#you have your honor and i have mine; your shame our shame

[calirph]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒. all these sentences quotes are based on medieval marriages and the tensions regarding arranged marriages and the notion of affairs and mistresses and the such. warnings for infidelity and anything related to medieval times if that thing is not your thing. change pronouns, name and locations as you see fit.

"You need not love me, but at least grant me the courtesy of discretion."

"Do you whisper her name when you lie beside me?"

"I see the way your eyes follow him. Am I to be a fool in my own home?"

"She is nothing to me, a mere dalliance. You, however, are my wife."

"Did you ever look at me the way you look at her?"

"Tell me, husband, how many times have you left our bed to warm hers?"

"It is not love I ask for, only loyalty."

"My father sold me to you like a horse at auction, and now you expect devotion?"

"If you mean to humiliate me, at least do it behind closed doors."

"A mistress is but a shadow, but a wife is the foundation of a house."

"You come to me only when she has turned you away."

"He looks at you as if he could devour you whole. Does it please you?"

"I swore an oath to you before gods and men. Does that mean nothing?"

"I hear the whispers, I see the stolen glances. Do not insult me by denying it."

"Did she laugh when you told her I was none the wiser?"

"I will not be another meek wife who turns her head and pretends not to see."

"Shall I seek a lover of my own, then? Or is it only men who are granted such indulgences?"

"Would you have wed me if not for my father’s gold?"

"She is your past, but I am your present and future."

"You wear my colors at tourneys, but it is her favor you carry."

"I was raised to know my duty, but that does not mean it does not wound me."

"If you do not love me, at least do not disgrace me."

"Is her kiss sweeter than mine? Do you hold her as you once held me?"

"She is a girl playing at love. I am the woman who bore your children."

"I will not bear a bastard under my roof while my own sons are set aside."

"Your honor, your duty, your house—you throw it all away for a bedwarmer."

"Do you think me blind? Do you think me foolish?"

"I may not be the wife you wanted, but I am the wife you have."

"Tell me truly—when you look at me, do you wish I were her?"

"I have given you everything, and still, it is not enough."

"What has she given you that I have not?"

"Was she worth the shame you bring upon me?"

"If you will not be faithful in love, then be faithful in duty."

"A noble wife is a burden to a man who wishes to be free."

"Do not forget, dear husband, that I am not without allies of my own."

"I did not choose this life, but I will not be shamed within it."

"Does she weep for you when you ride to battle? Or is that still my duty?"

"I have stood by your side in war and in peace, and still, you seek another."

"You call it love. I call it betrayal."

"She can never give you what I can—power, legacy, a name to be remembered."

"I see how she touches you when she thinks no one is looking."

"You have given her your heart, and me, your duty."

"Would you put her in my place if you could?"

"She wears silk and pearls, but I wear your name."

"She may be the one in your bed, but I am the one who will be remembered in history."

"Did she vow to honor you? Did she stand before the gods and swear her life to you?"

"When you tire of her, you will come crawling back to me."

"I will not weep for a man who has forgotten his vows."

"If she carries your child, I will see it drowned before it can steal from my own."

"It is not love she wants, only what she can take from you."

"You think her love is true? Wait until you have nothing left to give her."

"You say you love me, yet I wake in an empty bed."

"How many nights did you lie to my face before I finally saw the truth?"

"The court may gossip, but I will not give them the pleasure of seeing me break."

"I was a fool to think duty would be enough to hold you."

"Even if you leave her, the stain of betrayal will remain."

"I will not let her turn my children against me."

"When your name is dust and your house is ashes, will she still love you?"

"A queen is not so easily replaced, nor a wife so easily forgotten."

"You have made your choice. Now live with it."

30 Prompts and Actions.

A wife catches her husband’s mistress wearing one of her gowns.

A husband returns home late at night, reeking of another woman’s perfume.

A noblewoman warns her husband’s mistress to stay away or suffer the consequences.

A lord brings his mistress to a feast, forcing his wife to sit beside her.

A queen confronts her king about his infidelities before the entire court.

A wife befriends her husband’s mistress, shocking him.

A jealous wife arranges for her husband’s mistress to be sent away in secret.

A husband accuses his wife of seeking a lover of her own in retaliation.

A mistress discovers she is pregnant and fears the wife’s wrath.

A wife secretly bribes her husband’s mistress to leave the city.

A nobleman is forced to marry a woman he does not love while his heart belongs to another.

A woman’s lover is exiled after her husband discovers their affair.

A queen’s bastard half-brother is rumored to be her lover.

A wife replaces the mistress’s perfume with something foul.

A jilted noblewoman plots revenge against the husband who abandoned her.

A king forces his mistress to attend his wife’s coronation.

A husband gifts his mistress jewels that once belonged to his wife.

A noblewoman publicly humiliates her husband’s mistress at a tournament.

A wife secretly arranges for her husband’s mistress to be wed to an old and cruel nobleman.

A husband demands his wife accept his mistress as part of their household.

A young bride watches as her husband kisses another woman at their wedding feast.

A king’s mistress poisons the queen in hopes of replacing her.

A mistress flaunts her power by wearing the queen’s favorite color at court.

A husband swears his fidelity to his wife after she falls ill.

A nobleman returns from war to find his wife in the arms of another.

A queen takes a lover of her own in defiance of her unfaithful husband.

A wife gives birth to a child that does not resemble her husband.

A husband is forced to execute his former lover for treason.

A mistress learns that her lover is to be married and begs him to run away with her.

A scorned wife offers her husband’s mistress a drink—laced with poison.

[allyriadayne]

ABOUT LYONEL STRONG

[rafesslxt]

Lustpotion | mattheo riddle

summary: you‘re in a boring relationship with cedric diggory and after his enemy mattheo hits a few nerves with his words, he gives you a potion. what you didn‘t know is that it was a sex and lust potion

warnings: cheating (sorry cedric), mind reading, drugging ( kind of, you drinking an unknown potion he gives you ), fingering, dirty talk, praise, dom!mattheo x sub!reader, unprotected p in v, kiiinda enemy to lovers thingy

notes: i‘m making up for not posting so long with posting this third post in 2 days hehe, english is not my first language

tags: @unicors1993 @atadoddinnit @awh-lillies @idk-simra @onyxwingsandcrowblackdreams @xitsametaphorbrianx @kiwi475

My shoulders heavy and my mind racing, I walked into the common room of my house, Slytherin.

All I wanted in that moment was to fall in bed and sleep through the whole weekend. But Pansy had other plans, apparently, cause my door did not open as I tried to walk in our shared dorm. I groan and bang against the door. "Pansy! Open up!" "Sorry Y/n, Draco's over!" I hear her shouting. Perfect, fucking perfect.

With a frown on my face I walk back into the common room, letting myself fall onto one of the couches, closing my eyes, not even caring who's around.

"Wow, I never thought I would have the honor to spend time with you." I hear a dark voice echoing through the empty common room. I open my eyes and see Mattheo sitting on the opposite couch, now standing up and sitting down on mine but on the other end of it.

I just lazily roll my eyes at him and mutter "Don't flatter yourself, Riddle. You know I'm not here for you." He smirks at my answer and shakes his head slowly. "It's just such a shame that you're with Diggory. You know.. he can't keep up with you." I look at him, confused at the sudden change of subject. " How would you know that?"

"I know a lot more than you think, Y/N. I've been watching you two." "Oh great, so I have a stalker?" I answer sarcastically. There's a chuckle in his throat again. " Just observant. But I noticed something. You're not happy with Diggory, right?"

I scoff at his words and look at him directly. " Of course I am happy with Cedric. Why wouldn't I be? Every girl would be. He's so gentle, soft, sensitive.. a gentlemen." I slowly drift off while I'm talking.

"Yeah that's what you want most people to think but I know something else nobody knows about you two." " Oh enlighten me, please."

"I know you have a thing for troublemakers. A soft spot for those who can make your heart race, and Cedric? He's too perfect for you. You need someone who can challenge you, push your buttons, push you to your limits." I hold eye contact while he speaks, not wanting him to think I back down from this but his words hit a nerve, he just didn't needed to know that.

"How would you know what I really like, Riddle?" I question him, something that goes through my mind the whole time. " I pay attention Y/n, I notice things around me. And trust me when I tell you, you give off all the signs." "Signs?"

"Yes, signs. For example the way you always look at me when we argue, your cheeks getting all flustered. The way your heart races when we're close. Even the dream's you're having about me."

My eyed widen at his last comment and my body stiffens. "You can't hide anything from me." I gulp and shake my head. I told no one about my dreams. Didn't even write them into my diary out of fear someone could read it. There is only one way he could know this and I know that his father, Voldemort, was able to do this. "Did you read my mind? My dreams?"

A big smile spreads across his face. " Maybe, maybe not." Slowly I start to get frustrated with this conversation, showing it on my face. "What do you want Mattheo? Why do you care about all of this so much, hm?"

"Because I see something in you.. something I want to try. Maybe pushing your buttons a little bit." I look at him for a moment, waiting for him to tell me that this is a joke, but he doesn't.

I sigh tired "Doesn't matter, I'm with Cedric." "Is that what you truly want Y/n? Or are you just settling for what everybody expects you to want?" I gulp at his words feeling like they hit a nerve inside me again. "I like him, really.."

"I believe you Y/n, but that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun along the way." I laugh sarcastically at him. " Oh yeah let me guess, that fun would include you? You just want something to rub under Cedric's nose."

"Perhaps.." he admits with a smirk. " But what If I would offer you more than that? What If I could offer you things that Cedric never could? Wouldn't you be curious?"

I swallow, scanning his face before I look away, not knowing what to answer him. He's right tho, I really like Cedric but everything with him is so.. perfect. It bores me to death sometimes.. I just want something more fiercy but I would never admit that to Mattheo.

"You don't have to admit anything." he smirks like a little devil, letting me know he's inside my head. I'm happy that he sits on the other end or else he would feel the heat coming from my body and my heart racing. "What should I do then hm? Great, let me guess.. hopping into bed with you?"

"That's a start.." an arrogant smile on his face. "But I meant more like exploring the unknown together." His gaze flickers over my face, studying my reaction. "I promise you won't regret it."

"The unknown? And what would that be?" "Oh dear, don't you ever wonder what's outside there? What else you might be capable of? I can show you." He comes nearer, sitting in front of me now. "Then show me."

With a devilish grin he leans in even closer, his mouth brushing against my ear, his mouth opening slightly as I think he wants to say something but after a few seconds of waiting and his hot breath tickling my ear, he disappeared into thin air.

In shock I look at the place he just sat on a moment ago, then looking around me. Where the hell is he and how did he do that? "Mattheo?" I ask quietly into the empty room.

There was a soft chuckle that seemed to come from nowhere and then Mattheo reappeared right in front of me. " Suprised ?" he asks with a smirk. " I told you I could show you things."

"How did you-" "It's a talent." he says casually as If it's nothing to disappear into the air. "One you might find useful someday.. but let's concentrate on a little experiment for now." " What experiment?" I ask suspicious.

His voice is smooth as silk as he starts speaking again. " I want you to try something for me.." He holds out his hand in which lays a little bottle, unlabeled and filled with a dark red liquid. "Drink this."

I take it from his hand and look at it a bit closer, noticing sparkles in it. "What is that?"

"Just a little potion. It will open your senses, make you see and feel things differently." he says while watching me carefully. I lick my lips before asking If he made this by himself. "Of course.. I'm skilled in the art of potion-making, as you'll find out soon." he smirks. " Go on..drink it."

I don't know what it is but something inside me, whatever it is, screams at me with full lungs to do it, my fingers twitching as I look at the little phial. I open it, position it at my lips and let the unknown liquid run down my throat.

As I swallow it, I could already feel it heightening my senses, my emotions running wild inside me. I see him watching my face with satisfaction as I visibly tremble in his presence. " That's it.." he whispers, coming closer again. " W-what did you gave me Mattheo?" I stutter out as I feel myself getting warmer under my clothes.

"Just a little something to enhance your experience." he says, his voice filled with dripping lust. " You'll thank me later." Suddenly, without a warning, he leans in and kisses me, his tongue exploring my mouth instantly while slowly pressing me down against the couch.

