#abstinent king

[tariah23]

Yeah… if we’re going based off canon, Gojo is most definitely a proud virgin. He’s never seemed like the type to even care about fucking or anything, not even getting into his personal feelings and how he views relationships (in his case, his friends and students. Obviously platonically) lmfao.

[terrimavr]

Why do I find this so funny

[bumblingbabooshka]

Star Trek Novel: Catalyst of Sorrows

[thaunknowndreadhead]

Men of God, this is why you NEED to FLEE sexual immorality

1 Corinthians 6:18 "Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body".

This verse is where Paul explains why believers should avoid sexual immorality, and how it is different from other sins because it is a form of self-harm. It also can destroy families and relationships when practiced outside of marriage.

Dear God I pray that anyone dealing with sexual immorality are able to find their way to your mighty Word so that with Your Word they may be able to defeat and avoid satan and the traps and distractions that attempt to pull them away from you Lord. I ask Lord please clear their hearts of any darkness or uncleanness that lies within. May your Word keep and protect and help anyone dealing with such a battle in their mind and body. Lord I pray for their strength and safety so that they may be able to start and or continue to serve and praise you with whatever gifts you have sown within them. In Jesus's name I pray. Amen.

[villainanders]

Does wyll really not have a sex scene is this true

[silusvesuius]

talvas is so real to me because i’d also smash an old ass dunmer (erandur)

he'd be happy to know there r others that think like him 💙 you need to be on his level of being deranged though.. erandur has not tortmented you for years and experimented on you... mistreated you, berated you, and (reading off scroll that extends through an entire hallway)

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Batman, in an act of unmitigated vengeance and violence, decided that his coworkers were in need of a breakdown of one of the most hazardous risks posed to the league; he sat them all down and gave them the sex talk

[henswilsons]

imagine u do a guest star in a fox pilot a hundred years ago before the pandemic and do a few more appearances here and there throughout the season but ultimately get your bag and move on and forget about this one show that was probably another in a list of dozens u have guest-starred on and then 6 years later u get a call from tim minear but probably marionetted by ryan murphy who is at the scene of every crime like hey king. remember how you were softly-spoken and kind and handsome and a priest. well come on over, btw ur gay now also abstinent and ur entire purpose will be to hit on ryan guzman . also u will b paid. girl what a life

[shy-writer-999]

Keeping warm with Ace - no nut December? 🔥

Summary: Ace half-jokingly declares a vow of no-nut December. When he manages to last a few days, how will the dry spell be broken? ~1.4k words. CW: SMUT! Afab reader w/gendered language (e.g. "princess"), fingering, P in V, dirty talk. Minors don't interact - nsfw content!

Art by the lovely @hirakyun13 (thank you for collabing with me!)

“You only love me so much because I let you hit all the time.”

When he heard your words, Ace bursted out laughing. He feigned a gasp. “Do you have such a low opinion of me, princess?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m jokinggg, Ace. But you sure are rabid recently. Not like I have a problem with it or anything.”

His lips curled into that sweet smile of his as he brought his lips to your cheek. “Well, then. I’ll show you how wrong you are. Let’s see how much you like me not jumping your bones every three seconds. No nut December.”

“Ace,” you laughed. “You’re going to last a day.”

Somehow, though, he managed to last multiple.

---

Ages ago, you booked a holiday trip with Ace. A nice vacation from your lives, a reprieve from the stress and endless list of tasks to do.

The chalet—or rather, cabin—was gorgeous. It felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, in a forest of tall pines covered in heavy snow that weighed their branches down. They would have looked melancholy if it wasn’t for the bright white heaps of snow on the bows to remind you what time of year it was.

Ace’s joke-abstinence no-nut-December lasted until the second day of your extended stay at the beautiful A-frame cabin—so, in total, he lasted a good few days.

He tried his hardest and it was amusing, but really, he could barely keep it together. Boner 24/7. You figured it wouldn’t be too hard to break him, but it was great entertainment to tease him for as long as he could hold out for. Besides, after waiting for a few days you knew that the sex, once it finally happened, would be that much better.

---

On your second day at the cabin—the day that Ace broke his “no nut December”—after a nice long walk in the snow outside (interrupted by a blizzard), you and Ace returned to the cabin and undressed. Time for a shower to warm you to your bones—scalding hot and steamy.

While you showered, Ace lit a fire in the fireplace; he warmed up the blankets on the plushy, king-size bed and then lit a candle.

When you emerged from the shower, hair wet and skin damp, you snuggled up in the blankets, no clothes on (to soak in the warmth that you knew Ace placed there).

“Come warm me up, Ace.” You requested and he happily obliged, like always. ‘Warming you up’ was one of his favorite things, mostly because it just involved touching you. He would take any and every chance he could get. And of course, now that he was at the end of his mini-dry spell, he looked forward to it all the more. Might now be the time to break his multi-day streak?

When he slid in bed with you and pressed his body on yours, his warmth flooded through your body. He got as warm as he could get without being too hot.

It was a double satisfaction for you—getting warm, and then teasing Ace so hard you knew he’d fold like a lawn chair.

He wrapped a hand around your front and pulled you close to him, taking a deep inhale of your freshly washed hair and squeezing you tight to his chest.

You laid there for a while, happy and toasty, almost drifting off to sleep when you realized that you felt something hard pressing onto you from behind. Obviously, it was Ace.

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and snuggled back into him, brushing his hard-on in a way that made his breath hitch. It was easy to play him like a fiddle because he was figuratively on his knees for you every moment of the day. He’d do anything for you and worshipped the ground you walked on.

You pressed back again, harder, overtly deliberate now, and he let out a quiet gasp as he felt your warm skin graze his aching shaft through his underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t take it anymore.” His hand passed down to grip your hip and he rutted his hips, effectively humping you through his underwear. Quiet but deep grunts slipped out of him every couple seconds, and as you felt him roll into you it started to make you feel some sort of way—how could it not?

After Ace rubbed himself on you like that for a while, he started to get more worked up. Unapologetic groans fell out of his pretty lips and his breathing quickened.

A hand creeped downwards, towards the valley where your thighs met. He repositioned you slightly to give himself better access, then slid his fingers inwards to caress your folds and soft spots.

Those rough, thick fingers felt godly when he warmed them up and touched you gently like this. He turned you into a sopping-wet mess within a couple minutes, thighs shaking slightly, and breaths shallow, punctured by the occasional, muted moan.

“Let those sounds out, angel. I wanna hear ‘em.” He whispered in your ear and you could feel his hot puffs of breath on your skin. His fingers plunged in and out, making you squirm as he curved them and spread them inside of you.

Soft moans and sounds of bliss fell from your lips unrestrained at his request. He made his fingers warmer still, and it felt like heaven as he drew circles around your clit then slipped his fingers inside and out again.

After a while, you started to lose focus. You couldn’t tell where his skin stopped and where yours began.

“Ace—I need you,” you managed to choke out.

Promptly flipping you over so you were facing him, Ace pushed your leg up, over his hip, and pulled you into a long, affectionate kiss before he brought his throbbing shaft out of his boxers and started to line himself up with your entrance.

When he sunk you down onto his length, your eyes rolled back in your head, not in jest this time but in pure pleasure.

Immediately, Ace started to thrust his hips upwards in small jerks, fucking you shallowly and slowly.

“Fuck—you’re perfect,” Ace groaned and bucked his hips deeper, sliding deliciously into you and passing over your hot spot.

Every few seconds he greedily pulled you into a kiss, and each time your lips met in increasing desperation.

His grip on your hip tightened. It was almost painful now. As he thrusted into you faster, he started to moan into your mouth, deep groans that went straight to your core and vibrated your lips ever so slightly.

Too many presses of his girth past your g-spot and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ace, I’m gonna cum soon,” you gasped, and he slammed into you particularly hard, pressing on the spot he knew would make you feel the best.

“Do it, baby,” his hips rocked into and wet noises echoed in your ears. “Show me, ah, fuck, s-show me how good I make you feel.”

Ace slammed into your g-spot again and it sent you reeling headfirst into your orgasm. White-hot pleasure jolted through you, radiating from your sticky, pulsing core outwards to your limbs where it stalled in tingling zaps of bliss.

You couldn’t tell, since you were lost in the crushing weight of your climax, but your toes curled the hardest they had before, and you writhed on Ace’s cock so hard that it made him cum.

His body seized up alongside yours and his heartrate threatened to explode out of his chest. Deafening groans—one of the best parts of having sex with him—escaped his lips as every muscle in his body went taught. “Fuuuuhhhhccckkkk.”

When you were done floating through bliss, there was quite the mess to clean up. But, ever the gentleman, Ace told you to just lay there and not move a muscle. He got you cleaned up then went back to spooning you and keeping you warm.

oh my GOD, the piece becca (@hirakyun13 / @becca-oak ) drew has me literally drooling. also she sent this fic idea to me so she's really holding this whole piece on her back rn. please check out her page and drop a follow!!! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

if you liked this fic, check out my masterlist and the masterlist for this short holiday event! 🎄🎄🎄

merry christmas & happy new year!!

[darkbluekies]

Silas & King Edmund drabbles: darling drinking to deal with the situation

Yandere!mafia & yandere!king

Warnings: alcoholism, wrong ways to fix addiction (edmund), yandere, throwing up, mentions of murder

Silas:

He's had enough of you drinking. Frankly enough, he's worried about your health. He has his men grab all of your bottles and dump them out in the sink.

"Don't do that!" you burst out and try to run over to stop them.

Silas grabs you before you have the time to reach them. He holds you still, grimacing slightly.

"Your breath stinks, little one", he scolds you. "This is for you, you should actually thank me."

"I need that to fucking deal with you!"

"Oh, really? Is that so?"

You start to cry. The only reason that you have been able to deal with being Silas's wife/husband have been by being blacked out. If not, you can't handle the knowledge that the one holding and kissing you is the same person who murders behind your back.

Silas hugs you and kisses the top of your head. He cups your cheeks.

