#dark side reader

[gatorbites-imagines]

Padwan anakin x more dark side leaning reader?

Padawan Anakin Skywalker x dark side leaning male reader

Headcanons

Featuring my boy Jon Antilles, give it up for Jon Antilles everybody.

You had both been younglings with the jedi, and later Padawans. You had been older than Anakin by the time he joined the order, meaning you were just at the cusp of getting sent off to the other corpse if you didn’t get picked as a padawan.

You had never fit in much with the Jedi. You were too emotional, too quick to anger, and your grudges knew no ends. You still had a chip on your shoulder because Yoda decided to tease you when you were very small, if that said anything about your ability to hold grudges.

You were the child of two slaves, who had served under the worst of the worst. This meant you had been surrounded by darkness and hate since you started growing in your parents’ womb. You had overheard many of the older jedi wonder if that was the reason for your emotional state.

Anakin didn’t fit in much either, having joined so late and being the so called chosen one. Because of this, you two found comfort in each other.

Anakin was so excited about being a jedi, though he also feared living up to the potential. In your eyes he just switched one slave owner for the next, as that was how it felt to you. But he was young and bright, so you didn’t wanna rain on his parade.

But just before your 13th birthday, you were taken as a padawan of one of the lesser known and vaguer Jedi of the order, Jon Antilles. He was a person who followed the will of the force and not the order, and the force led him to you.

He would later tell you that he looked into your eyes and saw the fire raring within you, unable to be quelled and as a result, making you someone who would suffer under the pressure and expectations of the order.

Saying goodbye to Anakin was hard, as you two had found yourselves as the only true friend the other had. Many feared you because of your known anger and revenge seeking tendencies, and Anakin because of the heavy burden of the prophesy.

But as two former slaves, you also both knew that the galaxy was vast, and that you had to go where the currents took you. Anakin also understood, even though he still didn’t fully understand the order, that you didn’t belong within the temple and that you needed to spread your wings.

Before you left, you pressed a kiss to Anakin’s forehead and gave him a bracelet made out of a thick black cord. It chafed the skin but was sturdy enough to take anything that may hit it. It was the last keepsake you had of your parents, and it had been what kept you going for all this time, and now you wanted Anakin to have it.

So, with one last goodbye, and promises whispered in the language of slaves, you left with your new Master, who told you not to call him master but instead refer to him as your teacher.

Jon Antilles had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer, and had no wish to be referred to as master by someone who was once a slave.

Back at the temple Anakin would find himself crying silently and tearlessly in his room, mourning the loss of a friend, his only friend. Obi Wan would feel his grief in the force, and would go to comfort him, knowing what it is like to lose someone so dear to you.

This would most likely lead to their relationship being better in this universe, at least a little. As that one moment helped cement a deeper level of trust and understanding.

Anakin stayed with the order and became more and more skilled, a part of him waiting for the moment you two would reunite. The bracelet stayed around his wrist, though he moved it to some other part of his body to keep it hidden, and other jedi started mumbling comments about attachment.

You thrived under Antilles, as he didn’t follow the orders from the council, the order, or even the republic. He only seemed to care about where the force wanted him, and by extension you, to go.

Your teacher was a firm believer in the light, but he also saw that the dark existed, so when you for the first time grasped the dark side in a life-or-death situation, he didn’t punish you like you feared.

Using the dark side once means it’s always with you, but instead of shunning you, your teacher helps you find balance, at least to the best of your ability.

The dark side is hard to master, and maybe you never fully do. But you never give yourself too it completely, always holding a tight grasp on the light beside it, letting the two feed off of each other to keep you from going down an unforgivable path.

Your anger and grudges still persist, and there are times you end up being needlessly cruel, but you catch yourself before its too late. During these times your teachers help is necessary, until you master it on your own.

Because of the nomadic lifestyle of Antilles and you, you end up ready to go on your own much before most other Padawan. Life experiences matures a person, and Antilles trusts you to do what is right, even if he has caught you practicing lightning or sucking the life energy out of things.

So as Anakin still works hard to be a better padawan and to fit the tight mold the order places upon him, you explore the outer parts of the galaxy, running with bounty hunters and pirates alike.

One might think you would be discovered as a jedi one way or another, but thanks to your less and jedi personality, and preferences for other weapons, you are never figured out.

Your loyalty to the rules of the order are also very very loose, if not nonexistent. The many experiences you have out in the galaxy puts many things into perspective, and you make your own theories and ideas about how the force works, theories that struggle against the rules of the jedi.

During all this time, Anakin can’t seem to leave your mind. Hes always present somewhere in there, the thin thread of a bond between the two of you so skinny its barely there anymore after all this time. But every now and again, you like to give it a little tug, smiling to yourself when he tugs back.

You two meet again during one of Anakin’s missions with Obi Wan, a mission that’s taken them further away from the core than Anakin has been since he was taken in by the jedi.

It’s a mission involving a slave trader who’s somehow smuggling slaves in and out of the republic, and the two jedi were sent to check it out but not get involved, much to Anakin’s annoyance.

They end up splitting up, not wanting to be suspected, and Anakin has to wear something to cover his head to hide his Padawan braid.

In the end, Anakin finds the hideout of the Slave traders, and just as he’s about to report it back to Obi Wan, a figure swoops in and starts ransacking the place.

Anakin can only watch with shock as you tear through the slave traders, the darkness inside you purring at their spilled blood, as the light silently approves of the justice you act out. Its only after you’ve freed all the slaves and take your hood off that Anakin recognizes you.

One way or another he follows you and corners you, in the way Anakin does, eyes wide but sparkling at how much skill you had shown in there, many questions leaving him as he wants to know what you have been up too and how you got here.

Most jedi would probably have disapproved of you killing the slavers, but Anakin had never seen slavers as anyone worth living, not that he could share those thoughts with anybody.

But at some point, you end up taking the Jedi padawan back to the room you booked for the night, where you two spend the entire night talking about what’s happened since last time you met, the bond between you strengthening after so long apart.

After that, you two keep bumping into each other. You had a feeling the force was playing a role in this, and you swore you could hear it giggling in amusement a sit pushed you together with its chosen one again and again.

Whenever you were around, the mission always ended much faster, meaning Anakin could slip away and spend time with you before reporting back to Obi Wan.

During this time, the childish crush he had had on you all that time ago comes back with a vengeance. Even when he sees you use sith lightning for the first time, he can’t seem to feel anything by affection for you.

Anakin knows he should fear you, but even as your turned turn yellow for a second or two as you lean fully into the dark during a battle, he only seems able to find your beautiful.

When Anakin kisses you for the first time, neither of you truly know how to react. Anakin’s never been in a relationship, and you have never really been with anyone you truly had feelings for. But Anakin just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, even as he knows it goes against everything the order has taught him.

If he truly were to follow the order, Anakin would have to report that you had fallen, even though you still used the light as much as you did the dark. After that he would have to stay away from you, lest you corrupt him. But he just can’t, so he stays, slipping you information so you know where his next mission goes, so you “accidentally” end up with a contract on that planet.

You settle on Coruscant for a while, which means Anakin can sneak out and spend time with you away from prying eyes.

The fact that you use the dark without succumbing to it ends up helping Anakin not fall when that time comes, but for now, you just help him get a better understanding of the force and how you have come to see it as an entity.

Obi Wan regularly wonders where Anakin goes, and worries to some degree, but he does realize that Anakin always feels lighter and more at peace when he returns from his outings, so he lets him have them to himself, hoping his Padawan would tell him if there was anything he needed to know.

As a result of your status, Anakin would start to think about leaving the order someday. Maybe not soon, but maybe one day he would like to leave with you and just go where the force takes you two.

He knows it’s a romantic fantasy, but Anakin can’t help but bask in it, even if he has to do it in secret. Being your partner just brings him more peace than any meditation ever has, and Anakin never wants to let you go.

[dreamyblanket]

Yearning from the nothing dimension [rambling in tags ^^]

[hanmaitani]

MVP

PAIRING - bf!Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader FT. akaashi keiji, bokuto koutarou, iwaizumi hajime, kozume kenma, miya atsumu, miya osamu, oikawa tooru, sakusa kiyoomi, suna rintarou WC - 5.6K GENRE - smut CW - running a train, choo choo, light bondage, fingering, dp, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, oral (m!receiving), spit, choking, creampies, praise, go brainless bby SYNOPSIS - when kuroo's dream of getting the monster generation together for an all-stars match finally comes true, you - his pretty girlfriend - decide to thank some of the players who participated.

Your eyes followed the trail that Tetsu's hands traced along his thighs as he settled them on his knees before crouching in front of you. "You doing okay here baby?" He lifted one of his hands and his fingers traced gently down the expanse of one of your arms. You watched as it followed your stretched out limb, tucking under the rope tied to your wrist, tied off to a small ring on the wall, your other arm stretched out similarly in the other direction. "Nothing too tight?"

You shook your head lightly. "'m okay, Tetsu." You wanted to press your thighs together, the exposure from this position sending heat into your center, but were quickly reminded that you couldn't thanks to the gentle straps but firm metal bar between your ankles.

"You're such a good girl, baby." Tetsu's praise caught a whimper in your throat. "You know you can tell them to stop at any time."

You nodded at him, you knew what you were getting into. Knew what you signed up for. But as soon as he left the small room, knowing what you signed up for didn’t prepare you for the feeling of cold hands brushing against your inner thighs and you jumped slightly in response. They weren’t Tetsu’s, the pads of his fingers much too soft. But you didn’t have to guess who it was for long.

“Kuro thought you might be nervous.” Kenma’s voice was drawn out in a whisper, his attempt to soothe your nerves as he rubbed small circles into your skin as he trailed his hands across your bare thighs. “Little jumpy?” You nodded lightly, it wasn’t like you could deny it, you knew he could see the slight shake to your limbs as you stood there, on display. “It’s just me.” His fingers were trailing along your waist now, brushing lightly against your body through the fabric.

“Just a little scared Kenma,” You admitted, it was less worrisome, having Kenma in here, it wouldn’t have been the first time he saw you like this. He’d accidentally walked in on you and Tetsu one too many times. And although he’d never touched you, when he rounded your body, to crouch down into your sights, you weren’t as nervous.

“Do you want me to help you relax?” His hand had trailed along with him, now softly cupping the side of your neck as his thumb brushed against the skin of your jaw. You watched his eyes carefully, taking note of the way they seemed to zero in on his thumb, where it was tracing the outline of my bottom lip. Like he was enthralled by it. You nodded lightly. His fingers were quick to press into the small space between your lips. “Here, get them wet for me?”

You were obedient, parting your lips further for him to slip two of his digits into your mouth. His fingers were cold as they slipped across your tongue, pressing down as they went. “Hey look at me.” You hadn’t realized your eyes had been focused on his wrist until you had to pull them back up to meet his eyes. He eased his fingers to your throat and you couldn’t help but gag, squeezing your eyes. “Shh. Relax.” He kept his fingers there until you opened your eyes again, watery vision as you looked up at him. “There you go.” He cooed, his other hand caressing your cheek as he pressed his fingers a little further.

You whined lightly at the feeling of your drool collecting on his fingers, dripping to his palm. Your legs shifted slightly as you felt a wave of excitement course through you when he flexed his fingers in your throat. Your eyes widened when you realized he’d caught the movement. “Does the thought of your throat being fingered turn you on? Bet you’d be okay if no one even touched you.” You shook your head suddenly, the wetness pooling between your thighs starting to control your thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Kenma laughed a little bit as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, “I’ll make sure you get touched.” You opened your mouth to question him as he rounded out of your sight again, but his wet fingers pressing between your folds silenced you quickly, words turning into a soft moan. “Look, you’re already wet, what are you worried about?”

“Kenma,” you moaned his name as his fingers pressed in slowly. Breathless pants leaving your lips as he pushed in to his knuckles, fingers spreading inside of you.

“Just tryna stretch you out.” You could hear your pussy getting wetter as he played with it. He moved his fingers skillfully, poking and prodding, stretching you as you let out breathy moans. “You gonna relax for me?” He paused as if checking something, “it’s already been four minutes, I’ve only got three left. You wanna cum for me.”

You nodded, the tightening in your lower abdomen already building. His fingers angled deeper, pulling a small cry from your lips. “Please, Kenma, wanna.” You gasped lightly as his fingers picked up their pace, pressing roughly against a spot that was making you see stars. The brush of his thumb against your clit had you jerking against your restraints, a moan falling from your lips.

“Just relax.” He soothes, thumb working at a slower pace than his fingers as he brought you closer and closer to falling over the edge. You tried to ignore the soft shake in your legs as your stomach curled, the constant brushing of Kenma’s fingers driving you dizzy. “Cum for me now.” He muttered softly, sounding as dazed as you felt and your body complied with the request. Your limbs tightened and you clenched around him, whiny moans falling out of your mouth before you relaxed.

Kenma pulled his fingers out and you could feel your own wetness drip to your thighs. “Want a taste?” You nodded your head as he came into view again, holding his glistening fingers in front of your face. “Lick.” You licked a long stripe off the back of his fingers and was surprised when he leaned forward, his tongue mimicking mine on the other side. He parted his fingers, his tongue slipping through and pressing against yours. His fingers slipped down to grip your jaw as he kissed you more firmly and you moaned slightly into the kiss.

He was gone as soon as he was there, his mouth parting from yours and leaving your lips to chase after him. “Tastes good baby. You have nothing to worry about.” He pressed a small kiss under your ear. “Just relax.”

Kenma’s voice was still echoing in your ear as you heard the door open again. The bickering was an immediate giveaway to who the boys were. There was a sound of a smack and you twitched before realizing one of them had hit the other.

“Dumbass! Did you just hit me?” It was Tobio’s voice, astonishment clear within it.

“Pause and enjoy the view for a minute.” Shoyo responded, quieter than he’d been a moment ago.

“Idiot.” Tobio grumbled, and you felt his hands on your hips, rubbing into the joints softly. “We only have seven. We finish early, then enjoy the view.” There were some grumbles from Shoyo, but nothing you could properly make out.

Shoyo’s hands were on your wrist then, undoing the tie to one of my arms before working to the next. “What are you-” you watched his fingers work quickly, confused as to why he was starting to untie you. “What are you doing?”

“Repositioning.” He joked lightly, he pulled your wrists together in front of you, tying them together. Tobio was undoing the bar on your legs, leaving the cuffs on your ankles but removing the bar.

“Come here.” Tobio didn’t give you a chance to react, turning you and pulling you into his chest. Both of their hands were on you, easily pulling you up into their arms. You gasped as Tobio slung your knees over his arms, grip on your hips still. “Hinata, help me out.”

Shoyo’s chest was pressed against your back and you could feel his hands under you. You didn’t realize what exactly he was doing until Tobio’s hips bucked up into yours. You cried out, head falling back against Shoyo’s shoulder as Tobio entered you in one swift motion. The stretch had his name falling from your mouth as a moan.

“Fuck she’s tight.” Tobio’s voice had dropped in both tone and volume. “Shoyo, you gotta feel.”

“Yeah, okay.” Shoyo was mumbling and Tobio had barely backed his hips away from yours when Shoyo jerked his hips up. Shoyo wasn’t as long, but he was thicker and stretched you even more, forcing another moan out of your lips. “Oh fuck, you’re right.” He pulled back and Tobio took his place. “Fuck she feels so good.”

You were at a loss for words, your jaw dropped open, head draped backwards over Shoyo’s shoulder. The boys picked up a pace, one pulling out just for the other to push in. It was dizzying, the constant feeling of being full. Not even a second to breathe. You couldn’t even try to lift your head and they didn’t seem to mind, talking to each other more than you.

“She looks so pretty like this, huh?” You were vaguely recognizing Tobio’s voice as his grip on your hips tightened. His voice sounded strained and you couldn’t blame him, your own voice was strained as whiny moans left your throat.

“You sound like you’re gonna cum, Kageyama.” Shoyo teased, but his own voice was breathy and interrupted by a moan.

“Shut up.” He growled back through gritted teeth. “Of course I am, you fucking feel her, she’s squeezing like her life depends on it. Feels amazing.” Shoyo gave a short laugh. “Act like you’re not.” His irritation at Shoyo was matched with a particularly rough thrust and you let out a shocked squeal, nails digging into your own hands.