I gasp into his mouth, feeling all kind of things at once. The potion made every nerve in me more sensitive, leaving me panting just from this kiss. Goosebumps erupt over my body as I slowly feel like I'm on fire.

Mattheo smiled against me, mumbling " It feels like all your senses are heightened, right?" I just nod and answer him with a short breathless "yes". "How does it feel now?" he asks as he presses his body harder against mine, still under him. I whine at the touch and close my eyes, too stunned to speak.

His smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph. My body is trembling against his, every breath I take seems to be for him. "How does it feel?" he repeats his question. " Like..like every touch from you sets me on fire. It's burning.." I gasp again, my cheeks turning red.

"Is that so?" he hums, " Do you want me to make it burn even more?" he whispers in a seductive tone. I just nod, not thinking about my actions anymore. " Please Mattheo, I can't breathe." I feel my lungs getting heavier, just like the rest of my body.

He brings his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek and brushing his thumb over my trembling lip, causing me to shudder against him. " I'll make you scream, princess." he promises with his voice low and intense.

I bite my lip at his statement, my eyes slowly closing. " How long does the potion last?" "They can last for hours." he says with a wicked smile, still brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. He slowly let's it slide past my parted lips. He groans as I suck on it, letting my tongue swirl around it, before he slowly pulls out.

"Mattheo please, I need you." I whine, feeling as If I’m about to explode If he doesn't touch me and give me something. " You need me?" He starts to smile at my words, letting his hand wandering over my body. From my mouth down to my neck, down to my chest further to my stomach. I inhale sharply when his fingers brush my stomach, feeling it already tightening.

Shamelessly he opens my jeans, letting his finger disappear into my slip without hesitation. " You're already so wet for me." he groans as he feels me dripping onto his fingers. "I fucking love it." he mumbles against my lips before he kisses me.

He tugs at the rest of my jeans and slides them down without breaking the kiss, until my pants are gone. He takes of my top, leaving my lips this time and looking at me. "Oh you look so hot right now."

My cheeks get red and hot, my face all flustered. "You look so fucking good baby, fuck." he groans his hand going back inside my slip, his thumb circling my sensitive clit and his fore and middle finger go right inside my pussy, pumping me.

"Oh god Mattheo, it‘s too much!" I whimper loudly as he continues to tease me with his touch. It didn‘t take me long before I come on his fingers, clenching around them.

My nails dig into his arms and leave marks all over them, broken whimpers and screams leave my mouth but before anyone could hear, they were muffled by Mattheo‘s hand over my mouth.

"Shh, we can't have anyone hear this, right?" "I need more Mattheo, please. Fuck me!" I hiss, feeling as If I might die If he doesn‘t"

"Poor baby, all fucked out and I've barely even touched you." he says, smiling down at me and my shaking body. His fingers come back to my pussy but this time they only play with my clit which makes me arch my back and gasping really loudly."N-no.. more.." i stutter out.

"Oh I‘ll give you more." he promises, chuckling low in his throat, unable to resist my pleas. He pulls me closer, our bodies flush against each other. With his free hand, he unbuttoned his own pants, letting out a sharp breath as he feels my wetness against his erection.

My eyes go wide as I look down and see his cock. My mouth hangs open a bit and I feel myself getting even wetter. "I - am I dreaming or is this real?" i ask him, not sure If the potion lets me imagine thing.

He laughs at my words and shakes his head. "It’s real.." he growls. "And you're gonna find out just how fucking real it feels."

Before I could say anything, I feel his thick tip against my entrance, pushing itself inside me with a sudden force that made me roll my eyes back to my brain.

"God, you feel so good, so tight." he moans as he starts to move his hips. I buck my hips up against his, finally feeling full, finally feeling that fire on my skin cool down a little bit. I look around the room, realizing again, that we‘re in the middle of the common room and anybody could just walk outside their dorms and see us. But at that moment I couldn‘t care less, it even turned me on when I‘m being honest.

He leans down to my face and whispers inside my ear " you like that thought of getting caught hm? The thrill of being watched.." I moan even louder at his words that let me know he read my mind again. "Please.." i breathe out.

I felt so drunk.. drunk of him. "I bet you would beg anyone to fuck you right now." he murmured as his eyes roam over my trembling body. "N-no, only you.." i whine and it‘s true. I feel like there is a connection through the potion to him. A desire that only he can satisfy.

"I want to feel you." I beg him as he slowly pumps his cock in and out of me. "You want it rough or smooth?" "Rough." i answer without hesitation.

Mattheo's grin widens and his eyes gleam with lust. "You got it.." he growls, pulling me up and pushing me onto the table in front of him. I gasp at the sudden change.

He ignores the possibility of being caught, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he positions himself at my entrance. He pushes into me hard, filling me completely with one thrust. "Fuck" he groans, starting to move his hips in a steady rhythm.

His lips curl into a devilish smile, his movements becoming more aggressive. "You like it rough, huh?" he asked rhetorically, increasing the pace of his thrusts. I slam my hands down onto the table and try to stabilize myself but it‘s useless. He‘s fucking me like an wild animal, the table wiggling like crazy.

We both feel the intensity of the situation growing, his cock twitching with each thrust and my pussy clenching. "You're mine," he growls, grabbing my hair roughly and pulling my head back. He starts moving faster, almost losing control.

I can‘t answer. His statement reminds me of Cedric for a moment and guilt crashes over me. Mattheo felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of Cedric's name crossing my mind as he reads it again. He slams into me harder, his body trembling with effort. "You belong to me," he repeated through gritted teeth, his eyes locked onto mine.

"I bet he can't fuck you like I can. I can take care of you. You don't need anyone but me."

I still don‘t answer him, pressing my lips together which just angers him more. "You‘ll beg for it." he snarls and lifts my leg over his shoulder, getting even deeper which leads to me squirming and breathing fast.

"I'm going to fuck him out of your smart little brain, understood?" I just nod and claw my nails into his back, leaving marks all over. "Tell me you belong to me." he whispers into my ear, thrusting with more force inside me. "I- I don‘t know.." i whimper as i feel him hitting my soft spot.

"What would he think If he could see you right now, hm?" he taunts over me and smiles, scanning my face and body. "Such a little slut for me.“

I scream his name, muffling it with my own hand as I feel myself getting close. "I need to come, please. I'll do anything!" "Say it." he says, his hips getting slower, teasing me.

"I - I‘m yours Mattheo. I belong to you." I cry out as he thrust inside of me like a mad men. "Come for me princess." he moans, his thumb going over my clit again. My eyes roll back once again as he hits my cervix, fucking me speechless.

"Bite me." I look at him confused before he repeats himself. "Bite into my shoulder when you come."

With a brutal pace he slams his cock inside me, leaving me dumb and brainless as he chases his own release. A broken sob comes out of my throat and my stomach twists in the best way ever as i come around his throbbing cock, milking him. I do as he told me to and bite into his shoulder as I scream.

I feel him release inside of me, pumping me full with his cum and painting my walls with his hot seed. He holds me in place, making sure I take every last drop of him.

"So good for me, look at how much you came." he whispers as he pulls his cock out, looking at our mixed juices. I look down and the picture sends shivers down my spine.

"I - uh.. I might have left a few marks." I admit kinda shy as I feel the potion flowing out of my system.

" I must say, you are quite the little cockslut." he said, admiring the mess between my legs and my work on his back and arms. He leans down and whispers into my ear. "Now clean up and go to sleep princess. You‘ll sit with me at breakfast."

"But - I sit with Cedric every time." "Well, that‘s too bad, cause you‘re sitting with me tomorrow." he says, knowing how mich he will get under Cedric‘s skin with this. "And remember, If you don‘t show up I will find you." he says, daring me to argue with him.

— next morning —

As I walk into the great hall, my heart keeps pounding in my chest like its about to explode. My hands are twitching and I couldn‘t hide my nervousness on my face.

I fell asleep last night with an sore aching pussy and a dream that about Mattheo that was .. well, interesting. But I bet he already read my thoughts and dreams I had. Damn, I really had to do something about that later.

I gulp as I walk further into the Hall, standing still as I look over all the four tables. At first I look over to the Hufflepuff table with Cedric sitting on it. He smiles at me as he notices me. That perfect smile.

Then I looked over to my table, seeing Mattheo‘s eyes were already on me. He looks at me with daring eyes, gleaming with lust and power.

Suddenly I hear a voice inside my head, whispering. "Don‘t even think about it my little cockslut." I bite my lip at the choice of his words. I look over to Cedric again, sending him an apologetic look before walking over to an arrogant looking Mattheo, smiling smugly at Cedric.

—

thank you so much for reading! Comment down beloe If you wanna get tagged in part 2 cause there will be one.. suprise: sub!mattheo 👀

thank you also for every kind of support 😚

xoxo sarah <3

[starmocha]

Relentless Conqueror [Sylus/Reader ★ 1790 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] To be wedded to the strongest warrior in the village was an honor and a blessing. A/N: I saw someone specified that Sylus is dressed as a Mongolian wrestler in the new memory. I am so excited for it, but um…this fic has absolutely nothing to do with that. My mind just swerved completely off-course the moment I saw this man manhandling us again lmao And…yeah…this is based on this post I made earlier. Still in my ✨shameful Sylus posting era✨ 😔

In the wide-open plane of the grassland, everything could be heard for miles all around. Stretched across the vast expanse, one area was occupied by numerous huts making up a small but thriving village.

Within the village, everyone had a role. The elders guided and led the villagers with their years of wisdom. The men were providers, hunters, and warriors while the women sustained the community and reared the children who would one day take over, thus continuing this cycle of life.

You were no exception. It was time for you to take your place among others with the new role you were about to take.

Fortune had smiled down upon you. Hushed whispers wove through the village, going from mouth to mouth, passing loose lips after loose lips, before the news finally reached you.

Sylus had chosen you to be his bride.

To be chosen by the strongest warrior in the village to be his bride was an honor bestowed only on you. He would provide you with a life of comfort and in turn, you were to bear him strong children. Many of the other maidens envied you, wanting to covet your place, to steal him away from you.

However, Sylus was truly the epitome of the ideal warrior: Large, strong, and imposing. He was unyielding on the battlefield, and he was unyielding in his decisions.

Of all the maidens who had crossed his path, only one had managed to ensnare him, to captivate him like no others.

You.

It was a prosperous union witnessed in a lavish ceremony by the entire village, cheered to be blessed by the gods themselves. A true match made in Heaven, many declared, as the wedding ceremony ended and the celebration began.

Arm linked with your new husband, you greeted and thanked the well-wishers, watching with wonders as everyone feasted and drank to your marriage. The merriment started from morning and continuing well into the late night. After nightfall had descended, Sylus led you away from the celebration. No one noticed the absence of the bride and groom, too drunk on alcohol and the festivities to even be aware of their surroundings.

Sylus whisked you away to his quiet hut, far from the music, laughter, and cheers. He towered over you, holding aside the curtain at the entryway to allow you entrance. As you entered, you could see the hut had been prepped for the wedding night.

It was a very comfortable living space, more extravagant than many of the other villagers’ homes. You barely had a moment to fully take in the sight of your new home before Sylus swept you off your feet, cradled in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He laid you down on fur, your beauty illuminated by the lamps within the hut. You could still hear the residual laughter and chatters outside as the rest of the villagers continued in their merriment celebrating this union.

“Pay them no heed,” Sylus ordered, grasping your chin firmly and forcing your sight on him. “Tonight, and for the rest of our lives, you are mine.”

He kissed you roughly, not minding your inexperience. It pleased him that your chasteness meant you were untouched, meant that he would have the sole honor of claiming you.

He disrobed his blushing bride, guiding your nimble hands to his toned body, letting you touched upon his firm muscles, feel the heat from his body. One by one, accessories fell, clinking and clanking on the ground. Then, his own ceremonial garments were discarded, tossed carelessly to the side and leaving him bare and nude, your eyes feasting on the wonderous sight of your new husband.

You swallowed slowly, feeling the gentle flutters of butterflies in your belly. He smirked at your nervousness. One hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You whimpered when he claimed your lips again, his large body overpowering you in seconds. He had you spread beneath him, his own body looming over yours and keeping you trapped under him. He cupped your sex, startling you as his long, slender fingers worked into your folds.

You let out a sharp gasp, fingers finding their way into his hair, and tugging at him nervously.