"If you continue like this you're going to kill your fucking liver", he says. "I'm not going to let you do that. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

A sudden wave moves through you and before anyone has the time to react, you throw up on the kitchen floor. Silas hurries to hold you up and gestures for his men to bring a bucket and cleaning supplies. He gives the men who empties the bottles into the sink warning gazes and they turn their back to you quickly.

"This is only the beginning, Y/N", he says in your ear. "Tomorrow, you'll be so hungover ... and that will be enough punishment to keep you in your lane."

"I fucking hate you", you mutter.

"You can hate me all you want, but you still wear my ring around your finger, and you will always belong to me. You better accept it."

"Boss, should we send them to the hospital?" his second in command asks as you throw up in the bucket. "To make sure that they haven't gotten any alcohol poisoning?"

You throw up again.

"Fine", Silas says. "You hear that, Y/N? You'll go to the doctor. Better lay off the alcohol and pick up some apples."

King Edmund:

He doesn't mind it at first, because you're kept where he wants you, in your bedroom ... but after a while he notices that when he wants to be with you, you barely respond coherently and you've lost the spark he loves.

He holds your wobbly head in his hands and scoffs.

"That's it", he says firmly and turns to his guards. "Destroy every snigle bottle of wine in the kingdom. Every, single bottle. We will have a total abstinence of alcohol."

"That's bullshit", you mutter.

"Language!"

You glare at him and pull your head out of his hands, tripping on yourself. Edmund cocks an eyebrow at you.

"Don't give me that look", he says. "You brought this upon yourself, Y/N. I'm doing this for you."

"No, you're doing this for yourself, because you don't like me when I'm drunk", you spit at him. "You don't care about my feelings and why I feel like drowning myself in your wine."

Edmund rolls his eyes. "You're not only drunk, you're wasted. You can't handle any type of conversation, you can barely eat properly and you're not the one I like to spend time with. People will talk. This is not how you should behave."

You sigh. You can't remember the last time you've been sober, and you're not sure that you want to be. Not with Edmund.

"To make sure that you sober up completely and won't be able to get any more alcohol", Edmund starts, "you will spend the night in the dungeon with a whole lot of water."

"No, not the dungeon", you beg drunkenly. "I hate that place. I hate the rats, and the moldy walls, and the screams, and-"

"I don't care. You need to be away from the wine."

When you start craving for alcohol tomorrow in the dungeon, you're afraid of what you'll do. The abstinence will be worse if you're down there.

"Start walking", Edmund says and gives you a push. "I'll get rid of this addiction once and for all."

You wobble.

"Fucking- ... do I need to carry you?" he mutters before throwing you over his shoulder. "I need to do everything myself around here, for fucks sake."

Quite ironic while being the king and having a castle full of servants.

[itsguysnightitsironic]

"Gresca i destrucció, riurem i ens penedirem, el cremarem el dimarts i patirem fins el diumenge."

"Party and destruction, we will laugh and repent, we will set him on fire on Tuesday and we will suffer until next Sunday."

I almost forgot the whole Carnestoltes and Vella Quaresma celebration when it literally goes hand in hand with OAUW themes.

Some context under the threat:

- The Carnestoltes i la Vella Quaresma represent the two extremes of the balance, the excess, "El rei Carnestoltes", and the abstinence, "la Vella Quaresma".

As the story sings: the King Carnestoltes brings party and joy for days, but after a whole week of partying, no sleeping and "sinning", the people find themselves exhausted, with their homes destroyed and no food for the winter.

So Carnestoltes is sentenced to death by the stake on Tuesday and on Wednesday "El dimecres de cendra" (Ash Wednesday) starts the 40 days of penitence (no meat, no eggs...) marked by the seven legs of the Vella Quaresma who loses one every week, ending in Pasqua (the return of Spring).

-The style is inspired by the nostalgia and softness of Pere Torné Esquius illustrations.

"Venedora de globus" cap els 1907 de Pere Torné i Esquius.

-Also, also, the demons represent the Correfocs, pyrotechnics spectacles made by adults and children dressed as demons throwing fire and spurns around.

Diables de les Corts fotos de Albert Pedra 2019

Which is the coolest thing ever. Also there's dragons dances.

Correfoc de Manresa 2011

This is a threat for you to forget Sant Valentine and go watch Correfocs-

[vxm1tcxre]

Pvrging harm reduction masterpost (from someone who’s had severe bul1m14 for 3 years, and who wishes they’d gotten this advice)

I get asked a lot and see posts asking for “tips” around pvrging.

I absolutely do not condone it. It’s a horrendously dangerous, unpleasant, and addictive behavior, and often a slippery slope to full-swing bul1m14 (and trust me, that is not something you want, for the sake of your wallet and sanity).

However, I do acknowledge that that doesn’t get in the way of the urge to do it. It certainly didn’t for me. That’s not how 3ds work. Being told how dangerous and horrible something is often is just more enticing. I know people are going to try it regardless. And frankly, I’d much rather focus on tips to stay safe over just telling you “don’t do it” like a Christian parent preaching abstinence. Harm reduction is king, especially on a platform like 3dblr.

So, here is a list of things to help you stay safe.

1. I feel like I should reiterate this again- if you at all can, don’t start. It’s not the c4ls-be-gone magic spell it might seem to be. Starting is what ended my r3str1ct1v3 phase. I thought it’d just be a last resort for when I ate too much. Fast forward to now, it’s been 3 years since my first time and I consume a good 6k+ c4ls every single day, have g4ined a ton of w3ight, feel like shit all the time, have no control around food, am constantly broke, have done things that would make people gag, and have all the risk with no reward. Ultimately, you will not l0se w3ight with pvrging. It gets harder and less effective the longer you do it. While the “you can only get rid of 50%” you often hear is a myth, being bul1m1c destroys your control, and eating maintenance in addition to whatever c4ls you didn’t manage to pvrge will inevitably lead to w3ight gain over time. It simply isn’t worth it.

2. DO NOT USE FOREIGN OBJECTS. It is legitimately so dangerous. Massive choking hazard and generally terrible for your throat. If you can’t get a response with your fingers, don’t do it. I promise, getting rid of some chicken nuggets is not worth getting a plastic fork lodged down your throat and almost dying. (Yes, I am speaking from experience)

3. Some people are simply incapable of inducing v0m1t1ng. It’s more common than is talked about and is completely normal. Frankly, if you have urges to pvrge and find that you can’t do it, consider it a sign.

4. Do not brush your teeth directly after. This is because the bristles of your toothbrush will rub the acid into your enamel, increasing the chances of decay.

5. Baking soda is magic. Swish about a teaspoon with some water in your mouth to neutralize the acid. Swallowing some (significantly less- about 1/4 to 1/2 tsp) is also an easy remedy for acid reflux. Get checked and have your teeth cleaned at the dentist’s regularly- if damage starts occurring, you can catch and mitigate it early.

6. Maintain good dental health as much as you can. Continue to brush and floss regularly. Keep in mind, however, that you can’t avoid tooth decay forever. It’s inevitable with long-term pvrging.

7. One of the biggest risks is electrolyte deficiencies. You often hear of people dying from cardiac arrest. This is because thr0wing up depletes your potassium, which helps with muscle contraction. Your heart is a muscle. If it’s unable to contract, it will fail. After pvrging, replenish your electrolytes. Coconut water, Gatorade, pedialyte, anything that contains the nutrients you just got rid of.

8. Also remember to stay normally hydrated. Even just drinking water is better than nothing. pvrging dehydrates you.

9. DO NOT FLUSH. It’s one of the most dangerous games you can play.

10. Try and eat something safe after the fact, especially if you’re having symptoms of low blood sugar (shaking, dizziness, sweating, a rapid heartbeat). This can be easier said than done but it’s crucial to getting back to normal. Something easy on your stomach with some c4rbs is ideal- toast, rice cakes, crackers, etc.

11. Avoid hot showers or baths or exercising directly after. You will lose more water through sweating. Wash your hands and face- especially around your chin and mouth, pvrge-induced acne is a real thing- and rest for a while.

12. Warm drinks or cold foods like popsicles or ice cream are very soothing on the throat. Throat coat tea and hot chocolate are quite nice. The former may be best if your stomach isn’t feeling well.

13. You will bloat like crazy whenever you eat if you pvrge long term. It’s hell on your digestive tract in general. It’s one of my biggest struggles and pet peeves. Honestly, you can only really wait for it to go away. Remember that it will with time, and do something to distract yourself from it. Some things that in my experience have made it less severe are to eat at a reasonable pace, chew your food thoroughly, and sip drinks rather than chugging them.

14. L4x4t1v3s absolutely aren’t worth it. You don’t really get rid of anything and it’s a fast track to dependency and being horrifically constipated whenever you don’t use them. Stay away. If you must, opt for natural remedies like teas, fiber-rich foods, chia seeds, etc.

15. If you take medication, wait several hours before pvrging. It obviously won’t work if you just get rid of it.

Feel free to reblog this with any advice of your own. I hope this helps some of you; stay safe out there.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Deathless Death

Pairing: Osferth x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Religious guilt. Smut. Fingering. Slight exhibitionism. Oral (f receiving). Gratuitous Hozier references. Word count: 3.5k

Summary: When a young woman's father is killed following Skade's attack on the priests of Alton, Osferth agrees to take responsibility for her, feeling a need to protect a fellow Christian. However, the longer they travel together the deeper they have each other questioning their faith. Based on this request.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The Lord works in mysterious ways. This is a belief that Osferth has always clung firmly to, it is the only way he can justify his existence; the result of a union between a serving girl and a deeply religious king who, so embarrassed by his extramarital indiscretion, had ensured that Osferth was enrolled as a novice monk as soon as he was old enough, and refused to ever acknowledge him as his son.

Osferth is a bastard, yet he must have a purpose, for God does not give life without intent. He feels he has found his reason for being when he crosses paths with Uhtred, a man his uncle, Leofric, had always spoken kindly of. He offers to serve Uhtred as a warrior, though he has no fighting experience. This is the divine path chosen for him, he is certain of it. He clutches the hilt of his sword as tightly as he often grips the cross that sits around his neck in times of anguish, and does his best to be brave in spite of how afraid he feels.

