#I promise the spice will flow

[drivinmeinsane]

Wild Country (Part 2)

SIERRA SIX × F!READER

Part 1

Part 2 (This one)

Part 3 (coming soon)

*Summary: Six is running on empty in more ways than one when he pulls into that gas station out west. He just wants to make sure he and Claire survive when he does the unexpected and says he'll take on the job as a ranch hand. It was a position offered rhetorically and out of frustration, but damn if he doesn't fit the bill of what you need.

*Content/tags: Slow burn, Pining, Movie canon compliant, No use of Y/N, Cowboy!Six, Adoptive Daughter!Claire, no need to have read the books

*Rating: 18+ for future mature content

*Status: Ongoing

*Author's Notes: The burn is still burning slow, but we're getting there folks.

The drive from their motel to the cattle ranch is a short enough trip, but it's an uncomfortable one. The roads are pitted gravel at best and crater pocked dirt at the worst. Any time he glances over, he can see Claire holding anything she can get her hands on. Hitting one particularly large, unavoidable rut just about knocks the air out of him and causes her to let out a yelp and grab his forearm hard enough to leave the half moon indents of her nails in his skin. He holds back the wince of discomfort.

His grip on the steering wheel loosens in silent relief when he makes the turn onto the winding driveway. They pass a couple rolling acres dotted with horses. Claire has both her hands on the window ledge now, her death grip on Six's arm forgotten as she stares out the window. He hadn't expected her to be captivated by the animals, but he supposes that it's a novel experience for her. Being the niece of a CIA handler and having a heart condition surely led to a mundane life spent locked away. Six feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about Fitz. He should be the one with Claire, not him.

The drive opens up into a dead end parking lot. On his right is a massive barn, on his left are a couple of bunkhouses, but it's straight ahead that catches his attention. You had said to park in front of the large, white house, so he does, pulling right next to a green truck that he had noticed at the gas station. The truck settles into park with the enthusiasm of a reanimated corpse finally allowed to rest again. Six pushes the door open and wrestles it closed behind him. He's greeted by a large, rust colored dog. It stands in front of him, panting expectantly. He ignores it in favor of ducking down to speak into the truck's cabin, one arm casually resting on top of the vehicle.

"Let's go find my new boss."

Claire gives him one of her skeptical looks and shoves her own door open with a dramatic sigh. He's surprised it doesn't fall off its hinges. He feels the dog's hot breath against his knees and inches around the animal to join his adoptive daughter at the tailgate.

"What's the plan? Is there even anyone here? I th-oh!" Her voice cuts off as she spots the dog. She crouches down and enthusiastically starts petting it. He supposes that the dog is pleased with the arrangement if the lolling tongue and kicking back leg are any indication.

He watches on in silence for a moment before he hears banging noises and a loud whinny from the barn. He looks in that direction and gives Claire a quiet "Hey". He makes a gesture for her to follow him when she looks up at him. The dog runs ahead of them as they crunch over the gravel before impatiently doubling back to match their speed.

───※ ·❆· ※───

You're kneeling next to one of your horses when you hear the scuff of feet and scrabbling of dog nails. You finish velcroing the sports medicine boot in place before you stand up. Your mare nudges your arm and snorts when you don't produce a treat despite having a bucket of grain with a few mouthfuls left. You absently run a hand down her face as you turn to face the people coming into your barn.

You're greeted with the sight of the gas station man and whom you presume is the daughter he had mentioned. The ranch dog is wagging his tail furiously as he stops next to the girl, pressing in close for the pets she provides him. He's clearly smitten with her.

"Come on over." You call.

The man, Six, makes piercing eye contact as he approaches. His arms are casually at his sides but there's tension in his broad shoulders. The girl is right on his heels, nearly tripping over both her dad and the dog. She's clearly nervous but there's a look of fascination on her face. Her skin is pale, almost translucent like she hasn't had much sun exposure.

Your prospective ranch hand is a formidable presence up close. He's tall enough that you have tip your head back to make eye contact. You feel a little like an insect under a magnifying glass with the way he stands over you, running analyzing eyes over your face. You brush it off and square up to him like you would to one of your cow horses. You were long since used to winning the respect of larger animals. You weren't about to squirm.

"Sierra." You say, offering your hand.

He takes it immediately, no reservations about the horse sweat and grime coating it. He says your name in the same tone you said his. His hand is warm and calloused in yours. There's strength in his grip that you can clearly feel even from such a brief clasp. You offer the same hand to the girl. She takes it. You give her a smile you didn't give her father.

"Any friend of Winston here is a friend of mine." You say brightly, gesturing down at the dog doing his best to wiggle into the middle of things.

"Must have a lot of friends then." Her response is fast. She's clever, confident through her nerves.

"Surprisingly not. You must be special." You say. "So what's your name, honey?"

"Claire."

There's a sharp intake of air from the man next to her. You cut your eyes at him. There's a flash of worry on his face that gets smoothed over so quickly you almost wondered if you imagined it. Something was off about this situation, but the girl seemed to trust the man implicitly. None of your own instincts were dreaming danger either. Strange. Winston and the mare behind you weren't agitated by his presence either.

"Well, Claire, it's nice to meet you. How about I give you two the tour and we'll go from there?"

Six gives an agreeable nod and his daughter's face lights up. You double check the quick release knot securing your horse to the tie ring. You can feel his gaze like a physical hand on your back. It takes everything in you to not involuntarily shiver under the imaginary weight. You give the black mare a pat that's more reassuring to you than to her before you turn around to meet that heavy gaze head on.

"After you." His voice is like velvet, rich and promising.

You fight down the urge to swallow thickly at the sound of his voice and begin the overview of the property.

───※ ·❆· ※───

He and Claire follow you for the better part of an hour. His eyes tend to wander more towards you than the surroundings you're explaining. There's something appraising in the way he watches you. It's nothing like the looks you've gotten from some of your other ranch hands. Their stares make your skin crawl at times, but his... well, it has you wanting to crawl in an entirely different way.

"How many others are there?"

The question catches you off guard. The three of you are standing in front of the bunkhouse you told him he would be staying in. He's been so silent throughout the tour that you had nearly forgotten what he sounds like.

"There's three. Dallas, Jimmy, and Charles. We had four, but one of them decided to light out about a week ago."

"Why did he leave?"

"Conflict of interests." There's more steel in your voice than you intended, but Six gives an accepting nod and changes the topic.

"What about my daughter?"

"Oh! Right, yes. She'll be staying in the main house with me and Suzanne, the property owner. Claire's a minor and not under contract so I don't want to toss her in with you and the other men. If that's alright with you?"

"Good." His tone is warm. "She has a pacemaker. I worry about her. Having her safe is my priority." He has a softer presence when he speaks about Claire.

"Good dad. I'll introduce you after I put you through your test. As long as you find everything suitable, I'd like to see how you are on a horse."

He agrees, and your small party tramps back over to the barn to where you left your horse waiting patiently. She rumbles when she sees you cross the threshold. Claire's interest is at its peak and she's nearly vibrating.

"Here." You say, pulling a treat out of your pocket. You press it into her hand. "Show her your empty hand and then close your fingers and offer it to her to sniff. If she bumps it with her nose, you can pet her."

She follows your directions to the letter and is soon petting the animal. You beckon her father over closer and step out of the way to give them room to interact with the mare. He's got such a tender look on his face while looking at his daughter that your breath catches for a moment.

"Claire, if you hold your hand out flat and under her nose, she'll take that treat from you now that you've gotten acquainted." Your tone is casual and you avoid looking at the man's face again

"Oh!" She laughs a bit as the horse's whisker's skim over her palm.

"Her name is Belladonna. Sierra, she'll be the horse I test you out on. If everything goes well, the two of you will be partners during the term of your contract."

He nods and that's that. You quickly swap the mare's halter for her bridle and then you and Claire are soon leaning against the indoor area railing watching Six swing a leg over the Quarter Horse's back and settle into the saddle. He rides well enough. You watch him as he urges Belladonna to a walk. His hands are gentle on the reins and he's well balanced in the saddle. He's definitely not spent long hours and days mounted, but he's not the worst you've ever seen ride. Some of your own ranch hands have been hired with a worse seat.

"Bring her to a jog and have her circle those cones." You call to him.

He raises a hand in acknowledgment and clicks to the horse. She tosses her head in excitement and gives a little cowhop. There's barely any movement or surprise from her rider, he's got a natural grace to him that automatically shifts and sways to accommodate the mare's movements. He does what you ask of him and before long you're calling him back over to dismount. His feet barely hit the ground before you're pulling the folded contract out of your shirt pocket. He turns to face you and the two of you both start speaking.

"Are you ready to-"

"I'm not too exper-"

There's a brief silence only accompanied by Belladonna's swishing tail and Winston panting happily as Claire scratches between his ears.

"You go first." Six says, encouragement in his tone.

You take a breath. "If everything is suitable to you, I would like to take you on for the season. I've got the contract right here if you would like to look it over and sign it." You hold you the paper and a pen out to him. He takes both with steady hands.

"He doesn't know how to read." Comes Claire's earnest voice.

Both you and her dad look over to see her face dripping with sincerity. He shakes his head somberly. "Don't tell all my secrets."

You have to stifle a laugh at the two of them. The man quickly scans his blue, blue eyes along the words on the page. He quickly scrawls his signature at the bottom of the page before handing the signed page and the pen back to you.

"I'm yours now."

It sounds like a promise.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Dinner is a singlesidedly noisy affair. The old woman started fussing over the father and daughter from the second you introduced them to her. She doesn't allow for any lulls in the conversation and it really starts to feels like a hostage situation. Six finally begs off with the excuse that Claire needs to go to bed. You spring at the chance to escape and show them to the bedroom that the teen will be staying in.

"If there's anything you need, just let me know." You say before wishing Claire goodnight and going back down the stairs to give them some privacy.

You need to do the dinner cleanup anyway. This old house never got updated with a dishwasher. Suzanne passes you in the kitchen with her eyebrows raised and an amused look on her face. You ignore her pointed look towards the stairs where you can both hear the muffled voice of the man you just hired. You don't want to talk about his presence. You have never let any of the other ranch hands further than the front porch, much less invited them to dinner. Granted, none of the other hands have had a child with them.

You're in the middle of rinsing off a plate when an arm reaches around you to grab the dish towel hanging by the sink. You stare for a second, taking in the rolled up sleeve and flex of his muscles underneath his tattooed skin. You can feel the heat of him against your back and your mouth goes dry. He gently takes the plate from your hands when you go to set it aside and dries it off. The two of you work in comfortable silence only accented by the sounds of water and clink of dishes. You wash and he dries. You savor the glimpses you get of his hands and his strong forearms. His hands are scarred and calloused but the way he uses his fingers is delicate. His pace is unhurried, steady. You sneak a glance at his face and it's relaxed.

Finally, when he's drying the final dish and you've pulled the plug in the sink, you turn to him. There's a breathless moment where the two of you simply look at eachother. Neither of you speak as you show him to the front door. There's a pause on the threshold, and you can visibly see him struggle with himself on what to say. You wait patiently.

"Goodnight." It's low, intimate in the glow of the porch light.

You smile at him for the first time. He doesn't return it but there's a softer curve to his lips when you do.

"Goodnight, Sierra." Your voice comes out quieter, more tender than you had meant. You flush. You hope he can't notice.

He nods, a slow include of his head, and steps out of the doorway and turns to go down the porch steps. You close the door behind him and let out a shaky breath. He is all but a complete stranger. There is no reasonable explanation for you to respond to him the way that you have been since he showed up on the property. Or, if you're being honest with yourself, since you spotted him at the gas station.

He had clearly stuck out as an outsider. A little sweaty and worn. There was pained exhaustion written in the lines of his body and despite your anger over the situation involving your deserting ranch hand, your eye was drawn to him. You watched him analyze his surroundings with a practiced eye and saw his sleight of hand. A desperate man.

You made sure to raise your voice when he came to the register. He focused in on you and your heart lept in your throat when he said he'd do the job. His gaze had been so intense, so hopeful. When he mentioned that he had a daughter, your mind was made up.

You know that you are just going to have faith in him. Somehow he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would fall short.

N E X T.

[sunnymoonxx]

❝programmed for pleasure❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: Your best friend Qimir always had your back, and that didn't change when the Jedi accused you of treachery. Without hesitation, Qimir helps you hide. After days of close quarters and constant danger, things get heated and secrets flow to the surface.

warnings: this is just filth, english is not my native language, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (who needs it with him right), fingering, hints of mind control, reader finds out qimir's identity during the act, choking, cockwarming, degradating, praising, 5k+ words, not proofread

a/n: in ep2 when osha was pretending to be mae and qimir's mask dropped- so did my panties and i wish we could see what would happen if the jedi didnt barge in

also i apologise if this is not my best work my brain's rotting

now playing, fill the void by the weekend and lily rose depp

The sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows across the bustling market square. The air shimmered with heat, and the scent of exotic spices mixed with the dust kicked up by the steady flow of people. The cacophony of merchants hawking their wares and customers bartering for goods filled the air, creating a lively yet chaotic atmosphere. That's when you jumped in, covered in a heavy cloak, weaving through the crowd, moving with desperate urgency that contrasted sharply with the slow pace of the marketgoers.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and sweat trickled down your temples, but you didn’t dare slow down. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the fear that suffocated you.

You glanced over your shoulder, scanning for signs of your pursuers. There, in the distance, the unmistakable silhouettes of Jedi Knights moved with an unerring determination, their robes flowing like liquid shadows. Panic surged within you, propelling you forward even faster.

You stumbled into a fruit vendor, nearly toppling the cart, and barely registering the vulgar complaint thrown at you, only focused on your desired destination.

Ahead, through the throng of people, you spotted the familiar sign of your friend’s shop. It was a small, unassuming place, nestled between two larger establishments, almost easy to miss if you didn't know what to look for. You aimed yourself toward it like a ship setting course for a distant star, your legs burning from the exertion.

Another quick glance back showed the Jedi gaining ground, their calm, composed faces a stark contrast to your own panic. You had to reach the shop; you had to get to safety. With a final burst of energy, you pushed through a group of curious onlookers, thrusting them to the ground, and practically threw yourself against the door of the shop.

It swung open with a jingle of bells as you tumbled inside, the cool air a welcome relief against the overheating streets. You slammed the door shut behind you, the noise causing your friend, Qimir, to look up from behind the counter, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, what are you—"

"Shush," you panted, leaning heavily against the door, trying to catch your breath, scanning any sign of the Jedi through the glass door. "I need to hide."

“What is going on?” Qimir appeared right behind you, his face a mix of concern and curiosity. He motioned for you to follow him. This wasn’t the first time you had begged Qimir to help you, and many times you had promised to pay him back, but you never did. You tried to calm yourself as you followed him to the back of the shop where the infamous hidden trapdoor was placed.

“I owe you,” you breathed out, looking up at Qimir before you kneeled down to get in, climbing your way into a narrow space, the darkness of the room slowly enveloping you.

“You always do,” he murmured to himself before he closed the door, leaving you alone in the pitch-black darkness. You’d been here many times, so it wasn’t difficult finding a certain switch, turning on the lights that partially blinded you. As you quickly got used to them, your other senses heightened, hearing Qimir making his way back to the front of the shop above your head.

You pressed yourself against the cool earth, willing your racing heart to calm. Above, you could hear the faint murmur of voices, the unmistakable timbre of the Jedi questioning. You held your breath, every muscle in your body tense, praying that your hiding place would remain undiscovered.

You calmed yourself, putting your hand on your chest where your heart would be, carefully listening to the conversation above you.

“Have you seen a cloaked figure running by this shop? We saw them run this way; do not bother us with lies,” came Yord’s unmistakable voice. You had never liked him, even as a youngling or a Padawan. He finished his trials sooner than you and felt the need to remind you every second. Today was the last day you decided to respect it.

“I think I saw someone pass by, but I didn’t see their face or where they were going,” you heard Qimir lie to the Jedi, protecting you again. You never grasped how he could lie to the Jedi and not get caught. You always suspected he was Force-sensitive and accidentally blocked everyone out of his mind, but that theory vanished quickly when he once face-planted on the ground after you woke him from his peaceful sleep. Maybe he was just a good liar.

Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the Jedi grow quiet, leaving the shop. You allowed yourself a tentative sigh of relief, knowing that you had narrowly escaped capture. For now, you were safe, as long as you stayed with Qimir.

It didn’t take long for Qimir to come back for you, opening the trapdoor to get you out. You climbed fast, jumping at him, almost crushing him with your suffocating hug.

“I’d like an elaboration on this one,” he declared into your ear, waiting for you to let go of the hug but returning it with slight pressure. “Weren’t you supposed to be in the Outer Rim? That’s where your Master sent you.” You let him go, running your fingers through his hair, making a big mess on his head. He let out an annoyed scuff, furrowing his eyebrows, but his smile betrayed him.

“Hmm,” you whispered, turning back to him to walk to the door and shut down the blinds. The Jedi might have been gone, but you weren’t sure. “I was already there. Mission accomplished.” You replied with excitement as you threw away your cloak on the counter, turning in a circle back to Qimir. His expression was to die for.

“Wait,” he picked up his hand as if to stop you from coming closer to him. You stopped your movements, a cheerful smile playing on your lips. “You killed Kelnacca, without a weapon, and managed to come back and do whatever you did for the Jedi to hunt you down?” He didn’t trust you at all, and it was painfully obvious. He circled around you to block your way, even if you had no intention of going outside and leaned against the counter.

“I killed Kelnacca without a weapon, came back here, and killed Torbin.” You smiled, hoping for Qimir to cheer up too, for he was the one always believing in you and your Master’s missions for you. “That’s why they chased me; they found out. But it’s done. I did it.” You couldn’t help but jump towards him, looking up at him as he stared you down.

“You killed them both without a weapon?” he repeated his question, scanning your figure up and down, like he was trying to figure out if you’re joking or serious. Your smile dropped, as you realized he was more of a puppet to your master than your friend. You liked Qimir, but there were times when you didn’t know what he was thinking or where he was going on random days.

You scuffed to yourself, annoyed but understanding in some way. You weren’t always the best apprentice, but you earned it. You earned your place as his pupil and hoped, one day, your master would show his face to you.

“Is this what you want?” you asked, irritated, throwing a tied bag on the counter, right next to Qimir’s hands. He was hesitant but opened the sack, revealing two Jedi lightsabers: Kelnacca’s and Torbin’s. “I could have brought their heads, but that would defeat the purpose.” You added, frustration obvious in your tone. You were so excited to tell Qimir, your friend, about the great news and were immediately let down by his reaction. You hoped he’d be happy for you, finally safe from your Master as you satisfied him with your work.

"Sorry, just shocked," he let out a small chuckle before closing the bag again and leaving it on the counter. "He'll be so pleased with you," he turned to you, a wide smile on his lips. The drastic changes in his mood always scared you, but now you were simply happy you could share the happy news with him.

“Of course I’m proud of you too,” Qimir added, coming towards you to pull you into another hug, this one warmer and more reassuring. You hesitatingly wrapped your arms around him, melting in his embrace. However small and skinny he looked behind his untidy clothes, whenever he hugged you, you almost disappeared between his arms.

“Now who’s gonna tell him?” you muttered into his shoulder before he let go of you, his hands leaving your back seconds later. You were so happy about your success that you never thought of informing your master. Even though you passed his test, you were still nervous about talking to him. His mask was scary enough for you, and his quiet mannerisms were even worse. You could never read what he was thinking, what he was planning next, or what he might be contemplating doing to you. If Qimir volunteered to inform him, you wouldn’t protest.

“Well, you should,” he stated to your bad luck. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” He smiled before going behind the counter to search for something on the lower shelf. You had to snort at his choice of words.

“Please,” you chuckled. “My Master? Thrilled?” You came behind Qimir, observing as his long fingers grasped a small glass of orange drink and set it on the table. “I don’t think he’s ever shown any emotions besides boredom and anger.”

“That’s because he’s wearing a mask,” Qimir pointed out, pouring the orange fluid into two separate small glasses. “Maybe he’s smiling behind it.” You admired Qimir’s delusion.

“I bet,” you started, waiting impatiently for Qimir to finish pouring the drinks, “he’s actually planning my demise behind that mask.”

Qimir handed you a glass, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Or he’s planning your next big test, which he’ll pretend doesn’t impress him but secretly makes him proud.”

You raised your glass to his, a smirk forming on your lips. “To surviving another day and confusing my Master,” you toasted.

Qimir clinked his glass against yours. “To more victories and shared secrets.”

As you took a sip, the cool, sweet liquid refreshing your parched throat, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. Despite the looming threat of your master’s reaction, Qimir’s unwavering support made you feel like you could handle anything. With a deep breath, you set your glass down and looked at him, determination shining in your eyes.

“Alright,” you said, your voice steady. “I’ll tell him. But if he decides to execute me, I’m holding you responsible.”

Qimir laughed, a sound that felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. “Deal. But I have a feeling you’ll come out of this stronger than ever.”

“Let’s hope,” you sighed, leaning against the counter on your elbows, letting Qimir’s eyes wash over you. “Also, he has to be hiding something.”

“What do you mean?” Qimir asked, a confused expression on his face as he put his already empty glass down.

“What if he’s deformed under the mask?” you let out, your face scrunching at the thought. “Or what if he’s just ugly?” You stared at nothing, not paying any attention to the words you were saying.

Qimir’s eyebrows twitched with amusement as he scanned you carefully. “You haven’t seen his face yet?” he asked, noticing how you played with your ring between your fingers as you stared down at the ground.

“You know I haven’t,” you replied with an annoyed sigh. “Look, I made peace with it, but I’m still curious about what he looks like. I want to know who’s teaching me all these things.” You complained, pushing yourself away from the counter, your eyes glancing at the black curtains over the window.

Qimir leaned back, crossing his arms with a thoughtful look. “I get it. It’s human nature to want to see the face behind the mask. But maybe it’s more about what he’s teaching you than what he looks like.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. “Leave it to you to find the deeper meaning. I just want to make sure I’m not taking orders from someone who might be scarier without the mask.”

Qimir chuckled, stepping closer. “You’ve faced Jedi Knights, completed impossible missions, and survived under his training. Whatever he looks like under that mask, you’ve proven you’re stronger than any fear or curiosity.”

His words settled over you like a comforting blanket, and you felt a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” you turned back to face him, a genuine smile on your lips. Lately, you had noticed the way he looked at you. How his eyes darkened when he thought you weren’t watching. How his arms twitched your way when you walked past him and his intense gaze during your conversations. Like now.

Qimir was your friend, supplier, and occasional therapist. You could always vent to him about your Master, and he listened carefully. Many times, you slept over in his shop, passing out on the floor, exhausted from your tests and missions. You couldn’t count how many times you bled out in front of him and woke up the next day with your wounds bound and healed. You knew Qimir had his own secrets that he wasn’t confident in sharing with you, but some things kept you awake at night, wondering.

Despite his poor hygiene and greasy hair that framed his face in an unflattering way, you found him magnetic and charismatic. Something about him pulled you closer, and you didn’t know what. Between the nightmares and horrors, you were a victim to in your dreams, Qimir showed up to comfort you many times. You were embarrassed every time you woke from them, but the images never left your mind. And whenever you saw him after, you deep down wished they would become true.

Two days have passed since then, yet his intense gaze still lingered in your mind. He let you use his shop as your personal sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the Jedi that didn’t stop searching for you. Each day, you watched them through the window. Three times they've marched past, and twice they've entered, repeating the same questions, their eyes scanning for any sign of you.

Qimir once suggested you could leave the planet, but you quickly dismissed the idea. The Jedi now controlled who could leave or enter the exosphere. You regretted not hiding Torbin’s body, leaving him there to rot. Anger had taken over. You wanted the Jedi to find him. You wanted to shove it in their faces.