“Relax,” he ordered, “You’re not ready for me yet.”

He was well-endowed, his size intimidating, and you unconsciously clenched, only realizing when you heard Sylus’ deep chuckle. You blushed crimson, but your embarrassment soon passed the moment you felt Sylus working his fingers in and out of you.

“Ah—” Your hips moved on their own, desperately meeting his thrusts, wanting more, just a bit more. Your toes curled, body tensing up when you felt his thumb brushing against something that was causing you to jolt in pleasure. “M-more…Sylus…please…”

“You like that, sweetie?”

You nodded numbly, your voice coming out breathless. “Yes…please…my husband.”

You didn’t see the way Sylus’ eyes gleamed in satisfaction, didn’t hear his quick intake of breath over your own helpless moans. He smirked.

He seized your mouth again, taking in your startled cries, his fingers slipping in and out of your wet folds faster and faster. “My bride—my wife…” he murmured back, nipping and sucking greedily, “You’re so wet now, sweetie…Do you feel good?”

You sobbed and cried as his fingers curled inside. There was a tightening in your belly. You called out to him, scared. “Sy—Sylus…”

He shushed you gently. “Come for me.”

You clenched around his fingers, your cries filling the room. Sylus’ smirk widened as he watched you come undone by his fingers alone. He kissed your lips, praising you softly as you panted and sobbed. You barely recovered when he withdrew his fingers, his length taking place.

You bucked in surprise, eyes widening. “Sy-Sylus, no…”

“You are ready for me, my bride,” he assured. He pressed forward and you gripped a handful of the fur throw beneath you, your sensitive body feeling suddenly overstimulated by the massive intrusion taking place. Impossibly big, you thought, as your walls stretched around his thick length, taking him in slowly through much pain. He barely comforted you, seemingly enjoying the sight of you gasping and moaning as you were getting stuffed by him. His soft pants grew shallower, his eyes darkened with desire as he watched his beloved new bride taking him in inch by inch.

He praised you over and over once he was fully sheathed inside you, his deep voice comforting you in that moment. “You’re doing so well,” he said, voice thick with desire, “I have chosen the perfect wife.”

You felt a warmth in your belly, his praise filling you with unexpected joy. “Sylus…”

He smirked.

He took you brutally, riding you as rough and hard like his faithful steed. You wept and sobbed as his powerful thrusts reached that euphoric spot that had you writhing and moaning, begging him for more and more of this sweet, agonizing pleasure. You had never known the touch of a man before this night, and from this moment onwards, Sylus made sure you never will. He was going to make sure your body learned that you were his, craved only him, and only satisfied by him.

He was wrecking you, ruining you. You moaned as his large hand covered your flat belly. “You better prepare yourself, my bride,” he husked, “the women in my family only bear large children.”

You trembled, unsure if what you were feeling was fear or otherwise. He slipped his hands under you, groping and grabbing your buttocks and lifting you off the bed, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Immediately, your head lolled to the side, your moans resounded within the private space as you felt him penetrating you deeply, his pacing still unrelenting and unforgiving. This new angle had you calling out to him needily, feeling the second climax approaching fast.

Closer…and closer…and closer—

“Dear gods…” he groaned as you came undone again, your walls squeezing tightly around his cock. He pressed you back into the bed, letting you ride out your high as he chased after his. His hand grasped yours, pressing them deeper into the bedding.

“Gonna fuck my child into you,” he grunted, his hips slapping against yours, “Gonna breed you, have you heavy with my baby in your womb.”

He fondled your breast, massaging it roughly under his calloused hand. His mouth was close to yours, his hot, humid breath fanned over your lips. “Gonna have you swell, gonna have you bear me sons and daughters over and over again…”

Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him in closer to his surprise. He smirked. His hand reached out to brush your hair out of your sweat-slicked face. He leaned in closer, kissing you briefly, and then he asked, “Did you like the sound of that, my bride? Do you like what I am saying? Do you like knowing this is your role from now on? To bear my children over and over again?”

“Y—” you bit down on your bottom lip, embarrassed.

“Say it,” he demanded, thrusting in harder, eliciting more of your sweet cries.

He held you close and you sobbed into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck as you felt him still pounding into your pussy. “Yes…Yes…!” you cried out, clinging to him, “I want your baby…I want to have all of your babies, Sylus!”

“Fuck’s sake…” His eyes squeezed shut, feeling you come again already. This time, he also felt his own climax, felt himself pumping hot into you. He groaned again, “Take every last drop, sweetie.”

You felt so impossibly full, his seed flooding your womb. There was not a doubt in your head that this union wouldn’t be fruitful. You were going to carry his baby, bear him large, strong sons—future warriors to carry on his legacy.

“My bride, my beautiful bride,” he murmured, lavishing you in his sweet kisses as he pulled out. He gazed down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and doe eyes staring back at him. He hummed softly, his lips finding yours again, his large hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.”

Beyond the hut, the celebration continued. Laughter and singing continued well into the late night, but within this hut, there was only the labored breathing, desperate gasps and pleased moans filling the space for hours on end. Time seemed to have slowed down, the world quieting.

He took you, claimed you over and over again. Your body was his, and his was yours. From this day and onwards, in this life and all of the lifetimes to come, you were his bride, the only one capable of stealing the heart of the feared conqueror of the grassland.

[hindahoney]

If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

[plutoslittlerkive]

I want to love you.

Tate Frost x AFAB reader!

Hi babies I’m back with another banger or wtv those YouTube mfs be saying but yeah hii I’m taking another break from Tiktok (Princessofmagix) Lol you should follow I’m pretty and kinda funny! But yeah I recently got back into otome and visual novels and guys when I found Tate Frost..? I went bonkers so I wrote a lil something but guys, hear me when I say:

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS I’M NOT PLAYING WITH Y’ALL!

Warnings: Noncon, manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, triggering sexual themes, mentions of past trauma!

But yeah enjoy!

•

“You’re fucking crazy.” I spit. His eyes traveled like an elevator down my body, eye-fucking me in the process. You know I have to hand it to them, the people who warn others about manipulative men.

They weren’t kidding, this guy’s seriously an actor, even worse an artist. A con one at that but I couldn’t help but commend his artistry, even as I found myself bound to his bed by ropes and held down for him, like the perfect prey. He eyed me like it too.

The talent was crazy but I think part of me was more mad at myself than him, maybe because I took pride in the fact that I wasn’t naive, well, not as much as expected from a traumatized person.

Not to get too much into detail but I’ve been deceived, later healed enough to start giving out the benefit of the doubt but I wasn’t stupid, not enough to fall for obvious love bombing but THIS was anything but obvious…and yet again I’d been deceived.

Fooled to believe I’d been loved.

Usually, at this point, I would fear that I’d never love again, never trust again, but live? This situation goes beyond my wildest nightmares.

“Can you blame me Sha? You look divine like this…”

My eyes narrowed but his words made me dizzy. He always did, but that’s what love was; a disease. One I’d tolerate though couldn’t stomach but finally for the first time it made me sick, this man was a monster. I understand that perfectly well, yet my body still hasn’t gotten the memo.

He had access to every part of me now but he sat across the room and continued to taunt me.

“I hate you,” I say staring away at a wall

“Well, that’s a shame sweetness, 'cause I adore you~”, He smiled ever so sweetly.

“Shut up.” I glare but he shoots up and grabs my ankles pulling me towards him. I struggle and start to scream but he immediately grips my throat, my eyes widen, not from his harsh grip but from the cold metal I feel against my thigh.

Almost instantly my eyes began to water and I trembled beneath him. He stared down at me, his dominance utterly petrifying, but he wanted to make sure I understood my position, fully grasped the situation I was in.

He then softened his hand. I cautioned my breathing, too afraid that I might accidentally set him off enough to rid me of existence, but he leaned in and pressed his forehead against mine and simultaneously my tears fell.

“I thought you loved me…” I struggled

He pulls back and tilts his head.

“I do love you?” But I scoff

“You’re delusional. This isn’t love.”

“Oh and that’s where you’re wrong sweetness,” He keeps the blade steady but focuses on my eyes.

“Believe it or not I’m honored you decided to trust me enough to be that vulnerable with me. To let me into your past. I’ve listened to you, comforted you…and it’s all been out of love.”

I clenched my teeth and he slowly sunk the blade deeper, enough to scare me.

“And what kind of love equates to threatening to kill me?” I challenge, he smirks.

“Our kind.” He says before pulling the blade and his hand away, but his hand didn’t stray too far as he gently traced the curves of my hip. My breath hitched as I looked up at him.

“You see Sha, the difference between me and all your other relationships is that they didn’t really love you.” My face went cold as ice.

What is he-..?

“MY love for you is overbearing…so much that you can’t even take it. So much that it overwhelms you but,” He sets the knife aside. Leaning down he kisses up my thighs, stalking around my arousal, and I whimpered in anticipation.

“Even if you can’t understand, your body knows that I love you… and it knows I would never lie about that.” He says soothingly, his thick accent laced with allure.

My mind began to shift into fight or flight as his kisses grew closer to my core.

“Tate no please stop..!” And before he could touch me there, he pulled away and let out a sigh before leaving the room.

As I found myself in the room alone my heart began to race, bro this man was out of his damn mind. I took time to breathe but my eyes quickly got to work scanning around his room.

Prior, I never took the time to take in my surroundings the other times I was here.

I was too busy being blinded by his “act”, and my alibi had to be the fact that we never had sex before, he always respected my boundaries and I cherished that about him, knowing I’d never seen that gentleness in anybody else.

But it wasn’t even him actually, and I was currently in the room of a stranger, but if there was one thing I knew for sure, I couldn’t stay here!

Suddenly the door swung open. And there he was…with a deck of playing cards?

“You know I’m quite worried about you Sha, don’t trust me, don’t trust your own body, ” He locked the door before walking over to me

“But I don’t blame you, you’ve been through enough.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to me, reaching over I flinched as he gently wiped my stained cheek, though his touch only made me want to cry again.

“No matter, I thought we’d settle this with a game. Wanna see what your subconscious thinks?” I yanked away from his touch and turned away to the other side of the room, once again making friends with the wall.

“You’re disgusting, I don’t want to play shit with you.” I spat

He chuckled, “I’m afraid it’s the only way sweetheart, besides I think you’ll enjoy what I have in store if you win~”

My brows furrowed as I looked back at him.

Unless it was my freedom he had to be out of his mind entirely if he thought I’d enjoy anything else and right I was.

“I can see you're on edge but I’m being completely honest, I care about you. And because I’m not a total monster I’ll take how you feel into consideration.”

My brows furrowed even more as I stared into his eyes.

Gee, thanks.

“I trust your body so the rules are simple Sha,” He coos moving to sit beside me on the bed.

“I’ll hold up three cards, and if you can pick my favorite, you win.” He began to trail off

If I win…I’ll set you free.” My eyes widened.

Wait what- he can’t be serious… but the way he looked off into the distance, he meant what he said…he was serious, and I let out a shaky breath

“But if you win, I finally get to fuck you, and you’re mine.” My body lost all warmth, dread took hold of my body as I started to hyperventilate. I shook my head and pulled against the ropes.

“Tate n-no don’t do this p-please don’t-!“ He shuffled the deck, eyeing me as I struggled, begging him to have mercy. But it just made him smile.

“I’m serious, are you listening-?!” I screamed out. He put a finger up to his lips effectively hushing me, I knew well then to upset him.

“Tate I-“

“Pick one Y/N.” He immediately cuts me off.

As he held the cards in front of me I quickly broke into a cold sweat.

He could take everything from me… and I wouldn't be able to stop him.

I looked at the cards. I just had to get it wrong and the odds are in my favor but, I’m use to being so unlucky.

“The middle one…” I spoke meekly.

He immediately looked down at the cards, staying quiet. The suspense was killing me and I’d rather it did, anything to take me away from this man. Before I know it he looks up at me and smirks.

“I love you too Sweetness”,

Before I can think he throws the cards aside and crawls on the bed, dragging my hips up to his. I had no time to react as my throat tightened and tears dripped down my cheeks.

Just my luck.

He swiftly pulled down his boxers making my eyes widen, as he ran his tip along my lips.

“S’been a long time comin'” He chuckled aligning with my entrance.