“Put those fingers to good use.” Shoyo mumbled, his hand pulling on your wrists and directing your fingers down between your body and Tobio’s. “Rub your pretty clit, yeah? Make yourself cum?”

You nodded along, twisting your wrists to obey. Your fingers brushed over the bundle of nerves and you squirmed, the jolt of electricity that shot through your body making you moan.

“Fuck, yeah.” Tobio mused as his thrusts got sloppier. “Squeeze like that again.” It felt like all the breath was knocked out of you when you felt Tobio pull out just as Shoyo thrusted back in. You could feel Tobio’s cum splatter over your fingers, your pussy, your thighs and, you were sure, Shoyo’s cock too.

“Messy, Tobio.” Shoyo teased, but he was quick to follow, his head barely out before ropes of it landed on your thighs and Tobio’s hips.

“See, now we can enjoy the view.” Tobio laughed as he watched your back arch off Shoyo’s chest, the ginger’s fingers joining yours as he tossed you over the edge. You whined as they let you down, still coming off of your high, legs shaky and bending under you.

“Better down on your knees?” Shoyo asked as they lowered you until your knees hit the ground. You nodded along, dazed from the tingling feeling in your body. The boys left as they came, still arguing.

You were still on your knees when the next two walked in, Keiji was the first to come into sight, but Koutaro was right after. Koutaro’s hands were on your face immediately, always excitable and still high off adrenaline.

“You’re so pretty.” He whined, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. You wrapped your lips around his thumb lightly, tongue swiping at the pad of it and he groaned. “I don’t want you for only seven minutes.” Keiji chuckled and laid his hand on Koutaro’s arm.

“Be grateful for what you get, Bokuto.” Keiji was just as imposing as Koutaro like this. They both towered high above you and you couldn’t help but look up at them with wide eyes. “She isn’t yours so be gentler.” You swallowed hard. Gentler. Not gentle.

“I wanna feel your lips, let me feel your mouth?” He rushed out the question, asking permission hopefully as he looked down at you. You felt compelled to nod your agreement.

“You wanna pull it out for him?” Keiji asked, pointing his question at you. You were nodding as you lifted your hands; licking your lips as you quickly pulled Koutaro out of his pants.

Your thighs clenched at the sight of him, immediately pressing your lips just under his head, kissing the sensitive skin and licking. There was a sharp hiss of breath that Koutaro let out as he stifled a moan. You were encouraged by the muffled noise and his head tilting back. You wrapped your lips around him easily and he cursed as you moved your mouth further down, lapping your tongue along the shaft as you went.

His hand found your hair easily, a small tug pulling a muffled whine from you as you lowered your head more, your tongue pressing against his balls as his cock laid across your face. Koutaro groaned, his head tipping back as you repeated the action. You squeaked when he suddenly tugged on your hair, pulling you back towards the head of his cock.

“Oh baby, please, suck it.” He requested his voice whiny as he did so. It didn’t feel like too much of a request though, definitely not one you could say no to, as he tugged your lips forward. You allowed it anyways, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking on it.

Koutaro’s hips twitched forward. You gagged as his cock suddenly tapped the back of your throat and Keiji was quick to snatch the wrist that was holding your hair. “Careful I said.” Keiji chastised, helping pull you off Koutaro so you could cough a bit. “Gentler.” Keiji guided your head back forward, slower this time.

You let Keiji set the pace, delicately running your tongue along Koutaro’s length as you bobbed your head. Your hands wrung each other in your lap, twisting in their binds as you itched to reach out for Keiji’s cock as well. You didn’t have to wait for long. Keiji seemed to want to feel your mouth as well. He guided you back again, much to Koutaro’s whining dismay.

“Look, start slow.” Keiji had pulled out his cock, bringing your lips to it, easily pressing his cock between them. He wrapped his hand around your hair with Koutaro’s hand and pulled your head forward gently. You treated his cock with the same care you’d treated Koutaro’s. Tongue lapping at the skin as you sucked.

“Then you pick up the pace a bit.” Your eyes widened in surprise when Keiji’s pull on you picked up the pace. Keiji was careful despite the speed change, careful to mind your gag reflex and he dragged your mouth along his length. “Then you can be less gentle.” He let Koutaro’s hand take over.

Koutaro’s pull on you kept the speed but his roughness pulled Keiji’s cock deeper into your throat. You gagged and Keiji moaned in response. You tried to relax your jaw, letting the two hands in your hair guide you. Desperately, you wanted to feel them cum down your throat. “Ugh I wanna feel her now Keiji.” Koutaro whined and Keiji laughed in response.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He let you be pulled off his cock, smiling at the way you gasped for proper air, spit coating your lips and connecting them to Keiji. Spit strings that quickly connected Keiji’s cock to Koutaro’s now too. “Remember-”

Keiji’s reminder for Koutaro to be gentle fell on deaf ears. Koutaro pulled your head towards him at the same roughness you’d left Keiji’s at. Your gagging started immediately, tears welling in your eyes as Koutaro’s moans filled your ears. “Fuck fuck fuck, feels too good, can’t.” Keiji rolled his eyes but didn’t seem to stop Koutaro once he started to buck into your mouth, meeting it halfway.

Your nails were digging into your thighs and you whined in protest, wondering if this was really the ‘gentler’ version Keiji had requested of him. Your head was dizzy, time lost amongst your focus to keep your mouth open.

“Fuck I wanna cum.” Koutaro whined it and Keiji clicked his tongue in disappointment at the way Koutaro’s grip on you loosened then.

“You’re gonna make a mess.” You squeaked around Koutaro’s cock as Keiji pulled you forward suddenly. His hand on the back of your head bringing your nose to bury into Koutaro’s pubes. Koutaro groaned loudly, a string of curses accompanying the feeling of his cock twitching at your throat. His cum was hot as it slid down your throat.

You coughed and gasped when the two of them released your head, letting you pull back to suck air into your lungs. “Wha-” you coughed again, your voice gravelly from the use of your throat, “what about you?” Your question was directed to Keiji, who hadn’t cum yet.

He chuckled a little bit as he tucked his still-hard cock away. “Out of time, next time.”

He pulled a dazed Koutaro out the door behind him as he left. You were still panting and trying to recenter your vision when the door opened again.

“Iwa-chan it’s our turn.” You heard Tooru’s voice before he appeared in front of you, dragging Hajime along with him. Hajime grumbled something and you looked towards him, you noticed that his cheeks were tinted pink and his eyes wouldn’t focus on you for more than a few seconds. “What did you say?”

“I said this isn’t necessary.” He grumbled louder, locking his eyes on Tooru rather than looking at you. “Let me just-”

“But Iwa-chan.” Tooru drew out the last vowel, pouting at the other man as he rounded his way behind you, out of your sight. You gasped when Tooru’s hand wound around your front, cupping your jaw and pointing your face to look directly up at Hajime. You could feel Tooru’s breath against your ear, letting you know that he’d placed his face just beside your own. “Look how pretty and willing she is to thank us.” You nodded your agreement to the words, finally seeing Hajime’s blush in full view as he looked down at your face.

The forced pout on your lips, put there by Tooru’s hands made his cock stir in his pants and he groaned a little. Tooru smirked behind you, knowing he’d won out. He was quick to pull you to your feet, you shrieked suddenly as Tooru dragged you off your knees and to a standing position.

“The two of you…” Hajime clicked his tongue at you both in disappointment, he shook his head a bit and replaced Tooru’s hand on your jaw with his own. You tried to turn your head when you felt Tooru push your legs open, but Hajime turned your head back forward. “Look at me instead.” He brushed along your bottom lip, pulling on it.

You gasped when you felt Tooru’s cock pressed into you. Hajime pressed his thumb between your lips as Tooru’s hands tightened their grip on your hips. “Oh, fuck, cunt is so tight.” Your eyes rolled back as Tooru bottomed out. “Sure you don’t wanna try her out? Who knows if you’ll get another chance.”

Your cunt squeezed a bit at Tooru’s words, the way he talked over you. Tooru chuckled at your reaction. “Not enough time.” Hajime lifted your chin, to take in the way your face contorted. “You can take him alright?” You nodded dazedly… the drag of Tooru’s cock along your walls made your breathing getting heavier as Tooru kept on. Steady and moderate in pace but nevertheless, intoxicating.

“God you squeeze me so good.” Tooru groaned and he wrapped his arm around your waist, fingers feeling for your clit. The small cry you let out was quickly silenced by Hajime covering your mouth, your muffled noises being swallowed by his palm.

“Shhh.” He mumbled, dipping his head to press kisses down the front of your chest. His mouth easily closed around one of your nipples. You sighed against his hand, your eyes fluttering as you took in the feeling of Hajime’s soft tongue against your skin.

Tooru’s hand wrapped into your hair, gently tugging your head back up, effectively pulling your mouth away from Hajime’s hand. “Wanna hear you.”

You whimpered, hips twitching against Tooru’s hand. Your moans and whines filled the small space. Hajime lifted himself from your chest just as Tooru’s pace picked up. Hajime’s hand took the place of Tooru’s, keeping your head tilted up as you looked at him, pleasure taking over your features. “Ask him for it.” Hajime whispered against your cheek, thumb brushing against your other cheek.

Your head spun, the blush was still on the tops of his cheeks and you were confused about how he could command you and still be blushing over seeing you like this. You panted against Hajime’s skin, feeling your insides twisting up under Tooru’s care. “Ma-make me cum, please.” You pleaded, sniffling as Tooru delivered rougher thrusts.

“Any other requests?” He teased, fucking his cock deeper into you. You moaned the form of his name as his fingers pressed harder on your clit. “I think your cunt has a request.” He groaned and you whimpered under his touch. “Squeezing like it wants to be filled up.”

“Please,” you begged without thinking, body clenching as he fucked you towards your orgasm, “wanna cum,” you babbled, eyes crossing as Hajime pulled back to catch your eyes, “cu-cum inside.”

Hajime gripped your jaw, pinching your mouth open again, fingers pinching your lip, tugging on it and triggering a whine of protest from you. “Desperate, cute.” he muttered, eyes caught on your lips. He kept his eyes there, ignoring the way Tooru’s groans filled the space along with your own noises. Watching the way your lips formed your cries as Tooru pushed you over the edge. His eyes found yours then, desperate himself to see the way your eyes widened when you felt Tooru’s cum flood your insides.

Your body shook as Tooru pulled out, his cum spilling onto your thighs quickly. Your legs shook under you, barely able to hold your own weight. Tooru and Hajime’s hands kept you upright for the moment. A sudden banging on the door caught all three of your attention.

You couldn’t turn to see the door opening, your legs giving out and the boys letting you fall to the floor. You sucked in a sharp breath as your knees hit the floor, your hands barely catching yourself as you heard the mix of voices.

“Times up.” You recognized the accent and you knew who it was.

“Wait your turn.” Tooru snapped back, you could hear the irritation in his voice and it was followed by a quick smack.

“They did.” You watched Hajime’s legs disappear from sight and towards the exit.

“Ya get yer ass outta-hey!” another smack sounded in the room. “Omi-omi he deserved it.”

“Shut up, god.” Kiyoomi scoffed as he shut the door, locking himself and Atsumu in the room with you. “How messy.”

“Hey princess.” Atsumu crooned as he trailed his fingers along your jaw, crouching in front of you. He chuckled as he moved to sitting in front of you. “C’mere.” he manhandled your body easily into his lap. “Y’all stretched out fer me?”

You gasped and whined at the way Atsumu seemed to slip right into you, his cock tapping against your walls. He groaned and pulled you closer to him, your chest easily colliding with his. Your breathing came out in pants as you squeezed around him. He seemed to waste no time, wanting to make the most out of the moment.

You latched on to his biceps as he leaned backwards a bit. “Relax.” Kiyoomi’s voice sounded from behind you, unfortunately having the opposite effect when you felt him tap against your already full hole.

“Wa-wait.” A moan got caught in your throat when you heard Kiyoomi spit, the cold of his saliva hitting against your opening and making your cunt squeeze.

“Fuck, and ya say we’re messy.” Atsumu laughed from under you, groaning and eyes rolling at the way your cunt milked him. “Can ya hurry it up, I wanna feel her cum.” Kiyoomi grumbled something under his breath but before you could try to decipher it, he was pressing his tip in next to Atsumu’s. You whimpered, your head falling against Atsumu’s chest as tears caught on your lashes. Atsumu was hushing you as you did, one hand holding the back of your head to his chest as Kiyoomi stretched you out further. “S’okay, we got ya.”

Your head felt like it wasn’t getting enough oxygen, stars in your vision as Kiyoomi lifted your head from Atsumu’s chest. One of them was talking but you couldn’t hear it. Two different hands wrapped around your throat, both with different owners, only encouraging your brain to shut down. It was the first thrust that brought you back.

The moan you let out was broken and half a sob as the two men worked in tandem to fuck you up and down on their cocks. The pain of the stretch was slowly giving way to nothing but pleasure as they fucked you up into the stars. You were sure that Tooru’s cum was being fucked out of you, coating both their cocks but you weren’t sure they cared.

You could barely focus on getting air into your lungs. Atsumu’s hand moved from your throat to your jaw, tilting your head down to look at his face. He wore a large smirk, enjoying the way that your eyes stayed unfocused, lust blown pupils trying desperately to drink him in. Your lips were parted in a permanent whine.

Tsumu’s thrusts were shallow, his cock pressed against the front wall of your cunt, the friction shoving every other thought out of your head. Kiyoomi on the other hand, his were mean. His cock knocked against the deepest parts of you, gliding along Atsumu’s cock, drawing whines from both you and the other male. Kiyoomi’s grip on your neck tightened for a moment, tilting your head back so you could see his face.

You were fucked out, words that you didn’t even know you were speaking coming out as incoherent babbles. Your body shook and shivered as they fucked you past overstimulation into another orgasm without warning. Your cry was loud and echoed around the room as you fell onto Atsumu’s chest.

Atsumu’s own moans pitched up slightly just moments later and Kiyoomi’s hips stuttered against you. You protested softly as Atsumu and Kiyoomi pulled out of you as gently as possible, the feeling of their cum already present, flooding out of you and down your thighs. Kiyoomi had you turned around towards him in mere seconds.

“Clean me up, yeah?” Phrased as a question but given like an order, you obeyed immediately, tongue falling out, lapping against his soiled cock. You whined at the mix of tastes, Tooru’s, Atsumu’s, and Kiyoomi’s cum all having been mixed around inside of you with your own. You nearly moaned when you picked up your enthusiasm, tongue curving over Kiyoomi’s length, scooping up all the mess you’d left behind as quickly as you could, leaving his cock covered instead in your own saliva.

“C’mon up ya get.” Atsumu mumbled, arms hooking under your armpits, lifting you to shaky feet. He kept you upright and steady, truly the only thing keeping you from falling to the floor as the door opened again. “She’s a li’l shaky on her feet right now.” Atsumu chuckled as you felt another pair of hands mimic Atsumu’s grip, your body being passed like a mere toy among them. You whimpered as your knees buckled under you, but your body stayed upright thanks to the flexing muscles around you.

“Li’l shaky on yer legs there?” You looked up into a nearly identical face, immediately your brain processed that it was Osamu’s arms around you now as Atsumu and Kiyoomi left, closing the door behind them. His voice was slightly deeper than Atsumu’s accent heavier as his hands turned you to properly face him. “Look at this mess.” He chuckled, his fingers scooping the mix of cum from between your thighs. You whimpered when his fingers bumped your clit, body twitching.

Your lips were still parted, panting to breath, when Osamu’s fingers came up to them. He smeared the mix of cum on your lips and tongue, feeding it to you. He sucked in a sharp breath and cursed when your lips obediently wrapped around them and you sucked.

Osamu was the same as his brother in the way that he wasted no time to manhandle you into the position that he wanted you in. His arms hooking under your legs and pulling you up so that your hips lined up with his. Your gasp at the sudden movement only spurred him to move faster, his cock bumping against your entrance.