The days began to stretch into what felt like weeks, with only the tension between you and Qimir keeping you alert, even though it made time drag. The first night when you jumped out of the shower and had to borrow his clothes, you didn’t miss the way his eyes flew to your legs that the towel didn’t fully cover. Or when you tied your hair into a braid, his gaze never wavered. You didn't mind being observed, but with Qimir, it was different. His gaze made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t decide if in a good or bad way. His touch made you shiver, his presence alone made your skin burn. The only relief was that he wasn’t sensitive to the Force. If he knew what you thought every time you saw his hands or brushed against him, you’d want to drown yourself.

A few hours after you hid in his shop and got drunk together, you both decided it would be fun to practice some moves and fighting techniques, without lightsabers. Minutes later, you found yourself straddling Qimir’s lap, pinning his hands above his head. You knew he could easily turn the tables and have his way with you, but he didn't move a muscle. Instead, he laid there, letting you crush his lap as he circled your face. You remembered it vividly: how his breath tickled you, how his lips were so close that moving an inch would ruin your carefully built friendship. You were grateful for the self-control classes your Master put you through.

Now you were seated on the floor, leaning against the cold surface of the counter, staring out the window. The black curtains were no obstacle to you. You heard Qimir coming out of the shower; he didn’t want to smell like the gasoline you accidentally spilled on him. You held a glass of some beverage Qimir had prepared, both of you slowly getting dizzy from boredom and drinks. Resting your head against the table, you closed your eyes and saw Qimir through the Force. He was still in his small, cozy bathroom, drying himself with a towel. His hair was wet but looked better than it had a few days ago. His back muscles flexed as he raised his arms to dry his hair. You hadn't realized he was so fit under his clothes, and it made you squirm in your seat.

You knew you shouldn’t be spying on him like this, but the only time you had seen him like this was in your dreams, and reality was far more enticing. Your thoughts grew louder with each passing second, one screaming over another.

He was your friend and also worked for your Master. It would be wrong. You knew the consequences it could have on your relationship with Qimir, and you didn’t want to risk it. But the way he looked at you, the way his proximity made you feel, and the thought of his body against yours drove you crazy.

Your Master wasn’t against you having lovers and fulfilling your desires, as long as you stayed loyal to him. But you weren’t sure how he would feel if his two subjects started something together.

“You alright?” Qimir’s voice woke you from your thoughts as he stood in front of you. Only in his pants. You looked up at him, trying to contain your craving as you checked him up. Droplets still falling down his chest as he leaned against the other shelf, looking down at you from dangerous vicinity.

You almost choked on air, forcing yourself to look away.

“Yeah,” you choked on your words, lifting the glass to take a sip of your untouched brew. “Why you ask?” you forced a smile, missing his still wet, glossy chest to get to his face. Your heart dropped as you met with his prolonged stare. Half-lidded dark eyes staring right at you, his silhouette towering over you as he took a step closer, throwing the towel he was holding on the table.

“You staring into distance kind of scared me.” He chuckled, tilting his head as he leaned against the counter, you almost broke your neck looking up at him. He was right above you.

His hand was placed right above his pants that got to caress his thighs first. His skin was clean and wet, scars decorating his abs. His muscular chest was uncovered, free for you to admire. When he spoke to you his voice was low and raspy, different from the one he usually used. Your heart fluttered as you noticed his eyes wondering around you as he awaited your response.

You had to move, you thought to yourself. Pushing yourself against the floor you lifted yourself to your legs, the drink in your hand spilling as your hand twitched from almost falling into Qimir’s arms. You could feel the warmth radiating of off him and smell the shower gel he used. His hair was dripping wet, droplets adoring his sharp collarbones. His nipples were hard from the chilly temperature in the shop, his forearm big and large, holding his body above the table.

“Just, concentrating.” You coughed, putting the glass on the counter. “So,” you woke yourself from your dreaming, turning away from him, trying hard not to stumble. The drinking wasn’t as bad as Qimir’s half naked figure centimeters away from you. You felt faint and your thoughts only got worse, like somebody was putting them in. You felt a pressure, but you were convinced you were doing it to yourself subconsciously.

“Is everything okay?” You heard Qimir asked again behind you, feeling him walk towards you. You could feel his hands lifting, so when you turned back to face him, they brushed against your stomach. You had to fight back a moan.

“Just, the Jedi thing.” You smiled, hoping you were convincing enough, and he wouldn’t suspect even the theme of your thoughts. Resting your hip against the table and crossing your arms against your chest, you put a leisure expression on your face, as your mind raced with images. “It’s stressing me out.” You unnecessary added, trying to stare anywhere but his face or his arms or his exposed chest. He had to be cold.

“It’ll pass in a few days.” He smirked, lifting his arm to rest it against your shoulder. The cold skin made you gasp but not as much as his dark eyes.

“I just don’t want to bother you here for days.” You tried to convince yourself. “You surely have things to do, and my Master will be waiting for the news. I’ll go after sundown.” You didn’t wanna go but you had to inform your Master and the air between you and Qimir started to be intoxicating if you didn’t do anything.

“I’m sure he already knows.” He cocked his head, pulling his arm away but leaving his fingers to tickle your skin.

“You told him?” you wondered, pushing your thighs together as a small smirk appeared on his smile.

Fuck.

“No,” he denied, his eyes leaving yours, to trace them down your body. “But I’m sure he knows. Maybe he wants you to relax for a while.” He implied. You dropped your gaze from his eyes to his lips, your core slowly heating up.

“I would rather still be sure,” you swallowed your saliva, your voice breaking, his body dangerously close to yours. “Aren’t you cold?” you let out, embarrassment washing over you. He let out a chuckle when he saw your hand awkwardly pointing at his bare chest.

“Not really,” he replied, scanning your expression. He knew you were nervous; he knew your legs were about to give up and how you struggled to pretend to breathe normally. He enjoyed every second of it.

“Good, good.” You uttered, nodding along. “As long as you’re comfortable.” You wanted to fall into some deep hole and never come out.

“Are you comfortable?” he purred, closing the space between you two, his hand lifting to your face but not actually touching you. Just hanging there, below your jaw, right next to your neck.

“Why, why wouldn’t I be.” You stumbled over your words, his eyes burning your skin open. You felt his breath against your face, his curtain bangs brushing over your forehead. His feet met with yours, his chest in front of your face.

“You don’t look the best.” He whispered, leaning in, his lips now touching your ears, sending shivers down your spine. You moved your hand to the counter next to you, praying and holding yourself for dear life. “I think you need to relax.” He teased against your ear, slowly moving to your neck.

“I think I should get ready to go.” You panted, but not moving a muscle. His one hand moved right next to yours on the table, fingertips touching yours. You were so frozen by his lips tickling your neck, you inhaled sharply when you felt his hand sneak behind your waist to pull you against him. Your hands automatically pressed against his chest, closing your eyes.

“If you want,” he rasped, lifting himself to face you. You couldn’t recognize him. His eyes were pitch-black dark, animalistic look set in them. His lips were full and pink, not a sign of the Qimir that you talked to few minutes ago. You were breathless, your heart pounding heart against your ribs.

“Do you want to go?” he whispered, carnal lust in his gaze staring right back at you. You felt the wetness between your legs growing stronger with every passing second. “Do you want me to let you go?”

“No.” you answered so fast you felt ashamed. But what followed fulfilled all your dreams and more.

All the useless items and glasses on table thrown on the floor without any of you touching them, to make a room for you as Qimir lifted you up on the counter. You shakily brought your hands into his hair as he dived into your lips, imitating sex. His hands groped your breasts, fondling them and pinching your nipples through the thin fabric of your borrowed blouse.

You felt his hand abandon your face, making its way between your legs, feeling your wetness through the pants. You were soaked. You didn’t miss the smile on his lips when his fingers pushed against your core, feeling how wet and useless you were for him.

You whimpered against his mouth when he pulled away, resting against your forehead as you breathed each other air.

“For how long you were this wet?” he smirked against your lips, his fingers putting pressure against your pants making you gasp. He knew the answer, he knew exactly what you liked and where you liked it. But he wanted to hear it coming from your mouth.

“Since I first saw you,” you muttered, rolling your hips against his fingers for more friction. As soon as you made that movement, he pulled his fingers away to shoved them inside your mouth. You didn’t protest and without hesitation started to circle your tongue around them. His fingers were thick and long, making you choke when he moved them deeper.

“Such a fucking slut.” He growled, his legs spreading yours apart. Your heart fluttered at his words and confirming its statement when you let out a moan, from his fingers sneaking its way under your pants and panties to find your burning clit. You threw your head back, as your back arched, wanting to feel more of his touch.

Qimir watched you with satisfaction spread on his face as he felt you getting wetter and wetter, your body responding to his digits. He continued teasing your clit, rubbing it in circles as his other hand squeezed your breast roughly.

“You want it that bad?” he murmured, his voice raspy and electrifying. He chuckled at your failed attempt to respond, inserting his finger into your soaked hole. He pumped it slow and deep, reveling in your reaction. “No worries now.” He taunted.

Qimir couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he watched you squirm and moan. He relished the power he had over you, keeping you in the dark and letting you believe you weren't being humiliated in front of your Master. He added another finger, scissoring them to stretch you for his cock.

“Let me hear you beg for it,” His eyes gleamed with lust as he towered over you, plunging his fingers deeper inside of your cunt. He curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your g-spot as he pumped them faster. “I want to hear you plead for my cock.”

You had no idea Qimir had this in him, but you were so dizzy because of his fingers fucking you hard, you had no strength to focus on anything else.

“Please Qim-“you shivered, eyes rolling back in your head. “Please I need you inside me.” Your breath hitched, his fingers curling and spreading your cunt.

“Atta girl.” He whispered to himself before pulling his fingers out of you, receiving a vulgar insult thrown at him. He relished in seeing you like this. He dreamed of this every day, wanting you, his pupil, spread open in front of him, letting him take you however he wanted. You were his and he was gonna make sure you understood what exactly that meant.

He smirked mischievously before leaning forward to kiss you deeply, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Once I start, complain all you want, I’m not gonna stop.” He whispered against your lips before breaking away and looking deep into your eyes. He was a totally different man and it made you shiver throughout all your body. Even his energy changed, letting it wrap around you in the Force.

Qimir startled you when his hands landed on your chest, pushing you back so you’d lay open on the counter, legs spread open for him to take. Smiling excitedly, he grabbed your hips and move you closer to the edge of the table, before slowly unbuckling his pants.

“You ready?” he asked, licking his lips before pulling his cock out, already covered in pre-cum. He looked so beautiful above you, his hips so close to yours, his hair falling into his face and his chest raising as fast as yours. You looked a mess, but you were his mess and he wanted to devour you.

Nodding, you made yourself comfortable on the table, its cold surface making you shiver.

Smirking, he positioned his dick at your entrance and slowly thrust himself inside, making sure to stretch you nice and slow, taking his time to make the moment last. He bit back a moan, looking down at you lovingly as you struggled to keep your eyes open and not pass out at his thick cock filling you up.

“You’re doing great so far for me.” He grinned, before pulling out and slamming back in, his movements becoming faster and rougher. You forced yourself to grab the ends of the table to hold yourself in place, Qimir’s grip on your hips being nothing compared to the way he was treating your pussy.

His thrusts became harder, loving the way your walls wrapped around his cock, squeezing him tightly with each thrust.

“You’re finally getting what you dreamed of,” he groaned, lifting your hips to drive his cock deeper before pounding away. “Getting fucked by your Master.”

You cried out when his cock brushed against your sweet spot, not realizing the meaning of his words until seconds later.

“What,” you tried to lift your head up, but the way his grip tightened on your waist to fuck you harder had you failing to catch your breath. Your heart started to pound faster as the realization hits.

He saw your expression change but your body kept replying to his merciless thrusts. His hand moved from your waist to reach for your head, lifting you up, face to face. His forehead was covered in sweat, his long hair curling around his ears.

“You did so well on your last mission, I had to reward you.” He panted, not stopping his assault on your cunt. He read the conflict in your mind, letting you come to your own conclusion.

“You’re,” you trembled, his cock spreading your walls so good you had trouble to even consider the words he was saying, denying yourself.

“You’re such a good apprentice but such a slut now,” he mocked you, his hand moving from your hair to your neck, putting in pressure. “I wished you realized sooner tho. We could’ve had this every little visit of yours.” You cried out as his hand fully wrapped around your neck, his cock never stopping filling your cunt.

“Master, I don’t understand,” you managed to breathe out, feeling his cock start twitching inside your walls. You heard him groan, right next to your ear, at the feeling of your tight hole gripping him. He started to thrust harder, feeling the friction build up.

Resting your foreheads against each other and swallowing each other’s moans, had the both of you sweat, the room picking up your scents.

Qimir reached down, rubbing your clit as he continued to fuck you hard. He could feel the tension building inside of you and knew you were close.

“Cum for me, love.” He growled, his hand never leaving your neck and pulling you closer to him. “Cum for your Master.” He hitched, picking up the pace, slamming into you as hard as he could. He could feel his own orgasm approaching.

His grip on your throat tightened as he fucked you harder and faster, slowly losing control of his strength. He could see the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he pounded into you and squeezed your throat harder. Your hand automatically few to his hand that held you, struggling to breathe but not enough to make you pass out.

“You belong to me,” his voice broke, letting you know he was getting closer and closer to losing it. “You’re mine.” He whimpered into your ear, his hips bucking wildly, driving his cock deep inside of you as he came, filling you up, marking you as his. His paced slowed down to match yours, wanting to feel you cum around him, your walls almost crushing him.

Qimir didn’t move and kept his cock inside you, letting himself and you calm down and try to catch your breath. As you regain your composure, your head against Qimir’s chest, your mind almost exploded with the overwhelming thoughts.

I fucked Qimir.

I fucked my Master.

Qimir was my Master all along.

You wanted to run away, hide yourself and never come out, but Qimir’s, your Master’s arms wrapped around you and your pussy still keeping his cock warm, had you melting, not wanting to move an inch. You were confused, terrified, and thrilled all at the same time. All the times when Qimir disappeared without explanation, all the time he lied to the Jedi or did things only Force sensitive beings could achieve. It all made sense now and clicked together like a puzzle.

But you also realized he had the power to read your thought all along. He could see the impure images, the ideas, and pictures you had in your mind. Your complains and desires. Your fear. But that didn’t matter anymore. You let your Master used you, like the good apprentice you were. You had no idea what would happen now, your heart wanting to jump out of your chest, your skin covered in goosebumps. You were scared but the desire was stronger. And if Qimir ever taught you something was to transform those emotions into power. And you had enough desire to annihilate the entire Jedi order, with Qimir by your side.

[msgexymunson]

The Code

Description: Your very first day at your new school and you've already managed to find a dealer. Not only that, but he is fine. Maybe living with your mom might not be too bad after all. 

Warnings: Making out, fingering, male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex 

A/N: I just wanted some desperate, clingy ‘I need you’ sex so here we are. I loved writing this so much I think this is going to end up in a whole universe just about these two.

6.2k words

Masterlist 

This must be the spot. 

You walk out into the little clearing in the woods. It's private, encircled by trees, with a picnic bench right in the middle. As you wonder who the hell put it there, you take in the quiet. It's bizarre; a minute ago you were surrounded by loudmouth jocks and giggling girls, sneakers squeaking and lockers slamming, but here? Silence, except for the twittering of birds and whispering wind in the trees. 

Perching on the slightly mildewed table top, you dump your bag and jacket on the seat, crossing your legs and picking your fingernails to pass the time. 

A rustle of leaves makes you snap your head up, and you see who must be the most gorgeous guy at this school. Tall, long hair, a narrow little waist you want to wrap your legs around, and judging by his clothes, he's a metalhead too. 

“Hey, you leave me a note?” 

He looks around nervously, circling the table before walking over to you. 

“Yeah, you OK?” 

He smiles, and you rethink your previous statement. He must be the most gorgeous guy in this whole town. Such a pretty mouth. 

“Sorry, it's just last time I got an anonymous note in my locker I got jumped by four jocks.” 

“Oh, well you know what they say, when a boy bullies you they really just have a crush on you.” 

He laughs, tipping his head back. 

“Well these guys must want my fuckin’ babies or some shit!” 

Giggling, you look down, covering your mouth girlishly. Eddie takes the small opportunity to check you out. You look like you've wandered in from a dream. A very wet dream. Little black Mary Janes on your feet, thigh high white socks, and a black and white plaid skirt. The strip of thigh on show is making his pants tighter by the minute. The white t-shirt is a work of art; it seems so innocent, but it's tight enough to accentuate your obvious curves, and the outline of a black bra is peeking through the thin material. He's sure it's purposeful; who wears black under white and doesn't think about it showing? 

You clear your throat and his eyes flick upward to your face guiltily. Not saying anything, you let your little smug smile and raised brow do the talking for you. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun. 

After a few seconds of letting him squirm, mostly to see the blush flowing to his cheeks, you give him your name and explain. 

“I'm new here, some girl told me you're the one to go to for weed. Eddie, right?” 

“Guilty as charged,” he replies, bowing at you. Rolling your eyes, you beckon him forward with one finger. His grin widens as he stands right in front of you, eyes darting to your lips and back up. 

“So, you got something for me?” 

Eddie plants his hands either side of you on the table, close enough to smell your perfume. It's heady, laden with spice and promise, not the sweet scent he expected. That just intrigues him even more.

Your heads spinning from him crowding your space. His eyes are otherworldly, deep brown, full of such depth and soul that it takes a moment for you to remember to breathe. 

“For you? Of course.” 

He winks, he fucking winks, sending a swarm of insects in a whirlwind in your stomach, then sits down at the bench, slamming a battered tin lunchbox down. He gestures at the seat in front but you swivel on the table to face him, legs crossed an inch or so away from his hand. 

“So, I'll do you a half ounce for… twenty. Cool?” 

He wags a baggy at you and you make a pass for it, but he holds it at arm's length. 

“Twenty?” 

Huffing dramatically, you lean far back to grab your bag from the opposite bench. Eddie holds an arm out, one thrown over his eyes. 

“Cover your, er, modesty sweetheart.”

You realise he means your skirt that had ridden high on your thighs, exposing a triangle of your panties. It was only for a moment, but he saw. He thinks it'll be ingrained on the inside of his eyelids, burned into the back of his brain forever. They're baby pink, yet another surprise. You seem to be full of them.

“Such a gentleman.” 

Plopping your bag in your lap, you rummage through it to find a note. Eddie's eyes widen yet again. Your little denim backpack is covered in patches; Megadeath, Anthrax, Saxon. Just when he thinks he's got you figured out, you throw another curveball at him. 

“Here, twenty.” 

He takes it and exchanges it for the bag in his hands. Squirrelling it away, you smile. 

“Thank you. Fancy a smoke?” 

“Sure, why not.” 

You move to get your newest purchase out again but he waves a hand. 

“This one's on me sweetheart. For the er, pleasure of your company.” 

“Well, aren't I lucky.” Smirking at him, revelling in the pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks, you watch whilst he rolls. 

“So, you're new? When did you start?” 

“Today. Moving in with my mom and my brother for a little while whilst my dad cools off.” 

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, licking the paper with a pointed precise tongue. 

“Yeah. I got suspended, he freaked. Mom wanted her little girl back, so here I am.” 

“Oh really? What did you do?” 

You bite your lip as he passes you the lit joint, and take a couple of hits. 

“What didn't I do?” 

He laughs loudly with you, eyes darting to your chest as it jiggles. Fuck, he's already down bad. 

You make some chit chat, surface level stuff, but it shows you just how easy he is to talk to. He's confident, bordering cocky, but it's belied by the way your flirtatious comments make him blush. 

The joint is long gone. Eddie stands up, getting ready to leave. You want him to stay, you need him to, just a little longer. It emboldens you, enough to make a move. 

“Eddie, what's your policy on kissing clients?” 

He's mid standing when your question gets through to his brain, entirely short circuiting it for a second. 

“Huh?” 

“I said,” you beckon, and Eddie's legs move on their own accord, “what's your policy on kissing clients?” 

He's grinning then, standing in front of you by the edge of the table. As you uncross your legs, his smile only widens, slotting his narrow hips between your thighs. You take one of his hands in yours, examining his rings, before you place it gently on your leg, silently giving him permission to touch you. 

Eddie feels dazed, half expecting someone to jump from the bushes with a camera, declaring this all some elaborate prank. The bare skin of your thigh is so soft, silky smooth. His fingers dance just underneath the hem of your skirt, testing the waters, but you let him. You let him. 

“My policy? It probably goes against the Holy drug dealers code.” He shakes his head sadly, but he's still smiling, and still not pulling away. 

“Drug dealer code? What like, don't get high on your own supply?” You respond cheekily, nodding at the butt of the joint stubbed out on the table. 

Your hands snake around his neck autonomously, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves infinitesimally closer, head bending a little. 

“Yeah, like that. But the thing is,” he says as he moves even closer, whispering, “it's more like… guidelines.” 

“Yeah?” 

It's all you can manage out, breathy and weak, practically quivering at his closeness. 

His nose rubs against the side of yours, mouths almost brushing, as he whispers again, even more quietly, the breath of it diffusing over your parted lips. 

“It's a good thing I like to break the rules.” 

Then his lips are crushed against yours, your strawberry lip balm surrendering itself, finding a new home on his full lips. Your tongue licks into his mouth thickly, laced with want. Eddie responds, exploring your mouth as the kiss turns dirtier by the second. Your chest is smashed against his, thighs gripping onto his hips. 

Eddie's head is reeling at the taste of you and the feel of your body desperately pressed against him. He winds his hand under your skirt to grab your perfect round ass, jamming you even closer. To his delight you moan in his mouth, lips sliding against his, slicked in spit. 

Your heart is thumping so loudly you can feel it in your throat. Or is it his? It doesn't matter, the kiss tearing any rational thoughts away. Snaking an arm around him to dig painted nails into his back, you roll your hips into him, an ache settling into your bones. 

The other of Eddie's rough hands travels audaciously to your chest, palming it over your clothes. You don't pull away, in fact your back is arching, searching for more. 

It's only then that he notices the time on his watch. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away, taking in the way your chest heaves, how your eyes are half lidded, as if you want to devour him whole. 

“Fuck, I'm sorry but I'm late, I really gotta go.” 

Huffing, you pout, and the plumpness of your bottom lip almost makes him say fuck it, screw Hellfire, but he knows he can't. 

“I really, really don't want to go, for the record. Last thing I want to do is walk back into school with a hard on right now.” 

You giggle breathlessly, risking a little look down. He's not lying. And he is packing. 

“Do you wanna come to mine later?” 

It's out of your mouth before you even think of the words, tongue working of its own accord. 

“Are you- for real?” 

You nod comically fast. He just shakes his head, stunned. 

“You know, I'm waiting for a Carrie moment or some shit.” 

“Eddie, I'm not gonna dump a bucket of pig's blood on you, I swear.” 

“Swear? On what?” 

“On, I dunno, on that code thing?” 

He laughs, hands rubbing up and down your sides as if he doesn't want to let you go. 

“You can't swear on that, we just broke it!” 

“Alright then, scouts honour?” 

“You were a girl scout?” 

“No.” 

He laughs again as you purse your lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you hold your hand to your heart, the other forming the devil's horn sign. 

“I swear on Ozzy.” 

Fuck, Eddie thinks he must have made you in a lab. 

“Alright, alright, you best not be using his name in vain.” 

You rummage in your bag, grabbing a scrap of paper and scrawling an address on it. 

“Here. My er, my mom's out for the weekend and my dweeb brothers got some silly club thing then he's staying at a friend's, so…” 

Eddie's eyebrows raise and disappear into his hair. If this is just some fantasy and he's finally lost it, then he can deal with that. 