I try once again to pull away, no longer caring about upsetting him.

“No p-please I can’t- you’re too big I won’t be able to take it-!” But it was too late and the pressure quickly entered my body. I winced as he slid in every inch, tears nonstop falling to the sheets as he kept a harsh grip on my hips.

“Fuck!” He hissed

I panted heavily trying to cope with the pain of feeling him so deep against me. I whimpered as he pulled my hips closer, raising one of my legs up to kiss along, as if he was trying to soothe me.

Keeping my leg up he thursted in me once more allowing his dick to reach a newer depth.

“You’re so fucking tight” He groaned lifting my hips to pick up the pace.

He was relentless and rough but I still couldn't adjust to his size as he forced my body to take him repeatedly. My body tensed as surges of pleasure felt like an electric current in my body every time our hips met.

“a-ah~ Tate please-!“

“What’s that baby, such a pretty little thing, do you feel good?“ He teased

I hated him. I swore I did but the way he towered over me, he was so much bigger, stronger than me and it showed in the way he manhandled my body, as if he truly owned me and I was his doll.

He slowed down and buried his face in my neck, focusing on precision rather than speed. He whispered sweet words in my ear, telling me he loved me and I was made for him...and that I was perfect.

I clung to him and held on as he kissed and sucked along my jaw even biting me, but everything felt so gentle, his ease caused my body to relax against him and I whimpered as I allowed myself to fully submit to him.

I would never make it out alive if I didn’t and part of me wanted to accept him. Maybe he did love me and I just didn’t understand. Or maybe being forced away from the rest of society was finally catching up to me? Either way, this was my life now.

As I came to the realization he gently pulled away slightly and wrapped a hand around my throat squeezing lightly, my body tensed pleasurably once again as I closed my eyes taking everything he gave me.

But when I felt him pull back to me I flinch and cry out suddenly as I felt consistent harsh vibrations against my clit. My mouth stayed open as I tried to take in the mass amount of sensation. My breath left me quickly as I arched my back into his growing fast pace.

“Do me a favor and hold this for me baby.”

The tears never faltered, though now they were a symbol of how good I felt, and my eyes fluttered as I looked up to him and the wand he rested above my clit.

“Tate...I’m so close I can’t-“ I cried but he pressed the wand down harder and stared down at me sternly.

“Hold it.“ He repeated.

I couldn’t tell in what way he meant but to play it safe I did both. Taking a hold of the wand I listened to him when he demanded I keep it in place. My body started to shake violently and I felt the overstimulation building up in my body. As I held it in place he let go of my neck and used both hands to hold my hips before thrusting harder.

My head instinctively falls back.

“May l cum please?“ I ask, tears still falling down my face.

“You plan on leavin’ me?” He asks

I started to pant heavily, desperately needing to let go.

“No, no I’m yours I promise I won’t leave, I’ll never leave-!” I struggle, beginning to find myself in a state of hysteria.

“I love you! I promise to stay,” I cry

He immediately takes hold of the wand allowing me to convulse, letting out a loud guttural moan as I came, gripping the sheets.

As I tried to come down from the high, he pulled the wand away and embraces me, thrusting harder to chase his release. I reach up and kiss along his neck trying to return the same feeling he previously gave me but, he quickly bit down hard on my neck trying to quiet himself as he came, pouring every last drop inside me.

He slowed down his thrusts before maneuvering me to lay on top of him and he stayed deep inside.

We soon caught our breath as I laid my head against his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you…” I whispered, the weariness finally weighing down on me as I closed my eyes. He gently stroked my back pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

“I forgive you baby” Was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

•

Guys c’mon now I can’t believe y’all let him scam y’all like that, what happened to the original plot of the movie?? But seriously if you guys ever find yourself in a situation like this it’s absolutely not healthy please don’t be afraid to seek help! This is purely fantasy! Lol but yeah thank you for reading I love y’allz <3

Likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.  (  in honor of pride month, here are some sentences for lgbtq+ muses, coming outs, and pride in general. i'm mostly keeping these positive because this is our month and we deserve positivity and understanding.  )

❛  always be proud of who you are.  ❜ ❛  i'm not going to change who i am just because some people don't like my sexuality.  ❜ ❛  are you planning how to come out to your family?  ❜ ❛  i don't want to hide who i am anymore.  ❜ ❛  if that's how you truly feel then i'm okay with it. as long as you're happy, i'm happy.  ❜ ❛  can you tell me more about being [ gay / bisexual / trans / etc. ]?  ❜ ❛  we shouldn't be shamed for who we are.  ❜ ❛  there's nothing wrong with you. it's society as a whole that's wrong.  ❜ ❛  my coming out didn't go as planned ...  ❜ ❛  i've always felt like i didn't fit in but now i know it's only because i repressed who i really am.  ❜ ❛  just be yourself, and don't give a damn what anyone else may think.  ❜ ❛  i can finally be myself!  ❜ ❛  you don't have to hide who you are with me. i love you no matter what.  ❜ ❛  you don't have to label yourself if you don't want to or don't feel like you haven't found the right one yet.  ❜ ❛  want to come to the pride parade with me?  ❜ ❛  when did you figure out you're [ lesbian / ace / nonbinary / etc. ]?  ❜ ❛  it's terrible having to choose between being yourself and being safe.  ❜ ❛  people should remember that it doesn't matter what we identify as because we're all human deep down.  ❜ ❛  remember how everyone had their weird phases as a teenager? being straight was mine.  ❜ ❛  well, apparently i didn't have to come out since everyone apart from me always knew i'm not straight.  ❜ ❛  this is the first pride month i can finally be myself.  ❜ ❛  have you ever been at pride?  ❜ ❛  i wish my family would be as understanding as you are.  ❜ ❛  it's time to stop pretending you're something you're not.  ❜ ❛  as long as you're happy does it really matter who you fall in love with?  ❜ ❛  why do strangers care so much about my personal life and think they can judge me for something i literally cannot control?  ❜ ❛  you don't have to have figured it all out yet. you've still got your whole life ahead of you to do that.  ❜ ❛  well ... being straight is boring anyway, isn't it?  ❜ ❛  do you have any tips about coming out to people?  ❜ ❛  it feels good to talk to someone who understands me.  ❜ ❛  i accept you the way you are, you don't have to pretend with me.  ❜ ❛  it feels so good to stop pretending.  ❜ ❛  look, i bought a pride flag!  ❜ ❛  how did your coming out go?  ❜ ❛  what are your pronouns?  ❜ ❛  they're assholes if they don't accept you for who you are. you're awesome!  ❜ ❛  hey, do you mind using [ pronoun / pronoun ] for me now? i'm trying to figure something out.  ❜ ❛  today, i'm finally going to legally change my documents.  ❜ ❛  i don't understand much about lgbtq but i'm willing to learn.  ❜ ❛  you deserve to be loved just the way you are.  ❜

[peachsayshi]

Hi Peach! I’m pretty new around here but I’m here to get in on your WIP tag. I wanna take a sneak peek at two different things but to save the effort for you to not do that I would really wanna see what the next Older Brothers Best Friend Geto x Reader pt. 4 🫣

“whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same pt. 4”

⊱ ─── [ ❦ ] ─── ⊰

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ older brother’s best friend geto x female reader ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni)  ↬･tags: (check my masterlist for previous parts) tension; alcohol consumption; reader is gojo’s sister; reader has a big fat crush on geto; size difference; kind of angsty but that's because I'm keeping this as an on going drabble as ideas hit me; this ends a bit abruptly but there will be more parts once I conjure up some other ideas( age gap; reader is 22 and geto is 27

⥽ notes: hello! thank you so much for reaching out, and I'll be happy to add you to the tag list! I was originally going to share just a snippet, but in honor of suguru's birthday I decided to go back and clean up the next part to share with you! I know I said I was taking a break from geto fics but something sparked when I reread this XD I hope you enjoy this update hehe

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You're hyper aware of the confined space, of the sound of the car slowly purring when Suguru hits the acceleration, of the intoxicating aroma wafting off of his body, and of the gnawing, aching silence that's hanging heavy in the air.

The two of you haven't said a single word to each other once you dropped off your friends. Suguru tried to eliminate the awkwardness by turning on the radio, but the sound of the low bass was only matching the erratic pace of your heart.

You squeeze your hands into two small fists on your lap, keeping yours eyes on the road as you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your cheeks sting with embarrassment, the heat scorching the apple of your cheeks. You bounce your leg up and down, trying to steady your breath as you muddle through your jumbled up thoughts. A shiver ripples along your exposed spine when you recall the bubbly tone of your friends voice, cringing to yourself as you hear her sing "isn't that also the name of the guy you have a crush on?"

You would do anything to hurl yourself out of the car at this very second.

You aren't even sure if you should apologize profusely for her behavior, or to try and offer Suguru some semblance of an explanation behind her statement.

A hand finds your thigh, a gentle touch bringing your awareness to the present. You gaze down and stretch out your tense fists, fingers spreading where the tips barely touch Suguru's palm.

You freeze.

He lightly traces his thumb back and forth, the tender gesture forcing your will to look up at him.

His sharp eyes are still on the road, and he relaxes into his seat while using his other hand to steer the wheel. "Relax, sweetheart," he coos warmly, a hint of a grin ticking at the corner of his mouth, "I'm not going to bite."

There's a tickle in your throat when you speak, your voice leaving your body in timid horror. He makes it so hard for you to conceal yourself - like you're a an open wound bleeding freely before his eyes.

"I'm mortified," you admit quietly, shameful tears forming as the champagne bubbles in your veins.

Suguru's hand doesn't leave you, but hearing your reply cracks the gentle grin on his face.

"Why are you mortified?" he replies steadily, his brow quirking with intrigue but there's a playfulness in his tone that makes you wary, like he's trying to pry the answer out of you himself.

"Um, because of what she said-" you exhale, as you turn away once Suguru tries to catch your stare. You return to look at the tips of your fingers so close to his palm, the slither of distance sending tingles up your forearms.

"Don't sweat it. Besides, nobody is worse than Satoru, right? He's particularly embarrassing when he drinks," Suguru consoles.

You swallow nervously at the mention of your brother, wishing that Suguru didn't bring him up at this very moment. You mindlessly extend your index finger out, the pad slightly ghosting Suguru's knuckle, and your heart flutters when he flexes at the featherlight contact.

The car halts abruptly, and your heart stops.

You didn't even notice that you made it back home.

The street lights around you glow like a thousand stars, a dewy mist hindering their radiant halos. Suguru lifts his hand away from your thigh to shift the gear into park, and you feel an unwanted chill from the vacancy.

"Yeah," you anxiously snigger, trying your best to play off the moment with ease but there's something in your heart that's stopping your performance.

You're defenseless against the influence of the alcohol in your system, the mask you've so carefully been wearing cracking to lay bare the truth beneath.

You breathe out as you undo your seat belt.

"It's just..." you carefully add on, your courage bravely egging you on to just tell Suguru how you really feel.

There's no point in lying, you reiterate. Come clean.

When you turn to face him, you find yourself faltering once again. He looks bigger than he is with you both trapped inside the vehicle. The expanse of his broad shoulders stretching across miles. His dreamy eyes pierce through your own irises, plunging themselves right into the depths of your soul. You're suddenly shrinking under the heat of his gaze, curling into yourself like a small creature hiding in it’s shell.

Suguru tilts his head, always considering you thoughtfully.

"Just?"

You angle your body towards him, wishing you could just pour out your feelings in an effortlessly cool manner. You think about how Utahime, Shoko and Mei Mei act. Each one of them moving and flowing with self assurance that you can only admire.

Right now all you have is the softest parts of you, your delicacy at the forefront. All the drinks you've consumed have eroded away the shield of your concern, and you feel everything spin once again while Suguru remains firmly in his own place.

Strong. Poised. A beacon that your heart keeps gravitating towards again and again. It pounds in your chest - thump, thump, thump - and the longer you linger in his space, the less you find yourself willing to resist your own desire.

"Remember when we um...when we kissed?" you feebly inquire, a slight shiver making your shoulders tremble.

Suguru's eyes dip to your lips, the memory an anchor of temptation that constantly weighs him down when he's around you.