Reluctantly he learns the ways of ale and women, surprised when the Lord does not smite him down for his sins. He surmises that he has misinterpreted the teachings of the Holy Book; a life of piety does not have to mean an existence endured in abstinence. Though his faith in God never once falters, he grows to enjoy, and even seek out, the pleasures he’d once mistaken for temptations. They are not a means for him to stray from the light, but another outlet in which he can revere it and give thanks.

It is not until he reaches the village of Alton with Uhtred and his men that he discovers the true purpose of the journey he has embarked upon. A group of Danes with a seeress named Skade in their midst has attacked the village, killing all of its holy men.

That is where he finds her. Such a fragile looking thing, sobbing her heart out while huddled behind a vegetable cart, clutching her cross in much the same way he used to do with his.

“Don’t be afraid.” He reassures her calmly, crouching so his face is level with hers.

“Are you an angel?” She asks tearfully, her eyes wide and imploring.

Osferth cannot help but smile at that. For you I’d like to be.

With gentle persuasion, Uhtred agrees to allow Osferth to bring the girl along, provided he is responsible for her. He is all too happy to agree to that. Her mother is long dead and the attack on Alton has killed her father, she has no one else. He was meant to meet her, he feels it in his heart.

Naturally, she is fearful of the others, her only prior encounter with heathens had ended in the death of her only living relative and left her all alone in the world. She clings to Osferth, but he does not mind it. He sees a lot of himself in her, how scared he’d been when he’d first left the monastery to accompany Uhtred. But if she is anything like him, she is resilient and she will pull through this.

As the weeks pass, her face becomes less marred by fear and grief. She is beautiful, Osferth realises. He has been grateful to have someone to bow his head in prayer with, however, the way that she snuggles next to him for warmth in front of the campfire, how closely she leans back against his chest as they ride together and the proximity in which she lays her bed roll next to his no longer feel so innocent, at least not to him.

He feels ashamed for harbouring such illicit thoughts about her. Her piety makes him feel like he is the worst kind of sinner. She does not partake in ale and stays quiet when the rest of the group share lewd jokes. Where her prayers are earnest and heartfelt, his feel flimsy and disingenuous. He would renounce the Lord and worship her instead if she asked it of him. The idea makes his stones ache. When she shivers and huddles to him for warmth it occurs to him that he’d burn everything in his path if only for her to never feel cold again.

Guilt blooms heavily in his chest at the thoughts and feelings she elicits from him, especially when she looks at him, her eyes are always filled with gratitude and adoration. He has grown to crave her gaze, despite the fact that she will never view him as anything more than a protector.

When it becomes too much for him to bear, he seeks the comfort of the nearest brothel. With each thrust into the whore beneath him, he imagines her face, how those hands that fold so delicately in prayer would feel clinging to his shoulders, how soft and supple her flesh would be against the wiry hardness of his own. When he reaches his peak, picturing her, he comes harder than he ever has before in his life. It feels like he has died and approached the very gates of Heaven.

If that is how it feels merely to think about her, he wonders what it would be like to actually be inside of her. It would surely feel holy and sacred, a pleasure not meant for mere mortals. For the second time that night he craves her, and so he seeks out another woman offering her services in the pleasure house.

He pays them well, and he is not unkind to them. He is convinced that that is why they fight over him the next day. He is mortified, especially when he sees that she is watching. She will think him godless, sinful. He hopes that the Lord is merciful and does not intend for her to leave him. He sends a silent prayer of thanks when she remains by his side in the days that follow.

It is not until Uhtred, Sihtric and Finan pay a visit to Alfred, and leave Osferth and her back at camp that he realises they’ve never truly been alone together. He shifts uncomfortably on the log he sits upon, glancing up from the flames of the fire every so often at her, unsure of what to say. She eyes him curiously the entire time, the warmth from the fire and the sunny afternoon meaning she does not snuggle to him as she usually would. Secretly he is disappointed.

“Do you still believe in God?” She asks quietly.

Her gaze is timid and as Osferth turns to meet her eye, she looks to her lap as though ashamed to have asked.

“Of course I do, my lady,” He replies softly, smiling at her. He wants more than anything for her to look at him again, there is something reverent in the way she regards him that makes his chest swell and his cock twitch. He could die happily with a single glance his way from her. “My faith has never waivered.”

“You are not as devout as the people from back home.” Her fingers pinch and stroke over the fabric of her skirt as she says this, not looking up at him as he sits across from her.

“I used to be,” He admits with a slight shrug, wondering if she thinks less of him for his perceived lack of faith. “I suppose travelling with Uhtred has taught me that faith does not mean deprivation. The Lord made life for living.”

She nods, her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes flicker to his. “Is that why you visit brothels, and why those women fight over you?”

He feels his cheeks heat up as she asks this, and suddenly it’s his turn to look away, embarrassed. He takes a moment to consider his reply, not wanting to sully her innocence with vulgarity, or say anything that might frighten her. “I was celibate when I was a monk…” He begins awkwardly. “I’m not anymore. Truthfully, partaking in the pleasures of the flesh feels like the closest experience to meeting God without dying.”

He knows he has turned pink all the way to the tips of his ears by the time he finishes speaking, he cannot bear to look at her for fear of what he might see in her eyes. She must think he is utterly depraved.

The moment of silence between them hangs thick and uncomfortable before she finally breaks it. “If that is why you are fought over…then I am eager to find out for myself.”

His head snaps up, his eyes wide, stunned and unsure of if he has heard correctly, it seems too forward a statement for such a pious little thing like her. However, her stare is steady and unwavering as it meets his, causing his breath to hitch. He hadn’t misheard her and she meant every word.

The cracking of a twig causes them to finally look away from each other, as they turn to see the others returning. He has never been displeased to see any of them before, but can’t help but wish they’d left it a little longer to come back.

Her words play on a loop in Osferth’s thoughts. I am eager to find out for myself. He frantically strokes himself to release that night, once more plagued by visions of her, the silkiness of her hair, her scent, the dulcet tone of her giggle. There is no sweeter innocence in his mind than the gentle sin that he shares with her.

There is a storm the following evening. Though they are camped beneath a thatch of trees, protected from the worst of the downpour, it does little to block out the boom of the thunder and the crackle of lightning. She whimpers at every crash, clearly frightened, and Osferth’s heart aches for her. He’d do anything to make sure the expression of fear and sadness she wore for the first few weeks they traveled together never returns.

He pulls her tight to him, wrapping the furs around them both as they sit around the fire with the others. They don’t bat an eye at the familiarity between the two, understanding of the fact that she finds comfort in a fellow Christian’s presence and that Osferth is simply offering kindness to someone in need of it.

She melts into his embrace and he allows his hands to wander over her beneath the furs, tracing the curves of her through her dress. He has never dared to touch her like this before and she looks up at him questioningly, though makes no move to stop him.

Emboldened by her silent consent, he strokes her hair with his free hand, while allowing the other to push up her skirt. She gasps at this and buries her face in his chest. He holds her tighter while Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric continue their conversation, all assuming she is just startled by the storm that rages above them.

Her inner thighs are velvety smooth as his fingertips trace over the flesh of them. Not even angel’s wings feel as divine as this, he thinks. As the pads of his digits make contact with the gusset of her smallclothes he draws in a shaky inhale at finding that it is damp with her arousal. It darkens the desire within him to have confirmation that she is just as affected by him as he is by her, and he pushes her underclothes to the side, stroking through the slickness of her folds.

She shudders against him, her breathing growing heavier and he quietly shushes her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. He looks up to see Finan give him a sympathetic smile, clearly assuming Osferth is comforting her, before he is distracted by Uhtred swatting him softly with the back of his hand in order to gain back his attention.

Osferth looks back down at her, she is peeking up at him from where her head rests against his chest and in the flicker of the firelight he can see that her pupils are wide with lust. It is a look he has seen on the faces of many of the women within the pleasure houses he’s visited over the years. To see it burning bright within the eyes of someone so pure is enough to drive him to madness with the desire it awakens within him.

Shielded from view beneath the furs, he circles her pearl with precision, silently delighting in the way she clutches at his robes and bucks slightly up at his hand. He feels she’s growing close when her body tenses against his and she stares up at him, worry evident in how her brows pinch together. Poor thing has never peaked before.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, coaxing her to let go.

He cradles her head to his chest as she trembles and gasps against him, before finally going limp. Osferth withdraws his hand, allowing her to slump sleepily against him, smiling softly down at her as her eyes drift closed.

He knows in that moment that she will be both his salvation and his damnation, and he welcomes both with open arms.

It is another week before they are left alone together, and life carries on as normal. They do not speak of what happened beneath the furs on the night of the storm, despite the fact that it’s all Osferth can think about.

The others head away from camp one evening to scout the locations of a possible attack from the Danes. It is too dangerous for her to come along, so Osferth remains behind so she is not left alone. This time she seats herself next to him, and he feels his mouth run dry, heart hammering in his chest as he struggles to think of what to say to her.

He startles when she places her hand on his. “You are right,” She says with a shy smile. “It felt…like something divine…when you touched me.”

Osferth swallows thickly. “You liked it?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but desperate to hear her say it.

She nods, chewing her lip nervously. “I did. Does that make me a sinner?”

His eyes widen in mild horror that she could ever consider herself such. “No, that is something you could never be.”

“I am not repentant though,” She muses, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I have thought of nothing else.”

“That is only natural.” He tells her, suddenly aware of how close their faces are, noses almost brushing. His gaze flits to her lips momentarily. Osferth has never kissed a woman before, though he has fucked plenty; the ones he exchanges coin with do not allow such intimate gestures. He desperately wants to kiss her though.

He is surprised by her boldness when she leans in first. It is a quick peck to his lips, which she rapidly withdraws from, looking sheepish. He cups her cheek, coaxing her back and presses his mouth to hers with more pressure. She softens against the movement and for a moment it feels as though time has stopped for Osferth. There is only her. It is a kiss riddled with youthful inexperience and yet he does not think there has ever been anything better.