“Right, I will be there. I promise. Wild fuckin’ horses couldn't drag me away.” 

You scrunch the paper into his waiting hand, and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he's apologising again, having to run back to school before the guys send a search party. 

********************

He only gets a chance to look at your hastily written note when Hellfires finished, a hell of a lot quicker than his usual sessions. The guys are put out, complaining about only managing to go for a supply run and deal with some bandits, but for once he doesn't give a shit. 

In his van, he's reading and rereading your note. Maybe he's got it wrong, your messy handwriting is difficult to read after all. Or maybe he was right before and this is all some joke at his expense. 

Hope is what gets him there, that and the traces of strawberry lip balm that still linger on his lips. He pulls up to the house and knocks on the door. 

You answer, still in your clothes from earlier, though Eddie notices immediately that you've taken off your bra. It throws him for a moment, the shape of your nipples singing a melody directly to his dick, but he recovers. 

“You live… here?” He asks, completely surprised. 

“Yes?” The way he says it you almost question if you're the one in the wrong house. 

“And your last name is…?” 

“Henderson.”

“Fuck.” He laughs it out, biting his lip. 

“Is that a problem?” You're entirely thrown by his reaction, but gesture at him to come in, closing the door behind him. 

“Dustin’s your little brother.” He says it like a known fact.

“How do you know Dust for Brains? Wait-” 

You step backwards, both hands held to your mouth in shock. 

“You're Eddie?? The Eddie??” 

“The one and only, sweetheart.” 

“Shit, Dustin does not shut up about you. I thought, well I thought you'd be some nerdy, awkward loser.” 

“Well, I'm a lot of things.” 

Laughs erupt from you in an unstoppable volcano. 

“Dustins gonna kill me.” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“No, Dustins gonna kill me. How come he's never mentioned you?” 

“He's not exactly my biggest fan. Plus, he probably wanted to avoid- this.” 

Eddie deflates a little, the hope of kissing you again dwindling by the second. 

“If you want me to go-” 

“Oh hell no,” you grab his hand, keeping him there with you, “this is hilarious, he's gonna freak. I can't wait. You wanna drink, or something to eat? Or we can just-” 

“Wait, you seriously don't care?” 

“Nope. You're too hot.” 

Eddie blushes, not used to girls being so brazen with him. Smiling, you tell him to take a seat and grab some beers from the fridge. He takes his jacket off and throws it on a chair. When you return, you're laughing yet again as you hand him his beer. 

“How the hell did I miss that?” You point. He follows your eyes, to the Hellfire t-shirt he's wearing. 

“Too busy staring at my pretty face?” He suggests, winking at you. 

Settling down next to him, you flick the TV on to some random b movie. Nonchalantly, you place a hand on his knee, stroking the little bare patch of skin as you look at the film playing. 

“Maybe I was too busy thinking about what's underneath it.” 

You say it offhand, a casual statement, but it's got Eddie nearly choking on his mouthful of beer. 

“Shit you are nothing like your brother, are you?” 

Turning to smirk at him, you respond, “I fucking well hope so.” 

Then Eddie's thoughts fly straight out the window when your hand lands on his chest, nails raking him through the fabric. Suddenly, the temperature of the room is stifling, or is it just the feel of your body against his? He reaches tentatively to cup your cheek, rubbing a calloused thumb on your chin, eyes boring into yours for confirmation. Breath hitches in your throat; you lean in closer, gaze flickering to his perfect mouth and back up. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me, Eddie?” 

You smirk, but it's wiped from your face immediately by his mouth smashing into yours. It's so forceful you have to fight to keep upright, hand fisting into his shirt as some sort of anchor. 

As you pull away, his eyes widen, wondering if he did something wrong. He looks like a little puppy. 

“Easy Eddie, we've got all night.” 

All night? Eddie has decided that he must have got hit on the head today. Maybe he was jumped after all, and now he's in a coma, playing out some elaborate fantasy. 

He settles back into the cushions, swigging his beer and failing to focus on the movie playing, his leg restlessly bouncing. 

You look perfectly at ease, knees curled up on the seat. What he doesn't know is that your heart is pumping blood so fast that you're starting to feel a little dizzy from it, purposefully slowing your breath to keep your calm. 

Once your beer is finished you've decided that enough is enough. A part of you wanted to take this slow; he seemed like such a nice guy, as well as being into your kind of music, and hot as sin. Unfortunately, it seems your pussy has other ideas, already banging its own heartbeat like a dinner bell. 

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He tries to make it sound casual, but he's wound so tight it's almost a strangled noise. Nursing a semi since he saw you in the woods earlier, now it's straining against his jeans in a futile attempt to be near you. 

He looks so damn nervous, and it gives you the confidence you need to swing your leg over his and straddle him. Eager hands land immediately on your hips, thumbs pressing hard to keep you there. 

This time, you lean in. Your kiss is fire, tongue burning hot and heavy in his mouth. Eddie groans into the kiss, rolling desperation from his mouth to yours. He's breathing so hard it's whistling through his nose, clouding your cheek with condensation. 

It almost feels like a competition, both tongues duelling, determined to unravel the other. Lips swollen and blood filled, your mouth tries to keep up with his, spit gathering at the edges. You'd be self conscious about it if you weren't so damn turned on. 

Eddie's hands roam all over, grasping at your ass under your skirt, slipping inside the thin material of your panties at the back, until he runs a thumb just next to your underwear but this time dangerously close to your sex. You moan onto his tongue, your own hands winding into his hair, pulling harshly to spur him on. 

He can't concentrate on the hard tingle your fingers cause to run all over his scalp, not when slips his fingers past the cotton barrier and he runs them up and down your slippery slit. Mind entirely encased in a pink fog of lust, you realise your mumbling in his mouth. 

“Please, please, please-” 

The corners of his mouth turn up at the sound, thumb seeking out your clit to rub circles on and around it, your arousal causing it to slip and slide. You're dizzy, hot all over, pussy aching for something inside. 

Eddie's obsessed with the feel of you, the heat emanating from your cunt, but most of all with the sounds you make. They'd be pornographic, if they weren't so fucking real. Needy, hoarse moans, peppered with little gasps and whimpers that are making his cock twitch with each slip of his thumb. 

Gliding a finger inside, he watches as your head rolls back, a strangled groan falling from your kiss bitten lips. You're practically riding his hand, bouncing your tits so close to his face that he's in a trance. As if you can hear his prayers, you pull your shirt off, fighting with the tight material until you can shake it off your arm. 

He sees the glimpse of a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a dagger directly in your cleavage, which he momentarily thinks is really hot, but then he's gone. Your bare chest is a masterpiece, perfect tits jostling with each bounce of your thighs. He latches his mouth to a nipple, tonguing and sucking on it like he needs it to breathe. In fact he almost forgets to, pulling his mouth off to take a gasping breath and latch onto the other. 

He drags his mouth away when he feels you tightening impossibly hard around his fingers and leans back just in time to see the show. Your climax is violent, grinding into his fingers hard and rough until suddenly you're screaming his name, nails breaking the skin of his neck as you cling on for dear life. Your release engulfs your body in a flash of fire, singeing each nerve and causing you to convulse in his grip. Eddie can barely move, his fingers straining hard to work you through your orgasm, so much so that the tendons of his arm hurt, but he doesn't care. He keeps on curling them until you physically grab his arm to still him. 

His dripping fingers are released with a sucking sound as he grins at you smugly. Not for long though, not with your chest heaving like that and the way you're biting your lip. You yank at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and relishing in the exposed skin by lathing your tongue over his collar bone. 

“Nice tats.” You breathe onto his skin between sucks and nips. 

“Same to you,” he stumbles out in a gasp as a particular sharp bite to his neck shoots a lightning bolt of heat down his spine. 

“You haven't seen all of them,” you reply, nibbling at his earlobe. 

He's never wanted to hunt for tattoos more in his whole life. 

“Fuck, you are a dream.” 

His teeth bite down on your shoulder and you whimper, grinding down on his rock hard bulge. Enveloping his lips in another urgent kiss, and another, until you can break away long enough for one word. 

“Bedroom?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ yes.” 

He stands, still holding you, knocking a beer bottle to the floor. You cling to him with your legs as he walks backwards, sending a table lamp flying in the process. It's inconsequential; your head is fighting through a cloud of need, nothing can find its way through but touch and taste. 

In the hallway, he slams your back into the wall, pressing you hard against it as he writhes his tongue in your mouth again. A picture frame falls, you just about hear the tinkling of glass but it's not important. That's tomorrow's problem. 

Unhooking yourself from his clutches for a moment, you drag him by the front of his jeans and yank him into a doorway, gasping for breath, grasping at flesh. You practically punch the lightswitch to turn it on, the thought that you need to see him just about making it through the horny mist. Once inside he barely has a chance to take in his surroundings before you're falling to your knees and undoing his belt with impatient fingers. 

“Woah, baby, you don't need to-” 

“Shut the fuck up Eddie I wanna blow you.” 

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and then compulsively strokes his neck just to keep some composure. If he thinks about your words for a second longer he's sure he'll bust right in his pants. 

You work his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down swiftly, his turgid cock flying free and whacking his stomach, decorating it with a pearl of precum. It feels heavy in your hands as you rub him up and down, watching the soft skin move with each pass, like silk wrapped around a steel bar. 

Taking him into your mouth, you twirl your tongue around his head, licking up its salty sweetness, sucking lightly. Eddie groans, torn between covering his eyes and holding you in place, so he does a bit of both, until you start taking him deeper and deeper without gagging. 

His eyes snap open to see you staring straight at him, nose nestling in his coarse pubic hair, eyes wide and wet and innocent, mouth stretched full of him, and he feels his balls tighten. 

“Fuck stop stop, please.” 

He practically bends in half to get you off of his dick. Giving him a smug smile of your own, you delicately wipe the spit gathered at the corners of your mouth with a thumb. 

“You OK there champ?” 

“You are gonna kill me sweetheart.” 

He's heaving, trying to control his breath, eyes darting from your face, to your bare chest and back up. Standing up, you unzip your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, leaving you in your tiny pink underwear with a very noticeable wet patch, and your thigh high socks. There's another tattoo hiding just out of sight, playing peekaboo over the top of your panties. 

Something about seeing you so innocent and yet so naughty flicks a switch in his brain. Before he can think he's pushing you backwards and you hit the mattress behind with a thud, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

Which is fucking perfect in Eddie's opinion because he needs to taste you right now otherwise he might die. 

You both fight to take your underwear off, but he covers your hand in his own when you start rolling your socks down. 

“No. Leave them on.” 

It's husky and dominant, a steely look behind those soft brown eyes you haven't seen yet. Well. Filing that away for reference. You lay there sweetly, propped up on your elbows to watch as his tongue squirms against you, making out with your cunt just as passionately as he kissed you. 

He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks and for a moment you can see God. 

“Holy fuck! Eddie!” He groans back, lost in the taste of your cunt. He wants to write a poem about it, a song, a fucking haiku, anything to immortalise the prettiest pussy with the sweetest flavour. 

“Eddie, get up here!” He's not listening, licking and sucking, almost getting as much pleasure as you are, but you need him inside you right now before you combust; you're sure of it. 

In the end you grab a chunk of his hair and pull him upward, sliding him over your trembling body, and you hold his face an inch from yours. 

“Eddie, I need you to fuck me, now.” 

His leaking tip is rubbing against your swollen clit; he takes it in his hand to line it up, when somewhere out of the pussy drunk haze he remembers something important. 

“Do you have protection?”

“I'm on the pill, is that-” 

It clearly is OK. It's possibly the best four words Eddie's ever heard. 

Your unfinished sentence morphs into a drawn out moan as Eddie pushes inside you, stretching you out until he's fully sheathed. As you whimper and whine at the feeling, Eddie stops, just for a moment, to hold your cheek and press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

For some reason that takes you entirely by surprise, eyes wide and wet at his honesty. 

“Yeah? You're really handsome, Eddie.” 

The smile he shoots you is warm and genuine, lighting up that animate face of his with an inner glow. You roll your hips upward and take joy in the fact that he wasn't expecting it, eyebrows knitting in shock as a litany of swear words spill from his mouth. 

Your smirk is short lived when he hikes your leg around his waist and starts thrusting devastatingly deep, so deep it's like he's in your guts trying to root out the source of the burning desire at the pit of your stomach. 

“Holy- oh God, Eddie!” 

Moaning loudly, you press hot, cushy kisses to him between your stream of noises, forehead resting on his. Eddie's smiling, he can't help it. Just the joy of being with you like this, the feel of you losing it because of him, and the tightness of your pretty cunt have him in paradise. 

“Feels- feels so- oh fuck- so good, inside you, sweetheart. So fuckin’ tight, I-I can feel you shaking, you close?” 

Words escape you. All you can do is cling to his back and nod, nails clawing into him with shivering intensity. Eddie thrusts into you harder; all you can do is cling on for your life, arms and legs nearly suffocating him. The telltale tingle of your release is nearly burning your skin, prickling over each downy hair making it stand on end. 

The heat is immense, tension gripping your legs as you quake, and writhe, and whimper, until your climax flies out of you, shooting out of every pore and forcing tears from your eyes. Your vision turns bright white for a moment, until all the tension leaves your muscles and you flop back on the bed. 

Eddie doesn't understand how you keep on getting hotter, but it doesn't matter. You let him inside of you, raw, and his head is still reeling from that. Each little sound, each flex of your constricting walls is pushing him to ecstasy; in fact he's staving it off so he can enjoy you like this for a little while longer. 

Getting up on his knees, he pulls you toward him by your thighs, guiding you to roll your hips as he pumps into you. This angle is so much better; he can see all of your incredible body laid out before him, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your small hand finds his forearm, just holding it lightly, as you whine. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” 

It's high pitched, mumbled and nearly incoherent. He's not even sure you know you're doing it, but it's what pushes him over the edge. He feels the tightness in his balls as his length grows impossibly hard.

“Sweetheart, where-” He manages through gritted teeth. 

“Please cum in me.”

Eddie's four new favourite words. He grips hard to your thighs, hard enough to bruise, as he groans and swears his release out. You feel it deep inside, throbbing out of him, when he finally collapses forward. You hold onto each other, tongues rolling into each other's mouths, kissing and kissing and kissing. You kiss until it hurts, until your mouth is chapped and sore, until you need air, and water. 

“Fuck, Eddie, that was… sorry, if I er, came on a bit, strong?” 

Eddie just laughs, pressing his body as tightly against yours as he can. 

“Please don't ever apologise for wanting to fuck my brains out.” 

You laugh, kissing his cheek.

“When you put it like that, fair enough. Right, get off me, I need to clean up.” 

“I can take care of you-”

“Yeah, and I'm a grown woman who needs to piss, so please?” 

You roll your wrists, flinging your hands in desperate circles. He surrenders, pulling off you and rolling onto his back, more than happy to watch your naked form sway out of the room. 

Eddie does a little wiggle dance when you leave the room, punching the air with glee. He starts looking at your room, since he had no time to see it earlier. There's a tin on the bedside table that looks remarkably similar to what he has at home, and an honest to goodness lava lamp next to it. Unable to help himself, he flicks it on at the plug, waiting for it to warm up. 

“Sweetheart, you mind if I roll?” He calls out. 

“Sure, my shits on the side table, just light the incense on the dresser.” 

Eddie seeks his boxers out and puts them on for his modesty, though it seems you may be a little, lacking, in that department. Not that he's complaining, far from it. He's obsessed with your demeanour, your confidence. 

Once the incense is lit, he rolls a joint, fussing over it to make sure it's perfect for you. Just as he pulls the little twisted paper end off, you walk back in. 

You'd taken the time to go to the restroom, clean yourself up, and find his t-shirt that was abandoned in the TV room. The hellfire logo is tight across your chest, the shirt barely covering your sex where you stand. The smile you shoot to him is absolutely smothered in sin. 

“That's, fuck, you do not play fair, sweetheart.” 

Eyes wide, eyebrows round and innocent, your mouth falls into a perfect o. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about baby.” 

Eddie can't speak. If he does, he'll give everything away. How wonderful you are, how that tightrope of dirty and sweet that you walk with ease twists his insides up. How he never wants to go home. 

Instead, he passes the unlit smoke to you, and holds out his zippo like a sacrificial offering. You sit side saddle on the bed, knees together, barely covering your throbbing core, as you take the rolled joint gratefully and spark it. Once you've had a few tokes you pass it back. 

“So, this was…” He widely gestures his arm, like it can encompass everything he's felt over the last few hours. 

“You wanna leave, Eddie?” You ask. A genuine question, cocking your head to the side, as he takes a few pulls of the smoke and hands it back. 

“I thought, well, I thought you'd want me to go.” 

“Eddie, I said we had all night. If you're done with me then-” 

“Oh, oh fuck no, I thought you'd be done with me!” 

You giggle and climb into his lap as he grasps at the flesh of your ass desperately. 

“Then stay. Stay with me.” 

Your mouth presses kisses to his jaw as your hand winds itself into his boxers, seeking out his hardening length. Eddie hisses through his teeth. 

“Fuck, I'll stay, as long as you fuckin’ want, w-whatever you want, Holy shit!” 

Laughing, you puff on the smoke with one hand, and tease him relentlessly with the other. 

For the second, third, or maybe even fourth time today, he's thinking he's in way over his head, but he can't find it in him to care. 

********************

Eddie blinks hard, squishing his eyes shut, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. There's still an unfamiliar fabric hanging on the ceiling in front of him; some rainbow tie dye mural with a painted mariguana leaf in the middle of it that he's never seen before. When he turns his head, he sees a lava lamp, still on, running bubbles of fake lava up it too loose and fast, and then he remembers. 

Flicking the switch to stop the lamp's heat, he turns over to see you. You're snuggled into the crook of your own elbow, face perfectly at ease. Your pretty mouth has the hint of a pout to it, daring him to plant a kiss. 

He wants to do something for you. Anything. Right now, he'd throw a parade, organise a concert to sing to your cunt, hold a benefit to make you believe how hard he's fallen for the colour of your eyes, but maybe making you a coffee in bed will do. 

So he wiggles out of bed in his boxers, and puts his jeans on for good measure in case your mom decides this is a good moment to turn up, and starts busying himself with the kitchen appliances. There's an ancient coffee maker that shakes and sputters to life. Whilst that is going on, he takes a slug of milk out of the carton in the fridge. 

That is, until he sees Dustin from the side of his eye. 

Dustin looks very confused. His eyes trail from the messed up couch cushions, to the beer bottles on the floor, the out of place lamp, and the broken picture frame, and finally land on Eddie, still bemused and befuddled. 

“Eddie… did you… break into my house?” 

Dustin clearly doesn't believe his own conclusion as his eyes scout across the available options and still come up empty. 

“Sup, Dust Buster!” 

Dustin swivels to see you exit your new bedroom, still wearing Eddie's hellfire t-shirt and a pair of panties. You perch nonchalantly on the kitchen side as Eddie grins, making his way between your knees. 

“You've got to be fucking kidding me! Eddie!” 

“Henderson, honest, I didn't know until-” 

“Until you were in my fucking house???” 

“OK fair, but it was a bit… late then. Sorry dude.” 

‘Sorry? What about the code?” Come on, she's my sister! And you!” He says, pointing at you accusingly, “you were in school for one day. One! Then you sleep with the one guy I look up to!” 

“The codes, more like… guidelines. Don't shit your pants, you've still got Harrington, Jeez.” 

“Well, you shouldn't be such a- a scarlet woman! A hussy!” 

Uncaring, you shake your head back and away, laughing at the names. Eddie, however, is not having any of it. 

“Hey, Henderson, you better show your sister some respect.” 

“Yeah? Or what?” He dares, forgetting who he's talking to. 

“I might be fucking your sister, but I'm still your DM. You want your green adventurers running into Tiamat next session?” 

The way he curves his lips, the confident stance he's giving, it stirs tiny fires in your gut and dares unthought of kinks to come out and play. 

“Alright, alright, don't TPK us, I'm leaving, alright?” 

Dustin turns on his heel. Before he disappears entirely, you make out the start of him begging, ‘Lucas, do you copy, I have a Code Red! Repeat! Code Red!” 

“so, what now, Dungeon Master?” 

“Mmph,” Eddie sounds out, low in his throat, “ whatever you want, scarlet woman.” 

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[qvrcll]

the little things they do — luffy, zoro, nami, usopp & sanji.

summary: what do they do that makes you tick? that makes your heart glide through your chest and fester at your throat? that makes you glissade through hell itself, for the pleasure that it brings?

warnings: slight tension but no nsfw, fluff, nothing too bad!

notes: i started binge watching op / opla recently and decided to give i a go at writing for them! literally could not stop my fingers from typing this out. i’m a little new to op, so i hope you enjoy nonetheless :-] i promise im working on another part of college melodrama! i just wanted to try something new to get the brain juices flowing <3

sanji — moves you by your waist

sanji is keen with his women, but with you, he’s even more so. he’s gentle with it, even if he doesn’t need to be, because you make him aberrantly nervous, yet vilely confident in his etiquette — and today just cements it. it’s a boring day, and that prompts you to keep yourself stationed in the kitchen, where the rest of the straw hats find their own circles to situate themselves in (pure boredom, much to sanji’s dismay). the space is overcrowding and you’re halfway into disputing something that luffy insists is true fact, when sanji’s mellow palms come to gripe gently, carefully, at your waist — “excuse me, beautiful,” he mouths, fiendish and close to tasting his teeth in a marvellous grin as he effortlessly moves you, gingerly in so many ways, so he can reach the cabinet. you stutter out some convoluted version of a yes, o-of course! … safe to say, you can barely pay much consideration to luffy’s rebuttal as the tepedity of the cook’s hands lay in repetitive, illusive strokes against your hips for more times than one to just consider it an act to retrieve spices from a cabinet.

zoro — has one hand in your back pocket

he’s silent, mischievous with his antics. the upper part of your brain warns you of his skepticism, his cruelly hard body, his thick cheek. but your heart buds violently under what you can only assume is his effect. and it’s only furthered, when you are too close to him for comfort in this mini-party the crew has going on atop the going merry. you spot him nodding off in the corner of your eye, barely even knowing of his current footing in his chair as he slumps off. you urge him to go to bed, to ditch the drinks and gain a full night’s rest. but he shakes his head stiffly, his rather large hand slinking into the back pocket of your pants, where it lays dormant and so, so close to squeezing. “stay. this way, i won’t lose you.” you fail to yelp, because every nerve has been short-wired. twisted. re-twisted. re-wired. you can only stand close, fluxing against the warmth of his palm in your back pocket, as the faintest of reds colour his cheeks. a smile is welcome.

luffy — hugs your waist

being a captain is luffy’s share of the burden that comes with his quest of finding the one piece. he swears its easier than he allows it, but his body is different on days like these. days when he’s laying, tired and inaccessible to his usual bouts of energy. days like these, you can’t navigate around his lethargy, that comes slow and unmoving, similar to his resolve. his arms are around you, tight and interlocking further like a snake, his face buried against your stomach as he uses you as a stationary pillow. and you try to remind him that there are things you need to resume, things you need to conduct on the going merry, but when you turn to move, excuse yourself, he tightens, and his nose brushes against the sensitive skin beneath your button up in a nimble attempt to get you to stay still. “mmm… five—no, ten more minutes… i promise.”

nami — rests her head in the crook of your neck

it’s not an easy job sorting the day’s itinerary into tidy, little boxes and shelves, whilst the boat rocks to a cathartic beat around you. nami is here, to help you, but you are unable to shake off the tension wearing you down. your skin feels like paper and the bottom side of your shoes are sticky with sea water and your hands feel like rubber. you could rival luffy. it makes you feel awful, gets you hot and antsy so quickly, that nami blinks twice. of course, you apologise. you always have. but nami gets the directive before you do, and she reaches forward to hug you close to her chest. her nose tickles your neck and the space is living with her breath — the crook of your neck. “how about we stay like this for a bit, hm?” it’s more for your own means to find ground amongst your frustrations, to help you calm down, but nami has always loved being close to you. she always has.

usopp — holds you close to protect you

the great captain usopp. mighty warrior of the sea. well, not the great when the sea is colliding into rows of wood at maximum speed, which rocks the entire great vessel. you try to be less of a deterrence, try to find your own standing in the room you’re in with usopp, but your body is thrown across the room in one fell swoop, where you meet halfway into usopp’s chest. there’s a messy string of syllables that leave your lips, a creaky apology as you try to maintain some space between you (for the sake of your enervated heart), but he’s quicker. an ability derived from his sharp-shooter skills, you’re sure. his arm wraps around your waist and he allows you to crowd his chest. allows you to hold him like a pillar against the raging sea when it sends a rather alarming rock to the ship. “hold on tight — you’ve got nothing to worry about with captain usopp here. you hear?”

