rife with gods and their adherents. What befell this pantheon? Alas. 'Tis the nature of beasts to forget, and of Gods to be forgotten. Mayhap they left. Mayhap they slept. Mayhap they devoured and were devoured in turn. Those few who remained spread roots, spun webs, molded this world to meet them and theirs. 'Twere a land of many Gods once. Hundreds. Now..."

(the ones below are theories I can't really prove)

1-Haro, was probably the oldest, along with Shamura, god. He might be one of Mystic's first creation.

2-Haro seems to be talking about fox. Or kinda refers to him. The fox is known for taking Ratau, eating him. So this also makes the fox, or people like the fox known and been around.

3-Hundreds of gods, he says. Currently, we only have 10 (At the bottom) So, there was a class fight.

A little thing about Narinder and the twins. Heaven and hell, does in fact exist in the cotl universe. You can see it in the ascension and sacrifice rituals. Going above and going below. Fly to heaven and dragged to hell.

Which means dead souls are being sorted. Considering the fact that Narinder is restricted to move anywhere, that job ends up with the twins. Baal, obviously with his kind and respectful attitude, works in heaven. Aym, on the other hand, is very aggressive and intimidating so works in hell.

Timeline

A hundred gods, roamed on realms. For various reasons, they died of or how I like to refer, ended up in Mystic's hands.

Mystic created Shamura, Haro, Kallamar and Narinder. Understood them, talked with them.

Allocer and Astaroth were given to Shamura then to Kallamar, to encourage them into godhood and cult culture.

Heket was created, tho wasn't crowned.

Haro lost his godhood by disobeying, altering. This lead to the creation of Leshy.

After creation of Leshy, Mystic was not there to attend and see Leshy and Heket stepping into godhood.

Shamura took care of his siblings and helped them into godhood. Tho it's questionable on how good they managed that.

Agares and Bathin was given by Shamura to Heket and Leshy, to teach them about the same culture.

Shamura introduced Narinder to idea of change. Narinder refused his role as god of death and tried to be god of life.

Shamura knew what would happen to Narinder if the crown giver, Mystic Seller, learned about this. This caused an argument, most likely because Narinder believed that Haro was judged unfairly. So, there it came "see no evil, say no evil, hear no evil, think no evil"

The siblings lost their original godhoods. "If that's my destiny, you're coming down with me" kind of stuff.

Leshy and Heket stepped into godhood by the help of Shamura and Kallamar to be able to protect themselves. (Their rapid transition to godhood explains why they were defeated more easily than Kallamar and Shamura. They are inexperienced gods. If you notice, after the battle of Heket, Kallamar's battle is actually surprisingly difficult and fast.)

Witnesses hid in respective realms.

Mystic Seller came back. Narinder was not present yet what he left behind was. He saw the other bishops. Mystic Seller knew Heket and Leshy as the gods they were know. Not as what they were supposed to be. 

"Five points to a pentagram, five portents of doom, five siblings stood abreast, five gods and one tomb..." Shamura's summarizing of the whole story. Their family and how it doomed. How the remaining bishops and Mystic had to kill Narinder and trap him in after life, the gateway being his tomb.

Shamura learned about the prophecy after a few centuries or more. That lead to the geno¢ide of sheep.

The gateway/tomb of Narinder before defeating bishops. 5 chains, gray ones belonging to bishops and golden one belonging to Mystic Seller.

A basic classification of the types of deities that we have in cotl:

Mystic Seller: Creator, above gods

Mystic Seller's guards: Deities that exist out time and space and work along Mystic Seller, above gods

Narinder: God of death

Shamura: God of war (formerly god of might)

Kallamar: God of pestilence (formerly health)

Heket: Goddess of famine (formerly abundance)

Leshy: God of chaos (formerly peace)

Aym: Disciple of Narinder, demigod (guider of sinners)

Baal: Disciple of Narinder, demigod (guider of winners)

Haro: Ex god, currently a messenger

Chemach: Eldritch Goddess, One of the oldest remaining Goddess. [She (yes Chemach is a girl) has an Eldritch crown and the crown has eyes. Just like the bishops'. This makes her a god considering her ability to turn living into power, essence and remnant to be used for something else afterwards. (relics)]

Clauneck and Kudaii: Gifted with immortality possibly by their sister, or are gods.

Midas: Golden touch asshole king

The fox: Most likely a demon/god from underworld, considering his soul deals and Haro's dialog.