“Will you…” She mutters against his lips, clearly uneasy with attempting to ask for what she wants.

“Touch you?” He finishes for her.

“Yes,” She whispers, “I want to feel…” She places a hand over her face, giggling. “I have never laid with a man before. I do not know what to ask for.”

“It’s okay.” He reassures her. “I understand.” Osferth coaxes her to sit on his lap as she had the night of the storm, only this time there are no furs to cover them, and he rucks her skirt up around her hips, rather than slipping his hand beneath it.

“Take these off for me.” He says, plucking at her smallclothes.

She does as he instructs and he pulls her tight against him, her back flush with his chest as his arm snakes around her waist, dipping his hand between her legs. She is wet already and he cannot help the groan that escapes him as his fingers make contact with her core.

He circles her bud slowly and she clamps her mouth shut, cutting off the mewl that threatens to spill forth.

“You don’t have to be quiet this time.” He tells her, as she turns her face into his neck, her breath coming in hot puffs against his skin.

Tentatively he dips a finger into her entrance, conscious of the fact that she has never had anything inside of her before - the thought that he is the first makes him swell painfully hard against her rear as it presses back into his lap. Her grip on his digit as he inserts it is vice-like and he wonders how she’d feel squeezing around the length of him, if she ever allows him to take things that far.

He sets a steady rhythm of dragging his finger against a rough patch inside of her that causes sounds that are prettier than any of the songs he’s heard at æfensang to spill forth from her, while circling her pearl with his thumb.

She squirms against him, her arm reaching above and behind her to wrap around his neck, her fingers scrabble desperately at the back of his robes. Her jaw is slack, her eyes glassy and Osferth believes that if the Heavens could speak then her wanton cries of pleasure would be their mouthpiece.

She falls apart with a violent shudder, clenching ceaselessly around his finger and he withdraws it slowly as she begins to calm, continuing to hold her close. Though he is pleased to have brought her to peak, he feels disappointed that the moment is over so soon. He wants, needs, longer to enjoy her.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispers to her, pressing his face to her hair. “Will you allow me to taste you?”

“Taste me?” She asks, confusion etched across her pretty features. “I do not know what you mean.”

“I will show you.” He tells her, ushering her off of him and laying down. “Come here.”

There is no question in Osferth’s mind that he would ever allow her to lay upon the ground, she is too good for that. He will gladly let her sit atop him so that she never has to experience that indignity or discomfort.

He guides her to straddle him, pushing her upwards towards his face, but she falters.

“Osferth, I’ll crush you!” She protests, hovering above him.

“You won’t, my lady.” He tells her with a soft chuckle, tugging insistently at her thighs.

She relents, hovering over his face. “What are you going to…oh!”

He cuts her off, gripping her outer thighs and runs the flat of his tongue against her centre. He can taste the remnants of her previous climax and hums at the sensation. She is sweeter than honeyed wine, an essence so pure it must be holy.

Tugging her flush against his face he laps at her like a man starved, sucking harshly against her pearl, before licking hungrily through the slick that gathers as she whines and writhes above him. If there is a Heaven then he has found it between her thighs and never wants to leave.

He strains painfully against his breeches beneath his robes as she begins to lose control, grinding against each flick of his tongue. He knows she will not last long, already sensitive from his earlier attention and so he savours each moment; her taste, her scent, the feel of her against his mouth and how she moves against him. She is a vision of beauty beyond comprehension as she sits astride him, thread thrown back, moans of ecstasy offered up to the night sky.

She was created in the image of all things good and pure, and his journey so far has led him to her; she is made for him, of this he is certain as she reaches the apex of her pleasure. He swallows down her release like it’s communion wine. In her gratification he is cleansed, reborn.

Osferth lays her down carefully on her bed roll afterwards, covering her body with his own. She appears almost drunk as she gazes up at him, eyes heavy lidded with a soft smile upon her lips.

“My sweet girl,” He coos to her, softly stroking her face. “Can you take more? Will you let me inside?”

As she opens her mouth to answer, the raucous laughter of Finan can be heard in the near distance. The group is returning.

Osferth moves quickly away from her, laying down on his own sleeping mat, watching her as her eyes flutter closed. He hopes she will dream of him. He hopes they will have further opportunities to explore each other. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and she is the most precious mystery he has yet to encounter.

Part two | Series masterlist

[theladysunami]

Many other people have already posted their thoughts on the various peaks of Cang Qiong Mountain sect, so I figure I might as well throw my own thoughts and preferred headcanons out there.

First, my thoughts on the peaks we know exist but don't know much about in terms of their specialties:

Xian Shu Peak: Textiles Peak

This is my favorite headcanon for the all women's peak! The textiles industry is a big part of Chinese history, and was traditionally considered to be women's work, so it would only make sense for it to be Xian Shu Peak's peak specialty. It's not just one specific skill either, as spinning, weaving, dying, garment making, embroidery, rope/cord-making, etc. are all a part of the industry.

As they are a cultivation peak, I expect some of the products of their work to be defensive robes with talismans or incantations stitched into the fabric, Qiankun bags or sleeves, spirit trapping pouches, etc. If rope making is included in their preview, they could also be involved in making immortal binding cables, nets, and so forth.

Ku Xing Peak: Rites, Rituals and Purification Peak

We don't know much about Ku Xing Peak except that they live an aesthetic lifestyle. As it's common for individuals to take on certain aspects of aestheticism (simple clothes, restricted diets, abstinence, etc.) before engaging in many types of rituals, I'm inclined to believe a peak that practices aestheticism at all times would be particularly well suited for such tasks.

I tend to imagine their peak being similar to the Gusu Lan Clan, minus the music aspect (music being Qing Jing's purview). They could specialize in things like summoning spirits, communing with the dead, dispelling resentment, exorcisms, purifying objects or locations, properly laying the dead to rest, etc.

Since SVSSS predominantly focuses on demons, not ghosts, it's only natural a peak that deals more in spiritual cleansing and laying the dead to rest wouldn't be involved in the plot much.

Zui Xian Peak: Potions and Elixers Peak

While lot of fanfics make jokes about Zui Xian being a peak for alcoholics (which is completely fair, as this is the dick joke filled world of SVSSS we're talking about), my first thought upon learning of Zui Xian Peak's specialty was the immorality granting heavenly wine in the Journey to the West. Looking into the matter more, I've since learned that wine has actually been a huge part of Chinese medicine since the Han Dynasty. The traditional character for medicine even includes the radical for wine!

With this kind of precedent, it seems only logical that Zui Xian Peak doesn't merely make alcohol for social and/or enjoyment purposes, it's quite likely to be the ‘external alchemy’ peak of Cang Qiong Mountain. I expect they grow and process at least some of their own herbs and ingredients, along with performing other alcohol and potion making tasks like brewing, distilling, extracting, fermenting, filtering, infusing, and so on.

Next, my thoughts on what the three mystery peaks might be:

I am not going to try and name these peaks, as I struggle with naming things even in my own native tongue.

Hunting, Trapping and Scouting Peak

Having read MDZS before SVSSS, I found the distinct lack of archery in SVSSS to be quite peculiar. As the peak of scholars and strategists, I suppose it's only logical Qing Jing Peak focuses on the four scholarly arts (the guqin, strategy games, calligraphy, and painting), rather then the six arts of Confucian gentlemen (rites, music, archery, equestrianism, calligraphy, and mathematics), but that does leave several ‘arts’ free to be claimed by other peaks! This inspired me to think up a hunting and scouting peak, where disciples excel at archery and equestrianism.

Since mounted archers became a significant aspect of Chinese warfare in the 4th century BC, thanks to King Wuling of Zhao, I'd say having cultivators of this sort in a Xianxia setting is perfectly reasonable. Giving Cang Qiong Mountain sect scouts also nicely fills the gap in their martial capabilities. Without this peak they have strategists, weapon craftsman, ground troops, and suppliers, but no reconnaissance forces!

I also consider this peak to be the rough equivalent of the ‘Beast Taming Peak’ so many works are fond of. Who else could breed and control hundreds of spirit eagles for the Immortal Alliance Conference but a group of cultivators focused on scouting missions? As supernaturally superior mounts and spirit (hunting) dogs would be incredibly helpful to them, they'd likely engage in horse and dog breeding programs as well! Their skill as hunters and trappers would also permit them both to provide game for Cang Qiong Mountain sect, and to aid in the rounding up of various living monsters for both alchemical ingredient harvesting and for releasing at events like the Immortal Alliance Conference.

In summary, this peak would produce disciples skilled at equestrianism, archery, falconry, animal husbandry, scouting, herb gathering, hunting, trapping, etc. For anyone familiar with D&D, I did basically make a Ranger peak here, but I stand by that decision!

Artifacts, Arrays and Invention Peak

Every time I read a work with some variation on the "Mad Scientist Peak" I adore it, so naturally I have to include this type of peak as well. This peak would be for the Wei Wuxians of the cultivation world, hoping to revolutionize cultivation society!

Their focus would be mathematics, spell geometry, arrays, talismans, non-medicinal alchemy (aka ancient materials science), engineering and of course artifact recovery, study and creation. The crystal mirror ‘surveillance equipment’ from the Immortal Alliance Conference? These guys would be the ones that developed it!

Agriculture, Earthworks and Architecture Peak

While I admittedly don't know the nuances of feng shui, I am at least aware there is far more to it then what you usually see in western depictions. In MDZS, it's noted that an area having bad feng shui (like Yi City) can cause premature death, disaster, and an increase in all sorts of nasty supernatural phenomena! With this in mind, a peak that focuses on connecting to and harmonizing with one's environment seems perfect for the final Cang Qiong Mountain peak.

I don't imagine this peak doing much of the actual building in the sect (that's An Ding's job) but when it comes to designing the sect's buildings, or altering its geography through earthworks, they're the ones to talk to. I also see them as producing at least some of the sect’s food supply, using their skills to encourage a positively supernatural abundance of plants.