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

BABY GIRL

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson likes to keep you doped up for both of your safety.

Warnings - Non-con, dub-con, drugging, manipulation, degrading, p in v, edging.

Word count - 1.9k+

Notes - Guess who wanted to work on one of her WIP's but decided to watch Red Eye and just had to write another one about my favourite boy.

You laid on the bed, completely naked against his body, he only wore his boxers, your left leg draped over his hips, his hand slowly caressing your back as your face was pressed up against his lean bare chest. 

The audio of the television was muffled, your sight blurred as you slowly breathed in and out. The sheets were hardly covering your flesh, but you were too dazed to pay attention to it. The sensation of his large fingers caressing your tender skin was enough to earn gentle moans from your soft lips. His cold blue eyes watched you like a hawk. Almost skeptical that you would commence a ploy against him, despite your doped state. 

Jackson Rippner was fascinated by you. The moment he saw you, he knew that you would be his. It was unfortunate with the circumstances you met under. Star crossed lovers in his opinion, a bit of a spiced uniqueness to your relationship.  

You were assigned to investigate him for terrorism. Many times you were warned about your high levels of ambition, your eagerness put you in danger. But you were always too stubborn to listen to your superiors. 

“Jackson” you murmured against his chest, almost drooling. He sighed lightly, his hand rubbing circles around your lower back. 

“Yes baby?” He asked softly, there was silence for a brief moment. Jackson waited patiently for you to respond as you raised your heavy head. 

“Are you going to keep me drugged up forever” you slowly questioned, your eyes ached to stay open, your thoughts blurred with sweet nothings. 

There was this blank, emotionless stare from him. As he was questioning himself, he really did wonder what he’d do with you in the long run. The thought of him keeping you mindless for the rest of your days made the blood rush to his cock. Only being mentally capable to muse the thought of him touching, fucking, loving you. 

But then he also wanted to take you out for an expensive dinner, vacate at a ski resort, hold you from behind as you cook him a loving homemade meal. Jackson never considered himself a romantic, but different people create a better you. The idea of having a life as one together made his heart flutter. 

“No baby girl” he answered eventually. 

“When will you stop” you breathed out, a small smile on your lips, a thread of hope. There was a small grin on his lips as his hands gently rubbed your hips. 

“When I know you’ll be a good girl for me” Jackson mocked, pulling you completely over his hips to saddle him. 

“I am a good girl” you countered, your head felt heavy yet your thoughts light. 

“Because you’re drugged up” he laughed softly, his large hand caressing your cheek as your face fell limp on him. 

“Touché” you snorted and he patted your cheek a couple of times. Sluggestly, you lifted your head back up, looking at him with innocent eyes. “Please sir, I promise to be good” you assured, but your small smile was all so devilish. 

That title always got the blood flowing to his cock. You could already feel his size growing underneath you. 

“Really? You cross your heart, hope to die, type of promise?” Jackson razzed, flashing you a toothy grin as his fingers slowly moved closer to your core.

“Yes sir” you promised, batting your eyes towards him. 

“Oh baby girl, how can I be so sure?” He toyed, titling his head to you. 

The scratches on his face were faint. Whenever he sobered you up, you were quick to get in every shot you could at him. However, you were foolish not to carefully plan out your scheme to escape, or as you preferred to do, attempting to kill him. 

“Because I love you cock Jacky” you moaned, his fingers toying with your clit. 

Within a blink, Jackson had flipped you onto your back. Holding your throat down against the mattress and huffing, flaring his teeth at you. “What did I tell you?” He snarled, his thumb rubbing over your chin.  

“You hate being called Jacky” you choked out, but you were still grinning at him. 

“And I thought you wanted to be a good girl” he pouted to you. 

“I do” you almost sang, coughing at the restriction to your throat. 

“Fix your mistake then” Jackson ordered calmly. 

“Because I love your cock, sir” you choked out, emphasizing the correction. With the release of your throat, Jackson sighed. 

“That’s a good whore” Jacksont grinned at you, flexing his hips forward. You pouted to him. “My good whore” he corrected himself, dropping his lips onto your neck.

It was pointless, trying to deny the sensation Jackson always brought over your body. It was too much effort to try to hide the pleasure he always bathed you in. 

This is where you belonged, underneath him, figuratively and literally. 

In small circular motions, his tongue swished over your heated skin, his hands ran slowly up and down your torso, his fingers playfully scratching at your nerves, his stubble tickled you. Your arms gradually enveloped around his back, your fingernails scraping at his skin lightly. 

“I’ll always take care of you baby girl. You know that right?” Jackson asked as he pushed his boxers down enough to free his throbbing length. 

“Yes, Jackson” you breathed out, laying your head back carelessly. 

“Could have gotten you killed, interfering with my business, like a little fucking brat. But I saved you…” Jackson grinned as he lined himself up with your gushing entrance.  

“No Jackson” you shook your head, moaning out softly as he gently pushed himself inside of you. 

“Who are you lying to?” Jackson snorted as he rested himself completely inside of our canal.

“This isn’t living” you countered, your hands rising up to the back of his neck, your legs raising up to your hips in unison.

Jackson couldn’t help but to laugh as his hips snapped back and forward. His lower lip was stuck in between his teeth as he searched for the perfect pace and speed.

“For someone who is constantly high, you sure as hell are conscious” he remarked, his hands holding onto your sides.

“I was always smarter than you” you murmured, biting onto your lower lip. 

Jackson laughed gently as his teeth nipped at your earlobe. 

“Yet look at where you are now. Be my good girl, I want to spoil you rotten. Don’t you want those things?” He toyed, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bud. 

“Yes Jackson” you answered emotionlessly. 

Most of the time it was easier to give him what he wanted, your complete submission. You were always so weak, tired, feeling out of body. The effect his touch had on your body was the biggest punishment. If you weren’t always so high, you’d be heavily humiliated with how badly you craved him. The control he had over your body was frightening, he was your puppeteer, always pulling on your strings despite how desperately you tried to cut yourself free. 

“I want to give you the world” he professed as he found the perfect rhythm to fuck you to. 

“I want to kill you” you whined out, face twitching as the high stimulation took over full steam ahead.

“No you don’t, you could never do such a thing” he mumbled, his hands pinning yours above your head. 

“But I’ve tried” you groaned as he hit your cervix. 

“And that’s okay” he assured you, kissing you in a sloppy manner as if to comfort your distressed thoughts. “You’re learning to be my good girl, yeah?” Jackson asked, teasing your bundle of nerves as he kept your pleasure swimming by the edge. 

“Yes Jackson” you shamefully admitted, your eyes swelled with tears as his thrusts became more painful. 

His mouth fell open into a large smirk at the sight of you crying. It was one of his favorite looks of yours. Over mere seconds, your tears formed into a stream as you sobbed underneath him. The clarity of your predicament washed over you once more. 

“Yeah, you’re so fucking pathetic. Acting like a tough, stuck up bitch. But you’re nothing but a little whore for cock, my cock to be precise” he grunted, feeling your walls clench around his throbbing size.

The sounds of your troubled moans always felt like a melody to him. The mixture between your logical and sensual thoughts left you in shame. Jackson kissed you deeply, your mouth was wide open but you refused to kiss him back. The taste of your tears made him growl like a wolf.

“Fuck, your director would be so disappointed in you. Everyone thinks you’re fucking dead. So get the stupid thoughts of breaking free out of that little mind of yours” he sneered, his free hand holding your chin in place as you tried to turn your head to the side. 

“Stop talking Jackson” you whimpered, desperately trying to focus on the pleasure and not his taunting words. 

“No one is looking for you. I have no tails, nobody cares about me. Only you did, you felt it too from the beginning, just like I did, our connection” he grinned as his balls slapped against your entrance. 

“Shut up Jackson” you whined as you felt your climax build. 

But Jackson loved watching you cry. It was amusing to watch your emotional strength crash, it was pleasing to look at your humiliation. A wonderful reminder of how reliable you are on him. Jackson loved to pull your strings around, to keep you on your hands and knees as he yanked you across the dirt. 

“Bet you wanted me to steal you away from your useless life. Now your biggest stress is wondering how many times you’ll get to squeeze my cock each day” he moaned out, kissing your tears away. 

“Shut the fuck up Jackson!” You screamed out as loud as you could, your weak body thrashed under him but it quickly left you exhausted. 

“Someone’s getting sober” Jackson pointed out with a grin, holding you down effortlessly. “Might just keep you tied up instead, I like your screams” he winked to you. 

“Please stop, please, please” you begged repetitively as he continued to fuck you senselessly. 

“Then tell me what I want to hear” he sighed, his hand combing back his damp hair from the sweat that trailed down his forehead.

“N-no” you shook your head, you could feel him twitch rapidly inside of you.  

You knew exactly what he wanted you to say. It was the thing you hated doing most. He always wanted you to say it when you were so close to finishing. 

“Please” he toyed, playfully begging you as he kept your built orgasm dangling from the edge.  

“Come on baby girl, make me feel good” he grunted as he smacked your rear. 

There was another weak shake of your head so Jackson held his body still inside of you. Pathetically, just like he always described you as, you whined out at the pressure built in your core. All you wanted to do right now was come undone, feel something good in this torture. But Jackson stared at you sternly, menacingly. His hands pressed down on your hips as you tried to rock yourself around him. 

“I-I love you” you admitted, your cheeks beet red. 

Instead of fucking you senselessly like you assumed he would. Jackson pulled himself out and jerked himself over you. Quickly, his white ropes of semen sprayed over your sweaty stomach. You panted, looking at the mess he made on you as your distressed expression made him chuckle silently. 

“I love you too” he replied blankly. 

As you caught your weak breath, Jackson laid his body on top of yours, his fingers touched your sensitive core, gently teasing you. You moaned out, ready to do anything to free yourself of your painful climax. 

“But so, drugged or tied?” Jackson cocked an eyebrow to you.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 ⟡ 𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜' 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1.3k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, slightly anxious!reader, not proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: i hate seafood but i keep putting it on my fictional restaurants menu ? kept this one pretty simple so i could get it out there <3

"Crab cakes, go." James says, eyes darting up from the menu he's holding to look at you from across the rickety staff room table.

You don't miss a beat, describing the dish as you would to a customer, "The crab cakes are one of our most popular appetizers. They're pan seared and served with sofrito escabeche, a zesty blend of onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes—so I highly recommend them if you're looking for something tangy—and they have a to die for berbere aioli drizzle."

"Tell me more about the berbere aioli. What is that?" James questions, playing the part of a curious customer.

"The berbere aioli is a spicy-chili sauce that I'd say is just shy of medium in terms of spice level. It complements the crab cakes really well, but you could always order it on the side if you're not too sure about it."

"That's my girl," James praises, "You're a quick learner, you know that?"

"I don't know about that," you protest, looking down at your hands that lay politely folded on the table in front of you. You try to mentally will yourself not to blush at James' approval.

"It's barely over a week since you started and you know this thing like the back of your hand," James argues, gently tossing the menu down as he leans back in his chair, "And there's so little time to sit and study here."

You have a funny look on your face when you meet James' eyes again, eliciting a gasp from him.

"You've been studying the menu outside of work, haven't you?" he squints, speaking in an accusatory tone.

"Shouldn't I?" you ask, and the fact that it's a genuine question has James clutching his chest over his heart.

"No! You never think about work unless you're getting paid!"

"How else am I supposed to learn this whole menu in a timely manner?" you cross your arms defensively.

"Who said anything about a timely manner, Love. I was weeks out of training before I had the whole thing down."

"Yeah, well you're more..." you trail off, trying to find the words.

"More what?" James is quick to sound defensive.

You put your hands up as a sign of innocence, "Just laid back. You're a go with the flow kind of guy. As opposed to me, who's more-"

James interjects, "Stuck in your head," nodding along without a doubt that that's what you were going to say.

You look at James, a bit of surprise and alarm swirling around in the pit of your stomach. He was spot on, but how could he possibly be? He barely knows you, after all.

"What?" James seems to sense your confusion, "I've noticed the turmoil in those eyes of yours. You're doing it right now."

You look bashful, so James graciously changes the subject.

"Whatever, just promise me you won't ever think about this place when you're off the clock again!"

"Promise," you agree, despite his request being impossible.

For whatever reason, your mind seems to always be on work. Not even in a stressed, overthinking way like you'd expect from yourself. It seemed to be little random tidbits from work infiltrating your mind throughout your days. Like sometimes, you randomly think of a joke James said once. Or you see something funny and want to show it to him. Or you think about how nice James is when you mess something up.

Okay, maybe they're not so random after all.

"What're you thinking about?" James interrupts your thoughts.

Just as you're about to start stammering through an excuse, Mary pops her head into the room.

"There you guys are!" she says, "I just sat you guys. Table six."

"Thanks, Mary. We'll be right there." James responds.

"I had Peter bring them some waters because I couldn't find you guys for a while—oh, he's back today by the way, did you know?" Mary asks, but doesn't stick around for James to answer, "I have to get back. Table six, guys!" Her voice echoes the reminder as she's already disappeared from your sights.

James shakes his head at her, amused by the way she jumps from one thing to the next without taking a breath.

"Peter?" you question as you and James begin to stand from the table.

"Yeah, he does bussing and some food running, a helping hand for us servers, really. He was on vacation." James explains as you follow him out into the dining room.

Your eyes fall on table six, a table for two that beholds two kind looking older ladies.

"You think you can handle this?" James juts his chin in their direction.

"Yeah," you say confidently. You have already taken the lead on some tables while James supervised. So far, it's been going well. Your first table you had to ask James to help answer some questions—maybe that's why you wanted to learn the menu so quick, it made you feel sheepish—but after that one time, James hasn't had any notes.

"Alright, I'm gonna check on our other tables then."

"Wait," you gave yourself whiplash with the way you craned your neck swiftly to look at him, "You meant handle it alone?"

"Yeah," James looks down at you reassuringly, his eyes filled with warmth, "You can do it."

"Uhh-? No, what if I-"

"Get out of that pretty little head of yours," he interrupts, "You've got this."

The sincerity in his tone incited a bit of confidence in you.

"Okay, okay. Okay sure," your shaky voice became a little more steady with each word, and you started walking to the table.

"Wait!" James carefully takes hold of your wrist. The progress you had made in easing your nerves is out the window.

"You'll need this," James slides his server book out from his apron and held it out to you.

"Right," you say quietly, smiling as you took it from him.

His hand fell from your wrist as he bid you good luck. He watches you for a moment as you greet the table, a proud gleam in his eyes.

Marlene appears beside James, a tray of waters and soft drinks balancing on her palm, "Your girl's taking orders on her own now?"

"Just the one table for today," James replies.

Marlene hums approvingly and saunters off to deliver the drinks.

James registers her words only when she's already left, "Wait, my who now?" he asks the wall.

His furrowed brows relax as he decides he kind of likes the sound of it.

After checking on your other tables, getting refills and putting new food orders in, James notices a congregation of his coworkers at the host stand so he decides to join in.

"Who's that?" Peter asks, swinging a rag over his shoulder.

Lily follows Peter's gaze to you, who's delivering some bread and butter to table six.

"James' girl?" Lily questions, "She started last week, she's been doing pretty well so far I think."

"Any reason in particular we're calling her that?" James decides to ask on his approach, having heard that phrase twice in under ten minutes.

"Ah, well, she hardly talks to anyone else." Marlene drawls.

"Eh, she's just a bit skittish," James provides an excuse for you, "it's kind of cute."

Lily and Mary share a look.

James continues, "She'll get used to you guys soon enough, just be nice." He really only says the last part to Marlene.

"I am nice," she defends.

"Well, you're not mean," Mary offers and Marlene scowls at her.

James chuckles, and turns to Peter, "How 'ave you been, mate?"

Peter opens his mouth to share details of his vacation, but he's interrupted.

"What are you all doing up here?" Nate hisses, appearing suddenly as if out of thin air, "You know how bad it looks for nearly my entire staff to be slacking off in the front of the restaurant?"

Before anyone can disperse or defend themselves, Nate continues, "And you're supposed to be training, Potter. Where's your girl?"

"Me?" your choked voice rings from behind him.

Everyone peers over at you, standing there shellshocked and blushing with a pitcher of water in your hands.

[novaursa]

Chasing the Inferno

- Summary:  It was during Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s wedding feast, that the king noticed something he was blind to for far too long.

- Paring: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

This whole work is inspired by this brilliant anonymous ask:

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has striking resemblance to her late grandmother Alyssa and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. These events happen after The Flames We Hide. To read all the chapters in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 532

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The evening air carries the scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh flowers into the grand hall, mingling with the vibrant sounds of revelry. The hall is a living tapestry of silks, banners, and candlelight, casting everything in hues of crimson and gold. A sea of finely dressed lords and ladies flows beneath the arched ceiling, the thrumming heart of the grand wedding feast of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

You arrive with the grace and splendor expected of a Targaryen princess, a vision that commands the attention of every eye that lands on you. The dress you wear is a rich deep plum, the color of ripened plums at dusk, lined with golden thread that shimmers in the light. The sleeves are long and bell-shaped, flowing with each movement, while the bodice is tightly laced with intricate embroidery of dragons in flight. Around your neck, a delicate chain bears a pendant of a dragon curled around a glittering ruby—a gift from your father. Your silver hair is braided in intricate patterns, falling down your back with hints of shimmering ribbons intertwined through each strand. 

You sit beside Rhaenyra at the high table, your twin sister glowing with happiness under her finely woven veil. She leans toward you with a playful smirk. “I see you’ve decided to steal the attention for yourself tonight, Y/N. Not even the newlywed princess is safe from your charms.”

You laugh softly, returning her smirk. “It’s not stealing, dearest sister, merely borrowing for the evening.” Your eyes flick toward the bustling crowd, scanning the faces, seeking a particular one even as you engage in idle conversation.

You find him across the hall—Ser Harwin Strong, the Breakbones, the man who has captured your heart in ways you would never openly admit. His broad shoulders and easy smile cut a striking figure amidst the revelers. He leans against a pillar, eyes fixed on you with a heat that makes your pulse quicken. Even from here, you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the unspoken challenge in those dark eyes. A smirk pulls at your lips. Tonight is not just about celebrating your sister’s marriage—it is a dance, a game of fire and shadow that you and Harwin have played many times before.

As the feast progresses, the lords and ladies rise from their seats, drawn to the center of the hall where the dancing begins. You stand, gracefully gliding down the steps, the train of your gown trailing like liquid night behind you. Many lords vie for your attention, each more eager than the last to have the honor of a dance with the daughter of the King.

You indulge them—one by one, offering your hand with a practiced smile that promises nothing but amusement. Lord Beesbury twirls you first, his steps light but unremarkable. Lord Tyrell is next, his flattery sweet yet forgettable. Each time the music swells, you shift, gliding seamlessly into the arms of another suitor, all while casting sly glances over your shoulder to see if Harwin is watching.

And he is. His eyes never leave you, following every step, every spin, the set of his jaw tightening each time you turn away just as he moves closer. You can feel his impatience building like a storm, the tension of the game heightening with every dance.

Finally, after what feels like endless teasing, you find yourself caught in a whirl of movement, spinning until you are only steps away from him. Harwin’s expression is a mix of hunger and frustration as he makes his move to claim you at last.

But just as his hand reaches for yours, you slip away, turning instead into the arms of a young knight from the Westerlands, offering him a dazzling smile that is only for show. “My, Ser Harwin, are you growing weary of this dance already?” you tease, your voice lilting as you catch his gaze. You can see the fire in his eyes, a silent vow that he will not let you slip away so easily next time.

When the dance ends, the Westerlander knight bows low, eyes filled with admiration as he releases you. And as you turn, Harwin is there—closer than before, a step ahead of any other. This time, you do not pull away when his hand grasps yours, his grip firm and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, rough with suppressed desire, as he murmurs into your ear. “Do you truly believe you can keep running from me, Y/N?”

You tilt your head, lips curving into a smirk as you meet his gaze fully, violet and brown heat clashing. “Run, Ser Harwin? I am only leading the chase.”

Without giving him the satisfaction of a response, you spin away from him, the hem of your dress sweeping across the floor as you are swallowed back into the crowd. You glance back over your shoulder just long enough to catch the frustration in his expression before disappearing into the throng of lords and ladies once more. Harwin will catch you like he always does—of that you have no doubt. The thrill is in making him work for it.

But for now, the game continues, and you savor every moment of it.

The night is young, and so are you—dragon-blooded and bold, playing with fire and reveling in the heat that comes with it.

The music swells, a lively tune that fills the hall with mirth and energy, but it does little to settle the unease that creeps into King Viserys’ chest. Seated at the high table, he holds a goblet of wine, though he has barely touched it. His gaze drifts from one side of the room to the other, watching the mingling guests, the lords and ladies spinning in intricate dances. Yet his eyes keep returning to the center of the hall, where Rhaenyra and Daemon move together with a fluid grace that borders on impropriety.

His brow furrows as he watches them—his daughter and his brother. The distance between them is too narrow, the smiles exchanged too familiar. Even now, after all these years, Viserys cannot fully discern what lies behind those shared glances. His hand tightens on the armrest of his seat, his knuckles whitening with the effort to maintain composure. The court is watching; he cannot afford to let his concerns show. Not here. Not tonight.

But then, from the corner of his eye, something else catches his attention—a flash of deep plum silk, a braid of silver hair glinting in the candlelight. His eyes shift, narrowing as he tracks the movement, and there you are, his younger daughter, Y/N, weaving through the crowd with that same effortless grace, the very image of your late mother Alyssa in her youth.

Viserys watches as you glide from one partner to the next, a playful smile ever present on your lips. Each lord who steps forward is charmed, entranced even, but there is one figure whose presence never strays far from your orbit—Ser Harwin Strong. The son of his current Hand, a man known for his strength and loyalty, but also for the intensity of his gaze, a gaze that now rests solely on you. 

Viserys leans forward slightly, frowning as he observes the exchange unfolding before him. Harwin moves closer, clearly intent on catching you, and you—ever the playful one—tease him with fleeting glances, spinning just out of his reach each time he draws near. The way your eyes gleam with mischief, the way you turn your back only to glance over your shoulder at him, invites more than just a dance. It’s a game, and one that is all too familiar to Viserys, who remembers his own youth, and the thrill of such pursuits.

But then Harwin catches you. His large hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, closer than what is proper for a dance in front of the entire court. Your laughter rings out like silver bells, light and teasing as you push back against him, yet the way Harwin’s hand lingers—fingers splayed possessively against the silk of your gown—does not escape your father’s notice. The look on Harwin’s face is far too unguarded, a mixture of admiration and longing that sends a jolt of concern racing through Viserys.