You bit into your lip to hold your cry in when he bottomed out in one movement. Dropping you down the length of his cock. You were sure that it bumped against your cervix and you couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut and whimper at the feeling.

“Easy now.” Osamu cooed in your ear as he repositioned his hands on your hips. The action caused you to bounce slightly and you gasped at the friction, your eyes rolling.

You almost didn’t notice the second pair of hands on you from behind. Fingers, brushing your neck as they unwrapped your arms from Osamu’s. “Share, ‘Samu.” Rintarou’s voice graced your ears just before his face as he tugged you back. You could feel your body leaning back, it changed the angle that Osamu’s cock nudged against your insides and you moaned obscenely. “See, look how pretty she is.” Rintarou’s finger cupped the back of your neck, dropping your body back slowly, your hips staying pinned to Osamu’s. “Look prettier with my cock in your mouth.”

Your eyes widened when you felt Rintarou lower you completely horizontal. You were suspended completely in the air between the two of them. The panic you should have felt disappeared completely when Osamu rubbed his thumb over your clit. Your mouth dropped open in a moan that was cut short as Rintarou glided his cock in easily.

Both men above you groaned when both your cunt and your throat tightened away from them. Their hands tugged on your body, easily finding a jerky pace that was each of them selfishly trying to pull you back to themself. Your body shook in their hold, wet gags and obscent squelching noises from both your filled holes as they used you.

Osamu’s thumb dancing over your clit and Rintarou’s cock blocking your airway had your head swimming, the sounds of their moans and praise coming to you like you were underwater. Words garbled and obscured by pleasure.

You only came back to your senses when Rintarou flooded your throat, pulling out so the last bit of it leaked onto your lips. You gasped in air around the cum you tried to fully swallow, desperate to breathe again. It was only then that you could hear.

“Look she squirted all over you.” Rintarou teased you as he tilted your head to watch the way Osamu continued to fuck into your cunt, eyes focused on how you swallowed him.

“Shut yer trap Rin, can’t cum when yer yappin’.” Osamu’s voice was strained, his jaw clenched as his hips staggered in their pace. You hadn’t even noticed that you had cum, but his chasing of his orgasm had you feeling the aftershocks of yours.

You were sure you were crying, but your mind was too far gone to even mind. You missed the feeling of Osamu cumming inside of you but knew he had when he pulled out and you felt it flood out of you. A string of curses filled the room from Osamu’s foul mouth. He let you down easily, rubbing circled into your shaky legs as he helped you down to a kneeling position, where you were most stable.

You panted, your body shaking and overstimulated as you tried to ground yourself again. You jumped when you felt fingers on your shoulders, your nerves fried and screaming.

“Hey, hey now.” Tetsurou’s voice graced your ears again and you whimpered in response. “Calm down, I got you.” His hands soothed over your hair as he leaned your body against his own. “You okay?”

You nodded, sniffling slightly as his fingers brushed away your tears. “Mm’kay Tetsu.” Your voice came our hoarse, words slurred. Your fingers itched towards him, and his belt.

“Easy,” he chuckled, pulling your hands away and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed, okay?”

“What about you?” He was pulling you up into his arms gently and making his way towards the door.

“Tomorrow, baby.” He mumbled into your hair. “You took care of them so well.” He praised, watching as you hummed in response, exhaustion taking your body over. “Let me take care of you now.”

a/n in honor of the launch of the @the-all-stars-network please consider joining us!!!

TAGLIST -

@intergalacticrory @tsukiran @awkwardaardvarkforever @all-in-the-fandoms @mightyknight501

@pearl-blue-musings @qichun @megumuro @s0uldarling @samus-onigiri-stand

@seiri-ously @deepenthevoid @starlitsawamura @albakugo @winniethepooh-lover

@stunie @little-miss-naill

[yandere-wishes]

༺ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁? ༻

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

The problem with bats is that they tend to solely rely on their instincts, their carvings. They tend to forget their surroundings, that other creatures exist as much as they do.

Selina rings her arms around your frame pushing you closer, nose nuzzling your ear and cheek. Her hug only loosens when she hears the bat speak his echolocation ringing clearly through her ears.

"Daimian brought her home last, he's...he has a crush, I think."

Wasn't there some sort of new bat-eating fungus discovered in the north?

For a moment she debates asking Oswald to export in a batch or two.

"It's inevitable," Selina says, laying a bowl of food at the foot of the counter for the cats. Exhaustion seeps through her words, she speaks from experience, experience too deep to voice. "Bats are tenacious rodents, and robins are hard to kill. Mix that with demons blood and I'd say we're just about doomed." Your eyes stare up at her, even sideways, and anxious she's gorgeous. You'd always dreamed you'd grow up to be her. Inherit the claws and whip and lust for the endless shimmer.

But you're starting to think you'll never make it to that.

Not with the bird, who shows affection by breaking bones and spilling blood.

Selina doesn't like it, not fully, not utterly. She doesn't trust the boy wonder, doesn't trust a future she can not see. The boy is young and overbearing, he'll only end up trapping you within a glittering cage. Domesticating the girl he loves, satiating her by handing her pearls and diamonds and gold. He won't let her take, won't let her bleed for own life. She's seen one too many men like that, she's escaped every one of them. The bat may believe in freedom but his heir does not. And after all this time, all these years she refuses to let your sovereignty be stripped of you.

Be silent thy traitorous voices screaming sanguinity inside her wry head.

Voices that utter such affirmations, that say this is destiny, that this too must happen. Who safer than the son of the bat, the blood son at that? Freaks stick to freaks, masks, and capes, and cowls. Selina would never trust a normal man to treat you the way you deserve...

But she knows a Wayne never could either...

Selina watches as the Boy Wonder's kick nests in between your ribs. He wasted no time, swinging straight for you. Your body tumbles back, finally gaining enough momentum to filp landing on your feet, knees bent ready to pounce. Your claws tear through the flesh of his cheek, scrapping up the skin, freeing the red letting it mar the concrete. But the bird only slithers in closer, pecking your lips before, slamming his head into yours. Selina's eyes land on the bat, the darkness at the ledge, he stands immobile, as if actually watching a cat and bird fight, as if thinking this is nothing more than a cartoon playing at the drive-through theater.

She extends her whip, lashing it through the air letting the leather coil around Damian before pulling him away. The demon boy shrieks in anger, he kicks, and writhes vying for freedom. You land behind your mentor, hiding behind her. For the first time ever Selina is almost sorry her suit is so tight, sorry she can't provide more shelter.

"Can you please keep this one a leash, bats? It's starting to annoy my kitten."

Batman doesn't say anything, he only cuts away the rope and drags his son away.

"Aren't bats just rodents?" You ask arms crossed as you finally crawl out of your temporary sanctuary.

"Yes, why?" It takes Selina another moment before she finally tears her eyes away from the disappearing silhouettes in the skyline.

"So why haven't we just killed them?"

It's only back in the apartment that both you and Selina realize he took your stolen jewels too.

Selina curses she really liked that new necklace.

This could all be a cruel joke, Bruce thinks as he watches Damian sulking on his bed, arms crossed. Robin suit still on.

After all, what's funnier than the son you unknowingly sired with your ex-lover falling so madly in love with the adopted daughter of your complex midnight affair, who you may or may not be madly in love with...

Bruce can't think of one,

He doesn't even think Joker could come up with anything better.

Or worst.

He's too tired to fully tell.

"Hey, Bruce?" Tim asks, poking him with the sharp end of a frame. "Can you hand him this when he's done brooding? I'd go in but I need my bones intact for the next few days." Bruce sighs, taking the frame from Tim and inspecting it with worry. Sure enough, it's a picture of you crouching in an ally, stalking some prey or another.

He can't help but think his sons are progressively getting worse.

Regardless Bruce leaves the frame in Damian's room.

When he closes the door a little pride bubbles in his chest.

Bruce knows that freaks stick to freaks.

Masks, and capes, and cowls.

Who better to understand you than another who wears your endeavors?

Who can love an anomaly if not for another anomaly?

Bruce leaves, missing how the young heir, gently kisses your photo.

Running his hands across your photo, muttering a silent, simple 'I love you'.

Damian pricks his finger on his tooth.

Drawing a bloody heart around your face.

"You'll be mine my love" he promises.

He swears it on his cape and cowl.

He swears it on his lineage.

Tumblr keeps eating my asks when I try to answer 😭😭

But anyway heyy Anon, so to answer your question:

Selina is torn because she wants you to be free and live the life you want. This includes picking who you fall in love with and how the two of you spend your lives together. She finds Damian's obsession annoying, if not dangerous. She knows he'll try to "domesticate" you, to make you into nothing more than his doll. And really she just wants to buy you as much time as possible to be free. However, she also knows, deep down, that the only person who can really understand you is another "freak" whether a rogue or a hero. Someone who knows what it's like to wear a second skin. She just really wants you to pick who that "freak" is.

Bruce on the other hand is simultaneously proud and amused. A part of him really really understands why Damian would fall in love with Catgirl. It just goes to show how similar Damian is to him. A chip off the old block if you will. He also shares both Damian's perspective of seeing this all as legacy, as passing on the torch, feeling like in a way Damian is really ready to step in as the next Batman if need be. He however also shares Selina's perspective of "freaks" being with "freaks", really approving of his son falling for someone with obsessions and desires, someone twisted like they are.

[frost-queen]

Join the dark side (Reader x Anakin Skywalker)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers , @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko  , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr   , @swampthing07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury ,  @imagines-by-her ,  @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @sweetheartlizzie07

Summary: Hello there! May the forth be with you. Reader is Padmé's sister. When Anakin has turned to the dark side, he and the empire demand your hand. You are against it, clearly having no say in it as Anakin demands it. Numerous times you try to run from him, arguing, cursing and hating him. Anakin claims you as his wife no matter what. One night you ask Anakin what made him turn to the dark side, feeling empathy for him once you finally understand it a bit more.

There was no denying the sudden shift in the galaxy. Jedi’s were falling and the Sith were taking over. Naboo wasn’t a place you could stay anymore. In a rushed way, you were packing your things. Throwing some dresses in a bag, knowing your sister would be waiting for you in half an hour at the secret passage. She needed a lot of convincing to leave Naboo. Being to headstrong into not wanting to leave the people.

But for now going in hiding would be the best solution. Surely against the empire. Panting loud, you hurried through your room to collect the most important things you needed. Half-way from where your bed was with the bag, suddenly opened your door. It made you freeze with panic, staring with wide eyes as men entered your room. They parted making way for Anakin Skywalker in all black.

“Anakin?”  -  you said confused. Anakin noticed the bag on your bag, making him glare your way. – “Seize her!” – he ordered. His order made you drop your item as the men rushed over to you. Each grabbing you by the arm. – “Anakin what is going on?” – you called out, scribbling against their grip.

Anakin approached you. A darker vibe surrounding him as you sensed it. The way he approached you seeming nothing like he was before. The men pulled at you, pushing you forwards to him. Anakin gave you a sweet smile, hands folded before him. Utterly confused and wary, you didn’t know what to expect.

“Are you going somewhere?” – he asked tilting his head back to look at the bag on your bed. – “What is it to you?” – you bit back. If it weren’t for the other men in the room, you might have reacted different. Yet the way he ordered them to handle you, had upset you too much.

Anakin chuckled humorously bringing one finger up to his lips. – “You are right Naboo isn’t save for you anymore.” – he said looking down at you. The tone in his voice made you swallow nervously. – “You’d be much saver with me.” – he added moving a bit more casual.

It made you furrow your brows as he moved his hand towards you, grabbing you by your chin. – “Marry me.” – he let out as your eyes widened in shock. You tore your face away to release his grip on you. – “Not a chance!” – you fired back. There had clearly something changed about him and you didn’t like one bit of it. Anakin inhaled sharp through his nose, grabbing your chin by force now. Wanting you to look him in the eye. – “That wasn’t a request!” – he made clear that you had no choice in it.

His gaze stern and colder than you had ever seen. Anakin tilted his chin up, looking down on you with a certain ego around him. – “Take her away!” – he ordered his men pushing your face to the side as he let go of you. The men he was with dragged you around him out of the door. – “No!” – you cried out, trying to fight them off. Leaning back and pulling at your arms to get them off you. They were strong as they kept their grip on you.

Looking over your shoulder, you stared at Anakin and the bag on your bed. Tears swelling up as you knew you’d never meet up with your sister Padmé now. Anakin watched you leave with a stern look, hands behind his back. – “Anakin please!” – you begged one last time before they pulled you out of your room, around the corner and out of sight.

You got dragged outside to a craft ship. – “No, no please… Padmé.” – you breathed out looking back as your sister would be waiting for you now. Not knowing what is happening to you. – “Princess!” – two guards came running outside having seen what was happening. The men that were holding you, stopped and turned you around to your guards. – “Release her at once.” – one of the guards called out. – “We will give the empire everything, but not our princess.” – the second one begged dropping to his knees.

You looked at the men holding you with panic. – “You have no right to take her!” – the first one remained determined and guarding. The second guard more beggingly. The hearing of a lightsaber getting active made you gasp loud. The red illuminating in the darkness behind them. The guard on his knees got up startled. The other one jumped frightened back. Your eyes widened with fear as Anakin emerged from the dark, swaying the red lightsaber around. The guards having no chance as they got killed.

Now it was clear as day that the Anakin you knew was gone. The dark side had claimed him as he was one of them now. – “Nooo!” – you cried sinking to your knees. Anakin got up, walking up to you with his lightsaber still in hand. He reached his hand out to you, making you sway your head aside, not wanting his touch on you. Anakin managed to place his gloved hand against your cheek, making you shiver out a breath. He smiled softly. – “I will never harm you Y/n.” – he spoke with politeness. – “You have my word for it.”

With a simple nod of him, his men pulled you up and dragged you onto the ship. The platform shut behind Anakin as he left Naboo for what it was. Needing nothing more of it. Certainly not now that he had what he wanted. What he had always wanted. You. The ship left, going into unknown galaxies for you. The men had knotted your hands together behind your back. Anakin came over once they flew in open space.

“I told them it wasn’t necessary.” – he said, kneeling down before you. – “The cuffs.” – he pointed at you, sounding a bit like his old self. – “They wouldn’t listen, but I know you Y/n.” – he added leaning over your shoulder to reach the cuffs. You heard the cuffs come off as Anakin came in sight again, smiling. The second your hands were free, you punched him against his cheek. Anakin groaned in pain, taking a second to recover.

He grabbed your shoulders with violence, pressing his fingers deep into your skin. You could see the anger in his eyes. Seeing how dominant it was. For a moment, you were truly terrified of him. Not knowing what he would do to you. Anakin then breathed out a laugh, catching you off guard. He took the cuffs again, securing your hands together in front of you.

Anakin got up, leaving your side once more. Lowering your head, there was no denying it anymore. You had no where to run. The ship boarded a floating base in the galaxy. The death star they called it. The guard pushed you forwards, being just a step behind Anakin. Your eyes wide with horror at the hundreds no thousands of stormtroopers on the platform.

You didn’t want to know how many of them roaming this place. There seemed to be little attention for you. Generals bowed their heads when Anakin walked past them. He came to a stop before a room as the door swished open. Anakin took you from the soldier by pressing his hand on your lower back. Pushing you into the room. – “Clean up, our wedding will be tonight.” – he said. You turned angered back at him.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” – you called out. – “No.” – Anakin answered cheeky. – “I hate you!” – you shouted punching your tied up hands against his chest. Anakin barely flinched. Only chuckling amusingly at your silly attempts. He took a step back, letting the door swish shut before him. Once he had left, you gasped when the cuffs fell to the ground.

There was a dress left out for you as you stormed over to it. Grabbed it and threw it on the floor. There was no way you would satisfy him with the pleasure of seeing you dolled up for him. You didn’t know how long you waited, but your door opened once more. A stormtrooper entering your room. – “Princess.” – he addressed you. – “You are coming with me.” – he said. You inhaled deep, chin up with pride as you walked up to him.

He had his blaster at his side as you eyed it. Once you were with him, he moved a bit aside to let you pass first. You stomped your foot on his, grabbing his blaster as you used the end to punch it against his armour. The stormtrooper grunted as he doubled over. Throwing the blaster away, you ran out of the room.