In short, disciples of this peak would be skilled with things like architecture, earthworks, geography, topography, irrigation, agriculture, element manipulation, etc.

If SVSSS’s heavenly realms have anything akin to TGCF’s elemental masters, there is probably an unusually high chance they come from this peak.

[heylittleriotact]

Ｍａｓｓａｇｅ(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1/2)

Manipulation of tissue in the course of preparation of the body

“Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?” Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…” Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.

My sensual take on Rook's dinner date with Emmrich, and how it lead to them sleeping together for the first time.

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3

Neve was right - I should have worn the old shoes…

She shifted her knee upward slightly and pressed the ball of her foot into the ground, freeing her right heel from stiff new leather and hiding her grimace of relief behind the rim of her wine glass as she wriggled her somewhat crushed toes now that they weren’t crammed together, fighting for space in the narrow toe box. 

There were a perfectly good pair of well broken in heels sitting in her wardrobe back at the Lighthouse that would have been more than acceptable to wear to dinner with Emmrich, but no, she just had to go to Dock Town earlier in the day with Neve who had all but insisted she buy herself something nice for the occasion…

‘Not saying you don’t know how to clean up - I know you Watchers are a well put together bunch, but I don’t know… maybe you’ll have a nicer evening if you’re not sitting across from Emmrich wearing the same clothes you wear to make funeral arrangements with people?‘

‘I’m almost certain he’ll be sitting across from me wearing the same clothes he wears to make funeral arrangements with people,’ Amina had pointed out, and Neve laughed.

‘How sure are you about that? I’d put my money on him showing up in the most formal, four-piece ensemble he owns if it helps his chances of getting you into bed tonight.’

She had a point - but not about sex. Amina knew perfectly well that weeks and weeks of burning tension shrouded under the polite mantle of collegial professionalism had become increasingly difficult to ignore now that they were… well - now that they were… together. That shoe was going to have to drop sooner rather than later, unless…She wrinkled her nose at the very thought: Unless he was the sort to take a courtship so seriously that abstinence from intimate activities was expected until she shared his name…

But no… surely not. Not judging by the way his hands wandered confidently around her waist and his lips eagerly roamed her neck when he kissed her against the Lovers’ Grave.

Be that as it may, she still didn’t want to overdress for the occasion - how embarrassing would that be? How oblivious?

Her face reddened at the imagined awkwardness of waiting for Emmrich at the eluvian, dressed in a lavish floor-skimming evening gown and gloves, her mass of sleek black hair time-consumingly plaited and pinned up to emphasize the small amount of grave gold that she owned, retrieved from its dusty velvet-lined box for the first time in years because she never had occasion - nor the desire - to actually wear any of it, unlike her gentlemanly new companion who clanged and clattered around everywhere he went like a sentient drawer of silverware. 

He’d inevitably appear, descending the stairs from the library wearing what he wore every day - that well-loved waistcoat, a crisp clean shirt, and his favoured combed Druffalo wool trousers. He’d look as handsome as always, and not at all underdressed for a romantic dinner in the 

Necropolis, and his eyes would widen at the spectacle of her dressed like she was heading off for cocktails with the King of Ferelden. The corners of his mouth would twitch and he’d clear his throat in a polite attempt to stifle his laughter. 

At her. 

At how absolutely stupid she looked.

‘It’s dinner - not a setup for a marriage proposal, Neve.’

‘If you say so, but if there’s a cummerbund involved, you owe me five gold.’

‘He wears a cummerbund every day,’ she sighed, turning and pulling open the door to one of the many clothing boutiques populating the market district. 

‘I thought it was a sash.’

‘Don’t let him hear you say that unless you want an hour long oration on the particulars of ‘a gentleman’s wardrobe.’’

At the sound of the bell over the door tinkling, the boutique owner appeared from behind a rack of angular Tevene formal gowns. 

She wiped her clammy palms on her pants - shit she was bad at this. She always had been. She hadn’t even been on a dinner date in what… three years? 

And now she was sitting across from him, as predicted, wearing the stiff deepstalker leather shoes she’d purchased in a state of utter panic at the shop, along with a plunging, emerald green satin blouse that Neve insisted she leave with, and a new fishtail skirt that she admittedly quite liked: it was a woven fabric, mid-length, pinstriped in black and a rich chocolate brown. The ruffled hem was arranged with thin laces that lended the article a rather pretty bustled look that she thought nicely accentuated the curve of her rear. Disaster of an evening or not, that skirt was going to become a frequently worn item.

And as for the prospect of sleeping together…

She tipped back her glass again. Found it empty. 

Dammit.

“Allow me.” 

She looked up from the empty crystal goblet to see Emmrich’s hand reaching over the table, waiting patiently for her to pass him the glass. The warm light of the candles on the table between them contrasted with the cool light of the veilfire lanterns and the subtle, ever shifting glow of the wisps that floated lazily around them, drawn to curiously observe the spectacle of the two courting Watchers taking their dinner in the Memorial Gardens. 

He had indeed dressed as she predicted: put together, poised… perfect. A man who looked like he was always prepared to hold court at a lectern, soothe a wayward spirit, or arrange a romantic meal complete with an embossed menu with gilded corners. 

He was so untouchable, so lofty and distinguished, yet there was an aspect of him that she still couldn’t quite place - perhaps she hadn’t known him long enough yet. Perhaps their relationship was still too new and he’d not seen fit to reveal such parts of himself to her for fear that she would flee. Whatever it was dwelled deep beneath that veneer of perfection, shrouded so well from view that it simply begat speculation.

Was he some sort of deviant? Was this all a facade to disguise a self-serving, narcissistic monster who would eventually wear her down and rob her of her personhood as he claimed her and reduced her to little more than a pretty possession to wear on his arm to fancy parties? 

Maybe this was just how he operated: luring in vulnerable and attractive partners until he bored of them and left them for someone more interesting?

Was he a priggish asshole and this was a finely honed act that had worked well for his purposes until he no longer had need to maintain it?

There had to be a reason why a man as genuine and kind as this hadn’t been snatched up decades earlier. 

There had to be some literal or figurative skeleton lurking in his closet, and once she tore open the doors and shed light on it, she suspected would step back and place her hands on her hips as she surveyed the stinking desiccated corpse of Truth with a grim and knowing smile, simultaneously satisfied and despondent that she had finally confirmed that Emmrich Volkarin was in fact too good to be true, just as she knew he’d be.

‘Ah yes, there it is,’ she’d say with the nonchalance of someone who’d just found a missing earring stuck behind a cushion, utterly unsurprised and proud of herself for seeing through him and catching onto his game before he could do any real damage. Then she’d gently close the doors of the closet and leave, and he would never hear from her again.

But until such time…

Her scarlet lips parted in a smile and she extended her hand, slipping the delicate crystal stem into his fingers, not drawing back when they made contact, her fingertips brushing over over his own and lingering for perhaps a moment longer than they needed to before they parted and he refilled her glass, the steady ‘glug, glug’ of the wine filling the silence between them. 

He passed it back to her and she said thank you, and this time it was his fingers that lingered - like he had been waiting for some sort of unspoken permission to touch her. 

Heat pooled in her belly, and she pressed her thighs together, letting her other heel slip from its shoe, praying he couldn’t see the flush that was heating her cheeks under the rouge that she wore on them. She drank from the glass and set it down gently, returning to the stunningly arranged blood orange salad on the plate before her, collecting a few pine nuts on her fork before skewering a mouthful of greens as silence fell between them again.

Fuck - this was just as awkward as she thought it would be - he was probably regretting suggesting this in the first place…

“What do you make of the wine?” 

Oh good, they were going to make small talk about what they were drinking: one of the most blatant indications that a date was going terribly.

“It’s nice. Refresh me on its origin?” 

He set down his fork and held up his own glass to the candlelight, swirling the semi-translucent garnet vintage and watching it recede down the sides, observing its legs discerningly. “Quite enigmous, truth be told: an entire crate of bottles was left sitting outside the main gate of the Necropolis over a decade ago with no note, no shipping manifest, each bottle containing this same wine - Adirondack Red, according to the label, bottled on well… a date that falls outside the format of any Chantry, Tevinter, or Elven calendars going back to the beginning of dated history.” He angled the glass and dipped his nose into the bowl, nostrils flaring slightly as he took in the fragrance of the wine. He took a sip, letting it roll over his tongue before smiling pleasantly at Amina. “Could it be the mystery of it that makes it taste so scintillating, or does it stand on its own merit?”

“Mhmm…” Amina breathed, realizing she hadn’t blinked in over a minute - she’d been tracking Emmrich’s every move with a gaze that was nothing short of predatory… hungry. The heat that simmered deep in her core flared and sparked, embers of its existence rising up through her like molten sap spitting from a piece of burning pine. “Merit…”

He set the glass down, folding his long fingered hands together in front of him to lean forward slightly, his expression soft and inquisitive.

“Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”

Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…”

Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.

His hand found hers on her side of the table, covering it and imparting a gentle squeeze.

“I’m… yes. Yes, I suppose I am.” she finally admitted, staring at his hand on hers, still unable to meet his eyes.

“So am I.” 

That did it. 

His thumb danced over her skin, sending welcome jolts of sensation up her arm. She dared to lift her gaze to find him regarding her with a look of understanding affection, his moustache quirked slightly, following the curve of his soft smile. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?” 

“Yes, actually,” she managed, her voice wavering slightly. “Thank you, Emmrich.” 

“Think nothing of it, darling.” He lifted her hand over the table and pressed his lips against the backs of her fingers. “Do try to enjoy yourself - tonight is only for us: there is no expectation, nor misplaced assumption… not on my part, at least.”

He was right: it wasn’t that he was telling her to pretend she was having a nice time for the benefit of his ego. He truly did want her to relax, loosen up, and just… be. 

“It’s been uh… quite awhile since I’ve spent time with someone like this. I think I’ve forgotten how.” Despite the self-deprecating statement she felt some of the tension in her shoulders release as Emmrich set her hand back down on the table, and she felt safe enough to laugh a little.