Viserys’ chest tightens as he watches you lean in, saying something that makes Harwin’s smile sharpen, though the words are lost to the music and laughter that fills the hall. Then, just as quickly as he caught you, you slip away again, your skirts swirling as you twirl out of his grasp, leaving Harwin standing in the middle of the floor with a look of mingled frustration and desire. The scene plays out before Viserys like a vivid memory, like something he should have noticed sooner, something he should have acted upon long before tonight.

His eyes narrow as he follows the thread of events with growing unease. You laugh and dance your way out of the hall, light-footed and swift, and though Harwin remains behind for a few moments, his gaze tracks you with the keen eye of a falcon. Then, as discreetly as he can manage, Harwin moves toward the exit, following you.

Viserys’ grip on his goblet tightens until he fears it might shatter in his hand. He remains rooted to his seat, unwilling to cause a scene, yet the implications churn in his mind like a dark tide. The daughter who bears his blood, a Targaryen of pure lineage, slipping away with the son of his Hand? It is unthinkable—and yet, Viserys cannot ignore the undeniable connection between the two of you. The way you moved in tandem, how easily you played off one another as if you were two parts of a whole. It stirs something in Viserys, a deep-seated dread that this could lead to something more—something he has not prepared for.

His gaze shifts, and he meets the eyes of Lord Lyonel Strong. The Hand is seated farther down the table, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as though he too is aware of the precarious position his son is placing him in. When their eyes lock, Viserys does not miss the brief flash of unease in Lyonel’s expression, followed quickly by a nod of acknowledgment, as if to say he understands what Viserys is thinking. And, undoubtedly, he does.

The memory rushes back, clear as day—months ago, when Lyonel Strong came to him with a proposition a second time. “Your Grace,” Lyonel had said, his voice steady and filled with the gravity of a man who understood the weight of his words, “there are many fine matches to be made for your daughter, Y/N, from prominent houses across the realm. But I would humbly suggest that what my son Harwin offers may be worth more than mere lineage. His devotion to the princess is unwavering, and his love is without question. He would be a husband who honors her above all else, a union built on something deeper than mere alliances.”

At the time, Viserys had dismissed the notion—politely, but firmly. His daughter was a Targaryen, and surely she deserved a match that would strengthen their house politically, not merely satisfy matters of the heart. Yet now, watching the scene unfold before him, Viserys finds himself second-guessing his decision. Could there be merit in such a match after all? Could Lyonel’s words hold more truth than Viserys had been willing to see? But then again, to allow such a thing would be to acknowledge a love affair that has clearly grown far beyond simple courtly affection.

Viserys’ thoughts whirl, torn between the duty of a king and the love of a father. He knows that if he raises the matter now, it could cast a shadow over the entire evening, drawing unwelcome attention to something that should remain hidden, if only for the sake of peace. And yet, can he afford to remain silent, knowing the path that such unchecked desire could lead his daughter down? His gaze flicks back to the entrance where you vanished, and a part of him itches to rise from his seat, to go after you and demand answers.

But he stays rooted in place, forced into inaction by the eyes of the court and the weight of his crown. Instead, his gaze returns to Lyonel, and he sees the older man swallow nervously before looking away, clearly wishing to be anywhere else. The tension between them is palpable, unspoken yet undeniable.

Viserys takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The decision he makes next could have lasting consequences, for both you and the realm. As the music swells and the laughter of the court continues around him, the king’s mind churns, trapped in a web of duty, love, and fear.

For now, he decides to wait—he will watch, and if Harwin oversteps again, then the matter will be brought to light. But the seed of doubt has already taken root in Viserys’ heart, and it will not be easily dismissed.

The night is long, but Viserys’ thoughts are longer still.

You slip through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your heart thrumming in your chest as you make your way deeper into its shadowed recesses. The sound of music and laughter fades behind you as you reach a secluded passage, hidden away from the eyes of the court. This path is familiar, a secret shared only between the two of you. You’ve met here before, during stolen moments when the weight of duty and the eyes of others became too much to bear. The flickering torchlight casts long shadows along the stone walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality. Yet there is nothing dreamlike about the tension that crackles in the air as you wait, anticipation coiling like a serpent beneath your skin.

Footsteps echo faintly down the passage, the heavy tread unmistakable. A smirk tugs at your lips as you press your back against the cool stone, the thrill of the chase still buzzing in your veins. He always catches you in the end; it’s a part of the game, a part of the dance you both know so well. You hear him approach, his steps purposeful, a hunter closing in on his prey. You hold your breath, relishing the thrill of being caught, knowing what comes next.

And then he’s there—Ser Harwin Strong, towering and fierce, the firelight casting sharp angles across his rugged features. He looks at you with that smoldering gaze, dark and intense, his chest heaving as he closes the distance between you. “You run from me as if you ever wanted to get away,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You don’t reply with words, only a wicked smile that dares him to come closer. And he does, with a predatory grace, until his body is pressed against yours, trapping you between the stone wall and his broad chest. “Caught you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, one hand sliding up to cradle your jaw while the other grips your waist possessively.

Before you can retort, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s all fire and hunger, the pent-up tension of the night spilling over as he devours you with a need that’s impossible to hide. You kiss him back with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his dark curls as you pull him closer, desperate to close the distance that’s been kept between you all night. Every touch, every bite and nip, is laced with the emotions you can’t express openly—a love too dangerous to voice in the light of day, but undeniable in moments like this.

Harwin’s hands roam over your body with a familiarity that sends heat pooling in your core. He tugs at the laces of your gown, his fingers rough but practiced, until the fabric loosens and falls away, exposing the soft skin of your neck and shoulders. You gasp against his lips as he nips at your throat, the scrape of his teeth drawing a moan from your lips. His own garments follow suit—his tunic and belt discarded hastily, the sound of cloth hitting stone echoing faintly in the small space.

The air between you crackles with a desperate need, the kind that’s built up over countless stolen moments, secret touches, and longing glances. There’s no pretense here, no titles or duties—only the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Harwin’s hands slide down your waist, gripping your hips firmly as he lifts you, pressing you harder against the wall. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, gasping as you feel him against you, hard and ready. The anticipation coils tightly in your belly, every nerve alive with want.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment, and in them, you see everything he can’t say aloud—devotion, desire, and the promise that he would burn the world for you if you asked. But words are unnecessary now. You reach down, guiding him until he’s pressed right where you need him most. There’s a brief, charged pause—a moment where everything hangs on the edge—and then he pushes into you in one smooth, powerful motion.

The world tilts, pleasure and need blurring everything else as he sets a rhythm, hard and fast, the way he knows you both like it. It’s familiar and yet never loses its edge—each thrust, each gasp, sending sparks of electricity through you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on the rough skin to muffle your cries, while his own growls of pleasure vibrate against your ear. His hands grip you tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as he moves, driving into you with a force that leaves you breathless.

But it’s not just the physical pleasure that binds you in this moment. It’s the intimacy, the shared understanding that this is where you both belong—together, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. Here, you are not a princess, and he is not merely the son of the Hand. Here, you are simply two people who have found something rare and precious, something that defies the rules of the world you live in.

He kisses you again, slower this time, a searing heat beneath the tenderness as he deepens the connection between you. Your bodies move in sync, finding that perfect rhythm that drives you both higher, closer to the edge. You can feel it building, a tightening coil of pleasure that threatens to snap at any moment. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, a desperate plea, and he responds with your name in kind, low and reverent.

The world narrows to just the two of you—the heat of his body, the rough press of stone at your back, the intoxicating scent of sweat and desire. And then, with one final thrust, the tension breaks, pleasure crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in bliss. Harwin follows a heartbeat later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buries himself deep, his body trembling with the force of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the air thick with the aftermath of your passion. You stay entwined, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath, your heartbeats slowing in tandem. His hands are still on you, holding you as if he’s afraid you might slip away even now. And for a moment, the world is quiet, all worries and responsibilities forgotten in the haze of sated desire.

But reality is never far away. Slowly, you both come back to yourselves, and he reluctantly pulls back, letting you slide down until your feet touch the ground once more. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, a wish that this moment could last longer, but he says nothing as he helps you adjust your gown, his touch gentle now.

You smooth down your skirts, fixing your hair with a practiced ease, though the flush of your skin and the brightness in your eyes would give you away to anyone who looked closely enough. Harwin lingers, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a soft, almost reverent caress. “You always make me chase you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fondness.“

And you always catch me,” you reply, the smile on your lips tinged with affection. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the chase.”

He chuckles, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze as he cups your face in his hands, holding you still for a moment longer. “One day, I won’t let you run again,” he says quietly, the promise heavy in the air.

You don’t answer, not with words. Instead, you lean up to kiss him one last time, slow and lingering, tasting the bittersweet mix of what you have and what you cannot yet fully claim. When you pull away, you give him a final smile before slipping out of the shadows and back into the world where duty and decorum await.

Harwin remains behind, watching you go with a look that holds both longing and resolve. He knows this is far from over.

[ink-perfect]

whisked (off your feet)

you wake up far too early, to the sight of sanji baking pancakes. soon enough, however, your silent observation turns into a cooking lesson that feels like something more…

sanji was in the kitchen, quietly moving between pots and pans, and you couldn’t help but watch him. it was early, the kind of early where the stars were still fading from the sky, and the rest of the crew was still lost in their dreams. but not you. you had woken up to the soft sound of someone humming, a familiar voice, warm and low, and you found yourself following it like a trail of breadcrumbs.

you peeked around the doorway and saw him there, in his element, the golden light of the stove casting soft shadows across his face. he didn’t notice you at first; he was too focused, too intent on whatever delicious creation he was crafting. you watched as he carefully flipped a pancake, his lips quirking up in that little smile he wore when he was pleased with his work. you couldn’t help but smile too. it was like he was in his own little world.

then, without warning, he glanced up, and his eyes met yours. his smile grew wider, warmer, like the morning sun breaking through the clouds.

“couldn’t sleep, princess?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing.

you shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “yeah...or maybe i just couldn’t resist the smell of whatever you’re making.”

his grin turned a bit more mischievous. “lucky for you, breakfast is almost ready.” he motioned for you to come closer, and you took a step into the kitchen, feeling the warmth of the room wrap around you.

“want to help, dear?” he asked, holding out a whisk. you hesitated for a moment, then took it, your fingers brushing against his. his touch was gentle, lingering just a bit too long, and your heart did a funny little flip.

“only if you promise to teach me your secrets,” you replied, trying to sound light, but there was something in his gaze that made your cheeks feel warm.

“oh, i’ve got plenty of secrets to share.” he said, leaning in just a little, his voice low and soft. “but only if you’re ready to learn.”

sanji watched you take the whisk, his smile softening into something warmer, something that made your chest feel tight in the best way. you stirred the batter, trying to keep your hands steady, but you could feel his gaze on you, the way he seemed to be paying attention to every little thing you did, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“like this,” he said, stepping closer. he reached around you, his hand covering yours, guiding your movements with a gentle touch. your breath caught in your throat; he was so close, his warmth and the scent of spices and fresh bread filling the space between you. for a second, you forgot what you were even doing.

“see?” his voice was barely a whisper now, and you felt the words more than you heard them, the way they brushed against your ear, soft and careful. “just a bit more gently. you don’t have to rush, love.”

your heart was beating a little too fast, and you could feel the blush creeping up your neck. “i… i think i get it,” you managed to say, though your voice sounded a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard.

he chuckled softly, but there was nothing teasing in it, just a kind of fondness, a gentleness that made your heart do that funny little flip again. he stayed close for another moment, letting you feel the rhythm of his movements, the easy way he seemed to flow in the kitchen.

“you’re a quick learner, honey.” he murmured, his lips curving into that smile again, the one that made your knees feel weak.

“maybe i just have a good teacher,” you replied, turning to face him, and you were so close now that you could see the golden flecks in his blue eyes, the way they seemed to soften as he looked at you.

for a moment, you both just stood there, inches apart, the kitchen quiet around you, the world still sleeping. it felt like something was building in the air between you, something warm and bright, like the promise of the sunrise just outside.

then, with a sudden, playful grin, sanji took the whisk from your hand and dipped it into the bowl. “let’s finish this up,” he said, a spark in his eyes. “i’ve got a feeling today’s going to be a good day, and this is going to be a really good batch of pancakes.”

and you couldn’t help but agree. maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way the morning light seemed a little brighter, but you felt it too - a quiet kind of happiness, settling in like something new, something wonderful.

-- ౨ৎ

masterlist (thank u anon, it works again yayyy!!!)

[goosita]

working as young!politician!coryo’s secretary is usually a fairly calm job, not too stress inducing.

most days, you greet people who come in for meetings with coriolanus, send out emails and faxes, make and take phone calls for his office, and keep a steady flow of fresh coffee at all hours. then, you tidy up your desk when the day is done and you wait for your best friend to come pick you up and drive you home from work.

today was going according to plan, having been an especially easy day. mr. snow had been out for most of the afternoon, only returning about an hour ago. the phones had been quiet as well, giving you time to finish all of your work on the computer you had put off. it was rounding out to be quite the easy day, until your best friend called 5 minutes before you were due to clock out for the evening.

“i’m sorry! the tire just exploded, literally. and now i’m stuck waiting here for god knows how long for a tow truck. i’m so sorry,” they babble, clearly feeling incredibly guilty.

“it’s fine, i promise. i can just call a taxi or something.”

out of the corner of your eye, you see coriolanus leave his office, turning to lock the door behind him. he glances at you curiously.

“are you sure? i don’t know how long it’ll take but—“

“yes, i’m sure,” you cut them off, sighing. “cab fair to my place is only a few dollars, i’ll survive. let me know when you make it home though, alright?”

your friend laments and agrees to send you a message when they’re home, hanging up. you barely hold in a heavy sigh, sliding your phone into your bag.

“need a ride?” coriolanus asks, tilting his head to the side just-so. it startles you for a moment, having forgotten he was standing right there.

“oh, no. thank you, mr. snow, but i’ll be okay. i can call a cab,” you tell him, cheeks warming.

“nonsense, can’t let a lovely young lady like you risk getting into some seedy cab,” he insists. he gives you that charming grin, the one that makes the smile line near his cheek deepen prettily. you hesitate for a moment longer before he steps closer, offering his arm.

you try not to let it show that your fingers tremble just slightly, slipping your arm through his and resting your hand in the cradle of his elbow. coriolanus smiles even wider, leading you outside to the parking garage reserved for the building.

“thank you, mr. snow,” you say quietly as you walk beside him. he shakes his head and chuckles under his breath.

“it’s past business hours. you can call me by my first name, you know.”

you don’t know what exactly to say to that, simply offering a hum in response. coriolanus leads you to a sleek black car where a man in an equally sleek black suit stands at the driver’s side door. coriolanus holds his hand out to the man, who gives a look of surprise but drops the car keys into his palm.

“i’d like to drive myself this evening, gerald. thank you.”

he leaves no room for questioning as he walks you to the passenger side, his driver quickly disappearing. coriolanus opens the door for you and gently holds your hand as you slide in, giving you a soft grin as he closes the door. when he walks around the front to the driver’s side door, you speak up.

“i live on pr—“

“i know,” he cuts you off. you swallow, watching him sit down and start the car. he must sense your confused before he sees it on your face, because he speaks again.

“i have a good memory. i saw it on your application last year and remembered you live on the same street as an old friend,” he explains. you nod, looking down at your hands in your lap.

coriolanus smoothly pulls out of the parking spot, resting his hand on your headrest as he turns to look out of the back window. it’s so hard not to stare, to look at the way his neck is exposed like this. his jaw is so sharp, skin smooth and pale. you can smell his scent lingering in the small space between you; that intoxicating mix of roses and spice and metal.

“it’s not polite to stare,” he teases, turning his body back to the front. his hands settle comfortably on the wheel, his icy stare focused on the road.

“i-i’m sorry, mr. snow. i didn’t mean to.”

“coriolanus,” he purrs. “coryo, if you prefer.”

coryo. not just his first name, but a nickname. your hands feel clammy.

“coryo,” you say softly, almost under your breath. he hums in acknowledgment, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

it goes silent in the car after that, your mind working overtime to try and figure him out. the last few weeks have been nothing short of dizzying, his lingering gazes and teasing quips, just shy of innuendos. you think back to the way he had watched you with the lollipop in his mouth, the way he had dragged his tongue over the red candy and the stain it had left on his plush lips. the way you’d been unable to stop thinking about what those lips would taste like against your own, sticky with cherry and sugar.

a warm hand settled on your thigh, breaking you out of your thoughts as you jump slightly, looking over at him. still, his eyes are glued to the road, as if he wasn’t doing anything at all besides driving.

“coriolanus…?” you murmur, glancing down at his hand. his fingers are long, spanning over your clothed thigh almost completely. his fingertips just barely brush the inseam of your trousers, but he’s still about it. he doesn’t move to stroke or caress, just rests there in your lap.

“yes, darling?” he says evenly. you don’t know why, but the petname makes your breath hitch. “everything alright?”

you breathe out slowly, slightly shakily. “yeah— yes.”

coriolanus smiles, eyes flickering to you just once before returning to the street. after a few more moments, he’s pulling onto your street and parking outside your apartment.

“here we are,” he says unceremoniously. like his palm isn’t burning through your pants on your leg, making you hold in a shudder. “home, safe and sound.”

it takes you a few moments to find your voice again, nodding. “thank you for the ride, mr. sn—….coryo.”

“you’re very welcome, my darling,” he says; and there it is again. that endearment. “i’ll see you in the morning.”

you nod and go to open the car door, letting his hand fall from your thigh. you grab your back and close the door behind you, turning and quickly hurrying up the sidewalk to the front steps of your building before you hear his voice call out again.

“miss y/n?”

you stop and turn, seeing that he rolled the window down.

“sweet dreams.”

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Hi hi I was just wondering if ur taking requests could u do a 97!Remy LeBeau x fem!mutant!reader headcanon list of going on a date in New Orleans 👉🏼👈🏼

I don't think I've ever done a headcannon list before so I'LL TRY.

Remy, ever the charmer, surprises you with an invitation in true Cajun fashion—leaving a handwritten note with a single red rose at your doorstep. The note simply reads, "Dinner à New Orleans, chérie? Pack y'self a lil' dress, we gon' have some fun."

Remy picks you up in a sleek black convertible, the engine purring as music plays softly in the background. He's dressed in a tailored dark suit with a hint of his usual flair—a red silk shirt peeking through. He gives you a once-over, eyes sparkling as he says, "Mon dieu, chérie, y'lookin' like a dream come true."

He takes you on a leisurely walk through the French Quarter before dinner, guiding you by the hand through cobblestone streets. Remy points out little historical tidbits and shares colorful local legends, his arm occasionally brushing yours. He loves showing off his city, and his accent grows thicker the more excited and animated he gets. His pride in his roots is infectious, and you can’t help but feel enamored by his passion.

Remy makes sure you stop for a moment to enjoy the vibrant street performers—a lively jazz band plays under the glow of old-fashioned street lamps. Without warning, he spins you into a playful dance right there on the sidewalk, leading you in a few smooth, flirty moves. He chuckles when you stumble slightly, pulling you closer and whispering, "Just follow m'lead, chère."

He takes you to a hidden gem restaurant known only to locals—tucked away, intimate, and filled with the aromas of Cajun spices. You’re seated in a cozy corner, candles flickering softly on the table. Remy orders in flawless French, his eyes never leaving yours. The conversation flows effortlessly between playful banter and deeper confessions, with Remy listening intently whenever you speak.

Remy insists on ordering a variety of dishes for you to try—gumbo, crawfish étouffée, jambalaya—each one more delicious than the last. He teases you about the spices, but when you handle the heat with ease, he raises an impressed eyebrow. "Didn’t think y’could keep up wit’ a Cajun’s palate, chère. Guess y'full of surprises, huh?"

At one point, Remy uses his powers in a subtle yet impressive display. With a flick of his wrist, he charges a small card, letting it glow softly in the dim light before tossing it away, harmlessly discharging the energy. It’s his way of showing off, but also a reminder that beneath the charm and the smiles, he’s got an edge that’s both thrilling and dangerous.

After dinner, Remy whisks you away to a riverboat cruise along the Mississippi. The boat is old-fashioned, with a big paddlewheel and a lively jazz band playing on the deck. He takes you out onto the balcony where the city lights glitter on the water. As you lean on the railing, he wraps his coat around your shoulders and stands close behind, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs about the sights.

Near the end of the night, Remy takes you to a little antique shop that’s open late. He insists on buying you a small keepsake—a delicate locket with a tiny flower engraved on it. He fastens it around your neck, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he gazes into your eyes. "Now y’got a piece of New Orleans wit’ ya, wherever y’go."

He walks you back to your door, the night air still warm and filled with the faint scent of magnolias. Remy leans against the doorframe, smirking as if he’s in no rush to leave. When the moment finally feels right, he steps closer, tilting your chin up gently. His kiss is soft and slow at first, filled with unspoken promises of more nights like this. As you part, he whispers, "Bonne nuit, ma belle. This ain’t gon’ be our last rendezvous."

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The Industry is Having Issues But the Spice Spicy Must Flow

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) eps 1-2 of 10 - One of those "he's dead Jim so time travel" thingames starring MaxNat. I'm over this concept but I do enjoy MaxNat. Phupha (Gun) and Khram (Nat) love each other but Phupha is murdered. Then Khram is pulled to a parallel world where, years ago, Khram and Tai (Max) were in love. However, Khram was killed by Tai’s dad. Now Tai finds alter-Khram. But then there is ALSO an alter-Phupha to deal with. (Phupha is played by Gun Thanawat who was Khom, the repressed butler bodyguard from Unforgotten Night. We like this, but we scared of the love triangle aspect.) Did that make sense? Yeah, okay, see what I mean?

Initial thoughts?

The subs are troubling but I’m enjoying this show a lot. It’s nice to see MaxNat get something meaty to sink their teeth into - that’s not just each other. Also it’s so smart of them to give us a fully fleshed out entire episode developing the alter romance rather than just a separation + death. It makes Khram’s grief and motivation that much more believable. Also it’s really nice to see Nat have good chemistry with other actors. 

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 3 of 8 (10?) - I'm still enjoying it. But Two Worlds is objectively better. So this one has lost ranking. Also, unexpectedly chili (the name of my heavy metal Thai cover band).

Lovey switchy and verse main couple too.

This is all quite pleasing.

The bit where the hosts pretend to be a BL couple actor ship was epic on so many levels.

Also unsettling.

All sex work is performative, and in a way there is something more honest about this depiction, in this setting, than what BL actors are made to do on the promo circuit. Which then begs the question, how different is BL from sex work? That's the unsettling bit, for me anyway. Not to slam on sex work AT ALL, we pro-the-true-pros on this damn blog, but actors have been shaded by association with True Professionals for a very long time and BL has already had one epic shut down in this regard. (See the PerthSaint scandal around Love By Chance, no I will not explain.) Where was I? Oh yes, so anyway, see the Gossip section for the part where they better be paid either way!

Also, since I'm a warped fucker, I found this scene funny.

And then hilarious when all of those BL tropes were just trotted out. Like a greatest hits reel.

Truly beyond meta. (How Absolute BL of them.)

Note he’s even standing in yaoi's patented "hands in pocket with the shoulders back"? 

Meanwhile, the gayest bridge in Thailand made its quarterly appearance:

And lip serviced was paid to the most touristy romantic things you can do in Bangkok.

And I mean lip service literally. 

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 5 of 8 - I’m still enjoying it but getting more and more nervous. We getting too close to Promise territory for comfort. EXPLAIN Ji’s reticence well and do it now or risk audience mistrust. We have to be given a GOOD reason for Ji's behavior, or he'll be irredeemable.

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - NO SINGING. Yes smiley kisses and good communication and a nice healthy relationship. But no singing!