"You were...guiding me, a-and you said something along the lines of how some guys like it when the their partner can be...assertive..." your body moves faster than your mind can catch up with itself. You inch closer, leaning your torso forward as you tilt up your chin to place your face directly in front of his. "There's...there's something I need to tell you..."

Suguru's expression transitions from curiosity to caution. He visibly stiffens when you close the gap, your innocent lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.

"Sweetheart," he mumbles warily, but releases a petite sigh when you press firmly down.

A peck so small for a gesture far, far too big.

"Would it be so bad if I said it?" you wonder, when you notice him visibly stiffen. "Would it be so bad if we just-"

Your mouth goes dry at the thought, your stomach twitching with uncertainty. Your hands find his shoulders, and you trace the outline of his lips with your own, lingering for just a minute as you hold his gaze.

You faintly lick your lips before moving in for a real kiss.

Just like he taught you.

You feel his palm against your waist, a wave of goosebumps bumping all over your bare skin. Suguru parts his lips to grant you entrance, and you hungrily slip your tongue in for a taste. You ribbon your arms around his neck, whimpering gently when he digs his fingers into your flesh. He eagerly returns the kiss, in the same way he did before when the both of you were lying horizontally on his couch. Your lips crush together, your tongues locking into ties and twists.

He drags his electric touch upward, slipping underneath the flimsy fabric of your top. You gasp into the kiss as his fingers tease the curve of your breast, grazing the underside and making you sink your own digits into the forest of his shadowy mane.

But just when you've almost lost yourself into the haze of your addiction, Suguru suddenly pulls away.

Your name spills out of his lips in frustration.

You widen your eyes slightly.

For as long as you've known the man he's always ever addressed you with one of his many cutesy pet names.

His "sweetheart", his "doll", his "princess".

Every one of them left his lips with indifference but they always held so much affection while maintaining a safe distance of attachment.

But hearing your name, which always leaves his lips like an affliction, which he only calls out in moments few and far in between, seizes your heart pitifully.

"We shouldn't," Suguru points out, his voice deeper than the color of his midnight hair. "We can't."

You thought about the girl he was kissing on the night of his party. The way his body tangled in between the fabric of her purple dress.

"Why not?" you press, anticipating your long awaited answer.

You wanted to hear him say it himself - to admit that there was somebody else. Maybe the rejection will help you finally get over this long winded crush. Maybe the heartbreak is just what you needed to set yourself free.

Suguru's hand was still resting precariously underneath your top, but neither of you were perturbed by the intimacy of your bodies loosely intertwined.

"Because," he breathes out bitterly, “I told Satoru that I wouldn't."

Your jaw goes slack, your mouth dropping in obvious surprise when you part your lips.

"You...what?"

There's a twitch in his jaw. He dotingly presses his forehead against yours, allowing his eyes to flutter close. Leaning into the touch of the one thing he's forbidden to have.

He slithers his hand away, and your body twinges in agony, like it's begging him not to. Tears prick your eyes, but you aren't sure if it's because you can feel your heart crumple or if you're simply overwhelmed.

"I shouldn't have-" Suguru murmurs, "I shouldn't have let things go so far."

"But-" you sniffle, blinking back your tears and your reaction makes him instantly pliable, like you can mold him easily between your fingers

"Satoru is too familiar with every part of me. Too familiar with my history. The good, and the bad." Suguru explains, "And he's fiercely protective of you."

The truth sinks in, the awareness of yet another obstacle in your way.

You slump in your seat, feeling foolish for not considering the extent of how deep their friendship lies. "Oh."

Your hands fall away from around his neck, and you fidget as you shift to look forward. Your chest hiccups as you try to resist the full shattering of your docile composure.

Suguru's eyes don't leave you.

"I should...um,..." you announce with a furrow of your brow, shedding all aspects of your embarrassment and grief in the hopes to leave them behind in the front seat of his car. "I should go..."

You gather your things, ignoring Suguru when he calls out your name a second time. You slam the door behind you, your heart effectively dwindling into nothing but ashes at your feet.

One tear falls, and then another. You initially perceived that the strike of rejection would bring you a sense of catharsis, a final out of the clutches of these sinking emotions… but you didn't expect the sting to hurt this dreadfully.

You carry your feet with as much strength as you can muster to your front door, fumbling with the keys as you struggle with blurry eyes. You sniffle quietly to yourself again when you insert it into its lock, taking a minute to compose yourself before stepping inside.

You freeze taking a step over the threshold when a brush of warmth traces the outline of your waist.

There’s a shadow that drowns out the light behind you, whispering for your return.

You spin on your heel to find Suguru behind you, his lamenting eyes apologetic.

You quickly wipe any rogue tears away, clearing your throat as he takes another step forward.

“Please,” you beg, “let’s just forget about it…”

Suguru nods his head - not because he wants to, but because he has to.

He doesn’t ask for permission when his hands grip your waist, nor do you deny him the access.

“Please, don’t cry,” he soothes in return, his voice angelic and lovely. “Seeing you upset kills me”

You know it’s the truth.

Suguru has always been blunt about how soft he is towards you - even going as far as putting Satoru in his place when your brother tries to overstep.

“I’m fine, just tipsy…” you lie.

Suguru doesn’t point out your fib - taking it at face value even though he doesn’t want to. You nuzzle into his arms when he extends his embrace, enveloping yourself into his protective hug.

One his hands seeks your jaw, and he cradles it with care, ensuring to handle your fragility with a delicate caress. He tilts your face up towards his helpless eyes, hoping you’ll eventually make peace with this like he did. His thumb traces your bottom lip, he tugs at the muscle and watches it gently bounce back. Resisting the urge to kiss away whatever pain he’s caused.

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t want this, because I do,” he confesses, maintaining a balance between the scale of your relationship lest you feel weighed down by him. “You make me feel things that I shouldn’t.”

He seals the truth with an honest peck and a spark ignites inside you but you hastily put out the flame.

Yet, his admittance eases some of your woes and you count the minutes passing as you two linger into the kiss far longer than intended.

tags: @brownskinnedgirll @chibigetoo

[starfall-spirit]

But For You, I Was Made

Read on Ao3 // Fic Masterlist

Fic Summary: A curse. Divine punishment. Rhys didn’t know what it was that kept the cycle in motion. All he knew was that he was going to break if he had to hold his mate on her deathbed again.

OR;

The Feysand Reincarnation AU

AN: For @sajirah, one of the most wonderful human beings I know. I'm honored to have been trusted with your @acotargiftexchange gift and even more honored to call you a member of my Inner Circle. I hope this is everything you hoped for.

Also, a thousand kudos to my confidants and betas, @whatishowedyouinthedark and @jsmelodies, your words of encouragement have been pivotal for boosting my confidence in the angst department.

Chapter I CW: Smut, Praise Kink, Mild Torture, Temporary MCD, Mentioned/Implied Non-Con (NOT FEYSAND), General Angst

You won't see dark!rhys behavior until chapter 3.

Chapter Summary: Feyre and Rhys meet during the First War when the Seraphim fight beside the human army.

Chapter I: I Can't Keep Pretending

Rhysand

Rhys thought it was an exaggeration, the snap of the mating bond. It was an incessant itching under his skin, muscles winding tighter and tighter each time he saw a male approaching her.

The cruel little thing knew she was torturing him, too. He first saw her when she passed his chair in the camp infirmary. He'd been so shocked by her arrival that he'd nearly snapped at the healer when her needle pushed through to close the nasty gash across his forearm. 

The healer was a human, and clearly unimpressed with his irritation, often expressing opinions that could ultimately be boiled down to “fae males are fools, slaves to their instincts.” He both loathed and respected her for it.

“I saw to the girl earlier,” the healer finally told him. “Feyre Archeron. One of Drakon’s commanders. A free spirit if I’ve ever seen one. You’ll have your hands full.”

He smiled, flexing his arm as his magic aided the careful stitching. “Good. It would be boring otherwise. Thank you.”

Rhys made it across the camp with new determination, checking in with his own soldiers along the way. Unfortunately, he could only catch glimpses of the female who was apparently kept busy with her own assignments. 

While the human healer had been the one to give him Feyre’s name, it was Miryam who truly called him out. “You’ve been an irritable bastard today, Rhys. Some are even starting to say unstable,” she almost teased. “So, what’s the problem?”

He ground his teeth, unamused. “The problem, Miryam, is that your mate is keeping mine from me.”

She blinked at him for a moment, a smirk slowly blooming across her lips. “Oh, now this I’ve been waiting to see. Though I have to say, a war is hardly the ideal time to bond. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

He scowled. “Feyre Archeron. Can you spare her for a few moments or not?”

Her smile softened. “It’ll be a shame to lose her, if she lets you drag her back to the Night Court. I’ll make sure she finds your tent when I see her.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~

Feyre

“So, you’ve landed yourself a prince.”

Feyre huffed, assessing her friend. “I hear he’s arrogant.”

Miryam laughed. “Oh, undoubtedly. I’ve yet to meet a young soldier or prince who wasn’t, though.”

Feyre hesitated. “You know him well?”

She shrugged. “Well enough. He’s always been someone Drakon trusted.” Crossing the room, she squeezed Feyre’s shoulders. “He’s a good male, Feyre. One of the best I know.” There was a long pause. “But it’s not his ego or character concerning you, is it?”

“I’ve trained with our legions for decades, Miryam. I know nothing of foreign customs. I’d be treading water, trying to navigate their politics.” 

“Would you, though?” Miryam was grinning the next time Feyre turned to face her. “The political scene is a battlefield of its own kind, Feyre. You have the wit for it, I’m sure. It’s that soft heart of yours that’s going to get you in trouble in the seat of Night.” Leaning her hip against the table, her friend raised a brow. “You know where his tent is?”

Ten minutes later she was standing outside of his tent, trying to work up the courage to announce herself. One of the canvas flaps flicked open before she could say a word and she assumed Rhysand was just as in tune to her scent and presence as she was to his.

“Hello, Feyre darling.”

“Rhysand.” He waved a hand, inviting her into his space. It was modest, but inviting. Just large enough to lay down a large sleeping pallet and a few small tables and a pair of chairs. Enough floor space remained to tell her the tent could be used to hold necessary meetings. “Miryam said you wanted to see me.”

His hands froze over the twin goblets set out on the low table across from his pallet. “You had no desire to meet me.”

He wore his mask well enough, but it didn’t quite hide the shock of emotion rolling down the bond. Speaking only a few words, she had already hurt him.

Feyre crossed her arms, guilt’s nasty claws already sinking in. Still, she knew she couldn’t dodge the question. And she knew she couldn’t throw Drakon in the path of Rhys anger just because she wanted to avoid this discussion. 

“Is it not better to remain apart for now?” she ventured. “Neither of us will be at our best if a mating bond is manipulating our instincts. And even if that wasn’t a problem, who’s to say that one of us won’t be reassigned in the coming weeks or months.” She shook her head. “It’s better to suppress it for the time being. The war is too tumultuous and—”

“How long?” He stalked closer and she shifted back a step. “How long, Feyre, are we supposed to suppress the bond? How long should I try to pretend I don’t want to pummel the males I call brothers just for speaking to you as their comrade?”

He sighed, twisting a lock of hair that had slipped free of her braid. “I’m sorry. That was…” He let out a heavy breath. “You’re right. Now isn’t the time to formally accept a bond. A mating frenzy would be less than ideal. If there’s one thing I ask, it’s that you don’t push me away completely. Consider it all before—”

“I have no intention of rejecting the bond, Rhys.” She shifted awkwardly. “I just don’t have the slightest clue how to navigate this right now.”

Rhys gave a slow nod, withdrawing and running a hand through his hair. “It would be a big change. The life that’s been planned for me—for my spouse—I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But it is also difficult to escape.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to walk away from everything you know, Rhys.”

“Yet you think I’d ask it of you.”

She swallowed. “I’m a commander, Rhys. As many people look up to me, I am replaceable. The Heir to the Night Court is not.”

She could only imagine the target on his back if he tried to abdicate. It was common knowledge his magic already rivaled his father’s. The consequences of that—vendettas, ruthless and petty—would only grow. Escaping his fate as the heir was not an option. “But that isn’t a discussion for right now,” she finished, voice soft, just shy of trembling.

“No,” he murmured, stepping away. “It’s not.”

“If we—”

“Commander Archeron,” a gruff voice interjected from outside the tent. 