His own chuckle of amusement joined hers and he sat back and picked up his fork again. “I daresay I find myself in a similar predicament, dear Rook, but I can’t think of better company in which to reacquaint myself with such things.”

Maker’s breath he’s smooth…

They finished their salad and the remaining courses with much more ease, conversation flowing as effortlessly between them as it had since Amina started taking him up on his daily invitations to tea instead of diligently avoiding him as she had in those early days in the Lighthouse. 

They covered the standard array of dinner date conversation topics: favourite colours, exactly how long it had been since either of them had been in a relationship, and what attracted them to each other in the first place. It was predictable, typical fare that neither tread too far into the realms of disclosing any damning personal flaws, nor deflected enough to draw suspicion that the other was being deliberately obfuscating. 

Normally Amina loathed this brand of superficial small talk - it really didn’t tell one much about a person - nothing important, at any rate. But perhaps it was the Adirondack wine, heady and rich, curiously rife with something that could only be described as magic. Or it could have been the way she kept catching faint whiffs of his fresh, mossy cologne when he waved his hands through the air as he spoke, but as traditionally banal as the topics were, she found herself hanging onto his every word: watching the shape his mouth made as he enunciated certain vowels and consonants, savouring the charming lilt of his tone and how she could nearly pinpoint the exact place in his chest from which his voice resonated…

Then of course there was the food itself: a varied and inspired spread that incorporated an exotic bevy of ingredients that Amina knew to be aphrodisiac in nature: figs and pomegranates, saffron, and spicy peppers that were sweet on her tongue but left her lips tingling, blood-flushed, and tantalizingly swollen. 

There was no overlooking the sensual tone of the menu, each course arranged like art on the plate; each morsel designed to arouse and stimulate all five of the senses: it was a meal designed to impress - and to seduce: to make plain his desire for her in the form of an elegant, sophisticated proposition. 

Yet here they were, well into dessert (a sinful dark chocolate gateau that was decadent and rich, but didn’t leave her feeling overfull) still trading surface based small talk and polite compliments: they might as well have been at the annual Wintersend Ball put on for all the Watchers, surrounded by colleagues and apprentices.

It was frustrating to say the least: her arousal had made itself known over the course of the evening; blood rushing to her sex, engorging her as she shifted in her chair, bare upper thighs damp as Emmrich prattled on about flowers. 

Amina set her fork lengthways across her bare plate and dabbed at the corners of her lips with her napkin before neatly folding it and placing it atop the plate as well. “That was delicious.” 

Emmrich finished the last bite of his gateau as well and his fork hovered over his plate as his eyes locked on her mouth and he leaned forward, “You’ve got… there’s a bit of chocolate still–” he laughed - not the cruel, jeering laugh she imagined earlier, but one of charmed endearment - and tapped the left corner of his mouth, “-here.”

Amina probed her tongue around the corner in question, “There?”

It was Emmrich’s turn to look bashful, blushing slightly as he shook his head and lifted a hand towards her, pausing midway to ask, “May I?” She nodded and his thumb found the corner of her mouth, delicately sweeping up the chocolate in question. 

He had been about to draw back, pleased that the offending confectionary had been satisfactorily dealt with, but Amina - having spent months dancing around this man, and having officially tired of it as of this moment - caught his wrist and drew his thumb across her lower lip, parting her mouth just enough to lick the bittersweet smudge from his fingertip, smiling when his eyes widened slightly at her audacity as she gently dragged the pad of his thumb over her bottom teeth.

“So chivalrous,” she noted, a hush to her voice that could no longer be attributed to nerves.

He reddened further, swallowed, and managed to take his hand back, promptly scooping up the dregs of his wine as he retreated back to his side of the table. His other hand, Amina observed, had vanished under the table for a fleeting moment and was accompanied by a slight shifting in his seat that did absolutely nothing to quell her very active imagination. 

He was nervous, the fact made abundantly clear now that she was actively flirting with him instead of staying within the safe, unthreatening confines of civilized conversation that he was most comfortable in. 

He wanted to bed her. He wanted to take that next massive step forward in their relationship. Why else would he have used his sway to have the Gardens cordoned off for the night just for them? Why else would he have conceptualized a culinary experience so blatantly steeped in raw erotic overtones? She knew Emmrich well enough by now to know that he didn’t make oblivious mistakes when it came to romantic gestures.  

She was more than willing to partake in his flesh if he was keen on hers, so why the hesitance?

Clumsy silence reigned once more as a skeletal servant cleared away their dessert plates and placed a stemmed cordial glass filled with an opaque daffodil coloured liqueur in front of each of them.

Knowing full well what it was, Amina plucked the delicate glass from the table with fingers that were deceptively gentle despite the scarred, gnarled state of them. “What have we here?” She asked Emmrich as the servant shuffled away. 

“Antivan Limón - a vivacious digestif that rounds out a fine meal quite nicely.” He lifted his own between his thumb and forefinger, immediately appearing relieved to be talking about drinks again.

She sipped it, savouring the bright, tart flavour as it pirouetted over her taste buds like a crisp summer breeze: light and vivacious indeed. “Mmmm… it is lovely.” She lowered the glass but didn’t set it down, softly tapping her lacquered fingernails against the patterned crystal. She looked up at Emmrich and treated him to the same soft, kind smile he’d shown her earlier. “Forgive me if I come off as overly familiar, Emmrich, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”

The cordial glass wobbled in his hand at her words and he used the other to steady it before putting it down on the table where it would be safe.

“I suppose I am,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the familiarity of this conversation.

“So am I,” she quipped, and she leaned over the table to place a soft kiss on his heated cheek, then the quaint line of his smile, etched into his skin from so many years of the kindness and compassion that he gave so freely; then the corner of his mouth. Then she kissed him fully, her tongue feathering past her lips to taste the summery limón that clung to his. He parted for her and she slipped into his mouth, caressing his tongue with her own for only the barest moment before pulling away and sinking back down into her chair. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?”

“It does,” he breathed, looking bemused, evidently not yet trusting himself to pick up the cordial glass again. Instead, he studied her, his rich hazel eyes taking in every detail of her hair, her face, and her bare shoulders. “You look truly ravishing tonight, dear.”

Emboldened, Amina smoothed the front of the low cut satin blouse with one hand, pushing her shoulders back and her chest out. “You mentioned that when we met at the eluvian earlier, but I don’t mind hearing it again.” 

The wine. It had to be the wine. And now the limón which was considerably stronger was making its way through her bloodstream too, and perhaps she should stop now before she made a complete fool of herself, but…

“What do you think of my shoes? I bought them just for tonight.” She slammed her heels back down into the shoes in question and lifted her feet under the table, depositing them tidily into Emmrich’s lap, causing him to jump with such abruptness that the table shifted and the candles wobbled, “Sorry,” she demurred, reaching out to steady a candlestick to keep it from falling over.

He looked down at the shiny, midnight blue shoes in his lap, the pointed toes catching veilfire and wisplight, his mouth wonderfully agape.

“They’re… they’re lovely, dear…” He rasped, his hands disappearing from the surface of the table to softly caress the leather against his fingers, curling them around the sides of her feet and tracing the shape of the expensive shoes, finding the silken texture of her stockings as they wandered towards her ankles. Something changed in his expression then - like he’d woken up and come to his senses. She half expected him to shove her feet off of him and admonish her for her lack of decorum. Instead he looked up at her, his eyes burning with passion. “But they’re hurting you.”

“They’re not,” she lied, tossing back another sip of limón. 

“My valiant, stalwart Reaper,” he tutted. “You do our order credit with your devotion, don’t you?” His hands curved beneath her ankles and his thumbs hooked under the pitch of the shoes, popping them free from her soles. “You concealed your discomfort admirably until we were two thirds of our way through the Vault of The Beloved.”

She flicked her hair, maintaining nonchalance even though every one of his calculated touches filled her with a ravenous need for more - for all of him - as much as he would give her. “That’s ridiculous. This is hardly my first time wearing shoes in this style.”

“Oh I’ve seen you traipse around the Lighthouse in shoes like these often enough…” he murmured, his fingers and palms still roving over her feet and ankles tenderly. Had the candles just dimmed slightly? “...and I consider myself to be quite capable of discerning the difference between your comfortable stride, and your belaboured one: I am familiar with the finer points of anatomy.”

Oh. Well that was certainly a response. A response that was… dripping with entendre?

“Been watching me, have you, love?” Her eyebrow raised, her heart made itself comfortable somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. 

“I can’t help myself, you see, though I have tried to compose myself and observe you with the deference you deserve…” He tugged the shoes fully from her feet and set them on the ground next to him, enfolding her tiny, pedicured toes in his large, warm hands. “But try as I may, I see glimpses of you in nearly everything I perceive of late: your smile fades through beams of dusty sunlight; a verdant gaze regards me from every living thing in Harding’s greenhouse… I fear I am bewitched, darling Amina, yet the eye does not go wanting when it has the privilege of looking upon you. If I am indeed under your spell, it is surely the happiest curse in existence.” 

His thumbs curved into the balls of her feet, cradling her arch and working slow circles into the tense, cramped joints as she took in his words - played them over in her mind… lived in them.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting him to say, but it… it wasn’t that. 

“Emmrich…” she sighed, taking another mouthful of limón and letting her head fall back. The stupid shoes were agony, but his fingers were rapidly undoing the damage they’d done.

“They are stunning shoes, for what it’s worth.” He gathered her right foot in both his hands and began languidly massaging, “But you needn’t sacrifice your comfort in an effort to impress - I assure you: you’ve already accomplished that.” 

Unable to help herself anymore at his words, her left foot dallied, stretched, and found what it was looking for - the growing bulge in his pants, pinned against his thigh. She curled her toes against it, marking the catch of Emmrich’s breath and the flutter of his eyelids as she felt him under her toes, her heart beating faster, mouth going dry, touching for the first time this aspect of his anatomy that she had so often fantasized about late at night in her room, her own fingers moving inside her as she fucked herself to climax imagining they were his hard, hot cock pounding into her instead. 

It was her favourite thing to think about recently.