1000 Years Old ep 6 of 12 - Dropping in the ranks. I’m sorry it’s just gotten boring. It has, however, inspired me to invest in my own ridiculous cream fuzzy sweater. Which I plan to wear with leather trousers and huge stumpy boots, like the Kpop queer I truly am. Or do I mean vampire? 

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - Seems to be an excuse for a small posse of Thai actors to wander around Tokyo playing tourist and sing in public . Someone stop them?

“Most people think this kind of thing is bad manners .”

Anyway, it’s v boring. I’ll give it one more ep but I suspect I’ll DNF.

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 6 - Meh. This is also looking suspiciously DNF-a-licious.  

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube & Viki) ep 5 of 11 - It's brilliant. I love it. I'm ready to hurt. Let’s do this thing. 

Distribution note: This one has been picked up and is also airing on Viki now, so it may lose YT distribution in soem territories. I like Youku's hard subs better than Viki's subs, but that's a matter of preference not information since I don't speak Mandarin.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 6 - It is good. Every week I like this show a little more. I'm enjoying a reunion romance explored in Japan's quintessentially contemplative yet slightly surreal way. The juxtaposition of the tenderness of the sex scene with this Japanese brand of authenticity was oddly elegant - for lack of a better way of putting it. All in all, this is a good show. Thought provoking. Stylish.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - It remains lovely but they sure are reusing a lot of footage. Also, this was a classic penultimate doom episode. I do wonder how they are going to resolve this show ethically.

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 8 - It is what it is, and it isn’t my style of show no matter what country of origin. Oddly that's one of the reasons I don't like it. Anyone could have made this, it's not as Japanese as I want it to be, it's just indie film club high school angst. Yawn.

I watched it, finally

The Servant and the Young Master (Vietnam YouTube) 7 eps - I dislike vertical filming, but I kind of enjoyed this show as a BL. I like class conflict romances. For me the rich kid is a bit too dictatorial (edges into bulling), but it’s kinda works. It’s sparse and underdeveloped and a bit plotless, but mildly entertaining. If you're missing Vietnamese BL you might give it a try. 6/10 

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) 8eps - A Burmese BL that I had thoughts about but actually ended up recommending. Read the saga here:

It's done, ready to binge, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

It's airing but...

Graduation Countdown (Taiwan YouTube) ep 1 of ? - on one hand it's micro-installment vertical, on the other it's adorable and from Taiwan. I blame @heretherebedork entirely for my conundrum. As indeed, I did for My Type back in the day. (That was Nat Chen's first BL, yes of Kiseki: Dear To Me fame.) So I think I will also simply lean on Here to let me know when it's done and binge all at once. It's just too much to ask me to keep up with 2 minute pieces, I don't have that kind of endurance training, not even for BL.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - it's finished now, I dropped it at ep 4. Should I bother?

A Secretly Love (Thai Sat WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing for some reason.

Man Suang that MileApo vehicle from last year is coming to Netflix in the USA. I haven't heard much about it and since the KP stans would have lost their tiny minds if it was any good at all, I'm assuming it's not good at all.

Gossip

Thai BL actor Yoon breaks with his former company and talks about some very very VERY shady goings on in the Thai BL industry. Including not being paid.

And whacha know, same thing happening in Korean BL.

Have I mentioned recently how much I hate the film industry?

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting Soon

3/31 Only Boo! (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - New main couple for GMMTV in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks grumpy/sunshine pair who fall deeply in love but, of course, baby boy idol can't date. Boyband but from GMMTV? Control your singing and I'm game.

4/1 Love is like a Cat (Korea ????) 12 eps - This completed filming Aug 2022(!) which means there have been serious problems with post-production. This is another of Silkwood's Korean+Thai colab projects. Mew Suppasit plays a rookie film star, called the Cat Prince (for his cold arrogance) who goes up against a charismatic puppyish animal daycare director (JM of JUST B). There is also a side romance (love triangle?) with a veterinarian. Geonu of JUST B is also in the cast.

I wonder if this was part of the hold up, with Geonu on Build Up right now, they might have tried to muffle this one. Or maybe it's just that bad...

4/3 We Are (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon - basically the good kind of messy gay friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is queer. I'm IN!

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV?) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous partner), Best and frest face, news here.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Without ghost girl.

With ghost girl.

I think she may be my favorite part of 1000 Years.

CLASSIC tsundere seme description of a sunshine uke. Like classic'est of classic. (Two Worlds)

Is there such a thing as a tired trope in a BL? Since it is a genre that is made up entirely of tropes quilted together? Your philosophical question for today brought to you by Deep Night's kabedon (Japanese trope) + punishment threat (Thai trope).

Love me a lap sit moment. (City of Stars)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[baronessvonglitter]

Vices

Din Djarin x OFC x bi! f!Reader x OMC

Word count: 4.3K

Summary: You're not one to be shy of your vices, but a night with a mysterious woman has you and your work partner Din chasing new highs.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader is bisexual so if that's not your thing then feel free to scroll on, group sex (kinda), jealousy, jealous!Din, oral (m & f receiving), p i v sex, f/f/m threesome, fingering, come eating, little bit of three way kissing, one night stand, playfully light dom/sub tones, subby!Din and dom-ish!Reader, Din's helmet stays on (mostly), shy!Din, creampie, no use of y/n (if i've forgotten anything please LMK)

Author's note: I don't know how I haven't already written about Din, who's actually how I even came to know Pedro existed in the first place. So here it goes - not 100% canon as I have screwed with some facts to suit my story - don't come at me. It's just fiction. Also I was feeling some Cyberpunk 2077 vibes, specifically Lizzie's Bar which was the inspo for my banner.

FULL MASTERLIST

"Just make a move, already. You've been watching her all night," you tell Din.

You hear him scoff just below his breath, his helmet unable to filter out every sound he makes. "I'm not watching, I'm just looking," he retorts curtly, averting his gaze from the person attracting his interest.

"Same difference," you say, finishing the dregs of your drink, giggling as your unexpected date for the night, known only as Elex, wraps his arm around your waist, tickling your neck with teasing kisses. You remember your promise to Din before leaving the ship: "If I'm getting laid, you're getting laid."

Din sighs, wishing he was elsewhere, feeling out of place here.

You're both taking some much needed R&R on Coruscant, and your natural instinct for vice and debauchery has led you to an underground club known mostly to those in the spice trade, pleasure seekers, and those just looking for an escape.

The club is massive despite its clandestine reputation; crowds of outlaws, outcasts, and delinquents congregate the dance floor and the bar; blue and magenta and violet lights lend a dreamy, lascivious glow to the multitude. Perfume scents the air, along with liquor, sweat, and the not-so-subtle aroma of sex: the result of the crush of many bodies together in one place. The music is deafening, bass pumping in your blood, harmonizing with your heartbeat once you get used to the roar, its melody effortless, the same notes over and over, only played at various speeds, circling and crescendoing until the bass drops and the whole thing starts over again, mindless, persisting.

No one comes here for the music even though many come to dance.

It's a dancer that's caught Din's eye, and you'd be lying if you said she hasn't caught your attention as well.

"She's beautiful," you poke his side with your elbow.

"I guess she is," he mutters, his eyes dragging up and down the outline of her body.

"That armor starting to feel a little tight in the pants?" you tease him. "Why don't you go talk to her?" you tell him again.

Din freezes, his face burning as you continue to goad him. "No way am I going to embarrass myself," he says stubbornly. He's aware he stands out already, stiff, a tin can compared to the constant flow of party people, moving, dancing, hustling, some even fucking.

Just then the dancer starts towards you three. "She's coming this way!" You elbow him again.

"Maker have mercy," he mutters as she approaches.

"Be cool, Din," you warn him. His heart thumps hard against his ribcage.

You introduce yourself and your new friend Elex. "And this is my work partner Din," you smile brightly.

"Pleasure to meet you," she replies in a sultry voice.

"Din was admiring you, but he's shy," you pat his shoulder, grinning because you just know under that helmet he's seething, quite possibly blushing. By now you've come to know his looks, despite the visor shielding you from them. And right now, this particular angling of his head, staring straight at you, he's signaling to you: you're dead.

"A shy warrior? Who would have thought?" the woman says smoothly, not hiding the fact that she's checking him out.

You nudge him to say something. "I'm doing all the work," you tell him through gritted teeth.

He clears his throat. "I, uh.." His mind draws a blank and he curses himself internally, struggling to form a coherent thought, let alone a full sentence. "You're.. pretty," he mumbles lamely, mentally kicking himself. Pretty? That's all he could come up with? Pathetic.

You force a laugh. "He's more himself when he's going after a bounty."

"Is that so?" she tilts her head at him, her laugh a musical sound that makes Din's heart skip a beat.

"Ask her name," you whisper, trying to enjoy your own date instead of spoon-feeding Din his lines.

His shoulders tense, fists clenching at his side, he asks her name, and she replies, "Saskia."

"Saskia," he repeats to himself, enjoying the roll of it off his tongue.

"A Mandalorian bounty hunter, huh? You look like you could do a number on someone," she says, running her finger along the beskar on his breastplate, shamelessly eyeing him.

"You should see him in action," you chime in, breaking away momentarily from your mini-makeout session with Elex. "He's unstoppable."

"Oh really?" Her eyes never leave his form, taking in all she can of this broad-shouldered, quiet warrior.

"Saskia, let us buy you a drink," you offer.

The glasses you're given are filled with glowing blue concoctions, vapor rising, wrapping the four of you in a haze as you offer a toast: "To trying new things."

Saskia's eyes flutter at Din, her smile coy and promising. "How about it?" she asks, her voice low and sultry. "Feel like trying something new?"

Go for it! you mouth behind her, catching Din's gaze, excited for him.

He steels himself, knowing at this point the only way out was to commit. "Yeah. Sure," he mumbles, shifting awkwardly under Saskia's ogling.

She leads you to a private room upstairs, the music dimmed but the bass still thumping and for a moment Din confuses it for the beat of his own heart. The room is spacious, empty of people but in expectance of them. A large sofa doubling as a bed takes up most of the center of the room, unmistakable in what the room is used for.

You playfully nudge his hip with yours before Elex leads you to a smaller loveseat, placing you on the edge of the arm as you begin to kiss.

Saskia is seated, and Din's eyes are drawn to her legs, slowly sliding apart as she leans back, her smooth shapely thighs revealed as her form-fitting outfit rides up.

"Don't you ever take that helmet off?" she asks as he sits next to her at a polite distance.

His eyes flick from her face to her legs, his mind running wild with ideas. "No. I don't," he answers. "It's part of The Way."

From across the room you suppress a groan, keeping tabs on their conversation, knowing women like Saskia enjoy banter, not lessons on the Mandalorian heritage. My buddy isn't doing so great. But you have your own thing going on. Elex gropes your curves as he slowly gets to his knees.

"If you never take your helmet off," Saskia's saying, leaning in close to Din, "then how do you kiss?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, once again speechless by her bluntness. He stumbles over his words for a moment before getting an answer out. "We- we don't," he mumbles awkwardly.

Saskia lets out a small snicker, wetting her full lips. "So what do you do?"

Din's face burns underneath his helmet. He's already so flustered by the situation, and wants to avoid an embarrassing conversation. "We have other ways.. of being intimate," he says at last.

"You wanna show me?" Her hand is on his leg.

As if seeking permission, Din seeks you out, finding you engrossed with Elex. A pang of jealousy shoots through him, taking him by surprise.

"Looks like your pretty friend's busy," Saskia smirks. "Do you want another drink?"

He's about to answer when he hears you let out a soft groan from the other side of the room. He turns his head to see you, pressed to the arm of the loveseat, skirt lifted over your hips as Elex's face is buried between your thighs, your head tipped back in ecstasy.

Din's whole body freezes, his eyes glued to the sight of you. He grips the drink glass in his hand so tight it almost shatters as his eyes rake over your figure, the way your body writhes in pleasure. Another pang of envy grips his chest, this one deeper and more intense than the first. He can't explain why watching you with this man - when he's heard you with other men before - has him affected so.

"Think we can outdo them?" Saskia's challenge rises to his ears, her hand rubbing his thigh, moving upwards ever so slightly with each brush forward, testing the waters.

She manages to bring him out of his stupor, reminding him that the woman beside him is just as real as the woman he's never thought of as more than a friend, currently with a man between her legs.

"Yeah," he bites out, his voice deep and rough. "We can outdo them."

Saskia smiles predatory-like and pushes him back to the sofa, taking a pillow and putting it down before she kneels on it, right in between his spread legs. "There we go," she coos, cupping his crotch, smiling as she hears the hitch in his breath. With a little maneuvering she has him freed from his clothes, large, hot, and pulsing in her hand. "Be as loud as you want, baby," she encourages.

His hips involuntarily buck into her hand, desperate for more. He lets out a shaky exhale, managing to choke out a response. "Fuck."

She enjoys how easy it is to bring him to life. "A very blessed warrior indeed," she whispers in awe before gripping the base of his cock and licking long stripes upwards, tongue swirling around the leaky head, gazing up at his visor as she spits, taking turns stroking him and sucking him.

Din lets out a strangled noise, one gloved hand gripping her hair, pushing her head further down when her warm mouth surrounds him. "You're so kriffing good," he mutters, the pleasure close to overwhelming.

In the midst of your own pleasured haze, you look up to see Saskia obviously pleasing Din. You gasp, stunned, the sight of them momentarily taking you out of the intimacy of Elex's tongue in your cunt. You're not shocked at what they're doing but shocked at the lightning bolt of jealousy that goes straight through your chest. You watch them a moment, letting yourself seethe with yearning.

Not shy about your competitive streak, you get louder with your own lover. "Yes! Yes.. so good! I'm gonna come!"

Din's eyes flick up at the sound of your voice, his stomach flipping with envy, and in one brief moment of ire he wants to snap Elex's neck, but he keeps his eyes on you as Saskia shoves him deep in her throat, and his own breathing comes in fast, ragged gasps.

"Fuck!" you cry out, returning Din's gaze, a silent dare speaking volumes.

His jaw clenches, holding back the possessive urge to cross the room and rip you away from that man.

Saskia takes notice, momentarily slowing down her efforts. "You're so close, so tense," she remarks in a sultry manner.

Din is like a dam on the verge of bursting, his need building up in him, especially after seeing you with that guy, some idiot you only just met tonight. He tries to keep himself together, stay in the moment, keep himself under this beautiful woman's spell. "Please--" he chokes out, his voice rough and low, his control slowly unraveling.

You gasp as Elex bends you over the arm of the sofa, skirt going up as he pushes into you from behind, eyes closed as he starts to move.

Din's heart lurches in his chest, still fixated on you. If it was possible for him to burn a hole through you with just his stare he would accomplish just that.

You like watching them?" Saskia asks, gently turning him to her instead. "Feel me while you watch her."

She undresses him from the waist down, sensing his reluctance to be fully unclothed, revealing each delicious inch of flesh. Strong thighs with a light sprinkling of pale brown hair, his cock springing out perfectly from a nest of brown curls, her only clue as to what he looks like beneath his helmet. A perfect seat for her.

He needs a distraction, anything to pull his attention away from the overwhelming jealousy gnawing away at his insides. He's thankful for the teasing way in which Saskia divests herself of her skimpy clothing, her body lithe and obviously made for pleasure.

When she slides down onto him, facing away, long legs parting to fit over his, it feels like a miracle and a sin. He gives a strangled moan as she takes him deep, her grip on him tight and unyielding. She grinds against him as he bottoms out, savoring the delicious feel of him, and he grips her hips, commandeering the situation for the first time tonight, delighting in Saskia's loud gasp as he pushes up into her welcoming cunt, needing to push away the thought of you riding him. He needs this. He needs her to distract him.

You watch with thinly veiled jealousy as Saskia rides Din. Even through his helmet you can sense his need for her, his pleasure. You want to be the one responsible for his pleasure. Even as you close your eyes you can't block out the thought of Din being the one inside you instead of Elex. "Harder," you beg your partner. "Faster."

Din swallows a moan, eyes narrowed with envy and with competition as he hears you with Elex, the needful sound of your voice making his body tingle. He needs you, craves you, his possessive instincts flaring, unable to tear his sight away from you.

He grips Saskia's hips tighter, his mind racing. "Don't stop." he commands gruffly.

She smiles and rides him harder, thighs quivering with each collision of her flesh on his. "You could just fuck her, you know," she offers breathlessly. "It's pretty obvious you want to."

Din's breath catches in his chest. He does want you - so badly it hurts. "It's not - unh! that simple," he grunts out.

"Nothing ever is," Saskia gives a sharp gasp, still moving.

"I can't have her. She's not for me." His breathing is labored with the strain of keeping control. He has a need to outlast the man you're with, as if to prove a point.

"Why not?" Saskia asks, nodding to you and Elex, still going at it. "Is she for him?"

Din's jaw clenches at the sight of you with him, hates the way his stomach twists in knots. "She's not for anyone."

"Make me come," she moans. "It'll make her so jealous."

Show her what she's missing..

Saskia cries out as his hips buck up against her, and after a few rough thrusts she comes apart, moaning his name.

It takes immense concentration for him not to follow after, to remain unsatisfied. He needs something more, his body still humming with desire, desperate for the one woman his eyes have been on the whole night.

You glare daggers at Saskia, watching and listening as she comes, wishing it was you. Just then Elex speeds up, gripping your hips tightly, slamming into you so hard that you come as well, your eyes fixed on Din, who goes rigid watching you in return.

His breathing is shaky, heart thundering in his chest. He feels Saskia's hand on his arm, trying to get his attention, but he can't tear his eyes from you. He's frozen in place, mind filled with you and only you.

Elex pulls out of you, stroking himself until his warm cum splashes onto your ass, painting his release on you. Din instantly hates him for marking you so primitively. Elex cleans you off, giving you a pat on the ass before leaving, probably going in search of his next conquest. You roll your eyes. Guys are the same on every planet.

Now alone with Saskia and Din, you boldly approach them. "Excuse me, but you're in my seat," you tell her.

Saskia smirks and you want to wipe it right off her face. She doesn't look the least bit intimidated.

"Is that so?" she makes no move to leave Din's lap. "Looks like I've already claimed it."

You sit next to them, making yourself comfortable, shedding the last of your clothing. "I don't mind de-throning you." You kiss her softly, palming her supple breast.

She moans softly, reacting to your kiss, cunt squeezing around Din's still-hard cock, making him groan. He's about to lose control now that you're here, proving a point, making him want you.

"Is this how you're going to 'de-throne' me?" Saskia teases. "With sweet kisses and caresses?"

"That's only the beginning. I'm going to make you come harder than he can." With that, you bend down in front of them and she lifts herself up. You put your face to where they're joined and use kitten licks around her folds, sweeping your tongue in circles around her sex before wiggling your tongue against her clit, smirking to yourself at her barely-concealed moans.

Din hangs on by a mere thread, heart beating double time, now using all of his self-control not to either thrust up into Saskia and fill her up with his cum, or better yet to push her off and fuck you hard, spread-eagled beneath him like he's always fantasized.

"Is that all?" Saskia asks as you pull away a moment from your ministrations. "I doubt you'll be able to break me apart so easily."

"Get off his lap," you say in a low, authoritative voice, making no mistake that you intend her to comply.

Still kneeling, you have a perfect view as she slips off Din's lap, watching as Din's cock comes into view, slick with her arousal, and so thick, heavy under its own weight as it springs back up once Saskia rises. You want you mouth on it, to taste him and her. As she gets situated sitting next to him, you press two fingers deep inside her cunt, brushing her hand away when she dares to try to grab Din's flesh.

Din lets out a surprised sigh as your warm, wet mouth descends on his dick, and he thrusts up slowly, refraining from slamming his whole length into your welcoming throat as he desperately wants to do.

He's delicious.. but you force yourself away for a moment, kneeling between Saskia's spread thighs as you run your tongue up and down her crease. "I didn't think you'd be so.. talented." She threads her fingers through your hair, gasping and trembling, and you chuckle, letting the sound vibrate against her cunt.

"My first preference is always women. But occasionally.." your free hand strokes Din's cock.

Listening to his and Saskia's sighs you kiss up her body, sucking at her nipple while your fingers move inside her again. Her back arches, pressing herself to your mouth, her eyes darting from you to Din and back again, imagining scenarios you've likely already envisioned yourself.

"Din, you should taste her," you tell him, tempting him to lift his helmet up a little as you bring your glistening fingers to him, heart leaping as he reveals his pink, pouty lips that close around your proffered fingers. His tongue swirls around them, licking off every last trace of Saskia's nectar.

"Good boy," you can't help but murmur, going back to Saskia's needy cunt and wrapping your arms around her thighs. She trembles in your grasp, her body completely at your mercy, keeping a light grip on your hair as you continue your work, her breath coming in sharp gasps. You suction your lips around her bud, thrusting your fingers in and out of her slippery pussy. She cries out, body arching off the sofa, eyes squinting shut. "You're-- so.. good!" she gasps.

"You taste so sweet.. heavens, you're so wet," you murmur.

Saskia moans. "Please don't stop.. almost there.."

"Not gonna stop, not until this pretty pussy comes all over my face," you tell her, still lapping up her juices.

She lets out a strangled gasp, her svelte body tensing.

"That's it, come for me," you coax her.

It's a thing of beauty to watch her come, the way her body seizes up, tenses and releases, her tight little pussy clamping down on your invading fingers. Your clit throbs just watching her, needing your own release. Purring, you lap up every drop of her essence.

Saskia collapses against the sofa, body limp and trembling, breaths coming out in ragged gasps. She looks absolutely wrecked, completely satisfied and disheveled. She leans against Din's shoulder, eyes drifting to his naked lap. "And you," she breathed, "haven't gotten a chance yet."

"He will." You get up, heart pounding as you slowly straddle Din's lap. "Is this okay?" you whisper.

His body is taut, breathing shaky. Despite the cover of his helmet you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"Yes," he whispers hoarsely. "Please."

Your breath hitches as the bulbous head of his dick presses into you. Din trembles with restraint. "Kriff," he groans, voice rough. "You feel so--"

"Oh Din," you moan, slowly bringing yourself down on him.

"More," he utters. "Faster." His grip on your hips is tight, unyielding.

You savor the feel of him, bigger than you'd imagined, filling you, and at his command you move faster, the friction like lightning. His hands move to your thighs, pulling you down on him at his own pace. You cry out his name as he impales you over and over upon his rigid cock, bucking up into your tight channel.

He lifts his helmet again, just enough to reveal his mouth, brushing his lips across your neck, his warm breath on your skin the most intimate thing you've felt. He nips at your throat, stubble scratching against your skin as his mouth traces to your ear.

"I've always wanted this, cyare," he confesses, no longer the timid work partner, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours, his kiss hungry and desperate, all his pent-up desire pouring into it. Still gripping your thighs he holds you down on him as he devours your mouth. With the entire length of him buried inside you, your cunt twitches around him, needing you or him to move.

You taste Saskia on his tongue, remembering she's still there, sitting close and watching your love play with Din, her hands running lazily over her body.

"Kiss him," you tell her. "Thank him for making you come."

Din keeps his helmet lifted as she gives him a soft, sensual kiss. Thank you seems inadequate for what he's given her tonight, but she says it, a low purr against his pouty pink lips.

He's so good," you murmur as they kiss, his fingers splayed against your ass, grabbing your cheeks as you continue to ride him. Greedily, you join their kiss, your lips and teeth and tongues clashing, a messy kiss indeed, but nothing about this night has been tidy.

He's flustered under your praise, storing the sound of it away for later, blushing and glad you can't see it. "I-- I need--"

"You need to come," you say simply. "But not yet. You made Saskia come, and now it's my turn."

Saskia chuckles, her fingertips trailing his arm. "She's going to completely wreck you, you know that?"

