#unconscious and you protected me

[firemourn]

the fucking blood pact….

[starcurtain]

Just caught up with Natlan's archon quest and lord help me, I have a burning need to see Alhaitham and Ororon interact.

I truly feel that they would vibe perfectly. Not in a ship way, but like, in the way of Kaveh quietly wailing: "For archons' sake, he's brought another tacky thing into the house. Traveler, please do something; they've been staring eye to eye over the coffee table for like an hour now but haven't said a single word. I don't know what to do. Send help."

[pwryyynce]

still cant choose whats the funniest part of this scene: dementus' "everyone is saying it’s MY fault!😭" or jack's "yeah.. whatever, just shut up already🙄" expression

[trashy-greyjoy]

"and you're still going to protect this woman?"

"i am."

girl, i fucking (s)creamed.

[hanicchy]

actually i love the non-traditional found family dynamics between everyone in orv. like sure if you wanted to be boring you could label people as "siblings" or "parent-child" or "dad/mom/parents" but like. that's just not how they do things. like sure kdj takes care of lgy and sys but he's not really their dad or older brother or anything like that. and yeah ljh and the kids bicker and play with one another but they're not really siblings. and even though lhs and jhw are close they're not Together or even like team mom and dad or whatever.

it's just this little ragtag group of people who have become something of a family after going through the scenarios together and they all take care of each other.

[mad-hunts]

✧

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse! (with italics as a 'sometimes' option because i'm a rule-breaker and things may depend on the situation).

i would kill you. ✧ i would physically hurt you. ✧ i would attack you unprovoked. ✧ i would manipulate you. ✧ i dislike you. ✧ you annoy me. ✧ you scare me. ✧ you intimidate me. ✧ i hope i intimidate you. ✧ i pity you. ✧ you disgust me. ✧ i hate you. ✧ i’m indifferent toward you. ✧ i’d like to get to know you better. ✧   i’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ i’d like to be friends with you. ✧  i’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ i’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ you are my friend. ✧ you are my best friend. ✧ you are my mentor. ✧ i look up to you. ✧ i respect you. ✧ you are my hero. ✧ you inspire me. ✧ you are my enemy. ✧ you make me happy. ✧ i want to protect you. ✧ i would fight by your side. ✧ i consider you an equal. ✧ i think you are beneath me. ✧ i think you are above me. ✧ i would lie for you. ✧ i would lie to you. ✧ i would sleep with you. ✧ i would sleep by your side. ✧ i would hug you. ✧ i would kiss you. ✧ you are family to me. ✧ i would die for you. ✧ i would kill for you. ✧ i would trust you with my life. ✧ i would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ i would trust you with a secret. ✧ i would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ i love you (platonically). ✧ i love you (romantically).

[blujayonthewing]

I was trying out variations on colorways for aubree's outfit and, with a few of them, realized that her outfit has trended slightly less colorful over time, and specifically less yellow (originally a green and yellow striped vest, then a green vest over a yellow short sleeved shirt, and now possibly a white shirt and green vest, with only small amounts of yellow embroidery). this wasn't intentional, but nonetheless, the concept that, as the adventure has worn on, she's outwardly losing color-- and specifically in favor of browns and whites, the colors associated with the halfling god of death-- is compelling to me. I mean, I suppose if I had been doing it on purpose, the shadowfell arc immediately following our literal deaths and mysterious rebirths would have been a really good time for the most muted palette... but, then again, aubree was still relatively fresh then, confused and traumatized but also still powerfully and stubbornly alive where it counts; vibrant, burning, shining light into dark corners just by existing. but the more we learn, the heavier things weigh, the fewer outlets she has, the less she feels like she can relate to the people who should understand better than anyone... she's still righteous and angry, but she's also just... sad, and tired, and growing more tired the more she feels like she has to keep herself together for everyone else. and gradually, quietly, her colors are washing out.

[asirenbyanyothername]

[shidoukanae]

I'm reading through Helene's backstory and waaaaah I feel so bad for her. She, out of everyone in this story, really deserves happiness more than anyone else.

Im not sure how much of her backstory is canon to the manhwa (though, I suspect a lot of it is considering how much it lines up with what the manhwa has given about Helene so far), but damn was Helene wronged by Lyla

No wonder Helene flip flops between loving Lyla and hating her. After what Lyla did to her, I would do the same as her and resent Lyla for every action she's done against Helene.

[silent-sentinels]

hkjgh NONE OF US CAN DECIDE CORE'S COLOR. we went for like? a near-black at first. and then switched to a light purple. and then a gold color, and then lightened that gold into a shade of cream? and then a deep, dark blue. and now we've settled on some light cerulean shade.

it doesn't help that Ceres is like. perfectly pliant and complaisant about anything we choose for them hkjhg like!! do you have any opinions on this our beloved core??? our dearest main??? the one that all of us orbit??? no????? nothing??????

[ginnyvos]

Also, and I can't emphasise this enough: as much as you might have trouble taking someone else's point of view, soliciting empathy from others always always starts with showing them empathy first.

This is hard. It's always hard to empathise with someone you feel is attacking you or the people or ideas you love. But think about it. That's exactly what you're asking them to do.

You're attacking their believes, their identity, the people they love that they know hold the same believes and most of all, their peace of mind.