Not caring to where, you just needed to get out. Panting loud, you looked over your shoulder to see if he was following you. There rounded a curve as you ran to follow it, suddenly bumping into someone when you looked back to the front. A firm grip settling on your arm. Gasping loud, you looked up to Anakin, shaking his head. His gaze went down your clothing, seeing you hadn’t changed.

“No matter, you are beautiful anyways Y/n.” – he said making you scoff. – “You are delusional if you think I will marry you!” – you called out wanting his grip to be off you. Anakin chuckled. – “We’ll see Y/n… we’ll see.” – he breathed out pulling you along with him. He dragged you into a room. It was clear he wasn’t going to let you get out of it. So eager to marry you. Anakin walked with you up to the front. – “Charming.” – you responded sarcastically at the wedding view.

The base room with a large glass window overlooking the galaxy. The Sith lord sitting on his throne at the front. The first order standing up straight from behind their panels, saluting. He paused you in front of the Sith lord. You tried your last attempt of running off as Anakin was way ahead of you. He immediately grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back. You weren’t going anywhere.

The Sith lord laughed loud as you elbowed Anakin in the stomach to get him off your back. Anakin grabbed you hard by your arms, turning you to him. – “You will marry me!” – he ordered loud. – “I. would. Rather. Die.” – you answered in a slow pace to deliver your message. Anakin curled up a smile, your taunting only amusing him more. The Sith lord started to conduct the wedding as Anakin kept his grip on you.

“I do.” – Anakin said letting his thumb brush against your cheek. The Sith lord turned to you, waiting for your answer. Anakin stared back at you, ushering you to say the words. – “Asshole.” – you breathed out for only him to hear. – “What was that?” – The Sith lord asked confused. Anakin smiled before squeezing your arms tighter. – “SAY IT!” – he yelled out, forcing you to do so.

“Asshole!” – you repeated louder for everyone to hear. Anakin snapped wrapping his hand around your throat. It made you gasp loud, startled by his sudden violence. – “Say it!” – he asked again gently squeezing your throat as he brought your face closer to his. – “I…I���do…” – you forced with little air. Anakin let go of you, making you grasp for air.

The Sith lord declared you married as Anakin grabbed your chin. Pulling you at him as he soured your lips with his. Kissing you hungrily as you felt the control in his actions. He pulled away, smirking. – “My wife.” – he grinned making you roll your eyes at him. Trying to deny that his kiss might have flustered you. And with that the wedding was over. Married to Anakin that had turned to the dark side.

Ever since the wedding, you could hardly avoid Anakin. He was always there. Confusing you with his actions. Sometimes he was gentle and caring. Other times he was hard and rudely towards you. Acting to you like the master of the puppet that you were. Sometimes you could see his old self slip through. Other days the dark side inside of him took over. Slowly you started to open up to him.

Having always been forced together. You were in the bedroom sitting on the bed. The door swished open as Anakin entered. He walked up to the table, pouring himself a glass of water. – “Anakin may I ask you something?” – you proposed seeing him quirk his eyebrow up. He set the glass back down, coming to lean against the table. – “Of course my star.” – he replied. You shifted nervously on the bed, rubbing your palms together.

Anakin noticed how nervous you were, going over to you. He came sitting with you, taking your hands in his. – “What is it?” – he asked. You took a deep breath before speaking. – “May I know… I want to ask… how… why… why did you join the dark side?” – your words made Anakin tear his gaze away. Almost angered that you dared to ask something like that. You seated yourself better, placing your hands on his shoulders as he had turned his back to you.

“I just want to understand.” – you said shy. You felt his muscles untense under your palms. He slowly turned back to you, making you drop your hands on him. You listened as he explained what drove him to the dark side. Hearing him explain it, gave you a different view of him. Reasons you didn’t think would lead him up to this point. He kept explaining as you started to sympathize with him.

“Anakin I never knew…” – you started taking his hand. – “I finally understand it a bit, not fully, for I cannot. Yet I understand what that feeling is like. Feeling as if you are losing control over everything. Swirling into the despair and doubts. It would make you do everything.” – you continued. Anakin smiled at you, resting his palm against your cheek. Kissing you tenderly for your understanding. For all he ever wanted was to protect you. How didn’t matter, as long as you were his.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[eowynstwin]

blackbird, fly - iii.

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. . You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time. . content warning for marital rape after the second break. . ao3

previous

“Come,” says Hans, tugging on your arm, “let’s get you ready for the ceremony.”

Your husband-to-be leads you up the porch steps and into the house, long legs carrying him ahead so fast you must practically jog to keep up with him. You stumble when you enter the house—the interior is fantastically well-appointed, with papered walls and carved wood furniture, framed photos hanging beside paintings, pressed flowers, hunting trophies, rifles and knives and old farm equipment. The floor beneath your feet is polished and smooth, spread over in places with thick, fringed rugs. You don’t see much more of it after your initial impression; Hans pulls you along at a clip.

Even such a brief glimpse, though, proves your long-held assumptions about Hans and his livelihood; his family has done well for itself, over the years. The kitchen, dining room, and sitting room are all separate from each other, and the manor’s first floor alone is larger than the small farmhouse you grew up in. Your family always made an effort to present a comfortable, clean home, but it seems downright drab in memory now in comparison to this.

There’s a bit of a bustle going on as Hans tugs you along—you hear movement in the kitchen, punctuated by the clang of dishes moving to and fro. A rough voice grinds out something short, and a couple of cowboys emerge with covered dishes that they set on the dining table before they return back into the fray. In the sitting room, an older woman with short, sandy brown hair sits at a desk, spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She glances up at you, betrays no interest, and then ignores you.

“You’ll meet everyone at the ceremony,” Hans says. He directs you up the stairs. “Right now you need something nice to wear.”

“O-oh,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirt as you climb the steps. The fabric, purchased at a discount after you’d saved pennies and nickels for months, suddenly feels thin and insubstantial between your fingers.

Hans brings you into the main bedroom, equally well-designed with molded wood paneling and brass lanterns on the walls, where he goes to a chest at the foot of the massive bed four-poster bed. Everything you’ve seen so far in this house is much finer than what even the most well-to-do farmers back home could display; you used to imagine that wealth like this could only be within the reach of select few businessmen on the east coast. You never imagined you’d have the chance to marry into it.

“I think this should suit you,” says Hans, turning to you with a stack of clothing in one hand.

You take it from him when he proffers it—a skirt, blouse, and jacket, you find. The fabric is silky in your hands, glossy and cool to the touch and very fine. You shake out the skirt; yards of bustled fabric tumble open to reveal pleated gathers, elegant bows, and velvet trim. The paired jacket is much the same, with pearl buttons down the front, and the accompanying blouse is a weave of tight, delicate lace.

Your earlier fears are soundly confirmed; you are in no way dressed for a wedding to Hans König. Gaz had only been trying to be kind; being here, now, seeing the kind of splendor Hans lived with every day, no one could make the mistake that you could measure up on your own.

“Thank you, Hans,” you say, face warming with embarrassment.

“Think nothing of it,” says Hans, looking you up and down expectantly. “Go on.”

You blink. “Ex—excuse me?”

Hans raises his brows as if it should be obvious. “Why, let’s see you in it, dear girl.”

You blanch. Surely he isn’t suggesting…“But—well, Hans, we aren’t—we haven’t—”

“My dear, I’ve already promised to marry you. Why would I go to such expense on a wedding merely to fool you into showing me your underthings?”

You drop your gaze to the floor, cheeks burning. “It’s not proper.”

“Bah,” says Hans. He takes the clothes back from you, tosses them onto the bed, and brings his hands to the buttons down your front. “It’s not like I won’t see this again in a few hours.”

You are rooted to the spot. He unbuttons your dress with an alacrity that startles you; in a few short moments, he makes an opening wide enough to slip over your shoulders, and unceremoniously he pushes the collar open and lets the dress drop to the floor.

You blink several times. You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time; do they feel suddenly like they’ve been skinned? Does the air suddenly feel much closer, more real than it had before? You remember shearing season on a neighbor’s farm, the angular planes of shortened fleece cropped close to twitching flesh. The sheep had looked unfinished after the deed was done—like wooden figurines only partly whittled.

When you look to Hans’ face, you find him gazing at the tight space where your chemise tucks into the line of your corset. Then, as if in a dream, he reaches out with one huge hand and cups the mound of one breast.

The air vacates your lungs. It’s the first time a man has ever touched you this way.

When young ladies of a certain age gather to socialize, matters of discussion inevitably tend toward the prurient. Your peers delighted in sharing the wealth of erotic experience they’d accrued; trysts in larders, late graveyard meetings, dizzying accounts of hands and mouths in places that sent shame pumping hot and curious through your veins. You lived vicariously through their adventures; opportunities for your own, with three older brothers and a protective father, were nonexistent.

The embarrassing fact is that in matters of your marital duties, you received no practical education.

The one time your mother, a modest woman, saw fit to tutor you, she’d taken you out to the small enclosure in which the family goats were kept. The animals were useful for milk and occasionally meat, so there was always a breeding pair at hand. This occasion, they served the additional use of instruction; the male was rutting.

Your mother had made you watch as the billy mounted the nanny, and shoved its little goat prick into her hindquarters. The billy seemed mindless with want, ferocious, gyrating its hips uncomfortably, which the nanny took with what seemed like resigned patience, if it was paying attention at all. Once the billy finished, it dismounted, chewed its cud a little bit, and walked off. The nanny seemed unperturbed, rather detached from the whole thing, and similarly continued with whatever it had been doing before.

“It’s about like that,” said your mother, unable to look you in the eye.

So you have little knowledge of the matter.

And you have no idea what to do now, as your husband-to-be fondles you and stares down at you with what seems like only idle interest. Hans’ thumb brushes over the space where your nipple would be, hot even through layers of cotton and whalebone. The fine hairs on your arms raise, standing straight up.

What are you supposed to do now? Touch him back? Your stomach turns over at the thought. Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how. Hans is touching you so casually, as if you’ve been his wife for years, but you are as poor in wifely instinct as you are in everything else.

“Lovely,” he says, eyes locked on the place where your chest is rapidly rising and falling.

You inhale shakily. This is fine. He wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t—of course it’s all right, you’re to be married within the hour. It’s only your breast, and only his hand, and it’s over your clothes. It’s fine.

“May—” your voice comes out dry. You clear your throat. “May I dress now, Hans?”

He smiles. You note that he has a thin-lipped smile, and his eyes do not crinkle at the corners. “Of course.”

When the guests have all arrived, when the world around you is bathed in the orange-gold light of the setting sun, and when the mandolin plays the bridal chorus, you join Hans König under an archway of lupine and Indian paintbrush. Evening gives way to night as the last day of your old life comes to a close, ending as you say the words that until now you’ve only whispered in the night at your bedside.

For better—for worse—as long as you both shall live. Over and over again, until your tongue recognized the shape of them like the Lord’s Prayer. As if practicing them enough would speed the hour to you all the sooner in which their vow became real.

Hans kisses you for the second time, and then together, arm in arm, you turn to face the congregation’s applause.

Stars begin peeking white faces through the dimming sky as the band strikes up a tune, and as the reception commences, you must shake hands with the whole county. The priest John MacTavish insists upon introducing himself first—a younger man, with vivid blue eyes and an unusual haircut, gives his congratulations in a husky Scottish brogue entirely inappropriate for a man of the cloth. He’s followed by the sheriff, Simon Riley, who practically chases him off—another tall man, near to your husband’s height, and twice as broad. Curiously, he wears a bandanna across the lower half of his face. His greeting to you is gruff, short—polite in a way that seems unnatural for him.

Next is a slightly older woman, splendidly dressed in lace-trimmed taffeta. She comes over to kiss your cheeks in the French style. Hans ducks his head as she smiles at you; you can’t help but feel similar trepidation. She is terribly striking, with delicate creases on either side of her mouth and a mysterious twinkle in her eye.

“The hotel in town is my establishment,” she tells you. “The bath house, as well.”

“Oh,” you say, “how lovely.”

Her smile quirks at the corners; she looks at Hans, then back to you, and softly chucks your chin. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Madame, thank you,” your husband says quickly as your face sets to blazing. “I believe others would like to speak to us, as well, if you don’t mind.”

She gives you another enigmatic smile, tightens the light chiffon wrap around her shoulders, and leaves you to the banker and his wife, who both eagerly step up to talk your ear off.

Farmers, other ranchers, ramblers and gamblers and trappers; it seems everyone in the state has come to pay you their respects, and they all want to meet you at the exact same time. The rough voice you heard in the kitchen manifests itself in the form of a burly man with mutton chops, who introduces himself as John Price the saloon owner. A young woman with an unsmiling face named Ms. Boucher tells you your first purchase at her dry goods store will be discounted by five percent, as a welcome gift from her to you. She punctuates the statement with a narrow-eyed look at your husband, but you have no time to wonder at it before the next guests capture your attention.

A whole line of Hans’ cowboys, headed by the woman you saw working at the writing desk when you arrived, form up to tell you their names and pledge you their loyalty, still dressed in their wrangling leathers but bathed and combed and polished for the occasion nonetheless. The woman introduces herself as Kate Laswell, the foreman.

“I took care of the accounting after Anna passed,” Laswell says to you. “Tomorrow I’ll go through the books with you. It’ll be your job from now on.”

“Now, Kate, you shouldn’t discuss business at my wedding,” says Hans, politely, but somewhat terse. “And besides, that would be far too much for my new bride.”

“Hans, I told you,” you say earnestly, referencing a summer letter, “I want to be a part of things.”

He smiles genially at you—but the expression seems tight. “Of course, dear.”

“Tomorrow,” Kate says to you. Curiously, she looks you up and down. Then, “You’ll need to see the tailor, as well, I think.”

Her words are not said unkindly, but they shame you anyway, reminding you just how poorly matched as yet you are to this life. When you’d put the dress on earlier, it had been immediately clear to you that it was not made to your measurements, but you hadn’t thought it would be so obvious to anyone else. Only Hans’ cowboys proceeding to introduce themselves saves you from having to respond.

One is conspicuously absent.

Unexpectedly, it hurts. Even though it shouldn’t. Gaz had only driven you here, after all. You’ve known him less than a day. It shouldn’t disappoint you, as you keep your eyes on the moving line, that he does not come forward, but it does.

In between meeting the county folk, you manage to get a few bites of the wedding feast—prime rib, lamb chowder, baked fish, seasoned potatoes, collard greens, fried tomatoes, sourdough biscuits, and three different fruit cobblers still somehow steaming from the oven. You and Hans cut the bride’s cake, an impressive sheet of angel food and ivory buttercream that he must have procured at outrageous cost; you are not embarrassed to wolf it down in front of Hans’ guests. It’s the sweetest, softest thing you’ve ever eaten, more delicate than you ever could have imagined any food could be.

As the sky darkens overhead, the faint cloud of the milky way coalesces in the light of the waxing moon, and the band takes up a lively jig as the wedding party sallies forth to the clearing to dance arm in arm. Your husband whirls you along with them, arm around your waist, and then you’re dancing, too, and the familiar two-step lifts your flagging spirits as the cool night air runs quick, soft fingers across your burning cheeks.

So what if some cowboy hadn’t made it to your wedding? You’re dancing with your husband, after months of longing for him; everything and everyone else is inconsequential laid up against this triumph.

Faces blur in the lamplight the night falls indigo around you, and as the music changes Hans twirls you into a new set of arms in a jaunt that has everyone exchanging partners. They hold you only briefly before the music changes again, and off you bounce to another, the world spinning around you faster and faster, jubilant and surreal, and then another—

Suddenly you are in Kyle Garrick’s arms.

He catches you like lassoing a runaway horse, taking your momentum into the pillar of his body as he winds you in close. One of his hands spreads warm across your back, fingers spanning what feels like the entire breadth of your waist. His other cradles your own in his palm, long fingers folded around it like an envelope. You fit against him easily, perfectly, like a couple illustrated in a storybook.

“Mr. Garrick,” you gasp.

“Mrs. König,” he says.