“Is this alright?” She asked, watching his throat bob; watching his eyes glass over and then darken with lust.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice straining as he watched her continue rubbing her petite, stocking-clad foot against his hard, clothed cock under the table. “Oh… darling, yes…” 

Amina swallowed the last of her limón and set the glass on the table, tugging her right foot from Emmrich’s hand and softly caressing his cock with both feet now. “Don’t worry about me, Emmrich: I knew exactly what I was getting into when I selected those shoes.” 

His fingers clasped over her toes again and stroked her feet over his length, his hips arcing subtly into her soles. “I had rather been hoping we might get to know one another better tonight, but I must say: I didn’t anticipate dessert taking this turn,” he murmured, something even more sinful than the chocolate gateau dwelling in his smile.

“Would you like me to stop?” She meant it: she wanted him to enjoy himself, not feel uncomfortable.

“Of course not–”

She traced the shape of him with her flawless feet again, coaxing a soft hiss from him. 

“But we should–”

“- get out of here?” She finished for him. “Indulge in a nightcap back at the Lighthouse?” 

Neither of them were inexperienced in this arena: they both knew that ‘a nightcap’ consisted of Emmrich burying himself to the hilt between her legs, and both of them finally finding the release they craved after what felt like an eternity of yearning for one another. 

“That sounds like a marvelous idea, dear.” He nodded tightly, threw back his entire glass of limón in a single go, and slipped Amina’s shoes back on her feet before standing, the front of his pants visibly straining as he swept around to her side of the table and pulled her chair away from the table - gentlemanly even in his haste to leave this place. 

Amina rose to her feet with Emmrich’s hand and twined her fingers between his as he began to lead her from the table, snagging their coats from the nearby coat rack and draping them over his forearm, concealing his arousal from anyone they might might pass by on their route back to the eluvian. 

She managed not to limp the distance to the doors of the garden, and before they left the gardens behind, Amina halted and squeezed his hand. “Wait - before we go: this was beautiful,” she looked over her shoulder at the candlelit table, now empty. “It was the most thoughtful, heartfelt dinner anyone’s ever arranged for me, and…” she saw some of the urgency leave his face: his brows softened, his jaw relaxed. “Emmrich… I’m… I’m so glad I met you.” 

And she stood on her toes and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, bringing her lips to his in a bruising kiss that caused him to rock back half a step, throwing his free hand back to catch himself before they tumbled backwards into a hedge from the momentum. 

When he was sure he steadied himself, he leaned forward into the kiss, carding his fingers through her silky hair, returning her enthusiasm with a muffled groan as he licked into her mouth, tasting her lips and her tongue, feeling the smoothness of her teeth and the warm, wet heat of her. 

He pulled away, pupils blown wide, cradling her jaw in his hand as he looked down at her, a thin strand of saliva still connecting them both. “And I you, my sweet Amina,” he breathed. “I only regret that it took so long for us to find one another.” 

“Oh I fully intend on making up for lost time,” she purred, gently adjusting his treasured collar pin, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “Don’t you worry about that.” Her fingers drifted from the pin to his jaw, feeling the realness of him against her flesh. “What I am concerned about is a matter of logistics: where, my handsome suitor, do you propose we enjoy our nightcap?”

Surely he had a bed. She’d never actually asked, but it would be lunacy for him to pack Manfred through the eluvian, back to the Necropolis and up the lift a few dozen levels to his apartment every night… wouldn’t it? There was no way he slept in his armchair or at his desk - not when she’d seen the slow, tentative way he’d unfold from a sitting position sometimes, and heard the brittle cracking of his poor knees as they straightened, worn ligaments and tendons protesting.

She was thirty-six and her knees weren’t in much better condition due to the physical demands of her vocation: she could sympathize, and for that reason, she knew if he didn’t have a bed, he most definitely would have made it everybody’s problem by now. 

Oh no, he had a bed, and tonight she was going to learn where in the damned Lighthouse it was, and then she was going to fuck him in it until he couldn’t think straight.

He shouldered the door open, and guided her over the threshold before him, taking care to close the heavy slate doors behind him before turning to her, his eyes glinting. “As it turns out, I do in fact have a bed, darling - did you assume I slept in the laboratory, standing upright like a horse?”

“Of course not: that would be silly.” 

“Tremendously,” he concurred, his moustache twitching with a wry smile the instant before he swept one arm around her shoulders, the other behind her knees. 

“Hey–!” She warbled out, startled at this new development, and her feet left the ground as he scooped her up, cradling her to his chest, the coats still draped over his forearm.

“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you hobble the entire way back home, did you, dear?”

Home. He’d said home…

Amina knew her face was beetroot as she scrambled for words. “You - you could have just magically healed my feet!” She squirmed halfheartedly in his grip and he snorted in amusement, his breath washing over her face. 

“Now where would be the fun in that?” He teased, kissing her nose and setting off down the corridor through the cavernous vault. “But if you find it truly undignified, I’ll gladly set you down and take a moment to tend to your feet...” 

She glanced up at him. He was looking ahead to make sure he didn’t trip on anything and send them flying. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw stood out against the dusty tomb light diffused throughout the vault, and he still looked well-pleased with himself as he strode onwards, not struggling at all with the task of hauling her bones around. 

“I suppose this isn’t so bad…” She leaned her head close to Emmrich’s neck and nuzzled into the expanse of exposed skin between his collar and his jawline, inhaling deeply, filling herself with the comforting scent of him. “My hero… whatever would I do without you?”

He crooked his neck against her ministrations, her breath tickling him - or arousing him - she was unsure which. “I’m hardly a hero, darling - just a gentlem—“

“Professor Volkarin!”

Oh dear.

She felt Emmrich go rigid under her and he turned to address whomever had called out to him: it was an apprentice mage - a young man, no older than nineteen with a shock of curly red hair and a pointy little beard growing from the very tip of his chin.

His eyes went from Emmrich to Amina, then back to Emmrich, widening the entire time.

“Oh - I - s-sorry Professor, I didn’t know you - uh - I know you’ve been… away… b-but I was w-wondering if you could help me understand a few things about uh… Ley lines and their relation to dowsing and other methods of cyclomancy. You see, I’m running into some difficulty wi–”

“Hamish.” Emmrich’s interjection wasn’t unkind, but there was a firmness in his tone that garnered respect and immediately shut Hamish up. “I have absolute faith that a young man of your intelligence doesn’t require a dowsing rod to divine the truth of the matter, which is that I am presently indisposed–”

Amina buried her face in Emmrich’s shoulder to conceal her grin and stifle the giggle that slipped past her lips. 

“— now be on your way and submit your questions to me in writing and I shall respond in due course when time permits. Now: good evening to you.” The farewell was delivered with curt finality that indicated the matter was not up for debate, and Amina peeked up from Emmrich’s shoulder to see Hamish soundlessly opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to come to terms with the abject horror of accidentally interrupting his professor during what was obviously a romantic evening. 

“Y-yes - of course! Good - good evening to you, Professor…” he bowed jerkily to Emmrich. “Lady.” He tipped his head further down and then turned and fled so quickly Amina thought he Fade-stepped away. Perhaps he had.

When she trusted the lad was out of earshot, Amina laughed properly, curling her fingers into the worn but lovingly kept material of Emmrich’s waistcoat. “I think poor Hamish thinks he’s ruined your chances with me and destroyed his career because of it.”

“Hmm…” Emmrich mused. “I suppose that depends: did young Hamish spoil the evening with his uncouth interruption?”

“Not even close.” She licked his neck - planted a wet, sucking kiss on the hot flesh there.

“Then he has nothing to fear,” he declared, tilting his head down and claiming Amina’s lips in one more deep kiss before setting off again towards the eluvian.

Towards home.

[metallicames]

New fic inspired by the song Loverman because James with that voice makes me imagine certain things... 😈

@metalmaidenn Thank u for your precious help ❣️

Loverman

Description: you broke up with James a year ago and while you are trying to get your life back together by dating a new guy you unexpectedly meet him outside your hotel.

Warning: dirty talking, sex, oral sex

Staring at the ceiling, heart beating wildly… you look at the clock on the bedside table: it's 3 in the morning, you already know that you won't sleep a wink after what happened today. You thought you had gotten over the breakup with James: a year has now passed and you felt quite calm, you seemed to have solved the situation by detaching yourself completely from him and his world, so as not to suffer and no longer feel dependence on him, on his company, from his body. After months of suffering you managed to tell him that it couldn't works anymore, that knowing that he was always on tour and often had sex with other women just to overcome abstinence and distance was wearing you down inside, you had the strength to do it and just with one look from him, the sound of his voice you screwed everything up.

“Y/N is that you?" he asked you in a surprised tone, approaching you after you got out of Theo’s car, the boy you've been dating for a month and who had kindly accompanied you to the hotel. From that moment your brain went into blackout, you probably looked at him with a shocked expression, he smiled at you, with that smile that made you fall in love and that bewitched you for two years. After a few moments of embarrassment you started talking as you used to, you had almost forgotten how magnetic his gaze was and his way of talking to you, of taking interest in you. You couldn't say no to him when he proposed to meet up the next day just to let you listen to some covers he was working on with the guys in the band, it's something you've always done since before you got together. The love for music was the thing that bonded you from the start so initially accepting it didn't seem strange to you but now thinking about it with a clear mind you already know that the inevitable could happen, that you won't be able to resist him if he ever takes the first step and this thing it agitates you it makes you come dizziness.

You spend a sleepless night, in the morning you go to a meeting with an agent who has to talk about a collaboration proposal for a job there in New York, for a few hours you manage to distract yourself and think about something else.

7pm arrives, getting you ready to meet your friend Mel in the nearby bar, while you're leaving you see your reflection in a shop window and realise that you've dressed for James: black dress with flounced skirt, fishnet stockings and boots. You leave the hotel and meet Mel, you spend two hours catching up on the latest events but for the moment you avoid talking about James, you don't want to be influenced by his opinions even if you know they could bring you back to reality and make you more realistic, but at the same time you can think of something else and be less tense about the upcoming meeting.