If you can't empathise with them, can't give them the space and to be a good person even though they hold believes you don't agree with and the understanding that they are not trying to harm anyone, how can you ask them to open up, be vulnerable and empathise with you in turn?

I want to share something for those of you who are teaching and want your conservative students to be more open-minded to liberal ideas that you’re presenting.

I grew up in a conservative family and a conservative town, and like most conservative kids, had been told that colleges were hotbeds of liberalism, so I was already defensive politically when I started college. My first semester or two I was really skeptical of everything political that my professors presented me with.

And then I took a women’s studies course (required at my college). And on the first day, the professor said, 

“You don’t have to be a feminist. There are days when I’m not a feminist. But we’re going to discuss feminist ideas in this class, and you might find that you agree with some of them and disagree with others, and that’s fine.”

And that took the pressure off. By telling me that I didn’t HAVE to be a feminist, that I didn’t HAVE to agree, that professor started me on the road to becoming a feminist. I particularly remember her giving us information about what a huge percentage of the housework was still done by women, even in [hetero] couples where both the man and woman worked outside the home. And after that I remember saying, “I’m not a feminist, but I can see where they’re coming from.” 

Within 5 years, I was claiming the term and coming out to my mom as a feminist.

So when I taught college writing, I assigned politically liberal essays to my students, many of whom came from conservative backgrounds. And before they read the first one, I would say,

“The reading for the next class–I want you to know that you don’t have to agree with it. You don’t have to agree with anything that your professors teach you in college. But the point of a college education is to have your mind opened to other points of view. So you’re not required to agree, but you are required to approach the reading with an open mind. You might find that you agree with some things the author says and disagree with others. And that’s cool! We WANT you to use your critical thinking and decide for yourself what you think about things! But to do that, you need to give people the benefit of the doubt and be open-minded to what they have to say.”

And I have to say, it worked really well for me! I remember in particular that after I assigned the essay “Black Men and Public Space”, one of my students wrote in her reading reflection,

“I was taught in school that racism in America ended with Martin Luther King. I am appalled to discover that this is not true.”

Priming your students to be open-minded, while also encouraging them to use critical thinking, can help to break down some of the automatic defenses against new ideas that students are often taught. Approaching your students’ comments during discussion with an open-minded view yourself, validating their experiences while also making gentle counterarguments, can do a lot as well.

[novelbear]

"maybe you'll feel it, too" -best friends to lovers prompts

a prompt list by @novelbear ᵔᴥᵔ

lingering hugs and stares

"you know i'm always going to be there for you, right? always."

compliments that are borderline (sometimes just blatant) flirting but they cover it up as just being a really supportive friend

^ "you sure this looks fine?" "trust me, you look fine as hell..."

being overly protective of the other (especially when it comes to relationships)

showing displays of affection that might seem questionable to others around them (ex. kissing each other on the cheek/ hands)

hand placement when hugging or guiding them also being a little more on the questionable side

"i'm always thinking about you."

being unable to tear their eyes off of them, especially when watching them excel at something they're best at

sharing clothes

"why are you looking at me like that?"

unconsciously including them in conversation when they're not even around

"there's no one else that makes me laugh the way you do."

noticing them blushing coincidentally after making a comment. but they can't be blushing because of what they said. they wouldn't. would they? no, of course not...right?

holding hands and neither of them knowing when (or wanting to) let go

when that realization hits that they really wouldn't rather spend their time with anyone else the way they do with their "best friend"

rambling on and on and on and wait are they looking at my eyes or my lips?

"if we were dating i'd take you to all the best places.." "what's stopping you?" "excuse me."

"can i kiss you?" "you have no idea how long i've waited to hear you ask that."

the relief that washes over both of them when the feelings are finally out there

"why didn't you tell me?" "the same reason you didn't tell me. i didn't want to lose you."

[furuu]

‎𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ˳ 　　　It was late, and the house was quiet as you shifted uncomfortably in bed. The cramps had been gnawing at your abdomen all night, making it impossible to fall into a deep sleep. You tried not to move too much, not wanting to disturb Sukuna, who was resting beside you. He rarely seemed vulnerable, but in his sleep, his sharp features softened just enough to remind you that even the King of Curses needed rest.

But no matter how hard you tried to keep still, your body betrayed you. A small, pained groan escaped your lips as another wave of cramps tightened around your stomach, causing you to curl in on yourself. Sukuna’s body twitched beside you, and for a moment, you thought he was still asleep. Until you heard it—a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest.

You froze. Was he... growling?

It took a few seconds before you realized what was happening. The faint scent of blood must’ve hit his heightened senses, and like a predator picking up on the tiniest shifts in the air, Sukuna was reacting to it. His brow furrowed slightly as he inhaled through his nose, the smell of your period filling his senses. He shifted in his sleep, instinctively moving closer to you, a territorial edge to the way his arm draped over your waist.

You could feel his fingers twitching against your skin as if unconsciously staking his claim. Another small growl escaped him, softer this time but no less possessive.

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open, and you found yourself face-to-face with a very awake—and very intense—Sukuna. His crimson gaze locked onto yours, still hazy from sleep but filled with an unmistakable sense of protectiveness.