Din lets out a breathless laugh, body tensing as you move on top of him. You pull Saskia in for a kiss as she cups your breast, her other hand traveling to the apex of your thighs. Din watches the two of you, rapt, as she kisses your neck, lips moving down your chest, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake.

"You both feel.. so.. good," you moan, moving faster.

Saskia's teeth graze your neck, fingers pressing your clit. You caress her breast, giving her nipple a pinch before lightly swatting the firm flesh, then dipping your fingers into her wetness again.

"Ride my fingers, just like that," you swipe your thumb over her sensitive nub as you ride Din harder. "Want you both to come with me.."

Saskia's tight cunt flutters around your fingers, and Din groans as you pick up the pace.

"Doing so well," you murmur to both of them, Saskia's slick coats your hand. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby." You stay still while she does.

"Gods!" Your eyes screw shut tight as you rear back, your climax growing and radiating outward. "I'm coming!" you shout hoarsely as a strong, sweet shudder rocks your world. Saskia follows close behind, clenching as she comes undone on top of your fingers, and Din tenses before he comes deep inside you, thrusting up into you once, twice, thrice as a guttural moan tears from his throat.

Moments later, you chuckle darkly as you're all slumped over together, sweaty, satisfied.

Who knows how long you lay there, in and out of sated, dreamless sleep, until your comm device goes off. Grunting, you lean over Din to rifle through your discarded clothes to find it and stop its incessant beeping. "Damn it," you mutter. "We gotta go." You gently shake his shoulder.

He groans, reluctantly pulling himself from his relaxed, contented sleep. "Is it a client?" he asks. His voice is soft and groggy, making you desire him again.

"Yeah, new bounty. The signal here's choppy, I'm waiting for an image."

Din gets up, sore, and not just from the debauchery with you and Saskia last night, but from the times he'd been shot at, thrown around, and fought in the past few days. "I'll get the ship ready," he grumbles, stretching, reaching to the floor to get his clothes as well. "Hey, she's gone.." he says, puzzled.

You see the spot where Saskia had laid with you, now empty, as if she'd never existed.

"Where did she go?" Din asks.

You smile at his naivete. "I don't think she didn't want to say goodbye."

Once you're dressed and ready to go, your comm device beeps again, the signal strong enough to provide an image to go along with your new bounty.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you mutter in disbelief.

He snaps his head towards you, knowing that tone in your voice. "What?"

You almost laugh, showing him the image sent to you. "Take a look at our new target."

It's Saskia.

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

tagging those who showed interest in my snippet last week: @rivnedell @the-mandawhor1an @notjustjavierpena @evolnoomym @woopeingg @ice-echo26

[erajoie07]

Pleasuring: Gwayne Hightower x fem reader

˙˚ଘo(∗ ❛ั ᵕ ❛ั )੭່˙ Writer's note: Okay, I meant to post this after I posted my first GH fic but I wanted to spice the smut. I haven't watched ep.05 yet. This fic is imagined as before Gwayne moves to King's Landing. I hope you enjoy!

🫶💓

“What's a pretty jasmine such as yourself doing out here?”

His cool and proud voice resonates to her and she turns around holding a bundle of wildflowers she plucked from the side of the road.

“Gwayne!” She extends the flowers to him and stands. He leaps from the horse to kiss her. “You're finish with training?”

“Yes, my jasmine. Took them all out, they have nothing in their hands against me.”

She grins from her words, “Of course.” She jumps in surprise when he lifts her on his horse to sit upon.

“I should walk you home now.” he leads the horse stright down the path.

“You should teach me some day, so I can defend myself.”

Gwayne chuckles, “Why learn when I'm here to do defend you? I am a Hightower and we carry the banner.”

Her voice is low, “Well we are built different and we may never know what lies beyond the land. I want to learn to wield the sword.”

Gwayne stops and turns to her, “You are my lover, my sweet jasmine.”

“Stop with your flattery.”

“It's the truth.”

She looks away from him into the distant land beyond. He places his hand on hers and caresses it, he sighs afterward when she does not speak. “Very well, my jasmine, I will teach you the sword.”

She does not speak yet but her smile does not hide the comfort in his words. She squeals and jumps off the horse, “Thank you! Thank you! I won't let you down. I am a good learner.” she kisses him after and jumps in delight.

When they got into her place, a familiar armor with the Hightower sigil stands guard with two other knights. She looks to Gwayne who is confused.

“What is the meaning of this?” He calls, the knights ever seated on their horses trot to him.

“We have a message from your father, ser Gwayne. Otto Hightower has been ousted as Hand by your nephew, King Aegon. An army is waiting for you to King's Landing.”

Surprise fills her face and she writhes inside of the coming dread.

“You may leave.”

“Must you go?” She pleads to him, reaching out for his arm.

“I must, my sister and my house needs me against the blacks. War had already begun and will bring ruin to us all.” Pouring wine into his goblet facing away from her.

“No man returns from the war and will make us victims and their wives will sorrow deep. Please don't go.” She becomes unreasonable for the fate that Gwayne sets foot upon.

Gwayne turns to her. The glint in her eyes suffer from the news the knights brought. “But I am not that man. I will return to you.” He says pulling her when she looks away as tears prick her eyes. “Listen to me.”

She turns to him albeit seconds after.

“I keep my promises and I will return to you. I will leave on the morrow but tonight I want you to forget about your worries.”

Gwayne pushes her gently against the bolster of the bed, he grabs her chin and gently pushes his lips on hers. Her hands move to unlace the strings of her corset. He licks the side of her neck to her ear and nibbles it while he rests his hand on her breast. He grabs her breast with bis mouth and suckles upon it while she twists her fingers on his blonde hair out of its formality.

She sits between his spread legs, stamping soft and airy kisses upward his bare thigh to the base of his cock, with her gaze locked upon her. She spits on the strong heady smell and taking the head in her mouth. She flicks her tongue on the slit watching Gwayne squirm with anticipation, his chest moving faster than normal. He grabs the arms and pushes his head back shen she licks a stripe on the underside vein and taking him midway, stroking inches. Gwayne writhes in his seat and his cock twitches flowing with his cum. She takes him again this time to the hilt and he moans and grabs her hair controlling the motion of her head. His mouth hangs upon and shoots his cum after in the back of her throat. She pulls away but Gwayne is quick, “You did well, my jasmine. Now sit on my lap.

Gwayne slides his lone finger on her slit repeatedly hitting her sensitive clit, whispering sweet nothings that heavily contradict how his fingers thrust inside her soppy and wet cunt, spitting liquid and sounds of skin slapping that races his heart. She grips his arm firm, writhing as he continue to do so.

“Such a beautiful jasmine I have here. Are you going to cum?”

Her mouth hanging as his lips move across her neck while he finishes thrusting his fingers before she finally cums on his fingers.

“Such a good girl.”

She catches her breath and steadies her heart. Her mind is going blank from the aftermath of him fingering her wet cunt.

She watches Gwayne fix the saddle on his horse, but her yes are fixed on him. All the while after they had sex, he doesn't hear anymore anything from her. The way to his father may not be long and would still feel her presence, but the path to King's Landing is heavy and face and he wouldn't recognize her face anywhere.

“Here,” she hands him a yellow handkerchief, “I finished days ago, so you may always know that I'm by your side and you won't feel lonely.”

Gwayne grins then jokes, “Why, did you put some spell on it so when I breathe it I'll get well faster?”

She rolls her eyes, “Don't be an asshole.” she says firmly and proceeds to smack his arm. He laughs and puts the handkerchief to a safe spot. Finally he gets on his horse because pressing another kiss on her lips might he never leave, and his hands are now tight on the reins, as well as his eyes.

“Gwayne, I love you. You should do well to always remember it. Be safe and come back to me.”

“I will,” he doesn't look at her then commands the horse on his way.

[fuctacles]

The sound of a promise

For @stevieweek Day 6: Queer culture | M | 1997 | Steddie | some gender dysphoria (voice), cat lady stevie universe sequel, transfem Steve, age gap, pre-relationship, spice&fluff Stevie Week: Day 1 | Day 2 (art) | Day 3 (art) | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

!We dive straight into smut but it's not very descriptive!

Steph makes a few aborted sounds in her throat before slapping her hand against her mouth while Eddie pounds into her. Her muffled sounds make him look up and notice that she's silencing herself and his hips still. 

She blinks up at him, confused at his sudden stillness.

"Does it not feel good?" he asks with a slight pout to his lips.

She shakes her head immediately.

"It does," she croaks out before slapping the hand back over her mouth. Eddie frowns.

"Then I want to hear it. Please."

She shakes her head again, but it's small and hesitant this time. She spreads her fingers, not ready to take the hand away, but wanting to be heard.

"I can't control my voice, you know..." She makes a vague gesture to her mouth, her neck, and the vocal cords beneath. "Like this. There's only so much estrogen can do."

Eddie's heart breaks for her. He sits back, most of him slipping out, and caresses her thigh. 

"What do you mean?"

She sighs, but the soft touch on her skin helps her calm down and gather her thoughts. 

"Hormones don't just... change my voice. They kind of help expand my vocal range so that I can hit the higher notes, and sound the way I do every day. But I can still use the lower notes, and sometimes they just... slip out." She winces.

"Stevie." She looks up at him. "Stephanie, Steph." Eddie leans forward again, and she presses her lips together when his dick moves inside her too. "You're a woman, and your voice won't change that, not to me. I want to know I make you feel good. I want to hear it's so good you can forget yourself, and let loose. I want you to trust me that it won't change how I see you."

Despite his words and the blush on her cheeks, she doesn't seem convinced. So he adds, mercilessly:

"Please."

Stephanie nods and lets him take her hand away from her face. He presses his lips to her palm, watching her cheeks redden further.

"Thank you."

Wayne has taught him to be polite and respectful to women but he never knew such simple words would make someone squirm under him like that. It makes him want to bring her flowers and kiss her goodnight, knowing she'll eat it up and turn these beautiful shades of pink and crimson just for him.

He presses her hand to the mattress and resumes his movements. Slow at first, because his dick lost the plot for a second, but as soon as he felt himself get into full hardness again, he braced himself with the intent to bruise.

"Let me hear you," he said, slamming into the woman beneath him. 

She whimpered, at first, and Eddie let her ease into it, observing her slowly part her lips and let the music flow. The breathy little ohs and ahs, the whines that follow, and finally, when he hit the right spot, a choked-off moan.

"Like that," he praised immediately. "Shit, you sound so hot."

And when she looked into his eyes, moaning and whining unashamedly, her self-consciousness gone, Eddie lost it.

He dove down to bite into her mouth and she accepted it happily, sharing her moans, the high ones, and the low ones, directly into him. With her free arm, she grasped his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer, and he let go of her other hand so they could wrap around each other, pressing tight until their bones crushed, only their mouths and hips allowed to move freely.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Eddie chanted into the corner of her mouth. "Steph."

"Eddie. I'm gonna—"

It's all the warning he gets before her heels dig into his back to pull him impossibly deeper and she comes. Her blunt nails digging into his skin are the last straw for him. 

"Fuck!" he grits out, spilling into the condom, and his thrusts finally weaken, turning into a shallow sway until he stills, breathing heavily against her neck, where he presses his mouth because not touching her wherever he can right now would be torture. Slowly, as he regains control over his muscles, he starts pressing light kisses there. 

"You were perfect. So beautiful. So hot. And you sound divine."

Despite his body's protests, he pushes himself up, because he needs to look her in the eyes.

"So good I could record you and take you with me to Indy, for the lonely nights."

"Oh my god, stop." She turns her head away, face twisting with embarrassment. But Eddie presses on. 

"Those little moans you make, the ohs," he tries to imitate the breathy sounds she made and watches her cheeks bloom. "The ahs. Perfect. Thank you for letting me hear them."

"Uh, sure," she offers.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. 

"You sound like you don't believe me."

All she can give him to that is a shrug. So he moves his hips, making her hiss from how sensitive she is, and pulls out from her. He can feel her eyes following as he gets up to dispose of the condom and goes for the door, closed against the four-legged intruders. 

"Towel? Shower?" he asks, but she shakes her head, lifting herself on her hands to point towards the window.

"Just throw me this one. It's going into the laundry anyway."

Eddie grabs the towel, smelling faintly of hair conditioner, off the radiator. Instead of handing it over though, he sits on top of Stephanie's thighs to wipe the cum off her belly himself. 

"Such a gentleman," she comments, with amusement in her tone. 

"Well, I try to treat a lady how she deserves to be treated." He gives her his winning smile, the one he uses to charm his way out of trouble and get an extra cookie at the cafeteria. It must be working, because she finally softens, the lines on her forehead smoothing out as her expression opens up like she's starting to believe his words. 

"You saw my... you know."

"Sure did." Eddie nods with a cheeky grin. "And she's pretty like the rest of you." He grabs her dick to clean thoroughly around it and wipes gently at the tip to make his point. Steph's breath hitches at the way he addresses her genitals. 

"And you heard my voice."

"I hear It all the time," he points out, nudging her knees up to gently wipe the lube from around her rim.

"Yeah, but not like this," she says, lowering her voice on purpose. Her eyes are piercing and testing, and Eddie looks up to meet them.

"I'm a musician, I love a woman with a wide vocal range." He sits up though, his smile wilting. "Do you want to scare me off? Because it's not working, but if you want me to leave, just tell me," he says with a frown. He's been doing his best to be gentle and accommodating. True, he's not dealt with trans people before, but he thought he was doing well. "If I crossed a line somewhere, or did something wrong—"

"No, no, you're good," she cuts him off with a furious shake of her head. "I think I just need a moment."

Eddie gives her a puzzled look. He folds the towel in his hands nervously. 

"Okay. Do you want me to leave, or..."

"No, just come here."

Instead of being shunned out of her flat, he's being pulled down, chest against chest. He quickly gets the memo and straightens his legs until he's laying like a blanket on top of her, arms bent awkwardly to cradle her shoulders, head in the crook of her neck. 

Stephanie tries to be quiet, but eventually, she can't hold back the wet sniffle that alarms Eddie.

"Shit, are you crying?" He tries to look up, but she presses his head back into her neck so he can't move.

"Shut up," she says, but doesn't sound angry. So he settles back down, tries to wrap his arms around her to provide the comfort she clearly needs, and lets her feel whatever she's feeling, fingers gently tracing her skin. 

When he can feel her breath and heartbeat settle down, he asks without looking up:

"Were these good tears?"

She snorts.

"Of course they were, idiot."

He huffs out an amused breath against her neck, making her shoulder jump against the ticklish feeling. 

"I haven't been treated this nice in a long while. It's a lot."

Eddie hums against her skin. He doesn't have the words to help, but he understands the feeling so he hugs her tighter against him.

"I get it," is all he can offer. It's like the first time Wayne had praised him after years of living with his parents. He bawled his eyes out back then, not understanding why. "I'll treat you nice every time, I can't imagine doing it any other way."

Her breath quickens again.

"See?" she asks wetly, almost accusingly. "And now you're promising me more. You can't do that."

"Why not?" Eddie frowns. But he's still not allowed to look up. 

"You go to college. You don't even live here."

"I live here sometimes," he corrects. "And I have a feeling I'll be visiting more often now."

She huffs but doesn't say anything. 

"What? Long distance doesn't work for you?" he half-jokes.

"You make it sound like it's a relationship," she says and Eddie cannot decipher her tone. She sounds accusatory, hurt, and annoyed all at once. 

He finally breaks from her grasp but gives her the comfort of no eye contact. Just settles more comfortably against her collarbone, not crushing her to the bed anymore. He throws his leg and arm over her, wrapping Steph in a comforting touch she so clearly lacks. 

"It could be," he says. 

She doesn't say anything at first, but he senses another scoff on the tip of her tongue.

"Could it?" she counters eventually. Eddie hums.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it?"

"I'm older than you."

This time it's Eddie who scoffs. 

"You're beautiful and funny and have only one too many cats. I think you're fine. And if you have like, a deadly old-lady disease you haven't told me about, that's all the more reason to spend the time you have left being properly fucked and wooed and courted."

"I like how you set the priorities there."

He slaps her hip gently.

"Like you didn't like it."

"I did, I did." She reaches into his hair to gently scratch his scalp. "Can we come back to this?" she asks, but there's an almost pleading tone in her voice. "Next time you visit, we can talk about it."

He doesn't like the idea of waiting until his next break, but if she needs that space, he'll give it to her. 

"Of course."

The signals he's getting are confusing, but he hasn't been told a straightforward 'no' yet, and the hand in his hair is nice and gentle, so he thinks his odds are quite good. He understands the need to think things through even if he's a man of impulsive decisions himself. 

"When do you have to leave?"

Eddie turns to look at the Garfield clock on Steph's bedside table. If he doesn't leave right now, he'll run into traffic outside of the city later. But if he waits a few hours, he'll catch a nice view of the sunset and will be back in his flat shortly after sundown. He doesn't have classes until noon tomorrow anyway. 

"I have enough time for a nap and round two," he decides, looking back at her.

"Perfect." She smiles sweetly, craning her neck down to kiss him. Then she flips them until she's the one cuddling into him, and he positively shudders when he wraps his arms around the soft body pressed against him, cradling her to his chest. 

"Yeah, perfect," he agrees, closing his eyes.

[misc-obeyme]

hi! can you make something uuhhh... kinda spicy..? the side characters reaction to getting catch making out/ kissing mc hard?😳

Hi there, anon!

This is by far the spiciest thing I've ever posted here (ETA: lol), but I would still say it's only slightly spicy. They ended up a little longer than I meant for them to, but you know when inspiration strikes, I tend to go with the flow and not question it. Anyway, I hope the spice level is okay and that they're not too cheesy, but either way I enjoyed writing it!

Thank you for the request!

side characters make out with GN!MC and react to getting caught

Warnings: making out, kissing, touching, etc, but everyone stays clothed lol

Diavolo

You had received a message from Diavolo earlier that evening asking you to come see him at the Demon Lord's Castle. Although he hadn't said what it was he wanted to talk to you about, you were pretty sure it was regarding an upcoming event that you were helping him plan. So you made your way over to the castle quickly.

He had been at his desk in his office, working away, when you arrived. He looked up at you as you entered the room, putting down his pen and actually standing up to greet you.

"Thank you for coming, MC!" he said, taking your hand and leading you to a seat in front of his desk.

You sat down as he passed several papers to you. A glance revealed that you were correct - they were about the event at RAD that you were planning. You had some ideas about it already and the two of you launched into a discussion about logistics and such things.

When your talk finally came to an end, you nodded firmly. "Okay," you said. "I'll have all this ready in the next couple of days."

"That would be wonderful, but don't overwork yourself, MC," Diavolo said.

"Don't worry, I can handle it," you said. You stood up from your seat and smiled at him. "Good night, Diavolo. I'll see you at RAD tomorrow."

You turned and walked toward the door. You were about to open it when you found that somehow Diavolo was already standing in your way. How did he get there so fast? But you didn't have time to wonder too much about that.

He frowned, but it was more like a pout and you could see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Must you leave so soon?"

You folded your arms and looked at him. "We both have a lot of work to do."

Diavolo couldn't keep the smile off his face. He moved closer to you, settling his hands on your waist. "I know, MC," he said. "But can't we take advantage of these few moments alone? I promise I'll be able to work twice as hard later."

You scoffed at this, but you also felt a smile creeping onto your face. You couldn't exactly refuse those sparkling gold eyes. "I guess I have a few minutes…"

Diavolo pulled you closer, kissing you as your hands rested on his chest. The heat from his soft lips spread throughout your entire body as you felt an electric thrill run through your stomach.

Diavolo began to move forward, causing you to move backward until you ran into his desk. You felt him lift you to sit on his desk and you let out a small sound of surprise, nearly breaking the kiss. Your concern quickly fled as he moved in further, one hand leaning against the desk beside you and one cupping your cheek.

You could feel the flush warming your face and neck as his hand moved from your cheek into your hair. Your own hands gripped the front of his uniform before sliding up to clasp behind his neck.

The hand in your hair slid down your spine slowly before stopping on your lower back. You couldn't help but arch into the touch. This broke the kiss, but Diavolo's lips were now on your neck. You bit your lip as he trailed kisses down your throat.

The door to the office opened with a slight creak.

You froze. Diavolo pulled away, hovering over you, but clearly not willing to completely let you go.

You looked over his shoulder at Lucifer, who stood in the doorway holding a stack of papers in one hand, his other hand still on the doorknob.

Lucifer cleared his throat. "Forgive me for interrupting," he said, his voice full of sarcasm. "I'll just leave these here." He put the papers on a nearby table before exiting immediately, shutting the door sharply with a snap.

You looked back at Diavolo, who was staring at you in surprise. Then he laughed, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair as he did so.

"I'm so sorry, MC," Diavolo said, a light blush across his cheeks. "I'm afraid I got carried away and forgot that Lucifer was coming by. Can you forgive me?"

You sighed. The pool of warmth that had settled in your stomach still lingered, fueled by Diavolo's cheerful response to having been caught like this. "I'll forgive you on one condition."

"Anything for you," he said.

You slipped off the desk, fixing your clothes and hair as you did so. Then you straightened his tie, which had gotten skewed. "Next time, invite me over when you aren't working so we can have the whole evening to ourselves."

"I promise," he said, smiling brightly.

Barbatos

It was a rainy day in the Devildom and for some reason you found yourself craving one of Barbatos's signature cakes. When you asked him about it, he offered to come over to the House of Lamentation to make one for you. That was how you found yourself in the kitchen, watching as he expertly mixed various ingredients to create cake, frosting, and filling. You helped where you could, but really it was best to just watch the master at work.

He had removed his gloves and RAD uniform jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his green shirt. It was really quite enjoyable to watch him as he made the batter or piped the frosting. Barbatos was always smiling and content while he was baking. He was in his element and you couldn't help but stare at him as he moved about the kitchen.

When the cake was finally ready, you waited in anticipation as Barbatos cut you a slice. He placed it on a little plate before using a fork to scoop up a bite. You watched curiously, thinking he was going to sample it himself before allowing you to eat some. Instead, he held the fork out to you.

You blushed instantly, but you held his gaze while you leaned forward and ate the cake off the fork. He waited, watching you.

"It's delicious, of course," you said. "You don't… you're not going to feed it all to me, are you?"

Barbatos smiled, placing the plate on the counter. "Did you think I hadn't noticed the way you were staring, MC? It was quite distracting."

"I couldn't help it," you said. "If you could see yourself, you wouldn't blame me."

Barbatos moved closer to you. He leaned in, not quite touching you. "I came here this afternoon to satisfy your craving," he said quietly in your ear. "But your keen attention has caused a different craving in me, I'm afraid. Won't you indulge me?"

You knew he was waiting for some kind of confirmation from you. He was so close, you couldn't quite focus because your heart was pounding too hard. You opened your mouth, as though you were going to say something, but found that no words came out. So instead you closed the remaining space between you, put your hands on his cheeks, and kissed him.

You felt Barbatos's arms wrap around you, pressing you to him. You kept one hand on his face, but let the other one fall to grip his arm, your fingers coming in contact with his rarely exposed skin. You gently nipped his bottom lip and he opened his mouth for you. Your whole body was warm, a giddy feeling bubbled up in your stomach, and the taste of him was so much sweeter than any dessert.

You felt his hands moving slowly but deliberately up and down your back. The sensation of heat was almost overwhelming you.

You tried to stop yourself, but it was no use. "Barbatos," you moaned his name into his lips and you felt his grip on you tighten.

Your knees were weak and just as you thought you might not be able to stay standing, there was a clatter at the other end of the kitchen.

"Ohhh MC! Barbatos! Why didn't you invite me to this make out party?"

You felt yourself blush intensely as you pulled away and saw Asmodeus walk into the room.

Barbatos smiled at you before letting you go and turning around. "Asmodeus," he said, perfectly composed. "Would you like some cake?"