Suddenly you realize you’re out of breath. You take deep gulps of air, and Gaz’s scent permeates your lungs. Lavender soap and bay rum, polished leather, sweet hay. The soft, dense curls of his hair are combed and parted a little, and the short stubble he’d greeted you with on the train platform is tonsured down flush to his jaw.

He leans in closer to you, hovers his lips near to one ear. “You changed your dress.”

He doesn’t keep pace with the other dancers, or swing you around in time with the music; he lets the world slow around you both, the music falling away as he brings the pace of your heart down with soft line of his mouth and the steady, still look in his dark eyes. His hand on your back radiates so much warmth that it cuts through the evening chill just beginning to set in, as if his palm is directly against your naked skin.

You smile meekly. “It wasn’t appropriate for a wedding.”

His dark brows pull together; his hands tighten their purchase on you. You watch him avert his eyes from you, take a great breath in through flared nostrils.

“Mr. Garrick,” you say, feeling too honest, “do you disapprove of me?”

He snaps his gaze back to you. “Why would you think that?”

You swallow. “You don’t seem very pleased, whenever we talk, is all.”

Suddenly Gaz smiles—lets out a short, sharp laugh that bares his even teeth, shows the points of his canines. “That’s not your fault. I promise you.”

“Then what is it?”

He gazes at you. Lamplight casts the angles of his face in shadow, deepens the darkness of his eyes. His shoulder is solid beneath where your hand rests, shaped hard by a life on the range; you could lay the entirety of your weight against him, you think, and he wouldn’t even sway with holding you up. There’s something very present about Kyle Garrick. Something real. It draws you in like the earth draws the moon into its orbit.

“Do you really want this?” he asks you.

You blink. “Of course I do.”

“You hardly know him.”

“I’ve known him for half a year, Mr. Garrick,” you say, somewhat unsure how much explanation you owe this cowboy. After all, you’d vowed to earn his trust, as his employer’s new wife. “I know you might have some reservations about me. I understand, really.”

“No,” says Gaz immediately, dark brows low and serious over his eyes. “Not about you.”

“Mrs. König!” an accented voice calls.

Immediately the world speeds up around you again, music crashing back into your ears, wedding guests spinning and leaping around you, and you turn to see your husband standing at the edge of the clearing.

The dancing comes to a halt at the sound of his voice; Hans outstretches one hand toward you.

“I believe it is time for us to retire,” he says.

Gaz’s hands tighten on you again. You feel the eyes of the other dancers on the two of you, tight lines of attention between you and them.

You have felt it all evening, really—the undercurrent lining every conversation, the askance looks tossed at you and your husband when no one thought you’d notice. The pervading sense of some drama playing out just outside of your comprehension.

You turn to look back at Gaz. His mouth is pressed into a hard line. The wells of his eyes are ink-dark, opaque, eclipsed by something of a shape beyond your knowing. He says nothing as he holds your gaze, only watches you with an expectation so stoic, so resigned, that you feel almost guilty for releasing him.

He lets you go as if his grasp wasn’t even tight in the first place. You turn away from him, from the stone-hard expression on his face, and go to slide your fingers into your husband’s waiting hand.

Wolf-whistles populate the night air as he smiles approvingly, nods, and leads you away. Short bursts of knowing applause behind you draw your shoulders tight together.

“Ignore them,” says Hans, tucking your hand into the crook of his arm. “They’re just fools.”

You look back over your shoulder. Gaz still stands amid the dancers, a wide berth around him. His eyes have not left you; they pierce you in the night, sharp even as the distance between you grows.

You have only one other point of reference, aside from your mother’s tutelage, for how the end of this evening might go. A topaz glimmering in the folds of your memory.

Years ago, before the shine had worn off as it usually does with older siblings, you’d worshiped your oldest brother like he was Jesus Christ returned. You’d trailed after him like a newborn pup, dogging his every step, hoping your devotion would earn you even the smallest scraps of his affection. You’d watched his comings and goings like you could divine the mysteries of God from the merest angle of his movements.

One night, far past the time when everyone should be asleep, he’d slipped out of the small three-room house your family shared. You knew, because you slept closest to the door, and by then could recognize him by the rhythm of his footsteps. Like any nosy little sibling, you’d followed him out once you were sure he couldn’t hear you behind him.

He’d made his creeping way toward the barn, his path and yours lit only by a waxing moon. You remember, sneaking along after him, noticing a dim glow emanating from the cracks in the hayloft door, and guessed that your brother had realized he’d forgotten to snuff a lantern before going to bed—and now he was going to put it out, rather than leave a hay fire to chance.

He went inside. You were about to follow (no sibling, however divine, was exempt from a good ribbing, and nearly burning down the barn was excellent blackmail fodder)—when you heard another voice.

A female voice. Soft, and sweet, and welcoming.

Very little preamble separated that revelation from the next, and what you heard in the following moments rooted you there in place; movement. Rustling. For the span of a few heartbeats, nothing except for the crickets in the fields—and then, like the moon rising on a cloudless night—a growing chorus, voices high and low, moaning together in staccato.

You’d stood there, frozen absolutely solid, as it went on. The high voice lifted higher, and higher, carried on frantic, rapid breaths, until it cut off with a shriek that muffled so fast you knew your brother had covered the girl’s mouth.

Then—quiet, shared laughter.

So you know a little more than what the goats taught you.

Hans leads you back inside the house, where the lanterns have been turned to low, orange specks of light. You fix your eyes on the nape of his neck ahead of you as the two of you climb the stairs, making your way back to the master bedroom. The cacophony of the wedding celebration is far away; he opens the door, draws you inside, and shuts it behind him.

You stand in the middle of the room, looking at him. This whole evening has felt like a dream, but as you gaze at your husband, you suddenly feel like you’re waking up. You have not been alone with Hans since you met him, not really, and you realize he hasn’t felt quite real to you because of it. You almost feel as if you can see him, for the first time, see the words that have made him up in your memory coalesce into the flesh-and-blood man standing before you.

This is him. This is Hans. This is the man you love.

Softly, you approach him. Reach up with two hands to take his face in them; press your lips, shyly, unpracticed, to his.

“Hans,” you say, more softly than you have ever said anyone’s name in your life, looking into the pale blue of his eyes.

He gazes down at you. “Let’s get undressed,” he says.

It’s the moment you expected, but it daunts you nonetheless. You nod, step away from your husband, and he sets to the task—he shucks his coat, dropping it on the floor, and unhooks his suspenders. Swiftly you turn away from him when he begins unbuttoning his shirt, face blazing—of course, you’ve seen men undress before, you have three brothers, but this—this—

The reality of what you are about to do douses you all at once, soaking you to the bone. When you bring your hands up to the buttons of your bodice, they are trembling; you can barely get the tiny pearls between your fingers to undo them. You hear more clothes land on the floor behind you as you struggle, and then nothing. Stillness.

His eyes are heavy on your back. He is silent as you finally get the jacket off, and the blouse along with it; he is silent as you push the skirt down over your hips, the garment piling on the floor.

Your whole body is shaking by the time you’re down only to your chemise, shivering like a foal on new legs as you bare your shoulders. You close your eyes. There’s no need to be afraid as you shuffle the garment down your back. It’s only your husband behind you, looking at you as you bare your buttocks, as you step out of the split shorts, as the cool night air caresses your naked belly.

“That’s enough,” Hans says behind you when your hands go to the ties on your stockings.

You go still.

“Get on the bed, now.”

You focus on your breathing. Long breaths, in and out, as you crawl belly-first onto the mattress, which sinks luxuriously under your weight, softer than any bed you’ve lain on in your life. Suddenly, before you have time to adjust, the mattress sinks even more under you, and an envelope of heat and weight looms over you, pressing hard onto you, bare skin and the smell of sweat and the sound of another person’s breathing over you invading your senses.

Then there’s something blunt nudging at the entrance of your sex. A hand on your hip, gripping tight. The blunt thing circles briefly, parting your folds, and then is pressing into you. Pressing in somewhere tight, somewhere that doesn’t want to open to let it in. You hold your breath. It presses harder, fighting the resistance, and then finally gets past it, just a half inch or so—and suddenly it hurts.

“Hans,” you whisper.

He hasn’t seem to have heard you. He pushes harder, just a bit further. There’s another wall of resistance, this one needling and far more solid. You gasp sharply at the dryness of it, the way his member seems to want to push your own folds up into you as it tries to get in, shoving, bludgeoning, and then, mercifully, Hans pulls away.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to suggest that maybe the two of you try this later. Clearly there is something about you that’s not ready for it—but then his hand is between your legs, smearing something slippery around, and just briefly he touches something that pulses with interest. You jolt as little sparks of pleasure dance through you but quickly burn out, and then, the blunt head of his cock is back, pushing in, much faster, much smoother, huge and hard—

Suddenly it is sharp inside you, razor sharp, paralyzing. You shriek in pain, tears welling acidic in your eyes, shocked, betrayed, and he keeps coming, an endless length of him forcing inside, making room where there is none, going somewhere it clearly must not belong—and then he groans, loud and guttural, and begins to pull out.

You don’t have enough time to mistake this for the end of it. He pulls out halfway and then rams back in, slamming against your body, punching what must be the very limit of the space he can make for himself in your body. Pain roars to life around his cock, radiating outward, a ripping and shredding that grows as he forces himself into you again, and then again, and then it’s happening for real, he’s begins thrusting so fast it knocks the breath from your lungs, slapping his hips against your backside as he grunts and groans behind you like a dumb animal. He batters some nexus of agony that sends you screaming, shrieking with every jerk of his hips, tears streaming down your face as you grip the blanket in clawed fingers.

“Please, Hans, stop, please!”you wail. “Stop, stop, stop—”

His hand grips back of your head, turning your face downward��pressing it against the bed, muffling your mouth and nose and eyes into the blanket—

He jerks against you as agony writes itself into your bone marrow. Your hands circle in on themselves so tightly you feel your fingernails bite into your palms. Any memory of laughter you ever had abandons you.

Then, suddenly, mercifully, he’s forcing himself into you as deeply as he can, groaning loud, and something warm blooms in you, squelches out warm and sticky as he pulls in and out a few more times. He stills then from his furious rutting, hanging over you, panting.

Then he pulls out. Your husband lets you go and rolls over, breathing hard on the bed. You lay absolutely dead still, shaking violently, every muscle in your body tensed up painfully tight.

“Hans,” you whimper, “Hans.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums.

“Hans.” Every nerve is vibrating with pain. “Hans, that hurt.”

There is a long silence after. So long, you start to believe that he won’t say anything; that perhaps, even, he’s fallen asleep, and your words have dropped like flies from the air between you before they reached him.

But he hasn’t fallen asleep. Your husband shuffles off the bed, lifts the linen, and shuffles back into it. The lantern light is dim in the bedroom, but light enough that you can see the nonplussed expression on his face.

“Anna got used to it,” he says finally, eyes closing. “You will too.”

And he turns on his side and says no more to you.

You lay there aching. When you drag your fingers through the slick mess between your thighs, streaks of red intermingle with the clear and the white.

Suddenly you want this day to be over. You want to close your eyes and dream that it never happened—or maybe, if you go to sleep, you’ll awaken to find that it was all a dream after all, and you’re still home, your mother cooking just outside the bedroom door. Slowly, you inch off the bed, finding the floor with your stockinged feet, and go to douse the lanterns.

The room is cold and silvery without their light. Darkness gathers in the corners, around the weak glow of moonlight failing to fully penetrate the curtains over the window. You gingerly swipe the cloth from a nearby washbasin between your legs, cleaning up the remnants of your husband’s pleasure, and then, with nowhere else to go, you return to the empty side of the bed and crawl stiffly under the covers.

He does not stir as you settle in beside him. You lay your head on the pillow next to his and fold your hands over your stomach.

Outside and far away, you think you can hear the band still merrily playing. The darkness deepens, and deepens, until you can’t tell where it ends and you begin.

next

[shamera]

Darkness monsters vs. real world monsters

There's a fundamental difference between Daydream Inc. and the Supernatural Disaster Managemant Bureau that's been niggling at my brain for a while now, and I think it finally clicked for me.

Obviously there's the overt differences: Daydream is a for-profit company where employees are all working for a selfish goal-oriented purpose, while the Bureau is a government sponsored agency whose agents risk life and limb on a daily basis trying to save other people.

It's almost too easy to understand why the Bureau would think of Daydream as a 'cult-like company', one capitalizing on suffering and death of innocent people caught up in ghost stories. And the reverse is also true-- Daydream seeing the Bureau as the ultimate annoyances, trying to destroy the ghost stories that create not only profit but advance strides in-- everything! Daydream has potions that can regenerate half a body! With the dream essence they harvest from ghost stories, they can full on cultivate reality-bending wishes.

Of course, with that kind of power, there are heavy dangers and consequences... I could write a whole TED Talk on that. That part's easy to see.

But with characters of the latest arc meeting (no spoilers), I was thinking about what negates this black and white pattern we've seen between the two sides. Common enemies and all that...

Bureau agents think that the ghost stories are 'Disasters'. They're the worst thing that can happen to a person, and it's the job of an agents to RESCUE people from those disasters, from the monsters and the horrors, to allow civilians to go back to a normal life.

Daydream employees think of ghost stories as 'Darkness', and they're here to explore those Darknesses to harvest from experiences with monsters and curses and the like. Sure, a lot of them die in the process. They're certainly not here to help other people because they understand that it's dangerous enough trying to save themselves. Yet... Daydream field officers persist. In fact, they're practically unafraid of the Darkness.

Because to each and every one of them, the real horrors are out in the real world. The Bureau thinks that monsters exist only in the ghost stories, but everyone who signed up to work at Daydream risking life and limb daily is working toward a purpose-- a wish potion. Something that can change their lives.

People only need to change their lives when there's something terrible they're struggling with, and like Kim Soleum, they are willing to face the Darkness for a chance to change something in their real world.

...In the heart of it all, there really is a commonality there. The Bureau agents want to rescue people from monsters within Disasters, but Daydream employees have monsters that live outside of Darknesses that they're trying to escape.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Like no one is watching

summary: a little stream rekindles feelings that had been lurking somewhere in between the lines. Or have they?

a/n *hits chest* guilty, guilty, guilty... yet I had to write this because I was about to go insane. Don't come for my head. Had never written for this man before. Enjoy. 🤍🫧

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was supposed to be a chill night. Nothing big. Nothing special. All Vince wanted was to hang out with a couple of his old friends and mess around for a bit on stream. He needed to get his mind off the last couple of games that weren't his best. And it was just that—a good evening filled with goofy jokes—until Brian went quiet for a minute before saying, "Uuu, Y/N is coming over," and Vince's body nearly had an out-of-body experience. One that makes you fella as if, suddenly, you are standing a foot away from your body, and it almost feels like tunnel vision, but then it all snaps back into place. Yet Vince pulled the most neutral facial expression he could master before saying, "The one from the game?" making Brian simply hum in confirmation as he typed out a message to you.

The thing was, that it was stupid to even pretend that Vince didn't know you. Or that he only had seen you in one of his games as Brian's plus one. Well, besides being one of the NHL investor's daughter—a tag you shook off with a frown every time. You had made quite a name for yourself on your own. You had graduated from medical school with honors. And had opened a boutique in downtown Chicago... Not that Vince was keeping tabs or anything.

The truth was that he had never paid much attention to you at sports events or gatherings. Not that you were there often. But something about you standing there in the stands during his last game had messed with Vince's brain chemistry, and Vince just hadn't been the same ever since. He had, of course, asked Brian about your friendship and felt even more whiplashed when his friend casually shrugged while saying that you two had known each other for years. A friend of a friend. And since the energy was comparable, you had stayed in touch.

"Vince, keep the chat entertained while I let her in," Brian got up quickly, but not before stopping to address chat too, "Guys, your favorite person is here." Vince was once again left wondering how many times you two streamed together. And kicking himself for never really finding the time to watch his friends' lives. Laughter echoed from the hallway, and Vince had to mentally tell himself not to look back so he wouldn't come off too desperate. Paying extra attention to the sea of messages about how everyone was so excited to see you.