“You’re in pain,” he said gruffly, voice low and rough from sleep. “I can feel it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just… cramps. It’s nothing, really—”

His grip on you tightened just slightly, cutting off your sentence as he stared at you, his eyes narrowing in a way that left no room for argument. “Dumb girl,” he warned, as if what he said before was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was matter-of-fact, yet there was an underlying possessiveness in the way he said it, as if it was something unbreakable. “I will keep you safe, as your king.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Sukuna, it’s just—”

“I don’t care what it is,” he interrupted, his voice softening just a little, though the stubbornness was still there. “Your body is suffering, and I will ease your pain.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the intensity in his gaze left you speechless. He didn’t just want to help—you could tell he needed to, like some primal instinct had taken over. Just like how animals got protective and snuggly around women on their periods, Sukuna’s instincts were flaring up. You could see it in the way his muscles tensed, the way he hovered protectively over you, as if keeping you safe from something unseen.

You sighed, feeling your embarrassment wash away as you realized how serious he was. “It’s just… it’s a little embarrassing,” you admitted softly, looking down. “I don’t want to bother you.”

Sukuna let out a quiet snarl of irritation. “You’re my mate. You’ll never bother me.” He shifted, pulling you closer into his chest as his large hand splayed across your abdomen, the warmth of his palm immediately soothing against your aching muscles. “Let me take care of you.”

Despite the initial embarrassment, the heat of his body and the firm but gentle pressure of his hand on your stomach made you relax. The pain wasn’t as sharp with him so close, and the reassurance in his gravely voice eased some of the discomfort in your chest, too.

You snuggled into him, allowing yourself to rest against his tattooed chest. His growls quieted into a soft rumble, more like a contented purr now, as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“I’ve got you,” Sukuna murmured, his voice a quiet, possessive promise. “You’re mine. No one gets to hurt you. Not even your own body.”

And even though it was still a little embarrassing, you felt safer than ever wrapped in his arms, knowing that he would always be there to protect you—even from something as simple as cramps.　　‿ ݂۫ ׄ ༊࿔

[trianglegoddess]

I'm Still Standing

The League felt like they had a strong sense of Phantom’s power. After all, they wouldn’t have asked him to join the team, otherwise. He’s strong, he can fly, and due to his supernatural nature, he’s amazing on recon and stealth missions. He’s also incredibly reliable, and smarter than most people give him credit for. He’s a natural hero, a more snarky Captain Marvel, some news outlets have been saying. Always saving people with just the right words to say, with a humble smile on his face. 

Phantom, with all of his power, seemed untouchable in every definition of the word. 

And then they got invaded by Darkseid. 

It wasn’t the first time Darkseid had invaded Earth, but it was the first time bringing armies so large, the first time he’s attacked all over the world to spread the League thin. It is single handedly the worst alien invasion Earth has ever had. 

Batman, bleeding out on the sidewalk, Wonder Woman knocked unconscious and restrained by a nearly egregious amount of henchmen, Superman, weak from the kryptonite Darkseid had shot him with. Thankfully it had missed all the important bits, but with that bullet inside of him, Superman was also down for the count, as well as dozens of other League members. 

If it hadn’t been for Phantom, they would have lost. 

Phantom, who’s never been seen without a smile on his face until now. Phantom, who’s never had so much as a scratch on him, until now. Phantom, who has only ever been known to be kind and compassionate, even to his villains, until now. 

Usually there’s this sort of warm, comforting feeling that radiates from Phantom. It feels like a nice breeze on a warm summer’s day, a nice cup of hot cocoa, your favorite song. It’s a feeling of safety, as if everything will be alright just because he’s there. 

Here, though, something else, something much stronger, is radiating from him. It practically rolls off of him in huge waves, making those conscious around him more aggravated, more on edge.

Phantom pulls himself off of the ground. His suit is torn, and his green blood splattered on himself and the ground. He spits a glob of it out, along with a tooth. 

“Still, you stand,” Darkseid says, as if tired. “Do you not tire in the face of your own demise?”

“As long as I’m still standing, you won’t ever win,” Phantom says. His voice is low and threatening, reverberating eerily off of the broken infrastructure that surrounds them. It sends a chill down everybody’s spines, though if Darkseid is affected, he doesn’t show it. 

“Your comrades have fallen, your militaries have failed, and you have no other help arriving. Pray tell how one singular human will be able to take me down!” 

Phantom doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks forward so that his friends are behind him, and braces himself. Darkseid, unable to contain his own hubris, lets Phantom come closer. 

Phantom takes in a deep breath, as if he’s about to speak.  

Instead he wails. 

Any remaining glass shatters, raining down upon them as green sound waves push back the offending forces. 

And it’s loud, of course. The ears of Darkseid’s minions are bleeding, and many of them are either dying because it’s too much for them to bear, or they’re killing themselves to give themselves some modicum of relief. But it’s also more than that, more than noise. 

It’s mourning. 

The first feeling that overwhelms everyone is anger. Phantom’s anger at Darkseid, at the destruction, at the fact that he just can’t catch a fucking break and it’s not fair. The second, is the sadness. It weighs down upon their shoulders, suffocating them like smog. It invades every part of their being-their lungs, their joints, their very hearts-and it presses and presses and presses until there’s very nearly nothing left. 

Phantom still pushes on. He is nothing if not persistent, driven to fight, driven to protect his people, his team, his friends, his family. No mortal being could ever hope to have a lung capacity like this, but Phantom is no normal mortal, and Darkseid is finally starting to come to terms with that. 