“I’ll take that as my cue.”

Rhys gave her a hesitant smile. Sad, almost, to leave this unresolved. “Until next time, darling.”

“Yes. Goodnight, Rhys.”

~~~~~

Rhys claimed he’d never been this irritable, but there was no way a bond left in limbo was causing such a shake-up. Still, Feyre humored him, spending what little time they had between camp movements and her assignments under Drakon’s command in his company, talking late into the night. Every moment they spent together Feyre felt herself lingering a moment longer, waiting, longing for… something.

What, she wasn’t sure. Her resolve about waiting to accept the bond was iron-clad, of course. There was no other choice when they were fighting in the heart of the war. When either of them could be reassigned—pushed to the front, into the thick of it—or pulled from the fight entirely.

It concerned her enough that she’d tried to slip out of the war tent ahead of him a quiet night weeks after their first meeting. Stood frozen when his hand closed ever so gently over her wrist. Trembled when his brows knit, his other hand settling at the small of her back without hesitation to guide her out of the path of other soldiers and into a pocket of shadow she didn’t think was entirely natural.

No one questioned the easy maneuvering. Even without a formal declaration it was no secret most of their mutual free time was spent in each other’s company, not to mention Rhys’ blatant possessive streak around other males. That bit was driving her insane. Feyre was just glad it only amused Drakon.

“Something’s wrong,” Rhys said, not bothering to beat around the bush. “What is it?”

“I just—” 

She let out a shuddering breath. In the pocket of shadow he’d bent to his will, only a sliver of moonlight managed to penetrate their cocoon, casting his face in a muted light that managed to enhance the sharp angles of his face and the rare shade of his eyes. She could hardly think with him looking at her with such concern. Could hardly breathe.

“I need…” He cocked his head, sliding his hands into his pockets as if he had sensed she needed a bit of space. “I never meant to get this close to you.” Rhys flinched. “Not while we’re caught in the middle of all of this. We don’t have enough control of things here to logically—”

“Tell me one thing that’s logical about this, Feyre. A mating bond is not something meant to be controlled or manipulated or suppressed. Not as long as we have, and certainly not as long as we may need to to meet all the terms you’ve set in place.

“I don’t want control or logic, Feyre.” He twisted the length of her braid around his fist, tipping her head back. By the time he winnowed them back to his tent her front was pressed flush to his, his other hand a firm presence at her back. “I just want you.” 

She swallowed, trying hard not to flick her eyes to the pile of bedding behind them. “We don’t know what’s coming, Rhys. Movement from Hybern—”

“We’re not discussing the war.”

“Rhys.” But his mouth was covering hers, the hand in her hair dropping to wrap around her throat before she could withdraw enough to scrape together an argument with some half-hearted foundation. A flex of his fingers, soft and brief, and she melted into him. He pulled back for a moment, nose brushing hers as he assessed her new acceptance. Gave her a triumphant smirk before claiming her mouth again.

The first kiss between them had been cautious. Just firm enough to silence her protests, soothe her worries, draw her into the catastrophic storm their heightened emotions could and would bring about, but careful all the same. 

The second was pure sin. A promise for how the night would end. Settle the countless bets that had been rolling through the human army the past several weeks. He had knocked her walls down so easily, they both knew she wanted this as much as he did. She had to give Rhys credit, he was a little too good at getting her out of her own head. 

It was only when her back hit the bedding behind her that she froze beneath him, unease creeping through the haze that had started to claim her conscious thoughts. Even bedding males of her own race, she’d never allowed someone to pin her wings before. But Rhys had distracted her so efficiently. “Easy,” he purred, already lifting his weight.

“I just haven’t—”

“I know. Illyrians are sensitive about it too. I wasn’t thinking.” She grimaced, shrugging out of her leathers once he’d opened the laces. “There are other positions,” Rhys continued. “Or if you’re still having doubts we can stop. I’ll walk you back,” he offered, even as the leathers fell away to expose her upper body.

“I…” She bit her lip, busying her shaking hands with the buckles and laces fitting his armor as well, exposing inked flesh she’d only caught glimpses of on the evenings she left something behind when returning to her own part of the camp. She’d heard of the Rite markings and knew what they meant, but she’d never laid with an Illyrian—had never seen them inked upon flesh. He stayed quiet, carefully reaching from under one wing, running a finger down each ridge of her spine, letting her trace his tattoos at her leisure—an easy excuse of absent wonder—as she gathered herself again. “I trust you.”

He trailed his nose along her jaw, easing her down more carefully this time before unlacing her boots and baring her lower half from there. She relaxed into the pallet beneath her, eyes half-lidded as Rhys pressed a tender kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Good girl. So sweet once you stop fighting yourself. ”

Oh.

She’d received marks of approval before. She hadn’t been thoughtlessly gifted her position of command or pushed through the ranks without feedback. But there was a clear difference between the gruff pride of a Captain and what Rhys was delivering now. 

Because her mate’s praise wasn’t objective in any fashion. A half-dozen words and he’d stripped her bare, a fist wrapping tight around the heart of her desire and forcing her to face what she’d buried in her pursuit of becoming the unshakable soldier. A violent shiver ran through her body and she arched against him. The only invitation she could manage at the moment.

He looked at her like she was a feast, finally deigning to dip his head to her breast, tugging her nipple with his teeth, content to watch her whimper and writhe beneath him. “Still so sure you want to push this down?” Rhys murmured, breath dancing across tender flesh. The tip of his finger grazed her knee before he nudged her legs apart, cool air teasing the slickness between them as much as his fingers did.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “Gonna stay this sweet for me?” he asked. “Tell me, Feyre, who else has seen you like this?” His thumb brushed her clit then and she let her head fall back, baring her throat once more. He hummed softly at her silence, leaning down to claim her mouth once again. For all the things she’d learned to predict, she didn’t see his next move coming. 

His thumb and forefinger fell to the bottom of her wing, locking down on the thick bone leading to where her wing met her skin. Her soft cry was muted by the kiss, lips parting in welcome. Yielding to her instincts as she was, her mental shields were already fractured—weak enough for her mate to sink those midnight talons ever so gently into her mind. “Who?” he crooned, a slow twist of his wrist coaxing another whine from her lips.

Feyre shook her head. She didn’t need to give a response with the grasp he had on her, but she found herself hurrying to answer. “No one. I don’t let them see. Can’t let them see.”

He eased out of her mind then and her next breath was a shallow, trembling thing. As intrusive as the act was, part of her had been almost comforted in feeling him there. It was steadying. An anchor to cling to whilst forced to endure his teasing, one hand mapping her right wing—feather, ligament, and bone—while the other pushed deep into her core. Buried to the second knuckle, he curled them sharply, leaving her legs shaking.

Her hands found the sleep mats beneath her, but the slick fabric did little to ground her against the mounting arousal. Leisurely, relentless. The quiet whispers of praise and encouragement only quickened the climb, every bit of it a far cry from the quick fumbling of the few partners she’d let herself use as a distraction in the past. She’d never considered a male could be so focused on taking her to the brink, forcing her to claim her own pleasure. 

It made her wonder if it was strictly to do with the bond or if he’d been equally attentive with other females. Something hot and sharp shot through her at the thought. Why should she envy them, though, when mated males were so unlikely to stray?

She let one hand fly up to his hair when that first release tore through her, tangling her fingers through the dark silk of it and tugging hard. He growled, nipping her lower lip in warning.

Feyre growled right back, barely collecting herself before making her next demand. “Get out of your pants. Now.”

He chuckled, a wide grin curving his lips. Moments later he was teasing her with the tip. “This what you want, darling? Want to be fucked nice and slow?” The sharp points of his teeth dragged down her neck. “Been fighting this for weeks. I should make you give me a few more before I come inside you. Make up for lost time.”

She whined, her strongest means of rushing him dying the moment he pinned her hands over her head, catching them easily in one of his. “Rhys, please.”

He clicked his tongue. “My mate, so pretty when she begs.” 

Finally, he pushed the rest of the way into her, the sudden fullness bordering on discomfort. He rolled his hips in soft strokes until she’d adjusted to the feeling of his length inside of her, nodding ever so slightly and reaching to grip his shoulders when he released her hands so he could brace himself over her and continue exploring her body.

 “Such a good little girl,” he murmured again. She clenched down at the soft roll of his words and his next thrust was a little sharper. For his teasing about getting a few more orgasms out of her, the tension locking his body told another story. “Fuck,” he hissed, pace quickening, his breathing heavy against her collar. 

Feyre whimpered under the brutal pressure of the next kiss, nails biting into his muscled shoulders. The gentlest brush of his finger at the base of her wing was the end for both of them. Clenching tight, she bit down on his lip, crying out with her next orgasm when he thrust deep, hitting her cervix. “Gods,” she choked.

Rhys groaned, feeling her spasm around him again. “That’s it. Just like that, darling.

“Tuck your wings,” he instructed when she regained some clarity. Face buried in his neck, she did as she was told, not moving an inch when he rolled them so she was draped over his chest. The worst of it was when he pulled out of her, this time leaving her to come to terms with the newfound emptiness. “Sweet thing.” He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, arms locking around her, presumably for the night.

Feyre hummed, raising her head in quiet request. That kiss was the catalyst, his claiming of her lips finally drawing their bond into a quiet, growing light. Building like the brightest star, the bond stretched taut between them, the almost violent snap a thing of endless resonance. 

“Rhys,” she whispered, voice shaking.

He ran a hand through her sweat-damp hair. “Hush, darling. We’ll face it in the morning.”

~~~~~

She wanted to claim it was the early light of dawn that woke her, but that would be a blatant lie when the reality was that her mate had chosen to start the morning with his head between her legs.

She couldn’t exactly complain when he clearly knew what he was doing.

“Oh, my—”

He huffed against her core when her hand gripped his hair just as firmly as the night before. “Good morning to you too, darling.” 

He said nothing more than that before returning to his task, each stroke of his tongue less precise than the one before it now that she was awake and writhing against the hands he kept locked over her thighs. She was a shaking mess, her very blood singing right beside the newborn bond when she shattered beneath him. “Fuck. Rhys.”

He chuckled, once again shifting to his back to let her up. He was already half-dressed for the day, only his upper body bare for her perusal. For the better, of course. Preparations needed to be made. The units stationed off the plains were becoming restless, feeling like sitting ducks after weeks of silence.

Something was brewing in the ranks they were set to fight. What, was the question.

She sighed. “Please tell me there was at least a sound-shield in place last night.”

Rhys laughed, eyes bright even as morning drowsiness lingered. “There are very few ways I can be considered a gentleman, Feyre, but they’re there.” He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer even as she wrapped herself in a scratchy sheet nearby before they could start in on each other again. “I may not be the first male to have the pleasure of hearing the sounds you make when you come, Feyre darling, but I will be the last.”

He released her, smirking at her soft blush. Taking a breath, she withdrew, only allowing herself to reach out and frame his jaw with both hands, his morning stubble rough against her palms. “This doesn’t… Not everyone respects bonds and stations mates together, Rhys. Even if we aren’t in the full frenzy this is reckless.”

“I know, darling. We’ll figure this out. That I promise.”

~~~~~

Rhysand

A week later Rhys was standing before his father in full uniform. Presentation was the least of the High Lord’s concerns at the moment. “You’ve been off task, from what I hear. Distracted.”

“I’ve done perfectly well in my—”

“Do you think your men respect you for your crown, or your dedication to making your stance in this war known? For being their prince, or a brother in arms? Now a female is driving you away from your duty. Some power-hungry—”

“Commander Archeron isn’t a power-hungry anything. She has no greater focus as a leader in Drakon’s ranks than winning this war. We all know what their next means of elimination would involve.” He clenched his jaw, sick at the thought of Feyre being tortured or killed for her race. “She isn’t High Fae. Her life could become just as treacherous as a human’s if we lose this war.” As if allying with the humans wasn’t a death sentence in itself.

His father took a step closer and froze, nostrils flaring. If someone had reported Rhys’ distraction involving Feyre, he wasn’t sure how the mating bond, common knowledge now amongst the camp, hadn’t been mentioned as well. “What will they think of us?” his father mused, that frigid mask unyielding. “Two generations on the throne mated to lesser fae.”

Rhys would have lashed out for the comment if it wasn’t his mother they were discussing. His father was a monster in a thousand different ways, but he loved his mate, twisted as their union had become. Would he be that kind of male a few hundred years from now? A monster whose obsession broke his lover’s wild spirit? He swallowed. That wasn’t something he could afford to ponder now.

Something flicked across his father’s face. If Rhys didn’t know the male as well as he knew himself, he’d almost think it was guilt. “You’ll be leaving when camp breaks. Your next assignment,” his father finally announced, a slip of parchment appearing between two fingers. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He was still grinding his teeth when he stalked back to his tent, his orders long since misted in his frustration. What he found waiting for him only worsened his mood. 

His mate didn’t have much to move into his tent, but it was still jarring, not seeing a jacket tossed over the back of the wooden chair in the corner. To see one rucksack instead of two. Still holding the tent flap open, a fresh wind rustled a sheet of parchment left on his pillow he was quick to snatch up.

My legion’s being sent to a camp on Montesere’s eastern border. I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye, face to face. I’m sorry, Rhys.

Above all else I hope

He sighed, letting the paper flutter back to his pallet. “You hope what, Feyre?”