"Make some noise, make some noise," Brian shouted as he sprinted back, clapping his hands. He pulled the mic to his lips, "The one and only, Y/n Y/L/N." Your laughter filled the room, quickly followed by the clicking of your heels. "You are insane," you muttered, stepping through the door. A slight surprise washed over your face when your eyes fell on Vince, sitting in one of the chairs, but it was quickly masked by a warm smile. "Oh, hey, Vince," you muttered before leaning forward slightly to wave at the camera.

"Hey guys, long time no see. Please tell me that you've been making fun of Brian for me", you smirked, sticking your tongue out at him. "Changed my mind; I don't want you here," he huffed, playfully pulling at your hand. Vince blinked a couple of times. Finally realized that he had been staring at you the whole time, but then who could blame him? You had caught his eye back then with a messy bun, baggy jeans, and his team's jersey on. Now, with a black dress, heels, and full of glam. Lord was on his side, and he was sure glad that he had been sitting.

"Do I know Vince?" you read, your eyes darting to the awfully quiet hockey player to your right. "Yeah, we met. Was at his game, actually", you nodded slowly. "I should know all the rules by now, but..." Pulling a face, you shook your head. You avoided the games like a plague. Daddy's girl in the stadium. Those words alone made you want to run. You would rather fall face-first into dog shit. "We'll get you to more games, and you'll get it in no time," Vince's voice made your head snap back to him. The fucker dared to smirk too. Oh, but you knew his type. Heard all about it, and two could play this game. "Is that an offer?", you asked innocently. Vince only shrugged as he leaned back in his chair, "A fact." Your eyes stayed glued to each other. You hated how you could never get a read on him. How could a guy look both like the biggest mistake and like a gift from the Lord himself?

"They want to see your fit, Y/n," Brian's voice made you blink. Turning your attention back to the camera, you muttered, "Oh, wait," you backed up slightly. Trying to fit at least most of your body in a frame. "Do a twirl," Brian clapped his hands like a kid, making you shake your head. "Of fuck you, that's stupid," you muttered. "No cap, do a twirl," he motioned with his finger for you to do as he said. You rolled your eyes, but then you did feel cute today, so a little hype has never hurt anybody. "It's nothing," you said as you twirled a couple of times, "a black dress and these awful heels." You lifted one of your feet slightly, showing the sparkly, black heel.

"My turn!" Brian shouted, stepping up front as he went on a rant about what he was wearing. You stepped aside with a giggle. He was way too excited to do this, so alcohol had to be involved in this steam in some way. "Sponsorship event?", Vince said under his breath, clearly only trying to catch your attention. "You know it...", breathing out, you let out a sigh. People might call you ungrateful for this, but you hated attending anything that involved your father and his money. You were like a shiny toy for him. "Do you hate them?", he asked, catching a slight frown on your face. "Tell me about it," you said, laughing under your breath. "I ain't a fan as well," he added with a nod. "Oh, I know", you muttered, stepping aside from his chair.

"I will go for now; I need to get out of these before I start bleeding all over the floor," you chuckled, pointing to your feet once you found a minute of silence. You didn't want to just get up and walk out, so one way or another, you would have to find a little excuse to slip away. "Just get them off here," Brian muttered, not seeming to care as he scrolled through his playlist, looking for a new song to sing along to. "And flash the chat while doing so?", you rolled your eyes, "You wish for free content like that." You were about to wave your last goodbye when Vince cut in, "I'll get them." For a split second, you had hoped that you had misunderstood his intentions. So you just shook your head with a polite, "It's okay," but Vince scooted his chair closer. "No, no, I got it," he muttered, bending over.

A breath hitched in your throat as you felt his hands on your skin. "No, Vince," you muttered. But he just continued pulling at the strap; his warm fingers touching your cold ankle, sending shivers down your whole body. He fidgeted with it for a moment, but with an awkward angle, it sure wasn't an easy task. You were hoping that he was just going to give up, but his palm grasped your leg just slightly above your knee as he nudged it to a more comfortable angle for him. You nearly let out a shriek, but it turned into you biting your lip. Your hands pressed against his shoulder as you steadied yourself.

But God the feeling of relief once he finally pulled the scrappy shoes off. Near heavenly. Making your head fall back as you hummed in delight, "Remind me to boycott high heels from today," you muttered. Not to mention that you didn't miss the way Vince's hands lingered on your skin before he pulled back away from you. His gaze moves upwards to catch your eyes. And the urge to just take his face between your fingers and... Pull yourself together, Yn. You turned away quickly. Hoping to hide the slight blush on your cheeks. "It was nice seeing you guys", you waved your hand to the camera before quickly picking up your heels and padding out of the room.

Vince's heart was beating so hard against his chest. He was toying with a dangerous line. Girls like you were off-limits for a reason. The rules were pretty clear, too. It was bad enough that this was on the internet. One stupid move and his head would be drilled raw with people screaming at him. Nor did it help that your daddy dearest had spent some pretty coin on his team this year. Yet Vince was itching to get up and follow you. Little could be done with the cameras on, but outside this room, where no one could see you...

"Do you want another drink?" Vince said, causing Brian to shake his can, which, to Vince's luck, was indeed empty. "I'll get..." Brian had started, but Vince was already up and out of his chair. "I've got you, man," he said, tapping his friend's shoulder. He only had one shot at this. You can only get lucky so many times. But he didn't even need to go looking for you because the moment Vince rounded the corner to the kitchen, you were there. Leaning against the counter with your hands crossed over your chest.

"You're following me or something?", you muttered, tilting your head to the side. Vince tossed the empty cans out. "Or something," he muttered back. "Now you think you're funny?", you raised an eyebrow at him, pushing back from the corner to step closer to him. "What do you want, Dunn?", you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. A smirk tugged on his lips. That devilish one. One that turned him from an angel to a man of sins in seconds. "Back to the last name once again; you know I like it." His words were breathy and low as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing you to pull back.

"You look really good," Vince muttered, letting his eye fall down your body. Following your curves before your laughter filled the empty place. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, frowning slightly. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shook your head, "You came here to tell me that I looked good?". This guy was something different. Yet your fingers reached up to his jaw, brushing over his jawbone. "You're adorable," you muttered. This time it was Vince who was pulling away, "I'm not adorable."

You bit your lip, trying to keep a serious face. Of course, he would get offended by a comment like that. "Yeah, I forgot that you're an angry puppy, my bad," you said with a firm nod of your head. Vince let out a huff, licking his lips as he stepped forward once more, towering over you. "Careful," he breathed out, leaning closer to your face. "Or what?", you urged him, not willing to back down. Your own hands moved to rest against his chest as you stepped on your toes. His warmth seeped into your palms. Vince's arms were pressed on either side of you. Caging you within his arms, "Or you might see a very different side of me." Your smirk matched his now as you bit your lip, tilting your head to the side. "Like..." you pushed on, wanting to see just how far he would let himself go.

"Not afraid that daddy will get mad?" The warm feeling in your stomach turned to ice. The smile faded from your lips as you reared back. "Oh, fuck you," you hissed, pulling at his arm to get away from him. You should have known better. "Y/n," Vince tried to grasp your arm, but you yanked it away quickly, "Forget it, Dunn." With a quick look around the kitchen, you grabbed your stuff and headed straight to the door, cursing yourself for willingly choosing to come here in the first place.

[praisethesharp]

So, I've worked on this portrait of Adam Driver for over a month. It's acrylic paint on canvas. I've not had the confidence to work a canvas in 10 years. Not one hit on Twitter, not hardly a blip on the radar on Instagram.

I think I'm failing as an artist and as a human being.

Spent the last few months questioning my worth, severely depressed, and wondering if anything good is ever going to happen to me again.

Maybe this is my magnum opus piece? My swan song? Going away present? I can't decide at this point. 🥹😅

Regardless, I present to the internet world an acrylic portrait of Adam Driver on canvas entitled, "Fortunate Son." 🙏

#painting #portrait #starwars

[sixpennydame]

dark side of the moon⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ [chapter 1]

Pairing: yakuza!Levi x f!reader

Word count: 4.6k

Summary:

Neo Tokyo, 2235. You’ve escaped the festering wasteland that is Earth for Mars, to a city where only the strong survive, and everybody has secrets.  Taking on a job as a hostess, you woo the city’s elite, your smile hiding your own dark past. When your path crosses with Levi Ackerman, said to be the strongest member of the Ackerman yakuza clan, you’re not sure whether to consider him a friend or a foe. Because in this city, nothing is what it seems. And the past never stays buried.

Author's note: I will be using Japanese words and phrases periodically and will have a glossary of terms at the end of the chapter.

Series Content/Warnings: mafia/yakuza AU, flashbacks, slow burn, mystery, cyberpunk, sci fi, non-binary Hange Zoe, eventual smut, dark content, graphic violence and sexual content, minors do not interact!

Chapter Content/Warning: mentions of blood, physical assault

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

Blood is thicker than you thought it would be. 

A sea of dark red surrounds you, soaking your clothes and the floor around you. 

Someone’s saying your name, but all you can hear is the thunder of your own heart beat. 

“Hey. Look at me. Do you remember what I promised? That I was never going to let anything bad happen to us again. We swore that we would always be there for each other.

No matter what happens, I promise that I will protect you.

I’ll fix this.”

.

.

.

“Oi you alive? Can you hear me?” A voice said.

You snapped back to reality. Get it together. Don’t fuck this up.

“Sorry…could you repeat that?”

The person in front of you takes off their glasses and cleans them with the edge of their shirt. “I said, you’re obviously not from around here. Where are you from?”

You shift in your chair. You knew that you were going to stand out from the other inhabitants of Neo Tokyo the moment you arrived here.

“I um..I’m from Earth.”

Their eyes go wide. “Earth? That shithole? I didn’t know there were still settlements there. How did you even earn a ticket to get to Mars?” You open your mouth to reply, but they put their hand out. “Don’t answer that - it’s none of my business.”

Obviously your planet of birth has made you intriguing; hopefully intriguing enough that they’ll give you a job. They look you up and down like you were a science experiment. “And why would an Earthling such as yourself want to work here, at Club Azure?”

“I’m a hard worker and a quick learner. And I need to make money fast.”

“Mmmhmmm… you can definitely do that here, if the guests like you,” they smile, “and you certainly would be a unique curiosity.” Brown eyes gleam behind their glasses, “But why do you really want to work here?”

There’s a silence as you think about what to say, but decide you might as well tell the truth. “This line of work doesn’t require me to have Mars citizenship papers.”

“And there it is,” they nod, seeming satisfied with your honesty. “It’s true, we don’t really care about those things here. In return, we expect our employees to be…discreet about our clientelle’s  information and other business that goes on here.”

“I can be discreet.”

“Is that so?” The brunette leans back in their chair and gives you another once-over, their finger tapping their chin. “You’re unique, and there’s a certain something about you… I’m certain the boss is really gonna love you,” they say out loud, more to themself than to you. 

If they aren’t the boss, you wonder who is. 

“Ok, you’re hired.” They reach their hand across the desk and towards you.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips; you hadn’t realized that you’d been holding your breath slightly. Your hand meets theirs and they shake it vigorously. “The name’s Hange Zoe. I run this fine establishment,” they say with pride. “And what should I call you?”

“My name is —“

Hange immediately puts their finger to your lips. “Nuh uh uh, you weren’t about to give me your real name, were you?” They click their tongue. “It’s best that you don't do that. If the authorities come skulking around asking questions, the less I know about you, the better.” 

“Oh…I see.” 

Seems that there’s a lot about this world that you don’t know.

“We need to give you a stage name. Let’s see..” They’re tapping their chin again. “…flower names are always a good choice. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Flower? I’ve never seen one of those before.”

“Oh right..you’re from Earth. It’s been a ruined wasteland for a long time..I guess you wouldn’t have ever seen them. Not that we have them here, either..” Hange stands up from their desk and begins to pace the floor of the small, cramped office. “What are your interests? Any hobbies?”

“I don’t have any hobbies but..” a smile comes to your face, “..on Earth, I loved to look up at the moon.”

“The moon? Hah! That orb is just an exclusive country club for the rich and famous. If your goal is to get there then you have another thing coming.”

You shake your head. “No, nothing like that. But when I was small, me and my si—” you stop. You’re getting too personal. Hange notices, but says nothing. “I mean, I would sit out and look at the moon for hours. I just wanted to escape.”

“And it looks like you’ve done that.” Suddenly Hange’s face brightens. “Luna! That’s what we’ll call you.”

They put their hand on top of your head. “Our little Earthling…let’s get you introduced to the rest of the group and get you dressed for tonight.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait…I’m starting tonight?”

“Do you have something better to do?” They wait for a reply, to which you give none. “Then follow me.”

You follow Hange through the winding, narrow hall as they open a non-descript door. 

“This is where the girls get changed.” 

They open the door, gesturing for you to enter. Steel lockers are built around the perimeter of the room, with dressing tables and mirrors on the other side. Around you are women in various stages of undress: some have just arrived and are in their street clothes, others are walking around in their underwear, and all of them stop at some point to look you up and down. You knew you were going to stand out when you arrived in Neo Tokyo, but in the cruel, fluorescent lighting, it’s blazingly obvious. Most of the women around you have adorned their bodies with tattoos, the ink under their skin glowing brightly, making some of the images seem to move. Others have augmented their body: shining metallic arms and legs, hair and skin in every color of the rainbow…

All of it is nothing less than extraordinary.

There’s nothing extraordinary about your appearance. Your body doesn’t have a single tattoo or piercing. Your skin, eye, and hair color are ones that you were born with; your ‘human-ness’ is clearly on display for all to see.

“Presenting the hostesses of Club Azure!” The women go about their business as Hange walks you around the room. “You’ll find I’ve curated a diverse group of females who cater to every kind of taste….alien, android, and humanoid. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

One woman, putting on makeup, scoffs at the statement. “And just who have you wrangled to work here now, Hange?” She turns around to look at you, her nose scrunching up and her lips turning downward in a judgmental frown. “Or should I say, what..”

“Now, now, Ymir, be nice. Everyone!” Hange claps their hands,  “Luna’s just arrived from Earth and I need you all to play nice and show her the ropes. Historia! Find her a dress that’ll fit and let her shadow you tonight.”

A petite woman with golden, glittering hair and bright, shining blue eyes turns around. White tattoo ink glows under her skin, glittering like diamonds. “Of course.” She takes your hand. “Come with me, Luna.”

She leads you to a locker on the far end of the room and presses in a code. It opens with a clink. “This was Nanaba’s locker. I figure you and she are about the same size.” She pulls out a few items and holds them against your body.

“Was? Did she leave without taking her stuff?”

Historia looks away, biting her bottom lip. Apparently your question hit a nerve. “We’re not really sure, actually. She just…disappeared after work one morning, two weeks ago. We never saw her again.”

“You’re leaving out key information, Historia,” Ymir butts in, “she should have never started fucking that guy in the Ackerman clan. That got her killed, I have no doubt.”

“Ackerman clan?”

“Ymir…hush!” Historia nudges Ymir and attempts to push her away, to no success.

“You mean, Hange didn’t tell you? We are employees of Club Azure, but this club is “protected” by the Ackerman Clan, one of the most powerful yakuza clans in Neo Tokyo. Hange might own the place, but they pull the strings. Getting involved with them is bad news.” She gives you a foreboding look. “If you see them, keep your distance.”

“Are they in here often?”

“Of course they are. They’re always skulking around, checking in on their products.”

Historia clicks her tongue, a warning to Ymir. “They’re not that bad. Just smile, be polite, and pour their drinks and you won’t have any problems with them.” Ignoring Ymir's eye roll, she pulls out a dress and hands it to you. “Here, try this on.”

You start taking your clothes off, and the women around you stop and stare. Ymir laughs, and you notice that each of her teeth have been shaped to a sharp point.

“You’re just as normal as normal can be, aren’t you? Not a single augmentation.” She walks around you as you stand there, naked and bare as their eyes judge you. “All your…parts are…real?” she asks, lifting up your arm.

You pull away and grip the dress closer to you. “Augmentations are rare and expensive on earth.”

Ymir smirks and her carnivorous teeth flash. “Well…everybody has a kink. I’m sure someone will be interested in you.”