The last wave of overwhelming emotion is more of an idea than it is an actual feeling. It’s not a threat, per se, but a promise. A promise to do everything in his power to destroy Darkseid and his forces permanently and with prejudice. A promise that no matter how hard Darkseid fights, he will not win. 

A promise that, if knocked down, Phantom will stand back up, and he will not lose. 

Eventually, after what feels like eternity, the wail dies down. There isn’t a single member of Darkseid’s army that’s still on their feet or in the air. Phantom collapses down to one knee, and bright, white rings flicker around his person for just a moment, before he wills them away and stands back up. 

It’s less walking towards Darkseid, and more stalking. They are not on equal footing. Phantom is the predator in every sense of the word, his anger and grief still radiating off of his body in ways that Darkseid is unable to comprehend. 

“Do you yield?” Phantom asks. His eyes are blazing green, burning into Darkseid’s very soul. It is a sort of animalistic, primal instinct deep within him that tells him, run, run as fast as you can. Darkseid’s hubris, however, remains unmatched. 

Even as he stares Death in the eye. 

“I do not,” Darkseid says. He tries to get to his feet, but his body won’t listen, still weighed down by the effects of Phantom’s wail. 

“Then as Phantom, King of the Dead, I hereby condemn you for the rest of your afterlife.”

“Don’t count your eggs yet, boy,” Darkseid spits. “I’m still alive.”

“No,” Phantom says, in a tone adjacent to someone who’s giving their condolences, “You’re not.”

Phantom gestures beside them, and Darkseid spares a glance and sees…Himself. 

His corpse is splayed on the ground, blood spurting out of his ears, nose, and eyes. He stares lifelessly up at the sky. The blood is still leaking down the sides of his face. 

“You’re dead now, Darkseid, and therefore under my jurisdiction. Due to your extensive list of crimes you will not receive a hearing, just your eternal damnation for the sins you’ve committed.”

Phantom waves his hand, and green chains and manacles appear on Darkseid’s wrists and ankles before he’s dusted out of existence, sent to his eternal punishment in another dimension. 

As soon as he’s gone, Phantom collapses to his knees. 

He’s not sure how long he’s there, sitting in the blood of those he’s killed, before Wonder Woman comes over. She’s covered in gashes and bruises and blood that isn’t hers, but she still stands tall and proud. A battle won is a reason for celebration, after all. 

He glances behind her, sees Superman taking Batman into his arms and flying off. 

Diana doesn’t ask him questions about how he’s feeling. A victory is a victory, sure, but not without its price. 

Instead, she holds out her hand. Danny grasps it, and allows her to help him to his feet. 

“As long as you can stand, you can win,” Diana says. “I think I’ll have to use that for my next big speech.”

“By all means,” Phantom tells her. “Just be sure to credit me.”

“Deal.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

I feel like one of the major ways sex ed failed me was the utter lack of discussion about vaginal discharge. Around 13 I started just… leaking fluids. It was on a set schedule, every day after lunch there’d be an uncomfortable wetness down the front of my underwear.

It was awful. Every movement was wet and cold unpleasantness in my pants. I’d go stuff toilet paper into my underwear and it would pill up and stick to my damp skin. That went on for a year.

I finally discovered panty liners and started wearing them daily, but with the unconscious fear that the overall juiciness of my pussy was unnatural.

I’d read people saying that cotton underwear would dissipate moisture and stop it from being a problem but no amount of natural fibers could evaporate what my crotch was producing. Since that wasn’t enough for me I worried I was abnormal.

I didn’t like wearing panty liners every day. It felt sweaty and wasteful but the alternative was to be wet and miserable. I still worried about it. But when I finally asked a doctor they just asked if it was more than my usual discharge. I said, no, it’s always been this way. They shrugged and assured me that meant my body was behaving reliably. Also if your discharge discolors your underwear that’s also normal cause of chemistry reasons

That reassurance didn’t come until my 20’s.

Finally a few years ago I discovered cloth liners. They’re reusable and clip into the crotch of underwear. I was ecstatic to finally have a non disposable option. I love them. Although the mainstream ones have polyester wings and I’m very excited to try the new all cotton ones I just got off Etsy. I think they were originally intended as light period protection but were robust enough for me.

So if you’ve ever worried about how wet your pussy is: it’s normal. It’s self cleaning, it’s doing what it’s supposed to do. You should worry when the amount changes and if you’re like me check out cloth liners, they’re excellent.

[lalunanymph]

THE CHAMPION'S PRIZE

✧₊⁺ SUMMARY the crow wins against kane and decides he wants to claim his most precious prize—you.

✧₊⁺ WARNINGS first time, mention of injuries, mention of blood, size kink, cunninglingus, big dick sylus!, sylus king of consent, semi-public sex, brief mention of handjob, oral sex, possessive, pet names (sweetie, little dove, kitten, little one, baby), voice kink, sweat kink, nipple play, girl on top, missionary, sex on the floor, unprotected sex, creampies, mc and sylus are both idiots in yearning, mild angst if you squint, 18+, mdni

✧₊⁺ DAWN SAYS if you know me... you know i love my ufc aus.... the second i saw boxer!sylus in his new card i ran to my google docs and birthed this not so h0rny piece

✧₊⁺ A03 | x/twt

The cheers of the crowds erupting from the stands vibrated through the soles of your boots.