Hours pass, Mel greets you and takes a taxi while you wait outside the bar. Shortly after James arrives on his Harley, just to complicate the situation even more, he greets you with a toothy smile, his eyes shine, his gaze is vibrant. He hands you the helmet and signals you to get on his motorcycle, you get on and you hold on tightly to his hips, leaning slightly on his back: just that first contact makes you jump, as if it were the first time you’ve touched him in your life.

James opens the attic door and beckons you to come in, closing the door behind you shortly after. It takes your eyes a few seconds to get used to the soft red lights which create a warm and sensual atmosphere. The room is big, with large windows that overlooks the illuminated city, dark but welcoming at the same time, the king-sized bed is covered in elegant black sheets.

You feel restless, your body tells you to follow your instinct, to let go, to get closer to him, kiss him, taste him, touch him… your head instead tries to proteste you, because rationally you know that you will get hurt again, that the relationship with James at the moment it's impossible and dangerously unhealthy.

James moves in the room with quietly and naturalness, he takes off his leather jacket, revealing his slender body, the black shirt slightly open on the chest reveals some blond hairs that peep out. Looking up slightly you see his iconic necklace with the silver pendant of a wolf head, twisted around his neck as if it was a choker accompanied by other necklaces, you swallow and look away. “Do you want something to drink? Make yourself comfortable” he asks you as he takes two glasses from the spirits cabinet. You nod while trying to calm down and start talking to him about this and that to create a relaxed and friendly situation, the topics range from the tour, to the guys in the band to your next project with a fashion house, everything seems to be back to how it was a few years ago, when you had met and always found something to talk about, anecdotes to share. Every now and then you notice that when you look away from him or take a sip of Jager, he fixes you with a look that makes you dizzy and make your toes twitch and often out of the corner of your eye you notice that his eyes linger on your chest and then move up towards your face slowly.

While you are talking, he gets up and places a disc on the turntable… you had almost forgotten why you were there. He plays a track and tells you the story of the album project which will be a covers album and which will be released in the next few months . You relax on the armchair next to the window, sipping the Jager and letting yourself be carried away by the music: he lets you do it without distracting you, he sits on the bed with his forearms resting on his legs, playing with the ice in the glass, staring at the floor, then from time to time he raises his head and looks at you slightly smiling. The songs follow one another, James’ voice at some points gives you chills, it even seems better than all the previous records: more mature, powerful, vibrant… sexy. You start walking backwards and forwards in front of the window, James’ eyes are glued to you, you see that his gaze stops on your legs and goes up your entire body as if he were taking an x-ray and you feel yourself growing inside a powerful, unstoppable, uncontrolled feeling of pure desire.

Another track starts, the tone of his voice hits you immediately, it's penetrating, sensual in a way you've never heard him sing, for a moment you hold your breath you look away from the raindrops falling on the glass you feel almost stunned by the words of the song and James' voice.

There's a devil waiting outside your door

(How much longer?)

And he's weak with evil and broken by the world

(How much longer?)

And he's shouting your name and asking for more

(How much longer?)

There's a devil waiting outside your door

(How much longer?)

”And… what is THAT?” you say looking at him, his gaze is dark, intense, penetrating he sips the Jager and then he places the glass slowly on the table... the tension in the air is palpable, the song in the background and the setting make you feel like in a movie, a surreal situation.

“Come here” he invites you, in a firm tone, your heartbeat increases, you knew this moment would come, you wanted it, you can't lie to yourself. You approach -almost scared-, your legs are shaking but inside you know what you want: you want him. He stands up, holding you by the hips, close to him, then he kisses you softly almost as if he were waiting for your consent and then more and more intensely, passing his tongue between your lips meeting yours and you feel the butterflies in your stomach as if it were the first time. James increases the pace and intensity and with his hands he holds you even closer to himself, allowing you to feel his erection against your belly. You thread your fingers through his short hair at the nape of his neck and pull his head towards you, letting out a soft moan.

L is for love, baby

O is for only you that I do

V is for loving virtually everything that you are

E is for loving almost everything that you do

R is for rape me

M is for murder me

A is for answering all of my prayers

N is for knowing your loverman’s going to be the answer to all of yours

The song continues to echo in your ears making you feel even more excited, James stops kissing you for a moment, biting your lower lip first and keeping his forehead resting on yours. He moves his hands down from your hips towards your buttocks under the dress and starts to palpate them, pushing you even more against his erection, "turn around" he tells you in a low, almost whispered tone, staring into your eyes. You turn around and James slowly but firmly bends you forward towards the bed with his hands, pulling your dress up to your waist and letting out a low, guttural growl at the sight of your buttocks wrapped in fishnet stockings. You rest your knees on the bed and look at him over your shoulder giving him a wink, he returns with a devilish grin on his face. God, you know it's wrong, you know you're making everything more complicated but you can't stop, you can't resist him.

With a quick and unexpected movement, James tears your socks off with both hands, you gasp and as soon as you feel his hands moving your thong to the side, you lean forward deeply into the mattress with your face, stretching your arms forward, “God… what a sight" James pants behind you before giving you kisses followed by bites on your buttocks, your heartbeat speeds up and before you know it you feel his tongue sinking inside you, you hold your breath at the sensation and arch instinctively your back allowing him to have more access to your throbbing pussy.

“Mmmmh” James emits low and vibrant moans that send shocks throughout your body as he continues to eat you, squeezing your thigh with one hand and moving the other between your legs, pressing on your belly and then sliding on your clit swollen with desire, you narrow your eyes lost in the moment. You had almost forgotten how good he was and how much chemistry there was between you, almost because it is impossible to forget the intensity and dedication he puts into every movement, as if his only purpose in life was to give you pleasure and take you to the limit. As he pushes his face against you, divinely licking every spot, you can't hold back your moans and the thing that drives you even more crazy is seeing your reflection in the window overlooking the city.

Gimme more gimme more gimme more gimme more

While you are lost in ecstasy, James stops, slaps you on the buttock and undresses himself throwing his clothes everywhere and you take the opportunity to remove your dress and bra. James lowers himself towards you caressing your back using his nails but without hurting you and he moves closer to your face “did you miss me? Hmm?”

“Yes James… please” you tell him with a whisper, your sense of guilt is now only a faint memory, nothing exists but of you and James in this moment.

He caresses you with his fingers, passing them between your wet folds, while with the other hand he strokes his length before placing the tip against you and pushing in slowly. He lets out a long, low growl, going all the way in and your eyes roll back from the ecstatic sensation: you realise you haven't felt sensations this intense in a year, no matter how much you like it, Theo can't hold a candle to it.

His grip on your hips is firm and he begins to move slowly allowing you to adjust to his size and enjoy the moment.

Your moans are increasingly louder and synchronised with his thrusts, you grip the sheets with your fingers to avoid sliding forward and increasing the intensity of the penetration, "look at us, look at how beautiful we are, I missed you..." he tells you, lowering himself towards you and placing his hands on top of yours, squeezing them. You feel the warmth of his chest on your back and this makes you pant… then you open your eyes: you see your reflection once again but this time James is completely naked on top of you, while he gives you all of himself. His thrusts are slow but relentless, he's so deep inside you that you can't even think just moaning and panting.

“I love to fill you, I love to feel you only mine…”

While he talks to you and continues to push himself inside you without ever coming out, he puts one hand around your neck reaching up to your jaw and squeezes slightly panting in your ear.

“Fuck I love you James” automatically comes out of your mouth without even thinking about it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say.

James stops, comes out of you and slowly turns you onto your back and takes off your stockings and thong, literally penetrating you with his gaze, breathing heavily, "I've always loved you Y/N..." he tells you almost with a low voice, moving a lock of hair from your face. He repositions himself between your legs and pushes himself inside you again, resting his elbows next to your face, you wrap your legs around his hips and hold him to you, digging your nails into his hot and sweaty back.

From this moment you both lose control, he increases the pace, pushing himself into you with renewed power, you hold tightly to his back while you moan and whisper his name in his ear pressing your lips against it. “I'm so close James…so close…” - “mh… me too… come with me ok? Can you do it for me?” as he says this he increases the intensity of his thrusts, you nod and lift your head back moaning at the contact of his pubis against your clitoris.

“God… you're so wet” he murmurs breathlessly, chills pervade your body and you let yourself go into his arms under the weight of his body, squeezing his back and buttocks to you to feel him even closer.

“Oh my Godddd…” you can only exclaim this, you are in ecstasy your vision is blurred and your senses amplified, while your orgasm continues to make its way through your body in waves. James comes deep inside you emitting a low growl smothered by the mattress, you feel his hot cum dripping down your legs and his chest pressing against yours due to his altered breathing. You feel dizzy as if in a state of alteration but as soon as James turns towards you smiling, you come back to reality, he kisses you tenderly on the lips and coming out he rests his head on your breast, you automatically run a hand through his hair savouring the moment synchronising the breathing with his which from altered returns to being normal and relaxed.

As the feeling of ecstasy fades, a feeling of overwhelming anguish begins to creep inside you and the sense of guilt slowly resurfaces.

“What is it? Your heart is beating very fast” James asks you with a worried look, looking at you.

“James.. I.. I have to go”

“What? Now?”

“Yes we shouldn’t have…”

“Why? You just told me you love me!”

“I know but it’s not right, I don’t want to go back to being as bad as I was a year ago… it’s not healthy”

“But you can’t pretend that there’s nothing between us… You can’t lie to yourself… Am I a lover to you?”

You almost want to laugh, but it’s a nervous laugh of discouragement.

“James please… let me go” you quickly dress, wiping a tear that was starting to fall on your still red cheek.

James remains naked on the bed staring at you with a look of disbelief, if you could look inside him you would see his heart crumble with your every movement, but this is partly his fault, the fault of his water instincts inability to stay in a monogram relationship and commit.

You finish dressing quickly, you look at him one last time, with a defeated and suffering look.

“I really love you James, but I have to love myself first” you tell him with a trembling voice, you open the door and disappear into the corridor, you don’t know if you will ever see him again, you only know that you are destroyed, confused and madly in love.