Asmo pouted. "Are you really going to try to pretend that you guys weren't just making out?"

"Asmodeus," Barbatos said again. He was smiling, but an aura of black and purple had sprung up around him. "Would you like some cake?"

Asmo shuddered. "That cake looks divine, of course I'd love a piece!"

Barbatos began to cut another piece of the cake for Asmo while you picked up your own plate and took another bite. It was as amazing as it always was. Word spread quickly around the House of Lamentation that there was cake to be had. There were no leftovers, especially after Beel showed up. Barbatos was more than happy to make another cake so everyone was satisfied.

Later on, you stood by the front door as Barbatos prepared to return to the castle. He was back in his full uniform, white gloves and all. He paused in the front doorway, taking both of your hands in his.

"Should you wish to enjoy that cake again, I must insist that you come to the Demon Lord's Castle," he said with his usual smile. "Allow me to treat you to a full tea party as well."

You leaned in a little closer and kissed his cheek. "I would love to," you said. "Especially if it's a tea party just for two."

Simeon

You lingered outside the door of the home economics classroom, waiting for Simeon to come out. Many delicious aromas wafted out as the other students filed past you, chatting about the various things they had made during class.

You had just come from seductive speechcraft, where you had received a message from Simeon on your D.D.D. After working out a couple of the typos, you realized he was asking you to meet him here at the home economics classroom so you could have lunch together. He had made something tasty and wanted to share it with you.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Simeon emerged from the classroom with a small box in his hands. He smiled when he saw you.

"I'm sorry if you were waiting long, MC," he said.

"It wasn't that long," you said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," Simeon said, still smiling. "I was thinking we could eat outside. It's a nice afternoon."

"Sure," you said.

You and Simeon made your way through the halls, down the front steps, and through the grounds to a mostly secluded spot surrounded by trees. You both sat down at the base of one of the trees. Simeon carefully opened the box he'd been carrying to reveal a couple of his famous BLT devil sandwiches.

"I made a lot of these today," he said. "I gave most of them to Beelzebub during class, but I saved these for us to have for lunch."

You pulled two devil crush super spicy mango juices from your bag. "I brought drinks," you said.

"That's perfect," Simeon said. "Thank you, MC."

It didn't take the two of you long to eat your lunch, laughing and talking the whole time. When you were finished, there was still time left before you needed to go back to class.

You sighed and leaned back against the tree. "This is so nice," you said. "I wish I could just stay here with you forever instead of going back to class."

Simeon laughed and leaned toward you, taking one of your hands. "Forever? Are you sure you would want to stay with me that long, MC?"

The bright smile on his face and the way his blue eyes were shining caused you to lean closer and say, "Yes. Forever."

Simeon blushed and raised your hand to his lips, kissing it softly while looking up at you.

Your heart began to race. You turned your hand in his and cupped his cheek.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments before you simultaneously moved closer together, your lips meeting. Simeon shifted so he was on his knees before you, one hand on your thigh and the other still covering yours which remained on his cheek. You could feel his skin flushing beneath your touch.

You opened your mouth without thinking about it clearly, eager for more of him. He responded instantly, if tentatively. You ran a hand through his hair, letting the soft, smooth strands fall through your fingers.

You pulled away briefly for some air and found yourself looking at the soft brown skin of his throat, peeking above the high collar of his shirt. You kissed it and you couldn't resist continuing down to his exposed collarbone and one of his shoulders.

"M-MC-" Simeon's grip on your thigh tightened as he said your name.

There was a rustling in the tree above you and a loud thud nearby.

Simeon sat back and stood up in one fluid motion, clearly surprised. You looked up to see Belphie rubbing at his eyes. He seemed exasperated.

"Can't a demon take a nap in a tree without being disturbed around here?" he asked, giving you both a sleepy look. "You guys better stop making out and get back to class or you'll get detention for skipping."

Simeon sighed and held out a hand to help you up. You accepted the offered hand, letting him pull you to your feet. You saw that he was blushing only slightly less than you were.

You were ready to get on Belphie's case for sleeping in trees, but he was already on his way back to RAD. You turned to Simeon bashfully. "Thanks for lunch," you said.

Simeon laughed and shook his head. "You're welcome, MC. We should do this again. We'll just have to make sure the tree we choose to sit by doesn't have Belphegor napping in its branches."

You couldn't help but laugh, too. It was embarrassing to get caught, but Simeon still looked like he was happy just to be with you. He held your hand all the way back to RAD.

Solomon

You had been in the library at RAD with Solomon for the last couple of hours, reading through a stack of books. He was researching some minute details of a certain kind of spell involving a magic circle, but it was an old spell and there was limited information about it. So you had to look through many old books to see if you could find even a small mention of it.

You closed the book you were currently looking through as you reached the end and realized that you had no more books in your to-read stack.

The library was quiet at this hour of the day. Across the table from you, Solomon was engrossed in whatever book was in front of him. The look on his face was one of serious concentration.

You didn't want to disturb him, but he seemed to sense that you were watching him. He looked up at you, smiled and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head for a moment.

"Are you done already?" he asked.

"I've gone through all of these," you said.

Solomon nodded. "Come on, there are plenty of other books to look through. I'll help you get more from the shelves."

You got up from the table and followed Solomon. You frowned when he passed by the books you thought he was going to stop at.

You jogged a little to catch up to him. "Um, weren't the books back there?"

"There are more over here," he said. "I think we might be more successful with these."

He stopped in front of the back wall of books and indicated the top half of the shelves. "You can use this step stool to reach them," he said, pulling a little step stool from nearby. "If you want to hand them down to me, we can take back a stack of them."

You stepped up onto the first step and knew immediately that the stool wasn't balanced right. It tipped slightly and you stumbled, throwing out your hands in an attempt to catch yourself.

Fortunately for you, Solomon was there to catch you. However, you then found yourself with your back pressed against the shelf and his arms wrapped around you. You knew he saw the blush that you could feel suddenly spring to your cheeks.

Solomon seemed reluctant to let you go. "Are you all right, MC? I'm sorry I almost caused you to get hurt."

"I'm fine," you said. "It scared me a little, though."

Solomon reached up and brushed back some of your hair, which had fallen forward into your face when you fell. "Let me make it up to you," he said, leaning in closer and pausing, lips inches away from yours.

You took the invitation and kissed him, letting your arms wrap around him, your fingers clinging to the back of his RAD uniform. He responded by pressing into you, keeping a hand behind your back to prevent you from being pushed uncomfortably into the bookshelf. His kiss was hot and heavy, his touch needy.

You felt dizzy, ready to get lost in him and forget about the old books for a while. A twinge of butterflies fluttered through your insides as you felt yourself flushing in response. The heat around you increased, Solomon's body pressed up against yours, one of his hands tracing lightly down your arm.

You gasped as Solomon broke away long enough to move to your neck. You tangled a hand in his hair as he made his way down to your collarbone, biting gently at your skin.

And then someone cleared their throat loudly.

Solomon reluctantly pulled himself away from you, turning to look at whoever had interrupted while straightening his uniform.

Satan stood there, arms folded, looking like he was about to go into demon form on the both of you. "Solomon. MC. What are you doing? This is a library. And I need one of the books you're so blatantly making out on."

You blushed, covering your face with your hands. "Sorry," you mumbled into your palms.

Solomon laughed and took your hands away from your face. "Sorry about that, Satan," he said. "We were just leaving."

Solomon led you back to the table where the books from earlier remained stacked.

"I thought there were more…?" you said.

Solomon shook his head, still smiling. "I think we're done for the day, don't you? We can pick up again another time. Let me walk you home."

You nodded, then stopped when something dawned on you. "Solomon, couldn't you have just used magic to get those books down from the top shelves?"

Solomon laughed again. "I suppose I could have."

You laughed, too. Like he really needed to make up an excuse like that to kiss you. You let him walk you home and made sure he knew as much before you parted ways.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[azsazz]

💐 Dad!Az anon!!

Putting your message here so i can add a read more, but like i said earlier i don't have any words 😭😭 this is def one of the best asks ive ever gotten before and i'm so so so glad you love dad az as much as I do!!

ugh, i love and miss the babies so so much. and i love you too because this message made me feel so many things that i'm still blushing from reading this!!

yes, the kiddies will someday be developed as my OC's...i have plans :)))) 💙💙

Hi Kiers! I have returned, alas, and I have come with me and my complete brainrot. (I am crazy) Without further ado, here is everything I have to say about Daddy!Az and the rest of the Legion. Some might be complete brain rot, while the others fall in the middle or are actually (somewhat) legible literary analyses! just so you know, this is really long. i tried adding a read more button but I don't know if that's available for asks? i distinctly remember it being available... but it is what it is😔

One More: 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 SOME MIGHT SAY FIRST IS THE WORST BUT THIS FIRST ONESHOT TO START US OFF?? NOT THE WORST. FAR FROM IT, ACTUALLY. I don’t know if people say it enough, but I adore how you write smut. I have one emotion: 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

Family Dynamic: First, I love how your first thought was to go “Oh hell yeah! Daddy!Az! I should make a story about the birthorder of the children!” GOLDEN. your brain has veins with gold flowing through them. COMPLETELY and utterly ASTONISHING how they just come one after the other it’s hilarious?? im reeling😭 AND IRS SO CUTE HOW YOU INCLUDE LIKE LITTLE EXCERPTS OF DOMESTIC LIFE ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THAT’S SO ADORABLE. what gets me most, however, is the last few paragraphs. It’s like, it completely encompasses the reader’s (our) content and it’s so accurate and beautifully worded I can’t help but commend you for it. Plus, Cassian’s immediate “Oh No” gets me everytime😭😭

Keep Me Satisfied: “Going to fuck so many into you, love. A whole litter, I promise.” GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. 🫦 i literally HAVE NO WORDS?? I have no words! I literally have NO words besides the sentence “i HAVE NO WORDS”?? GOT ME FUCKED UP, GOT ME FUCKED OUT, GOT ME FUCKED???? HELLO??? HAS ANYONE EVER TOLD YOU THE WAY YOU WRITE SPICE IS LIKE OTHERWORLDLY TYPE OF IMPRESSIVE?

Hush Little Baby: This is like throwing the first ever blanket I had as a baby straight at me. It’s so familiar, and warm, and It makes me nostalgic because I was once a baby too (weren’t we all?), and I had the same wide eyes Azriel observed in his own babe. This oneshot makes me so happy, & I can’t fully articulate it

Here’s To Tradition Kiers give us a goddamn break or a glass of water to wash down the sugar challenge FAILED MISERABLY i look at nyx, giddy, and wren and all i want to do is CRY and HOLD THEM. I CAN’T EVEN LIKE… I DON’t KNOW HOW TO….ARTICUATE…I WANT TO HOLD. they’re like so little:(((( and im :((( i :((

You Too: I love your writing so much. need I say more. if I do then uhh err rhow do I get my thoughts out what if I just sscream in text AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Can’t You See?: IM CRYINGGGG WREN:( he’s such a sweet, sweet boy and when i first started reading this series i was really excited to see how he’d grow up and it’s just. wow. seeing him so happy makes me so happy. your writing makes me so happy “The little boy even tries to show off his own shadows, “Just like my daddy’s!” He sees both Rhys and Cassian watching with their own fond smiles, silently agreeing with every loving word pouring from the little boy's mouth.” PAUSE. I NEED TO CRY

Concord: I really like how you emphasize the bat babies innocence here. Unlike their fathers, from what I remember because I find it truly hard to focus when i read and like to listen to audiobooks as an alternative, the bat babies have a more stable childhood. theyre surrounded by safe environments, and they see that their parents have these funky little markings on parts of their body and they want to have that too. they hear stories of promises and the like and they want that too. they want what the inner circle have and so they try to ensure they get it and it BACKFIRES ON THEM THEYRE SO:( I feel😞 and WRENNIE ASKING IF NYXIE AND GIDDY CAN STAY FOR SUPPER ?!!!!! I CRY.

come back: 😞😞😞i 😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞love😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞the😞😞😞😞😞😞familyness😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞icryicryicry😞😞😞😞😞😞

Burning Man: Hi! You wound me with your writing sometimes. The utter devastation I feel whenever you write angst is inexplicable! There is truly nothing like it! I did like the comfort right after though. Dad!Az you are my roman empire😞

Promise: GET THE FUCK OUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT I AM GOING TO CRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IM SORRU ITS JUST SOMETIMES WHENEVER YOU WRITE ABT THE BABIES THEY’RE LIKE SO WONDERFULLY PORTRAYED.. l CRY I CRY I CRY ITS TAKING EVERYTHING IN ME NOT TO HOLD BAZ RN

Summer Daze: I love how you give us a little peek into Mama’s relationship with the other women, Nes in particular!! i love Nes and i hold her close to my heart so this little peek made me really happy. Especially at how cute her relationship with Cas is, even if its just brushed over:((( its so cute!!!!!! And Azzy kissing Mama’s belly:( that’s so sweet and tender

Two is Better than one: I. LOVE SCENES LIKE THIS. Where a character is thanking and worshipping the person that’s giving them children, blessing them with new life—an extension of love and care; it’s just so intimate and i treasure it and you write it so well it near kills me to stop reading😭 I really really like that addition:(

Taciturn: Punchign wall.😭☹️☹️😭😞☹️😞☹️☹️😭☹️😞☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞 baz they will never make me hate u “How come knoxie doesnt cry like Malos does” HELPPPPPP☹️☹️☹️☹️ “Its okay mommy, i’ll talk for him!” can we get more baz n knox pls. pls. thats truly so sweet.

In the House love built: the way you write smut is so intimate sometimes, and it’s so loving and you encapsulate the bond between mates so well. you’re truly worthy of all the attention you’ve received on this platform

The Calm Beneath The Storm: ☹️ pleaaaase i love how the childrens bonds are so evident and well written too and i just.i just cant properly sayhow much comfort i find in series like this and i cant properly say how much comfort i find in writing like yours ure so good kiers omf

Cuddle Me In: Jax is like living tylenol in a baby im not joking . he fixes ALL my headaches. hes so adorbsicles no one speak to me at all i cry i cry i cry☹️😞☹️😞☹️ punchign. wall

The Rowdy Bunch: Azriel really knows how to man up huh god he’s so fine in rhis one miss kiers u made him sso fine

The HoneyCrisp Grove: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ARE YOU KIDDING ME THATS SO ADORABLE

Winter Wind: I just think it’s REALLY funny that you deliver honeycrisp grove and suddenly i get hit in the face with 💥BOOM ZUZU CRYING SO HARD HER VOICE IS HOARSE 💥BOOM MAMA GETTING STABBED BY A DISTANT RELATIVE 💥BOOM “help me” WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME. do u drink your readers TEARS for breakfast (this is my way of saying this story is well written and perfect)

Sticking Together: UGHH THIS IS SO:((( I WOULD LOVE FOR AN EXTENSION ON THIS!! like just seeing the #boys and their journey throughout windhaven would be so sad but also such an exciting read?? I hope we get to see how their bond grew because of it, or how it was maintained:(( i really like this story!!

Snatched: Complete rollercoaster of emotions btw. A bunch of ups and downs and round and rounds and i came out dizzy and dazed and possibly bleeding internally. W Eris I love him in this you portray him so well🙏🙏 And also once again. BAZ AND KNOX. GOD. MAKES ME SICK TO MY STOMACH WITH WARMTH.

No tricks, Just Treats: little knox is so precious to me. like he’s just so sweet. and also i remember you mentioning in the batbabies doc that wren, gideon, and nyx had the same dynamic as rhys, cas, and az so thejr costumes are a pretty good touch:D this is the perfect amount of fluff

In Ribbons:

“Baby, baby,” he begs, raising up as far as he can, voice lined with desperation and hazel eyes wide, “I didn’t mean to–” 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 HELLO

Unwrapped: “Zuzu and Jax must be on waking you and your mate duty as they’re already climbing up into your bed. Your oldest daughter, ever the determined one, uses all of her strength to pull herself up onto the plush bed, only slipping once.” ZUZU GET BEHIND ME ILL PROTECT YOU 🤺🤺🤺🤺 HUZZAH shes so cute . i love zuzu so much, shes such a sweetie:(( your stories are like huge rollercoasters tbh one moment az is wrapped in ribbons and then the next the kids are fighting over presents and im here for it!! AND ALSO JAX AND AMREN & jax and rhys mention wow. god i love them i love how you put in effort to establish dynamics not only between the family but between the extended family too!?!

Into The New: I LOVE ZUZ SOOSOSOSMUCH:( she triggers fond memories of my own childhood. The way more of her dynamic with the orher members of the inner circle is expanded on in this story is so so sweet. I LOVE scenes where young characters see love blossom between people and KNOW that its love and WANT it but also at the same time i recall seeing an ask where you mentioned if Zuzu ever had a mate she’d think of herself as unworthy which … which is making me connect dots🙏 im trying to connect dots here cuz I SEE THE VISION but im trying to see the TRUE EXTENT OF THE VISION

Here for You: the Zuzu Rules Shirts?? I love Uncle Rhys😭 he’s so real for that tho. toss me one and watch me wear it with pride ??? i love the little things you add into your stories thatninclude the dynamic between characters:(( and also Zuz here being so happy and fulfilled makes ME happy and fulfilled. shes MY BABY.

Between Me & You: “This one’s for all the Jax girlies” ME🙌 JAX IS MY BOY🙏🙏 but also Baz calling Jax “J” is so corny and brother-core!!! (i dunno how else to describe it but i love it) also Bryaxis and Jax⁉️ FRIENDSHIP⁉️🙏 IM ALL FOR IT and i love how we see remnants of Jax’s journey into being able to control his power:((( i hope we get to see more of him (and Knox and baz . i love knox and baz)sometime!

The SafeGuard: IM TELLING YOU IM CONNECTING THE DOTS⁉️🙏 read:. im tripping over protective father azriel and giggling like a complete fool

Warrior Status: I. LOVE. WHEN. YOU. WRITE. SCENES. LIKE. THIS. ITS SO… IRHFJDJD LIKE WHEN YOU GO MORE IN DEPTH INTO THE LORE AND HOW NEW GEN IS HANDLING THE BLOOD RITE AND HOW THEIR PARENTS TRAIN THEM FOR IT IS MAKING ME HRISIDOOD ITS MAKING ME SO HAPPY but also wow. wow um the tension here is real. i always expect a rollercoaster of emotions whenever i read your writing and yet im blown away every time. i love baz, he seems to be capable of more than even he knows, and i hineslty hope theres more content so we cannall see how he’s faring:)

About Last Night:

“If we get caught,” Gideon defends, before adding as an afterthought, eyebrows furrowed, “And she’s not my girlfriend.” LOUDDDD INCORRECT BUZZER❌❌❌❌❌ W W W WRONGGGGG WRONG. EVERYONE KNOWS‼️ i love how giddy is the one who suggests going to autumn primarily to see his girl. it’s very cassian core to me as much as cassian himself disapproves😭 and KNOX’S LITTLE ‘im sorry’ PLEAAASEE THATS SO FUNNY

Torrential: This was actually the first story I read about the batbabies:) I was like, “oh my gosh who is Knox? I didn’t know there was a book out for next gen………… “ i was like genuinely so confuzzled. and this was like a few weeks ago. i didnt even know rhat Knox was an oc but I had, and still have a raging crush on him😞 I truly hope that you take the next gen and turn them into full fledged original characters of yours, i’d love to see them developed to their full extent especially with the teaser i get in this fic. like hello? Knox? River Keeper?? Okay I see you!! THE WAY YOU PORTRAY KNOX HERE UGHHHHHHHHHH HE’S SO LIKE UGHHHHHHHHHH UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH😡😡😡 (positive)

“His lips pull high into a wicked smile. One side curls higher than the other and it’s the first imperfect thing you’ve noticed about him, yet it still makes your breath hitch.” woo that got me. that got me good. you’re excellent

Our Souls Are Stars & Mine Is Forever Yours: kiers your BEAUTIFUL BRAIN is BRAINING again. this is my favorite scoop of content for the batbabies. Maude & Giddy are truly so adorable, and you really did a good job at sparking chemistry between them both. Maude trying to calm Gideon down, Gideon leading Maude to the famous balcony I CRY. I WEEP. HEAD IN HANDS. I WAILLLL I WAIL IN JOY IM SO? YOURE SO GOOD AT WRITING KIERS HOLY FUCK?!?! YOU NEVER FAIL TO IMPRESS ME

to my heart: ouuuuu… okay i see you kiers….i love this oneshot, it’s like really sweet but in a quiet subtle way and i love it when oneshots are like that. Knox’s banter with Malos, knox waiting for a reply… Kiers genuinely bless your heart

Undercover: Jax, Knox, Baz. you will always be the number one’s of my heart. NOW THAT THAT IS DISCLOSED CAN I PLEASE SAY I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE CHARACTERS PINING. LIKE JAX THIS WHOLE ONESHOT IS JUST “grrrrrrrrrrrrr dont you notice me?? 😡😡” and “wait nevermind its not time yet☹️😞☹️” at the last second and hes just so cute in this oneshot but i feel so bad for him (can we get the batbabies dapping eachother up to commemorate the jax and knox interaction in this fic yall!?!)

Jax uses his powers at a party: Heehehehhehehehehehehhehehehe wowwwwwwwwwwww hes like protecting her from afar heheheheh i giggled

Jax finds out Knox’s mating bond has been found out: I LOVE THE CALL BACK TO THIS IN UNDERCOVER. I want to see how the whole family reacts to Knox’s mating bond in the future, hopefully!! It’d definitely be very chaotic, especially if it’s the whole family!!

Bryaxis calls Jax a friend: “There's this boy at my school. His name is Montauk. He always gives me trouble, pushing and shoving me, calling me names…" Jax trails off, his tiny hands clenching into fists, "But I've felt his true emotions, and he's just a sad, scared little boy too."” :((( the “too” at the end im inconsolable. I want to hold each and every one of your next gen characters. pls.

Uncle Cassian’s reaction to finding out Jax wants to be friends with Bryaxis: Cassian is my spirit animal. and i LOVE the way you portray him 😭 he’s so funny i feel like he’d bark if I told him he was my spirit animal

What if Zuzu had gotten her wings clipped at the Steppes? I CRY I CRY I CRY I CRY. UGHHH how you detail Azriel’s devastation and at the same time Zuzu’s acceptance TEARS THROUGH ME. Zuzu is such a strong character and theres nothing to thank for that other than your immaculate writing skills

Zuzu Gets a Cat but it loves Azriel the Most + Wren, Baz, and Zuzu work together to try and convince their parents to get a second cat: I wholeheartedly believe wren, baz, and zuzu were probably nicknamed the triple trouble primarlt because of their tendency to pull shit like this and i LOVE it its so funny. I love your writing sm

I don’t know if you can tell, but I have an actually very secure AND VERY!! NORMAL attachment to this series. And I don’t have anyone to thank but you for writing it and writing it so beautifully; you truly have a gift and I know that it will get you a bunch of amazing opportunities in the future, or even now. I can feel how much work and effort goes into your writing, and the fact that you share it is an honor in itself and I’m so glad to have stumbled across your blog. You are an amazing writer. I look forward to reading more of your writing, not just for Daddy!Az—although I’d love for more of him—but even without him, I’d still love every piece of yours. I honestly hope the next gen characters become characters you take under your wing and develop, I would love to see more of them and they’re such interesting characters already. They’re so cool. You’re really cool too, Kiers!! I hope you don’t mind it took so long to get back to you, I was balancing cleaning my apartment and binging your writing:D I don’t regret anything. Reading your writing feels like a reward after every hard day. I hope to see more of you on my dash, Kiers!!! Keep writing, with your skills and your beautiful mind—it’ll no doubt help you in the long run. You’re really cool:)

xoxo,

-💐 (the one from about a week ago)