Formidable and cocky, Sylus approaches the side of the ring, shouts and boos from the spectators gathering today, lending to the erratic yet eclectic atmosphere of this surreal championship fight. Before he enters, he takes something in his hand and kisses it, dropping it back into the safety of his short’s pocket. It’s the pouch you gave him weeks ago, the blessing of a grassland warrior’s lover bestowed onto him for this momentous night.

You’re my lucky charm, sweetie, he had texted you a few days ago when he told you to come meet him for a boxing showcase. And I want my lucky charm right there in the stands where I can see her. 

Your grip tightens on the bouquet of flowers you were holding, heart right in your throat as Sylus’s opponent enters the ring, too, and much to your consternation, he receives a bigger round of screams. He’s stocky and broad, the same height as the red-eyed menace who invited you to visit his boxing showcase right in the heart of the N109 Zone. As the bell rings, you hold your breath with the crowd. Sylus is fast and sure, his movements fluid and punches almost mesmerizing.

He moves like poetry in motion—if poetry could leave a man with a black eye and bruises, lying face down on the ring, unconscious before the second timer could go off, that is. The referee cards his win and blows the whistle. The crowd shakes and moves, their cheers and sounds reaching to the highest point of the domed ring.

It’s chaos out in the front, and you have to protect your bouquet from getting squashed by the numerous bodies thronging in the front. Suddenly, a hand shoots out to grab your arm and you find yourself right at the corner of the ring, a smug and sweaty Sylus grinning at you. You hesitate to step closer, aware of the numerous eyes on him and you. Word could get back to the Association and your return to Linkon could be sabotaged—there’s too much at stake to be seen with Sylus in broad daylight. 

But, the notorious leader couldn’t care less, gesturing for you to come closer. There's a bit of dirt on his face and you take it upon yourself to rub it off, shooting him a grin. 

“Congratulations, champion!” You enthuse, shoving the bouquet right in his face. Sylus grins and takes the arrangement of lilies, tulips and datura from your hand, tossing you a cocky smirk.

“Is that all a champion should get?” he teases, and you shake your head in mirth, crossing your arms right in front of you. 

“What else would the champion want, pray tell?”

In answer, Sylus takes your hand in his, his palm much larger and scarred compared to yours. His knuckles are red raw, and you take it upon yourself to lift them to your lips, kissing the contused flesh softly. “Are you hurt?”

“If you keep that up, kitten, I won't be,” he laughs, and you roll your eyes, smacking his chest lightly. 

Cad, you tease and he smirks again, wrapping an arm around your waist. The championship ring on his finger shines under the blinding lights, and Sylus notices how overwhelmed you're getting. The way you fidget and shift your eyes, and how you're clinging tightly to the rope of the ring, makes him think he needs to distract you for a bit.

“The flowers. How thoughtful. I feel like I should give you something in return.” He notices the way your eyes linger on the ring, and he grins wider. “Do you like the champion's ring? It's yours now.” 

He removes the bulky circle and gently takes your hand, thumb softly brushing the rise of your ring finger knuckle. He slides the ring onto your finger, taking his time to admire how sweet the circlet looks contrasting with your skin. 

“There. The Champion's ring for the champion's lover.”

Your ears heat up at his words and you toss him a quick scoff, trying hard to keep the embarrassed delight from showing too apparently on your face. “You're a tease.”

“Am I now?” He takes your hand in his again, and tugs you closer to him. Close enough you have to stumble past the boxing ring ropes. Sylus is decisive when he tugs you closer to him, almost leading you right into his Champion's Box, where the world and the strobing lights fade away. Inside the VIP room, the bruises and cuts become more apparent. 

“Sylus—”

Panic consumes you, and he lets your distress marinate, playfully not reminding you how easily he could heal himself; loving how sweetly you fret on him. 

“You're hurt.” Tersely, you pick up the first aid kit by the side of the door, rummaging inside for antiseptic and bandages. 

“You're cute when you're worried about me, kitten.” He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, touch tender despite the violence you just witnessed a few minutes ago. You ignore his jab, focusing on dabbing the freely flowing blood from a cut on his face. Sylus staves off his body loudly blaring at him to use his healing tendencies. But, despite how badly his skin is itching to close the wound, he still wants you to treat him. 

You notice him staring at you and chuckle, a playful gleam in your eye. “What?” 

“Nothing. You’re beautiful.”

You pause from swiping on antiseptic onto a cotton roll, wondering if the punches he sustained in the ring were finally starting to manifest in the form of his boldness.

“And you… have been hit in the head one too many times.”

Not one to be deterred, Sylus chuckles and snakes his arm around your waist, dragging you right onto his lap where you fall forward in a huff, eyes growing wide at how close his lips are to yours. 

“Sweetie,” he speaks and you can practically feel him breathing on you. “I might have sustained a few injuries, but none of them severe enough to not give you credit where credit is due.” He lifts his hand to a loose lock of your hair, his smirk deepening. “And you, my little dove, were an absolute vision on the stands. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” 

His thumb touches your lower lip, and you instinctively part your mouth. Sylus’s eyes darken with desire at your little subconscious tick, his mind pumping full of lewd thoughts which he tries to put off. Not wanting to scare you too soon.

Instead, he tilts his head closer, waiting for you to make the first move. The tantalizing sight of his lips is too much for you to resist, and you take his bait, closing in to where your breaths meet as one. 