“Ymir, that’s enough!” Historia huffs, pushing the tall, freckled woman away. By then, you’ve shimmied into the garment Historia chose for you. The tight, red dress fits your form perfectly, falling off the shoulders and highlighting your collarbone and breasts. It’s long, but a slit cuts all the way up the top of your thigh. You’ve never worn anything so elegant.

Historia looks you up and down. “A little tight, but all the better.” She pulls you over to a dressing table. “Now for the finishing touches.” She takes out some makeup and starts applying powders and creams to your face. “Hange probably wants to keep you as human as possible, so we’ll keep it simple.”

Her version of simple was very different from what you were imagining, as she adorns your cheeks with pink blush and your lips with a dark red lipstick. Your hair cascades in waves across your shoulders.

When you look in the mirror you barely recognize yourself. 

“Is that me?” you ask, touching your radiant skin.

“I just enhanced what you already have. Hopefully, it’ll be good enough.” She stands and gives you another once-over, crossing her arms. “You’re still gonna stand out, but surely someone will be interested in you.”

Ymir walks by and chuckles. “This is gonna be interesting.” You scowl at her while she smiles smugly. “See you two out there,” she says, before sauntering away.

Historia takes you by the hand and leads you down a dark hall. Music is already reverberating through the walls and you can hear voices and laughter amidst the clink of glasses, which amplifies as she opens the door.

The bar is dimly lit, illuminated by a ceiling with an array of twinkling lights meant to look like the night sky. There are tables and booths with plush upholstery, some meant for larger groups while others are more private and intimate. A small stage is set up in the corner with a holographic band playing, and on the opposite end of the room, a long drink bar manned by Hange and another bartender. 

And dispersed throughout are men, some young, some old, but all well-dressed, sitting and drinking with a hostess or two.

“At a hostess bar, it’s not our bodies that are for sale, but our time and attention,” Historia says, leading you through the room. “They can request a certain girl, but otherwise, we are partnered with them as they come in.”

The two of you end up at the bar, where Historia gestures for you to sit. “For the time that they’re here, it’s our job to make the guest feel like they are wanted and important - we laugh at all their stupid jokes, listen to their problems at work or at home, or just help them to get their mind off things with conversation.”

Your eyes dart from table to table, taking note of the hostesses pouring drinks, laughing and leaning into their guests, playing drinking games, or having lively talks. One girl gets up and walks over to the stage, singing as the band plays a popular song that everyone at the table seems to know.

“And that’s it?” you ask. “There’s not…more…that goes on between the guest and the hostess?”

“You mean sex?” Historia leans her chin on her hand. “Hange forbids us having sexual relationships with our guests.” Her eyes dart over to Hange as they put some drinks on a tray. “Isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely correct, my beautiful turtle dove,” they reply. “Prostitution can be procured at other clubs, but not at my fine establishment. You can flirt, make eyes, touch…” their bright eyes suddenly become serious, “but no sex.”

A wave of relief washes over you when you hear this. It’s overwhelming enough to know that you’ll have men ogling you, expecting entertainment and companionship. At least that’s all it’s expected to be. 

While Hange busies themself with making another cocktail, Historia leans toward you and whispers, “It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen, though.” 

That doesn’t surprise you; if a hostess’ whole job is to flirt all night long, at some point the lines must get blurred with certain customers. And you can probably make a substantial bit of extra money in taking a relationship beyond the confines of this club. 

But that’s not why you’re here.

Hange pushes a tray of glasses and a bottle of alcohol across the bar to the two of you. “Ok, ladies, it’s showtime. Take these drinks over to table 12.”

Historia glances over to the table before taking the tray. “Ugh, it’s Lovof. Haven’t seen him here for a while.”

“Who’s Lovof?”

“A city councilman. We get a lot of politicians here.” 

The two of you make your way to the table where Lobov is sitting with two other men. You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress, feeling more nervous the closer you get.

“Just smile and pour drinks. I’ll take care of the rest,” Historia whispers, just before making it to the table. “Lobov! It’s been so long, I thought you’d forgotten about us!”

She slides into the booth next to Lobov, a true thing of beauty as she smiles and bats her big, blue eyes. Her skin sparkles even more under the dimmed lighting, making her look like a true angel.

You slide in on the opposite side, sitting next to Lovof’s colleagues, but neither of them pay any attention to you as Historia takes the bottle from its chilled container and pours the golden liquid into a sparkling glass. It’s only until Historia gestures to you that they look your way, a curious look on each of their faces.

“And this is Luna.” Historia’s voice is sweet and soft, matching her angelic persona. “It’s her first night, so I’m showing her how to be a good hostess.”

“Well then, she’s learning from the very best,” Lobov says, his snake-like eyes slinking from Historia to look you over. 

One of the men squints, then takes off his glasses to clean them with his shirt. “This plain-looking thing? Where in the galaxy did you find her?” he comments with a crude chuckle before turning away.

They’re bored with you already.

Get it together.

Don’t fuck this up.

You swallow hard, then take the bottle from Historia and pour a drink for the two unimpressed men.

Smile. Put on the mask.

“The story of why I’m not augmented is quite a tale,” your voice drips with flirtatious intrigue, “but perhaps it’s a tale better left for our second bottle, when I’m a little less nervous.”

The man next to you raises an eyebrow as you raise your glass. “In the meantime, I want to know everything there is to know about you fine gentlemen.” You smile, eyes sparkling in such a way that they almost rival Historia’s. “Kanpai.”

Lovof’s looks of confusion change to amusement as he joins you in raising his glass, the rest reflecting his actions.

“Kanpai!” the table responds.

By the third bottle, everyone is buzzed and relaxed. The alcohol coursing through you is helping you to feel less nervous, and has given you a confidence you’d only pretended to have before. The man next to you, Gelgar, has completely forgotten his other colleagues and is focused solely on you, while the other two are enraptured by Historia.

The attention makes you uncomfortable, everything within you wanting to escape this man’s gaze. But this is your job, you remind yourself. 

You’re not the same person you were on Earth. 

So you mirror your fellow hostess, pouring their drinks and leaning forward as they tell you about an upcoming election. Most of the time you have no idea what they're talking about, but you smile and nod, feigning to be enraptured by their words.

You’re good at pretending. You’ve been doing it your whole life.

There’s a glazed look in the men’s eyes and Historia shoots you a glance that tells you it’s time for them to call it a night. As the two of you escort them out of the bar, Lovof suddenly stops, turning to you.

“My darling, you never told us - why are you not augmented?”

Ah. You forgot you’d mentioned that. 

“Well…” you begin as you’re walking with them out of the club, “...my father was the leader of a cult and my mother was one of his many wives. It was commanded that his children never be augmented, as doing so would be an affront to God, who made the body. No needle or knife must ever blemish my skin.” 

A smile crawls across his face. “Intriguing. Absolutely intriguing…” You feel his eyes rove over your body in a way that feels violating. “I’d like to drink with you again, Luna.”

“She would be honored.,” Historia says, placing her hand on your back and guiding you to bow with her. “Please come visit us again soon.”

You both deeply bow then wave as the trio drunkenly walk to the black vehicle that pulled up for them. Only until they are out of view do you both turn away.

Historia takes your arm. “That story…is it really true?”

“Does it matter?”

Historia lets out an angelic laugh. “I think you’re going to do just fine here.” She walks arm-in-arm with you back into the bar. “You did well for your first time, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. I was nervous the entire time.” You allow yourself to smile - the first real smile you’ve had all night.

Historia’s words of praise flow through you as freely as the copious amounts of alcohol you’ve already consumed, both of them giving you courage as you stroll back into your new workplace. 

This isn’t too bad, you think to yourself.

You can do this.

You carry a newfound boldness as you and Historia walk up to Hange, who is waiting at the door. There’s a concerned, serious look in their eyes, much different from the happy, go-lucky persona you’d initially met. 

Hange pulls you both aside. “They’re back, Historia, and causing a ruckus. I’m sorry to do this to you and Luna, but will you two help with damage control for a few minutes while I call for some backup?” They press a small silver button on the back of their ear and walk away, not even waiting for a response.  As if either of you had a choice in the matter. 

You must have been too focused on your table’s patrons to realize the growing noisiness of the table in the center of the club. Now, it’s hard to notice anything else.  

Even from across the room, you can sense the chaotic energy of the group, a stark difference from the customers you’d just said goodbye to. The men are much younger than Lovof and his associates, their tacky suits and bright hair colors a stark contrast to the politicians you’d just entertained. They slap the table and yell curse words at each other, earning sideway glances from the others surrounding them. Empty bottles of alcohol litter their table; one of the men tries to milk the last few drops from one, but when there’s nothing left, he frowns.

“Oi! Another bottle! Make that two!” he curls his lip in disgust as he looks at his comrades slumped around the table. “This place has the shittiest service.”

Your newfound boldness shrinks with each step to their table.

“We just need to get them to settle down and then get them to leave,” Historia whispers, handing you a bottle. “Be polite, but don’t let them manhandle you.”

You put the mask back on, smiling as you and Historia both sit on either side of the booth.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Historia says, her voice still ringing calm and clear.

An arm immediately wraps around your shoulders the second you sit down, pulling you forcefully into him.

“Look at this - two more! We must be getting the V.I.P. treatment today, boys,” a man with long brown hair and green eyes shouts over the rest of the crowd.

Ever the essence of politeness, Historia pours the alcohol, a superficial smile never leaving her face.

“It’s our honor to serve you here at Club Azure,” is her meek reply. 

The two other hostesses copy Historia, just as you had done earlier, but behind their smiles are eyes that want to escape the situation as soon as possible. Although this is your first night and you still have much to learn, something feels different about this group of men; they are loud and arrogant, and their way of speaking is crude. It’s as if their entire goal is to make everyone uncomfortable. They continue to demand more alcohol and paw at the hostesses, downing bottle after bottle, their appetites insatiable.

All the while, the brunette man continues to clutch at you, his grip tight on your shoulder, keeping you from moving one inch. His suit reeks of alcohol and tobacco, and his breath is even worse when he finally decides to turn and speak to you. 

“I’ve never seen you here before.” 

He’s young, and there’s a wildness in his eyes, warning you to stay on his good side.

You attempt to shift away from him, but his arm is stronger than it looks. So you put on the mask and smile faintly. “I’m new. The name’s Luna.”

Seeming to be the ringleader of the group, you hope that light conversation will keep him preoccupied enough for help to arrive.

Whatever help that may be.

“Lunaaaaa…” he repeats, his tone heavy and foreboding. “You’re a non-aug.” He shifts his attention back to the other men at the table. “Look at this - we got ourselves a non-aug.”

You assume that means you’re not augmented. Will it be an intriguing curiosity, as it was in Lovof’s case? 

Or something far worse?

The men hoot and holler words that you aren’t familiar with, but you don’t need to be fluent in the Martian dialect to know the meanings of their slurs.

The other women look at you, brows knit, bodies frozen, each hesitant to intercede.

“Tell me, Luna,” his green eyes darken, moving down your body and stopping at the bare leg peeking out of the high slit of your dress, “is every part of you real?”

His grip on your shoulder grows even tighter as his free hand moves up your thigh. “Let’s find out, hm?”

Every fiber of your being is screaming to escape this man’s clutches. Your eyes flash to Historia, who attempts to stand up and walk to you, but is forced back down by one of the men. She sends you a helpless expression that even she is powerless to help you.

But you refuse to be powerless. Not ever again.

So you meet the man’s lustful gaze, and slap him hard across the face.

A look of shock sweeps over him, his pride hurt more than the sting in his cheek.

“Don’t you touch me,” comes your warning, willing your body and voice not to shake.

Time freezes for a moment, not a single person moving a muscle, until - 

– the back of his hand cracks against your cheekbone. 

It takes you a few seconds to realize what just happened, but before you can react, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look into his eyes.

“Bitch.” He squeezes tighter. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?” you manage to reply, despite the forceful grip on your cheeks.

His eyes fill with rage, getting even greener. “Nobody fucks with the Jaeger clan.”

“Oi.”

You hear a voice behind the two of you, cold as steel.

“Did you hear the lady? Hands off.”

You can’t move your head to see who’s talking, but your assailant does. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Someone who’s about to fuck with the Jaeger clan.”

Suddenly a hand grabs the back of the man’s collar and yanks him up, his body flying over the back of the booth and into another table. There are a few screams but then the club goes silent as all eyes watch what’s transpiring. 

Finally free, you look behind you to see a man in a navy blue suit. He walks closer to the other man, who’s scrambling up from the floor. There’s an incredible size difference between the two; this man in the blue suit is much shorter than the men that are now surrounding him, but it doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. 

Green eyes flash and the three other henchmen barrel towards the shorter man. It only takes a few seconds for two of them to be sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. The third grabs the lapels of his dark blue suit, but a hard knee to his groin has him joining his compatriots on the floor. 

“Bastard..” 

Now the only one standing, the brunette moves his hand toward the inner pocket of his jacket.

Something flashes into the hand of the smaller man. It seems to be a knife of some kind.

How did it appear so quickly?

“You pull out that piece and it’ll be the last thing your hand ever does,” the shorter man warns, his eyes laser-focused.

The other three men scurry off the floor and towards the club’s exit, but not before one of them grabs his friend by the shoulder. “Come on Eren, let’s get out of here. Your brother’s gonna kill us if this gets worse.”

The tall brunette man smirks then backs away with his hands up, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him.

“This isn’t over.” His eyes then flit to you as he straightens his suit jacket. “Fucking bitch,” he spits, before turning to leave.

It’s as if the whole club takes a collective sigh once the four men are finally gone. Historia is immediately at your side.

“Oh my god, Luna, are you alright? I’m so sorry..”

You can hear her words and feel her gentle hands touching your face, but all your attention is on the man standing before you. He buttons his suit jacket and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back the few strands that came loose during the scuffle.

“Thank you so much, um…” your words hang in the air, waiting for a name.

His steel blue eyes look into yours - not at your body, not at the bruise you’re sure is growing by the second - but deep into your eyes, before looking away. 

It’s the first time you’ve felt someone look at you like you’re a person, not some oddity.

“Levi,” he finally answers in a low, cool voice. “And don’t thank me for doing my job.”

Before you can say more, he’s turned his back, disappearing into the darkness of the club. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Glossary of terms:

Yakuza - Japanese mafia

Kanpai - cheers!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

Join my taglist!

@youre-ackermine @honestlywtfisgoingon @bejewelledd @cometlevi @sea-after-a-storm @notgoodforlife @belovedackerman @y44sherlock @xyumemi @armani78 @humanitys-strongest-bamf @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw @zasialovee @heartsforlevi @pieckes @aomi04 @ackermendick @sun-drak @crazychaoticizzy @mintandgingertea @socio-kai-path1972 @xuanzhe @hvziers @hollistichood @highgoon69 @vxlentine888 @luasxsx @notsaelty @themoonisbeautiful-blog @mrsackxrman @leviismybby @littlerequiem @deepestcatpatrol @nube55 @noctemys @darkstarlight82 @pamakali @leviisgf @righty @dreamtuna @amywritesthings @yihona-san06 @levilxvr @velouria17 @ryutotsukai @outrofenty @l3visthighs @bitchymanlet @emilyyyy-08 @wingedtalewombat @wavyhat2540 @angelanimedesaray @spicerackofblorbos @ackerlancio

[alphamecha-mkii]

Star Wars: Prophets of the Dark Side - Scardia Station by Drew Struzan

[mandos-mind-trick]

Heat of the Moment

Summary: It was supposed to be an easy mission, just a simple insurrection on a primitive planet. Nothing ever goes as planned, and Clone Force 99's civilian member finds herself in a sticky situation.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: Sex pollen, medical inaccuracies, dub-con because sex pollen, hidden feelings, ROUGH sex, angst, biting, scratching, brief mentions of blood, excessive use of the word pussy, manhandling, injuries, confession of feelings, oral, smelling, unprotected sex, creampies galore, it's really rough guys please use caution

A/N: All hail the mighty sex pollen trope. I am here with another sex pollen fic that sort of got away from me. I didn't plan on it being this long but I have been rather long winded recently. Please heed the warnings since this is pretty intense and rough and yeah. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

It happens suddenly. 