~~~~~

Feyre

Thriving, vibrant, steady. 

Endless miles between them and the bond was ever present, liquid starlight singing beneath her skin. It’s why she was so concerned when that singing went quiet. A seizing in her chest, then a void of shadow, the starlight dancing down it winking out in an instant, like water to a flame.

“Rhys,” she breathed. 

The human beside her looked up from his sheaf of papers, raising a brow. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I—”

But that would be a lie, and if the hesitant glint in her companion’s eyes was anything to go by, the inexplicable protectiveness rising in her was written all over her face. Her commander—a seasoned fae warrior—could read her better.

“You have your orders, Archeron. Directly from the High Lord of—”

“We’re not in Prythian, last I checked. Nor am I a citizen of the Night Court. I answer to Prince Drakon.” A male who was not present to take her side in this problem. “The only orders I’m required to follow from my station here are yours. So tell me, are you going to try to keep me from my mate?”

The human was gone within a matter of seconds. She had to look near feral at this point, her worry and fears growing like a wave rising to high tide. “Desertion does not come without consequences, Archeron.”

Feyre lied low for a time, keeping an ear to the ground. The High Lord of Night was a rather unpopular figure among the humans, even belonging to another territory entirely. The estrangement of his son was an even hotter topic. It didn’t take long for Feyre to have confirmation of what she’d long suspected. Been too much of a coward to stick around and ask for herself.  The High Lord had caught wind of her orders and sent Rhys in the opposite direction, right into the heart of the conflict. 

She left in the dead of night, a half-full rucksack and her twin blades her only company, the light of the full moon overhead a newfound comfort.

~~~~~

Rhysand

The pain wasn’t the worst part of it all. Yes, he’d certainly seen better days than these weeks he’d spent as a prisoner of war. But even after being strung up with his open wounds left to become infected in the filth of the woods, it was nothing compared to the guilt eating him alive every time one of his brothers died for the secrets he harbored.

Still, he could not break. He knew that, they knew that. Understood and respected him for it. That didn’t mean their screams wouldn’t haunt him for centuries to come. 

By the third week he had to wall off his heart. Could barely look them in the eyes when the Hybern grunts strung them up to cut open. The one consolation was that his original wish hadn’t been granted. That Cassian was thousands of miles away, a grunt in their own armies. That Azriel remained close to his father in service to the crown. And Feyre… He couldn’t feel the bond between them with the ash in his wings and the strange neutralizing shackles he wore, but he had to believe she too would survive her assignment in Montesere. That she hadn’t fallen into some trap with her battalion and ended up in a position to mirror his own.

That fragile hope was all that kept him going. What still let him spit in the face of his enemy as the next blow hit his fractured rib. He could endure it a while longer. Push down the pain to keep his chin up. They hadn’t found his weakness. Hadn’t realized his wings were the key to breaking him. So he stood his ground. Stood his ground and plotted their downfall.

On the eve of his retaliation, it all began to crash and burn.

They had found where to strike. Not his wings, but his heart. Standing before him, wings crushed painfully against the chest of the Captain in charge of his torture, was his mate. One look at her and that fragile hope was lost, ashes in the wind.

A feral snarl tore out of him, chains rattling as he rallied new strength, fighting like hell to free himself. All he could see was red, blinding rage taking hold of his senses. 

The Hybern soldier chuckled, eyes darting between the pair of them. “Well, well. I bet you thought yourself unbreakable, didn’t you? Tell me, Your Highness,” he mocked, “how will your little mate sing when I carve her up?” An ash dagger cut into the tender flesh of her throat until she let out a soft whimper, blood pooling against the flat of the blade. “Piece, by precious little piece.”

Feyre stiffened, even as he saw a flash of fear in her eyes before she lifted her chin. And after weeks of resistance, Rhys cracked. “Wait. Just… wait.”

“Don’t!” Feyre barked, jerking forward even as it deepened the fresh cut against her throat. 

Then there were two sharp snaps, her flinch of pain silent as her pinky and ring finger contorted, bent too far. “Eight more,” the captain taunted, hauling Feyre up against him when her knees buckled. “Perhaps I’ll save them for later.” Stroking the curve of one wing, he addressed his comrade. “I’ll be needing another set of chains.”

The second male smirked. “Of course, Captain.”

She fought like hell every second it took them to chain her and undiluted pride filled his chest, even now, in such a hopeless situation. Torture, he could handle. Had been trained against it since he was old enough to stand it. Watching his mate come to harm… no one had the means to prepare him for that.

Even with the bond silenced, every strike was a phantom pain inside him. Every snap of bone, every muscle severed, every scream that rang in his ears resonated in his soul. Never once had he imagined himself begging for mercy, but by nightfall his throat was raw with his pleas for her release. 

Trapped, helpless, unable to claim her mind and take her pain, what kind of mate was he to her? But for all his guilt, Feyre held strong. Urged him to hold his silence through all of the pain wrought between them.

So despite being forced to watch them carve her up, burn her flesh—ruin her body and wings bit by bit—that wasn’t what loosened his tongue in the end. What broke him was watching them touch her, by then too weak to stop it, the voice he could confess with lost.

~~~~~

His heart broke when he finally took her in, the dawn light his only aide. Broken at last, exhausted from the feeble fight she could manage under the weight of the Hybern soldier’s who’d taken to using her. “Don’t,” she’d choked in one of the rare moments they had the illusion of privacy. “They won’t stop, either way. Don’t give them what they want.”

They were alone once more, short a time as it would be. There was nothing he wanted more than to speak to her, to comfort her. But bound as they were, he could not take her in his arms. She needed rest, not his half-baked plots and empty promises. What a pathetic plot it seemed now, regardless. His strength was drained in every sense of the word. There would be no getting free to make some grand last stand against Amarantha. Not after this.

Perhaps he should have seen a mercy in Jurian’s arrival. Might have, had he the will to care. Might have, had Jurian actually pulled it off. If he’d repeated his victory against one sister when it came to the next. Might have, had his mate not be struck with a killing blow in the crossfire.

He’d roared then, raging in the way only a mated male could. At last tore his chains free of their anchors, only to be put down by a clever blow from behind and the fatigue earned from these past weeks, the adrenaline fading too rapidly.