Sylus groans into the heat of your mouth, the taste of you after so many years of yearning rendering him speechless and needy. He’d imagine this exact scenario a million times, yet the reality of it happening makes it that much sweeter. You taste like pomegranates and sin, a heady combination which makes his blood sing, body tensing at the onslaught of arousal flooding his veins.

You pull back slightly, the red string of fate manifesting as a single strand of saliva connecting you two together. Sylus greedily snapped it with a flick of his tongue, tasting your growing desire.

“Kitten…?”

He was usually more glib than this. But, the way you stare at him, eyes warm and melting with affection, makes any smart remark he has left in his arsenal shrivel up and die. Sylus swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and your eyes trail to that subtle movement. 

Without thinking, you touch the base of his neck, gingerly thumbing the swell of his throat. Sylus isn’t in the least concerned to hide his shiver from you, those ruby eyes seeming to glow with restraint as he lets you have your fill of exploring him. The sweat beading down his chest trickles past his red tank top, and your eyes follow the droplet’s motion; wondering what was waiting for you underneath… if he would let you explore him again like you did that night in his shower.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” His voice, deep enough to be a rumble, vibrates against your chest. He lifts your head to meet his eyes, and in those ruby hues, a devastating hunger was waiting for permission to gorge on you. “That night in the shower… how I had to restrain myself from taking you right there and then. You really are a tease, kitten.”

Sylus traces the outline of your lips with his thumb as his voice turns rougher. 

“Imagining what it would be like to have this soft mouth on mine… how you would sound… the look on your face when I finally claim you as mine… all… mine…”

Lower, and deeper. His voice hypnotizes you to give into your full desire, and you knew in the deepest recesses of your soul, that his Aether eye didn’t need to gouge the truth from you.

You want Sylus, in his entirety and totality. You want him like you want to quench your thirst. 

The collision of your lips together brought sparks flying from the deepest roots of your mind, connecting to your fingertips which tangle right in his hair, drawing him closer. Sylus is always careful to never scare you off with his brute strength, and in this moment, he couldn’t resist hoisting you up into his arms, pressing you right against the wall like he did the first time the two of you showered together.

Devouring your lips with a slow sensuality he reserves only for playing with his prey, Sylus teases your tongue with his, tasting the ridges of your mouth and unearthing more delightful, soft mewls and moans from you. 

“Do you feel this, kitten?” He whispers, and to your surprise, grabs your hand, placing it right on the bulge of his crotch. “This is all my desire for you—all of my wanting for you. I need you, kitten. I will never get enough of you.”

Yearning encroaches his admission, and you glance up into his love sick eyes, feeling a wave of desire surmounting your need to be cautious. There is nothing in this moment you want than to give all of you to him, but the fear of being found out—of being hunted—takes precedence in your wavering mind.

As if reading your thoughts, Sylus removes your hand from the throbbing heat of the tent in his shorts and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles reverently. “I know this is a lot to consider, little dove, but take your time. I’ll be here waiting for you—always.”

The truth is, you didn’t want him to wait. Sylus has been nothing but patient in his endeavors to court you. It’s about time you return the favor. 

The moonlight shines through the blooms hanging from the edge of the table, highlighting the two figures entangled on the floor, their lips pressing insistently onto one another, bodies and breaths twining as one. 

He tastes like sin and danger, a hint of whiskey on his breath. But, you drink him up, growing drunker on his unceasing devotion. Sylus feels you tugging on the edge of his tank top, and obeys you without a word, lifting it off his toned torso and tossing it to the other side of the room. You touch the dips and divots of his chest, committing the shape of him to your memory.

Sylus thinks it’s time for you to return the favor and smirks, sliding his hand underneath your blouse. He runs warm, his touch drawing goosebumps down your arms. It’s a strain for you to hold back when you nod, the urge to take it slow yet have him completely rendering you paralyzed with inaction.

But, Sylus has got you. He takes your consent inch by inch, letting your skin appear to him in a slow creep of growing anticipation. 

Once you’re down to your bra, Sylus takes the chance to plant soft and warm kisses on your chest and shoulders, his touch gentle yet clear with his intention to take you.

“Can I look at you, sweetie?” He tugs on the cup, crimson eyes never leaving your expression. You nod, flushing when he unhooks your bra, letting the bothersome material slide down your arms, revealing your bare breasts to him.

For a man who’s used to getting what he wants, Sylus’s touches are colored with hesitation as he slowly drags his fingertips down your shoulder, sliding closer to your heaving mounds.

“May I?” His voice, a deep, reassuring rumble, instantly puts your fears at ease. 

“Yes,” you whisper, and it’s the consent he needs to run the edge of his nails over the swell of your tits, finding how they move with each breath mesmerizing.

“Can I… suck on them?” 

Your breathing catches, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you nod. “Yes… please,” you add politely. He smiles at the touch of submission in your tone, loving how you’re trusting him explicitly with this first experience. Sylus takes care to taste you like you’re a rare, exotic fruit in his lap, his tongue running across the soft flesh of your most sensitive areas, leaving behind little hickies for you to find tomorrow like a reminder of this moment you shared with each other.

You moan when he slowly explores the shape of your turgid bud with his tongue, sucking with enough pressure to get you grinding down on his bulge. “Mhm,” he releases your nipple with a soft pop, “Doll… you’re driving me crazy.”