Ratoo: I can't class him but considering he is living without a whole ass organ and still stays alive, he isn't mortal

Nah, it's just what I think of course also, please check my witness theory and Possession too!

If you want to add to this theory, you can by doing a reblog. I'm preparing a crown theory too, so this is kind of a part one! If this gets popular, I might make a video for it, who knows ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[canmom]

so hades 2 huh

it's fun! i am more convinced after actually playing it than i was in the runup to it. the green colour palette looked a little drab in the videos but it works better for me fullscreen in game, and I really like the second zone's design. the major aesthetic change does go a little way towards making this feel like 'new Supergiant game' instead of just a rehash of the first game.

the difficulty floor is higher than the first game. i think it's well-tuned to go into if you've beaten that one. so far i've played 6 runs, seen the first boss in 5, and and beaten her in 2 of them; yet to get more than about halfway through the second zone after that tho!

the new mana mechanic is kinda interesting, lots of tradeoffs to make. it's a bit more granular than the cast in the first game; you use it to do powered up versions of your attacks, and spending it also charges up the Call-equivalent.

i'm increasingly intrigued by the setting, and i really like some of the side characters like arachne. i think the time skip was a good decision - the story of Zagreus et al. was definitely done. the epilogue ending of the first game was way too neat.

still, starting a revenge plot in media res is curious. especially when Nemesis lampshades the lack of personal motivation. compared to Zagreus's very pressing and relatable motivation (run away from my abusive dad), Melinoë's motivation is a little more abstract - this seems to be deliberate. but it does a fair bit to sell the sort of 'desperate resistance base' setting. it definitely seems rather like they're setting up a twist down the line. but it lacks the immediate emotional hook of the overbearing patriarch in the first game. curious to see how it will work once I've seen more of the story.

as far as the new gods, I'm fascinated by the decision to make Hephaestus and Hestia both be Northern - probably Yorkshire. it's always fun hearing regional UK accents in games. they do also both feel like responses to the criticism that Jen Z never designs fat characters lmao. still, they are good designs. both have satisfying mechanics. Selene also has a really good design I think.

the other gods' mechanics have naturally been redesigned to fit the new game. still broadly the same themes, e.g. Zeus will still be lightning based, but different interpretations of what that means, so for example you have 'hitting an enemy produces a lightning blast behind them' as the primary Zeus mechanic instead of chain lightning. which definitely keeps things fresh. Melinoë's kit has a lot of directional attacks and, with the Cast now being an AOE which slows/freezes enemies, there's a lot more emphasis now on positioning enemies to set up AOE attacks which is interesting.

the witch stuff is quite fun in an admittedly slightly cheesy way. it's definitely pull on aesthetic currents which aren't at all Ancient Greek, like the pointed hats. but hey! I can get into it, it's not like the game's aesthetic has ever been all that strictly historical. even if I am still scratching my head at 'so mote it be'. apparently it's an archaic word meaning 'may', i.e. 'may it be so'.

of course the main thing is, the actual moment to moment gameplay is fun. it flows just as the first game did, and it's just as addictive with the way it spreads out story breadcrumbs. the vfx and such look great, the movement is already super tightly tuned (tbf it's basically the same as the first game with the addition of a new 'hold dash to sprint'), and there's a already good variety of enemy mechanics.

there's some obvious placeholders for some of the UI art and character portraits (notably none of the keepsakes have been drawn yet), but overall it's surprisingly polished for an early-access build. all the voice acting is already there - it's fun seeing the Supergiant voice cast return in new roles.

the meta progression element... there's some neat ideas, like an upgrade system with a limited set of slots that very much calls to mind NieR Automata's chip system. so there are some stronger tradeoffs to make; it's not as simple as 'spend resource, get better' as it was in the first game. and it's clearly possible to advance quite far even without a lot of meta resource investment. so far it definitely feels like my main limit is skill, and I'll progress further once I learn more of the enemy patterns and figure out what builds I like to play.

(though I guess the idea with this kind of game is that the power ups quietly boost you and make it feel like you're getting better a lot faster than you are just learning the game lmao)

overall, it's just really fun to have another Supergiant game to sink my teeth into haha. I still wish they'd continued their streak of coming up with new IPs each time, because they'd come up with fantastic settings, but there's plenty of interest here still.

also the more I work in game dev the more I can appreciate just what a ludicrous amount of polish there is in Supergiant's games. I can only imagine the amount of work it must have taken to tune the feel of everything this tight.