The only mercy, it seemed, was the last glimpse of her he was blessed with. After days of agony, she finally seemed at peace.

~~~~~

Taglist: @whatishowedyouinthedark // @sajirah // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

[amundsenxcook]

okay so because of who i am as a person i obviously have not stopped thinking about the ellsworth poem since i have learned of it. this one:

some things to note:

• "skoal" is norwegian for "cheers". so he‘s literally toasting him with this poem. also it shows that they were very familiar with each other and ellsworth took an interest in amundsens culture and mother tongue.

• it is dated september 3, 1928. a couple of months after amundsens disappearance. this is as much a toast as it is a eulogy. this is probably a good indicator of when ellsworth considered amundsen no longer missing but dead. feeling great and normal about that.

but i wanted to know more!!! in the hopes of finding more context for this poem i tried looking it up but i couldn‘t find anything in relation to ellsworth and/or amundsen. so i tried to find the poem itself. and i did.

ellsworth didn’t write it, it is by none other than famous romantic poet william wordsworth! but this is not where my search ended. because the part that ellsworth quoted is not the full poem.

you see. the full poem is titled „Lines written by Capt. James upon his leaving Charlton Island, where many of his Ship's Crew had died during the winter, which they passed there A. D. 1631-2.“

so of course the question arises: who was this captain james who overwintered in charlton island in 1631-2?

captain thomas james was a welsh captain and explorer and in the years 1631 and 1632 he set out to find the northwest passage. he did not succeed and had to turn back. he wrote a report on it which you can read here on the internet archive.

wordsworths poem was inspired by this tale (some say the ancient mariner was inspired by it as well) and clearly ellsworth put a lot of thought into his choice. chosing a poem about someone looking for the northwest passage to dedicate it to the guy who found it!!!!! man

conclusion: ellsworth did not write the poem for amundsen, but he did carefully choose one that fit him so perfectly, choosing as well the lines which are the most touching and personal.

anyway, here‘s the whole poem below the cut because it’s actually really good and makes me very sad:

I were unkind unless that I did shed

Before I part some tears upon our Dead:

And when my eyes be dry I will not cease

I heart to pray their bones may rest in peace:

Their better parts, (good souls) I know were given,

With an intent they should return to heaven:

Their lives they spent to the last drop of blood.

Seeking God's glory and their Country's good.

And as a valiant Soldier rather dies.

Than yields his courage to his enemies,

​

And stops their way with his hew'd flesh, when death

Hath quite deprived him of his strength and breath;

So have they spent themselves; and here they lie,

A famous mark of our Discovery.

We that survive, perchance may end our days

In some employment meriting no praise,

And in a dunghill rot, when no man names

The memory of us but to our shames.

They have outlived this fear, and their brave ends

Will ever be an honor to their friends.—

Why drop you so mine eyes? Nay rather pour

My sad departure in a solemn shower.

The winter's cold that lately froze our blood.

Now, were it so extreme, might do this good,

As make these tears bright pearls, which I would lay

Tombed safely with you till doom's fatal day:

That in this solitary place, where none

Will ever come to breathe a sigh or groan,

​

Some remnant might be extant, of the true

And faithful love, I ever tendered you.

Oh! rest in peace, dear Friends, and let it be

No pride to say, the sometime part of me.

What pain and anguish doth afflict the head.

The heart and stomach, when the limbs are dead.—

So grieved I kiss your graves, resolved to die,

A Foster-Father to your memory.

[docholligay]

Top 5 parenting books?

Hm, I'm a little hesitant to answer this one, because people have opinions about parenting anyhow, and...people have a hard time reading advice books, or self-help books, or whatever you want to call them. It's not hard for me to imagine that someone can be right about 50% of the time, and that 50% still be incredibly useful. I don't get heated about self-help/advice books the way some people do. But I know some people do! Bear in mind i don't think any book is infallible. Some of these books have a soupçon of garbage in them as well. You know how to be challenged, process, and think.

OKAY! That being said, i think these are the five I gained the most information from that I currently use. In no particular order, with a very brief, non-nuanced statement of what I took from the book. The only endorsement I have is beeb is very well-behaved for a three year old.

Child of Mine: Feeding with Love and Good Sense by Ellyn Satter -- You decide what and when they eat. They decide how much, if they eat at all. Don't fight about it.

Hunt, Gather, Parent by Michaeleen Doucleff--Do your chores with your kids even if they suck at them, you were not born to entertain your child.

Bringing Up Bebe by Pamela Druckerman -- It's probably not abuse to insist your child develop manners, learn to wait, and not be followed around on the playground. Raise an adult you'd like to talk to.

How To Raise an Adult by Julie Lythcott-Holmes--Children who don't experience disappointment, setback, expectations, and boundaries will never become adults. Prepare your children for life; don't shield them from it.

No Bad Kids: Toddler Discipline without Shame by Janet Lansbury-- I fucking HATED this book. I hate it now! I do not want to raise an adult who talks in therapy speak! I do not want to raise an adult who whines and calls it honoring her emotions! I want a child with some grit in her, who can manage to be uncomfortable. I literally laughed aloud at we must trust our children's self-healing abilities and know that every one of their feelings is absolutely perfect."That being said, I learned a lot from this book. I can learn from shit I don't like and don't agree with. Even if I think gentle parenting is a good way to raise a crybaby who knocks down the cereal display while mommy tags behind and says shit like, 'I can see you really want to knock down the cereal. Could we think of other ways to play in the grocery store?" and ends flunking out of life because it's hard. That doesn't mean there aren't valuable things to take from this. For example, not using the royal we, "We don't do that" and instead saying shit like, "I'm not going to let you hit me" I think that's great. If i'm getting mad about something, that means I didn't set the boundary soon enough, and that's not beeb's fault. I need to be clear about my expectations early and often.

[puckthisshift]

2024 Writing Wrap Up

I blame @sportspuckball and @fleurywiththesave for me posting this. Thanks wonderful friends.

I published 14 fics this past year, and still I somehow feel like I didn't have a productive year. I'm that person, I guess. It's mostly MattDrai, with the exception of one Sens fic (because I'm also that person).

All fics below the cut

MattDrai

One-shots

act like I don't care what you did (E, 6.4k): Matthew had grabbed Draisaitl’s thigh mostly by accident, but he wasn’t going to let that asshole know about that. But after making some promises, he finagles a bid for the winner’s room so he can deliver. And then some. How else is a guy supposed to get an apology out of Draisaitl?

I was done, the deal was signed (M, 41k): A marriage pact made between rivals was never meant to come to fruition. But in 2032, Leon Draisaitl is playing one last season, hoping to finally win a cup. He didn't expect Matthew Tkachuk to even remember the pact, let alone to hold him to it. And he definitely didn't expect happily ever after.

lift your hearts to the horizon (M, 14k): In which Matthew slut-shames Leon’s wandering heart, Leon makes declarations like the romance novel hero he is, and we ignore the rules of physics in favor of magic.

make this bed get squeaky (E, 8.7k): The Oilers win their series against the Flames and Leon feels like he deserves a reward. Showing up at Tkachuk’s house for a booty call feels like the natural next step.

no one's ever had me (not like you) (E, 17k): Matthew gets drafted by the Oilers knowing that if he makes the show, he’ll be expected to mate with one of the unmated Alphas. And Matthew wants to have it all: sex and hockey and a baby - and there’s only one Alpha he wants that with.

something happens when everybody finds out (T, 3.8k): Matthew had a plan for how to tell his family about his boyfriend. This wasn’t it.

welcome to the family business, you're already in this (M, 10k): The handshake line has one life-changing revelation for Leon Draisaitl.

when I just did my makeup so nice (E, 9.6k): Leon sneaks out of the team hotel and into a queer club. He doesn't expect to meet his dream guy, all dressed up and ready for Leon to make a mess of. For Leon, being down bad is an understatement.

you don't know why, but you're dying to try (E, 9.3k): The pissiest guy on earth visits the happiest place on earth in the summer of 2016. He keeps running into this annoying teenager while in line. With a little help from a mermaid princess, the pissy prince might even… kiss the boy.

you'll find that you were never not mine (T, 10k): Leon goes from moping over his ex beating him to the Cup to flying to St. Louis in the hopes of getting another shot at their relationship. All because of one single emoji

Multichapter and series

catch me, I'm falling (E, 9.8k): Matthew wakes up alone and confused the morning after saying Red to his one-night stand. He’s planning on going right to Biosteel Camp, but someone demands to take care of him.

And its partner flying head-first into fate (M, 4k): Leon just wanted Tkachuk's attention. He hadn't expected to get the honor of taking care of him when he was so vulnerable.

raise you to be good (E, 45k): This is our pack. Kat found it all on her own. It’s little, and broken, but it’s still good. More than good. It might be the best thing that’s ever happened to Matthew.

Chabby/Josh

Lentement (E, 2.1k): Josh is going to get what he wants. Chabby happens to be what he wants. Who he wants. Would be kind of nice to figure out what the fuck Chabby wants from him though.

[jesmalestiel]

Shakespeare's Sonnets are SO aziracrow coded istg

Okay so last night I was doing a bit of bedtime reading and I picked up my book of Shakespeare sonnets because they are comfy and familiar and omg some of them are so aziracrow coded???

I posted about it on Reddit and @kotias pointed out that almost all of the sonnets are aziracrow coded and she head canons that Shakespeare fell in love with the two of them and his sonnets are about the two of them. And she is so right??? Like the idea of Aziraphale as the fair youth and Crowley as the Dark Lady just fits???

But also I love the idea of the sonnets being things that Aziraphale or Crowley might have written to each other.

The two that really stuck out to me as I was reading are sonnet 36 and sonnet 142. Sonnet 36 is all about how the two lovers need to break up because being together will cause public shame and it is forbidden for them to openly be together. So I really picture that as being something Crowley has written in order that Aziraphale would not be exposed as loving a demon and forced out of Heaven into hell. By the time we get to the modern day Crowley is much more of the mind that they should just run off together, but I think it definitely took her a long time to get to that point and in an earlier era she would have just wanted Aziraphale protected.

Let me confess that we two must be twain Although our undivided loves are one; So shall those blots that do with me remain, Without thy help, by me be borne alone. In our two loves there is but one respect, Though in our lives a separable spite, Which though it alter not love’s sole effect, Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love’s delight. I may not evermore acknowledge thee, Lest my bewailèd guilt should do thee shame, Nor thou with public kindness honor me Unless thou take that honor from thy name. But do not so. I love thee in such sort   As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

And then sonnet 142 I just picture it as Aziraphale being like “loving you is a sin and I hate myself for it but I can’t stop” like.... it's giving “you’re unworthy of my love and I don’t care for the company you keep but I love you anyway and your sins make me love you more" and I just ahhhh. It just fits *so well* in my brain.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving. O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; Or if it do, not from those lips of thine, That have profaned their scarlet ornaments And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine, Robbed others’ beds’ revenues of their rents. Be it lawful I love thee as thou lov’st those Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: Root pity in thy heart, that, when it grows, Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.     If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,     By self-example mayst thou be denied.

[buildingrelationshipsinanarchy]

I love you with the force of a life I dreamed I'd one day get, never believing possible.

I love you with a rage so deep I find myself at awe in what you inspire in me, even when my blood boils.

I love you like I needed a better childhood to express.

I love you like you show me all the ugliest parts of myself for me to face, just to show me they're illusions.

Like I love you, and also fuck you, and also my life without you lacks this magic we've been living in that I begged and prayed to a god I stopped believing in in my youth to find something honestly lesser than you.

You love me like I'm a different character in my life than ever thought I was, and I much prefer this set, this self, this path so much better.

You are prove that my gods love me and want me to be happy despite all the muck of this existence, and it's persistent foolishness in all directions.

Loving you is a nightmare I didn't know I'd enjoy having.

Loving you is facing demons older than me, darker than I directly know, and feeling like the brightest light that's ever crossed your sky.

If another star bright as us ever came past I'd let you know that love too, even if it changed everything, but of what it took to keep that damn smile on your face during what felt like my hardest and most shameful moments.

I love you ferociously, and like I'd let you draw a sword without caring to reach for mine.

You frustrate like nothing I've known, and you've held me in ways I didn't think I even wanted.

You are a bright moon in my sky heating my waters passed my levels for sense and stillness.

Loving you is a full time commitment that feels challenging and exciting to learn after I've been through.

You make me tired, and you show me how to relax; teaching me what I've been teaching others when I've been doing too much.

I love you through religions and oddly positioned paths that force me to expand and reconsider myself in my own reality.

What is love if not historical records? What is love if not practiced kindness regardless of this moment?

Goddess. Sadist. Student. Companion. I trust you enough to believe in loving you know matter what comes.

Bless this love. Bless this love. Bless this love.

I do not want to fear where this love will take me. I don't want to be lost in a world that polishes it's own shit to offer up others; hating themselves the whole time. What good is this life in this world if love is not a chief reason among it. I honor the call to transform, not to be worthy of love, but let myself believe I am, from you whom I adore. I didn't think a love could be this confusing and fulfilling and this dance so deep, so exhilarating to ride.

Death to the life and self I knew before. Death to concerns I was too foolish to realize sooner didn't matter. I've feel so dumb and accomplished at the same time, achievements higher than my self esteem that I didn't know I kept so low.

My possessive heart sought other lovers to honor you, if only there was another to share in this transformative dance we've been learning together.

May the flowers of our hearts blossom, moon after moon, year after year, clashing ways and honest tenderness. Let the fruit of this love taste amrita and honey. I cleared a life for this love, for this path, for a leap into the mysteries of this existence; always beside you.

I think is how Goddess worship ought be done.

[vale-var]

since they joined their respective teams (and I decided that Giyuu better be on the basketball team)On the basketball team Giyuu is with Sanemi, Obanai, Tengen, Kyojuro, Kanae and Masachika and ironically, almost no one likes her and the wicked man was very confused by never seeing Sabito in training since he joined the basketball team

while Sabito, when she joined the cheerleading team, thought that no one was going to like her, and that they were going to hate her, but they weren't very nice to her and after a day after training Mitsuri and she agreed to have a "girls' outing"

Sabito: I really like your stockings, they are pretty Mitsuri: oh, thank you very much, you are very pretty Sabito: and by chance I was wondering if... could you tell me where you buy your clothes and accessories, they are very nice... Mitsuri: oh, really? If you want, I'll take you shopping one day and show you! Sabito: really? Mitsuri: of course, hey, has anyone ever told you that your hair is pretty? Sabito: I think... Mitsuri: Well, it is, it is very cute, it looks like mine, of course yours is totally pink, it's a shame that it's so short, I'm sure it would look very cute on you. *Sabito takes out his phone and shows her a photo of her with her long hair*Mitsuri was sad to see that

Mitsuri: Hey girls, there's nothing wrong with including Sabito in our sleepover tonight, right? Hinatsuru: it doesn't look bad to me Makio: not at all, you are more than welcome Suma: of course not, you can come if you want, you are more than welcome! Koyuki: It would be an honor if you came, you could have a lot of fun Mitsuri: oh that's good, I'm glad to hear that Sabito: thank you girlsmore after a while

Later

Giyuu: hey, would you like to go to my house and watch Netflix? Sabito:oh,sorry Giyuu but I got a sleepover tonight with the girl of my club,maybe later Giyuu:oh,it's ok(fuck!)

[lady-rosceline-hurst]

To the Insufferable, Vile, Cruel, Dishonorable, Blatantly abusive, Foolish and, Tasteless Violet Hurst who brings shame upon her own House and her Greater House of Remembrance, I Arvantiel Sarthis of the Minor House of Sarthis, Under the Banner of the House of Promise do issue a challenge.

A challenge on your honor. I am sickened by your conduct towards your daughter, nay to all of your children. You have your son whipped and fearful to even approach me for communications, you have your daughter punished for taking her of her peoples..... And I fear for what has happened to her younger sister when she was in your care.

So come feverish dog who is no better than those across the Dawnline we call home, send your best. Bring about your champion to defend your honor. Because you are a coward. A fool. A pathetic whelp who views her own children as tools.

I issue this to in the manner of Pankrati, and in great shock to other houses. Death.

I await your response you vile cur.

-Suzerian Arvantiel Sarthis of the House of Promise. Pankrati, Artist, Performer and, Protector-

...<ENCRYPTING DATA>

...<ENCRYPTION COMPLETE>

...<BEGINNING AUDIO PLAYBACK>

Dear Suzerain, tis Rosceline. I have been released, but I do fear for the security of mine encryption. I am taking steps to rectify this, but at present I must be vague out of caution.

I did prepare while indisposed to deal with mine situation on mine own. This challenge. Twas unexpected. Much of the Omninet's reaction to that leak was.

I do enjoy thine company quite a lot, Arvantiel, and I am sure that thou feelest the same. But our business dealings hath puzzled me to a degree, I fear I must admit. If there was some... code, cipher, or some such within thine challenge to mine mother which doth explain what I am to do in return, I did notice it not.

Thou hast endeared thyself to me, but I accept not deals without knowing the price, even from those of which I am fond.

If I do deem thine terms acceptable, I shall forward the message to mine mother.

Mine thanks once more.