He takes his time with your other nipple, pinching and rolling the other one with his free hand.

“Sylus… yes…” your whispers incite him to give you more; needing to hear his name rolling from your tongue. 

The heat is simmering, building to an unbearable crescendo. This time, you lick a droplet of sweat running down his jaw, inciting a deep chuckle to rumble against your throat.

“You naughty, naughty kitten.”

He trails one long, nimble finger to the heart of your arousal, gently parting your folds to find the treasure he wants to tease. You’re so wet, your body doesn’t need much coaxing to accept his finger, the tight opening of your muscles relenting to allow him to sink his middle digit knuckle-deep inside of you. With his thumb, he rubs your clit in unbroken circles, enjoying your puffs of hot breath against his neck. You feel him growing harder, his desire to claim you unmistakable. 

To his surprise, you tug the band of his shorts down, revealing his throbbing need for you. The sight of your smaller hand grasping his thick base shoots a bolt of desire through his entire body, the cool metal of the ring he gave you sliding up and down his shaft enough to make him hiss and wince.

“Kitten… you’re playing a dangerous game.”

His chest heaves with unabashed yearning, and he licks his lips when he sees the glassy look in your eyes, your mouth wet with want as you slowly lower your head to his cock. Sylus has no choice but to retract his fingers from your loving depths as he sinks his hand in your hair, cursing under his breath when you stretch your mouth around his tip. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, running his free hand through his messy mop of silver hair. God… you were much too tempting, ready for the picking.

The sight of your cherry red lips wrapped lovingly around his cock is enough to send his mind into a dizzying spiral of lust, blood pumping rapidly south. He grows and thickens in your mouth, the taste of him almost musky and sweet with a hint of salt from his sweat. Sylus groans when you run your tongue over his balls, his entire body tensing in anticipation when you bring one soft globe into your mouth. 

He takes a few moments to enjoy the feel of your warm mouth on him, before he switches up the game and puts you on your back this time.

“As much as I love the thought, kitten, I think you’d taste better,” he murmurs as he trails his obscenely long fingers up your thighs, unbuttoning your jeans in one swift movement. 

“Sylus,” you gasp when he tugs it down, revealing the captivating lace hugging your hips almost lovingly. He takes his time to admire you, cock throbbing and aching to sink right into you. But, he has to warm you up to him first. It won’t be an easy fit.

He shushes you, hooking his thumb under the band of your panties, dragging down the last barrier protecting your modesty from him.

“Trust me, kitten.” The sight of him kneeling right in between your thighs, kissing the plush flesh reverently, burns through you with desire. “I would rather make you feel good instead.”

And his mouth was on you. His tongue parting through your folds, teasing your clit, drives you wild with desire, sparks running down your spine. 

You taste so good… he murmurs. You’re doing so well for me, doll. So well. His voice is deep enough to vibrate through your cunt. His tongue moves inside of you, deep enough to touch a special spot which makes your toes curl. 

Mhm… Sylus… more… 

Who was he to say no to you? Sylus is putty in your hands, willing to give you everything and anything. 

He delves deeper, taking his sweet time to sample your wetness and submission. He curls his tongue, latching on your clit to suckle on the tight bud which makes your toes curl, heels digging deeper into the back. 

Maybe for your next trinket, I should get an anklet with my name, he mumbles, planting a brief kiss on your ankle, the thought exciting him. The image of his name sparkling off your skin, glinting with his claim on you, makes him hard enough to cut through steel. 

You nod, mouth parting to pant out his name. Yes… please…

You’re so good for him. Sylus wants to reward you, and he does so with a tender kiss to your clit. 

“Please, Sylus,” you whimper, clipping your hips against his. “Want more… need more…”

So eager, he chuckles under his breath, but he could never deny what you need. He slips off his boxer shorts and his underwear, tossing it to the floor. It’s not everyday the great Onychinus leader would bare himself for anyone’s eyes. But, you weren’t just anyone.

You were his beloved, his love, his shivanika. 

The only one who is allowed to see him like this.

Your eyes widen at how much bigger he is up close, weighing heavily on your thigh.

Is that all…?

“Why?” He teases. “Can’t take it all?” 

You swallow. Part of you thinks you can’t, but the other part—the stubborn one—knows you would do anything for him.

“I’ll go slow,” he says, as if he can read your mind. “I won’t hurt you, sweetie.”

He’s so incredibly big, you wonder how you’ve never noticed it before. The thick trunk of his forearm braces beside your head, his powerful thighs planted on either side of you. In the circle of his embrace, you feel small and delicate like a flower waiting to be uprooted by a great tree.

It enthralls you. It scares you. 

His kisses soothe you, taking your mind off his great, hulking physique. 

You dig your nails into his biceps, hanging for dear life as he preps himself to enter you. He runs his tip through your folds, smearing your juices with his pre-cum. Slapping the weight of him on your clit, again and again, each jolt driving your hips up to meet his.

Sylus… you mewl his name. Need it… need it inside…

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs sweetly, “I’ll give it to you.”

You see a sliver of his smile as he cranes his head down, kissing your jaw reverently. You weren’t joking when you said you were terrified of his cock, but Sylus took his sweet time to prepare you for him.

The first stretch always hurts the most, and he makes sure to deepen his kiss as a distraction.

It works. Sort of. 

You tighten involuntarily around him, and he hisses under his breath, brows knitted together. “You’re still tense… relax, sweetie. Or else, I can’t get in.”

To help you, he sucks on the tip of his index and middle finger, drawing them slickly towards your core. He massages your clit with feathery soft circles, stimulating you over and over again until you’re whimpering and shaking.

“Does it feel good?” He hums into the crook of your neck and you nod, embarrassed at how easily it is for him to slip deeper inside. “Mhm… you’re loosening up just nice for me, kitten.”

It’s insane how much his voice vibrating against your throat is driving you wild. 

Desire coats your begging—Please, Sylus. I need more… more…

Deciding you’re ready enough, he nods, crimson eyes softening at the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

No need to cry, sweetie. I’ve got you.

The smell of him, musk and sweat, envelopes you as he curves his body over yours, intent on driving you crazy with how close he is. But, he’s never close enough.

Until, finally, he’s pressed inside you, skin-to-skin, breath-to-breath, buried right to the hilt. It’s a mess between your thighs, slick and pre-cum staining your thighs, drawing a lewd symphony of wet squelches when he finally begins to move. 

Thrusts so deep, you feel it right in the heart of your desire. It turns you on, to have him invading your senses like this. The scent of him burning your nose, the taste of his tongue heavy in your mouth. Staining you with the very essence of him till your pores are heavy with his presence; your entire body marked with him. 

Sylus doesn’t hold back any longer, the beast inside of him unleashed the second you murmured your assent for him to have you in every way possible.

So good for me, baby. You feel like a dream, he whispers. Good girl—letting your lover have you like this. You’re so good for me, aren’t you, little one? 

Your eyes flicker to where he’s stretching you out and he chuckles, noticing your minute gestures.

You like watching me, huh? As he speaks, his cock sinks deeper inside of your warm depths, the both of you hissing at the same time. Mhm, fuck… dirty little girl. 

The spark of degradation reminds you again who exactly is fucking you. A dark man, wanted for his misdeeds, and yet here he was with you on the floor, entangled with your body and taking the last of your innocence away. You force the thoughts away, focusing on the now.

The now of having Sylus in your arms, feeling his devotion marking the delicate skin of your neck, leaving his claim on your skin. 

That’s it… you’re doing so well for me…

You always had an inkling of how good Sylus is at talking, but you never expected for him to be this glib while balls-deep in you.

Feels like a dream, kitten. I love you.

Your breath catches right in your throat.

Did he just…?

Sylus’s ruby eyes warm at the confused look on your face, and he slows his thrusts, nuzzling your jaw.

“Yes. You heard right—I love you. I love you. Is that so hard to believe?” 

He doesn’t wait for you to reply, focusing on giving himself to you. A part of him holds no hope for your response, but he’s taken aback when you tip his face closer, drawing his mouth to yours like a moth to a flame.

Your kiss burns through him, and he moans when you taste his lower lip, your honeyed whisper of reciprocation enough to bring him to his knees.

“I love you, too.”

Sylus groans, letting his head fall on your shoulder, the protective arch of his body drawing you closer into his arms. 

Kiss me, kitten… kiss me and never regret me again.

You behave so well for him, following his every instruction. Even ones you don’t exactly understand. 

Your lips seal on his like a covenant, and his blessing is given in the form of his seed pumping hotly into your depths; the feeling of your walls squeezing him tightly enough to bring him to the pearly white gates.

Fuck, kitten—he gasps and it’s all mounting again. Getting hotter and better.

His voice is tinged with desire, breathy and deep as he noses your hair. 

You’ll be the death of me, Y/N. 

Of all the names he loves calling you, your own name would forever be the sweetest utterance on his lips.

Please… you gasp, needing to feel more. 

You’re so greedy, it’s almost unlike you. But, you know Sylus is a giver. He will always give you what you need. 

I got you, he rumbles, and the mixture of slick and his cum spills down to the ground, staining your thighs. He doesn’t let up, fully needing to have you cream on him till you’re spent. 

He feels how close you are from the tensing of your thighs, your body poised at the edge again. Ready to take him. 

And he can’t hold back. You were like the sweetest addiction he would always relent to.

Come for me, you murmur and it shocks him—this unexpected boldness. Come inside me, Sylus… make me yours.

Yours… yours… you were always his. And this confirms it. You and him were tied together in a red string of fate, packaged neatly as soulmates in this life and for every life that would come.

No matter if it kills him. No matter if he would lose his heart again.

It was always yours in the first place.

Sylus leaves you with his burgeoning warmth, ropes of it shooting inside of you as you come for him again—fully, completely and wholly his.

Beginning till end, from time immemorial. You would always have his heart. 

He stays deep inside you until it’s done, leaving lazy kisses on your face, on your chest and lips. The crowds have long disappeared, this room cordoned off by his organization to give him space.

His men know better than to barge in, and the organizers are wise enough to stay out of the champion’s way if they know what’s good for them. 

“I’m so… full,” you whisper, twitching your hips. “Full of you.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, and leans down on his bruising elbows to plant a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Is that a complaint I hear, kitten?” 

You shake your head, the movement setting dull sparks of desire shooting into his lower body when he feels your walls tensing around his softening cock. 

Good, he swipes his thumb over your cheek, catching a stray sweat droplet before it could fall to the ground. Because I’m far from done with you, kitten.

When he kisses you this time, it tastes of a promise already fulfilled.

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