You’re crouched behind a rock, taking cover as you fire at droids. It was nothing more than an insurrection on a relatively primordial planet. Squashing insurrections was becoming your specialty. 

You were entirely focused on taking out droids when you felt the sudden prick on your neck. It was hardly more than a sting, like that of a bug, but enough to draw your attention from the fight. You reach up, fingers meeting something soft like feathers. You tug on it, feeling a small pinch as it’s tugged from your skin. You lean against the rock you had been taking cover behind, staring down at the brightly colored dart resting in your palm. 

Someone shot you with a dart. Your eyes scan the trees, looking for any sign of who could have shot you, but there’s nothing. No sign of anyone. 

Your arm flies up out of instinct, covering your face as sparks erupt right over your head. A droid falls at your side with a clang, Hunter sheathing his knife. You blink up at him, suddenly remembering you’re in the middle of a fight. You feel a bit like your brain is moving in slow motion, your fingers beginning to tingle. 

You blink as Hunter squats down next to you. He’s been speaking to you, but you haven’t been listening. His fingers close around yours, pulling your hand closer to him. His hands are warm, practically pulsing against your tingling fingertips. You’re still holding the dart in your palm, the bright plumage a stark contrast to your black glove. 

“Did this hit you?” He asks, taking the dart from your hand. 

You nod slowly, forcing your mouth closed. You hadn’t even realized it was hanging open. 

“Tech, do you know what it is?” Hunter asks, handing the dart off to Tech. 

You turn to look up at Tech. When had he arrived? You glance around, the other three standing around you. Was the fight over? When had they gotten here? 

Tech lowers his visor, studying the dart. “It will be difficult to discern.” He says, turning the dart in his hands. “There is not much knowledge on the inhabitants of this planet, or its native flora. I will have to do further testing to be certain.” Tech pockets the dart before kneeling down in front of you. “Are you experiencing any symptoms?” 

You stare at the visor, looking past it to his eyes. Gloved hands cup your face, tugging lightly at the skin below your eyes. You flinch under the touch, your skin tingling under the rough fabric of his gloves. 

“Slight dilation of the pupils. Body temperature is just higher than normal.” Tech says, studying your face. 

“‘M fine.” You murmur, suddenly snapping to the present. 

“Delayed cognitive processing.” Tech pulls away from you, your skin itching where his hands had been. “That could be concerning.” 

Hunter pushes himself to stand and you use the rock behind you to help get your feet under you. Your legs are twitching, feeling a bit like jelly as you attempt to steady yourself. “Tech, Echo, take her back to the ship. See if you can figure out what was on that dart. The rest of us will scan the area. Whoever shot her couldn’t have gotten far on foot.” 

You push yourself off the rock, wavering for just a moment before you steady yourself. It feels as if you’re moving in slow motion, each step taking every ounce of effort to move your feet forward. 

The trek back to the Marauder is slow going. 

Tech’s fingers are moving at light speed on his datapad, head down as you follow the trail back to the Marauder. Echo walks next to you, watching you cautiously. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your blacks sticking to your back under your light armor. It’s uncomfortable, the fabric almost unbearable as it chafes your skin. You’re not sure if it’s the heat blooming under your skin, or the unbearable feeling of the fabric, but you want to pull your clothes off. 

You stumble to a stop as Echo grabs your arm. You had been undoing the clasps of your armor without even realizing it. You frown, dragging a hand across your forehead to wipe the sweat off. “‘M hot.” You murmur. 

“We’ll never make it at this speed.” Echo says. “She’s going to drop before we even get there.” 

Tech pockets his datapad and suddenly your world is spinning. You nearly black out at the sudden movement, your head falling limply against a plastoid-covered shoulder. 

“Her temperature has spiked.” His voice rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your side. “The sooner we can reach the Marauder, the sooner we can combat her symptoms.” 

The world sways as Tech carries you back to the Marauder. The trip takes half the time it would have had you still been walking. Echo had been right, you likely wouldn’t have made it. You’re hot and exhausted even being carried. 

The air doesn’t feel any cooler in the Marauder as Tech sits you in a chair. Your head is swimming, fingers fumbling to remove your armor. You can’t stand it. It’s heavy and it’s pressing your blacks tighter against your skin. Echo helps you remove each piece, setting it out of the way as he runs a scan. Tech works on scanning the dart, trying to figure out what it was coated with to see how best to help you. 

Echo straps a monitor to your arm, your vision still swimming as you try to focus on his helmet. You still feel like the world is moving in slow motion, even just lifting your hand feels like it’s taking every ounce of effort. 

“Hmm,” Tech hums, staring at the screen. “There’s no record of any of the compounds pulled from the dart. I’ll need to run a further analysis to see if I can break down their individual components.” 

“Well, whatever you have to do, do it fast.” Echo says. “Her heart rate is spiking again.” 

Tech turns to look at you, adjusting his goggles. “We may need to consider a medical center. They will have the resources to keep her stable.” 

You swallow thickly. Even in your half delirious state, you know that what Tech is suggesting isn’t coming lightly. You could deteriorate faster than he can figure out what was unwittingly injected into your body. And if there was no cure...a medical center would be better prepared to search for one and keep you alive while they did it. 

Heat begins blooming under your skin once more as you sit and wait, your vision swimming. The monitor on your arm begins to beep rapidly, your hands and feet starting to tingle. You feel a bit like you’re floating, like your brain is leaving your body behind. 

“...get back to the ship...condition deteriorating...” Tech’s voice fades into the background, your eyes fluttering shut. 

***

There’s a hand on your face when you snap back into reality. The sweat sliding down your temples is uncomfortable, practically burning your skin. The rough fabric of the glove is too much and not enough at the same time. You blink up at the helmet hovering in front of your face. 

“...bacta’s working...waking up...” 

The voices float in and out around you. You feel hot, hotter than you had been when you passed out. Your blacks are almost unbearable, between the heat trapped under them from your skin and the intense sensation of the fabric against your skin, you’re ready to strip down right there. 

Hands grasp yours, stilling their movements. 

You had been pulling your blacks off, the top half undone and untucked from the bottoms. You weakly try to pull your hands free, but Hunter’s grip on you is tight. He’s breathing heavily, the sound of his breaths just barely audible through his helmet. You can feel the subtle vibration in the seat under you as the Marauder hurtles through hyperspace. 

“‘M hot.” You whine, still trying to fight Hunter’s grasp on you. 

“I know.” He says, voice raspy through his helmet. “Your fever’s going down.” He slowly releases your hands and they fall limply to your sides again. He turns away from you to face Tech at the other console. “Are you any closer?” His tone is sharp, shoulders tense. Even in your delirious state you can tell he’s on edge. 

You’ve spent a lot of time staring at Hunter. You could read him like a novel, far better than you could read the others. He had been one of the most welcoming of the group when you had been forced to join, though finding your place among them had taken some time. They’ve been together their whole lives and suddenly someone else is being thrown into the mix, a nat-born and a woman to boot. You had spent a lot of time studying him, watching him even when you weren’t in the middle of a battle. How easily he moves, how graceful he is, how aware of everything he is. The dexterity of his fingers and how easily he can wield a knife. 

You may have developed some feelings for your Sergeant, but you would never admit it. He’s never shown any interest in that at all, so you would hold your peace. You’d suffer in silence, stuck doing nothing but fantasizing when everyone else was asleep. 

A wave of heat burns through your body, making you wince. You’re uncomfortable, a cramping sensation beginning in your lower abdomen. You wince, hissing out a breath as you curl in on yourself. 

“You alright?” Echo asks, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hurts.” You gasp out, tensing your whole body as you wait for the cramping to stop. 

Sweat is pooling in your underwear and between your legs, the fabric of your blacks beginning to chafe uncomfortably. You desperately want to be naked. Anything to relieve some of the sensation. 

You let out a shaky breath as the sensation begins to subside, but now there’s a slight pulsing between your legs. 

“You’re developing new symptoms.” Tech says, staring at you. “What did it feel like?” 

“Cramping.” You say, pushing your hands into the spot right above your pelvis where you had felt it. “Here.” 

Tech stares at you contemplatively for a moment before he spins back around to the console, typing away rapidly. 

You shift in your seat, gasping quietly as your thighs press together. Your pussy is throbbing, underwear no longer damp from just sweat anymore. You should tell Tech about this development as well, but you’re afraid to. How do you bring something like that up to someone who was essentially your coworker, much less in a room full of your other coworkers? 

Oh yeah, by the way, I’m also feeling very horny. That wouldn’t be an awkward conversation at all. 

Your blacks continue to chafe your skin, sticking in sweaty places and rubbing others. You can’t stand it. It’s all too much, every sensation against your body too much. “Kriff it.” You breathe, tugging the top of your blacks off. “I can’t.” 

The soaked fabric hits the floor with a plop, leaving you in nothing but your breastband. Echo quickly straightens up, turning his gaze to the back of the ship. Wrecker clears his throat, turning his back to you very quickly. You’ve all seen each other in various states of undress before. It wasn’t like this was that kind of situation. You were potentially dying. 

If you’re going to die, you’re going to do it comfortably, even if that comes at the expense of your poor squadmates. 

Even your breastband is almost too much, nipples hard and poking at the thick fabric. Every breath is like torture, every small sensation only adding to the throbbing between your legs. Even the vibration of the seat, something you normally didn’t even notice, is almost too much. 

“Kriff,” Hunter breathes, popping his helmet off. His forehead is beading with sweat under the bandana, strands of hair sticking to his face and neck. 

“You alright, Hunter?” Wrecker asks, watching his sergeant with rapt attention. Everyone is staring at him now, not just you. 

“No!” He snaps, his helmet hitting the floor with a clang. “I can smell it! I can smell her!” He points at you. 

The entire ship falls silent, no one moving for a moment. You hadn’t even thought about the fact Hunter could probably smell you. He’d likely known before you had how aroused you were becoming. The thought has your face flushing. You’d pictured him many times burying his face in your pussy, breathing in your scent from its source, praising you on how good you smell, how good you taste. 

The thoughts have your pussy throbbing even more. 

Tech stands from the console, turning to Echo, speaking quietly despite the fact Hunter could still hear him. “Take her into the cockpit and seal the door. Don’t open it, no matter what you hear.” 

Echo nods, scooping you into his arms before carrying you into the cockpit. His scomp is cold against your back, but it feels good, like a brief respite from the fire burning beneath your skin. He sits you down in the copilot’s seat before he locks the door, sealing you off from the others. 

He takes a seat in the pilot’s chair, checking the navigation. You’re still a few hours out from the nearest medical center. 

Are you going to make it that long? 

“I have a theory.” Tech’s voice comes through the comm, drawing your attention from your thoughts. “I’ve managed to identify one of the chemical agents found on the dart. The others are a mix of pollen from plants native to the planet. It appears to be causing an excessive release of estrogen from the hypothalamus.” 

“What does that mean?” Hunter’s voice is faint through the comms, but you can still hear the strain in it. 

“She’s experiencing a state of hyper-arousal. As more and more estrogen is released, her state of arousal continues to increase. That is why her heart rate and temperature continue to spike, and why she is in such a state of discomfort.” Tech states, far too calmly for the situation. 

“What do we do?” Wrecker asks. 

“She will die, if the effects are not reversed. She will suffer brain damage if her body temperature continues to rise, and the prolonged tachycardia will cause heart failure.” Tech says. 

You gulp, your skin starting to prickle. So you are dying. Dying from horniness. 

“Bacta will not work, so long as her hypothalamus is in a state of dysfunction. It can lessen the fever and help slow her heart rate, but it will only be effective for so long.” Tech continues. “There is no known remedy, since this compound has been entirely unknown to science until now.”

“Why would they do this?” Hunter asks, his voice louder. You can hear the agitation in his tone. “Why would they give her something like this?” 

“I am uncertain.” Tech answers. “A possible explanation is this is a common aphrodisiac used for mating purposes. The natives of the planet may be more tolerant to the compound. Perhaps they were unwelcoming of both us and the droids and this was their only means of protecting themselves.” 

“And she’s the easiest target since she doesn’t wear a helmet.” Crosshair says.  

“Precisely.” Tech says. “It also explains why you are being affected as well. Beyond being able to sense her arousal, it is likely the compound is causing her to release a pheromone that is too faint for us to sense. But for someone with heightened senses...” 

“Kriff.” Hunter curses, his voice sounding strained. “What do we do? How do we fix it?” 

“It is possible a release of other chemicals may slow the hypothalamus’ excretion of estrogen enough to stave off the symptoms until we can reach a medical center.” Tech says. 

“How do we do that?” Hunter asks. 

“An orgasm would be the simplest way.” Tech answers. 

Your cheeks burn again. Hearing Tech speak so lewdly is strange to you. None of them had ever even made jokes, much less shown any interest. It had been jarring compared to other similar situations you’ve been in. Five men alone on a ship with one woman and not even one whistle or comment or passing of the hand. 

“Kriff it.” You breathe, tugging your pants off. Echo quickly focuses his gaze out the viewport as you stand, moving to the back of the cockpit. “Just...don’t turn around.” You say, laying yourself out on the floor. 

The metal is cold against your skin, offering a respite to the heat for a moment. You slip a hand in your underwear, peeling it from your soaked pussy. You sigh quietly as you pass your fingers over your clit, toes curling in response to finally giving your desperate pussy some attention. 

You bite your lip to keep quiet for Echo’s sake as you slowly work yourself up. Your legs start to shake, that cramping feeling starting to build in your stomach once more and you huff out a sigh. You withdraw your hand as the pleasure fades, taken over by the intense cramping. Fluid soaks your panties as your pussy begins to throb even more. You force a hand under the fabric once more, desperately rubbing at your clit but you can’t quite reach the peak. No matter how badly your pussy throbs for attention, you cannot bring yourself to cum.

You huff out another sigh, pushing yourself to stand. There’s a wet spot on the floor in the shape of your body, but you don’t give it a second glance. You’re so far past modesty at this point. You lean over Echo, hitting the button for the comms. 

“It’s not working.” Your voice has a bite to it, not unlike Hunter’s had. “I can’t...finish.” 

“Hunter has been unsuccessful as well.” Tech says. 

A thought crosses your mind. Heat pools in your stomach, another cramp starting to form. Your skin tingles, heat radiating from you so hot you’re sure Echo can feel it. You feel dizzy, the exertion of trying to make yourself cum hitting you suddenly and your knees buckle. You sink to the floor, curling in on yourself. Your heart is pounding in your chest, terrifying you that it might stop at any moment. 

“Let him fuck me.” You murmur, breathing through the intense cramping and the throbbing in your pussy. 

“What?” Echo glances down at you. 

“Let him fuck me!” You cry, looking up at him with teary eyes. “It’s the only way we can both get help right now. Tech said it’s probably used for mating. I don’t think we can fix it any other way.” 

The ship is silent except for the quiet hum of the engine. Tears of exhaustion and pain blur your vision. You’re desperate, legs shaking from the intense throbbing of your pussy and the cramping in your stomach. You just want to feel normal again. 

“Mesh’la.” Hunter’s deep voice crackles through the comms. He’s called you that before a couple times. You don’t know what it means. None of them will tell you. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I’m already hurting.” You sob, tears burning as they slide down your cheeks. “Kriff, it hurts so much!” Your sob cuts off in a cry as another wave of heat and pain rolls through your body. “Please, Hunter. I don’t want to die.” 

The comms pick up quiet cursing and shuffling on the other side before they go quiet. You push yourself to stand, using the chairs and the wall for support as you move to the door, unlocking the cockpit. You step out on shaky legs, beads of arousal sliding down the insides of your thighs, mixing with the sweat. Wrecker, Crosshair, and Tech file silently into the cockpit, the door sliding closed behind you. 

You’re left standing alone, Hunter on the opposite end of the ship. He’s ditched his armor leaving him in nothing but his blacks, the bottoms half hanging open. His shoulders are tense and squared, brows furrowed as he stares at you. 

“Hunter,” Your voice wavers, tears still pricking your vision. “I need you to know something before we do this.” 

This isn't how you wanted to tell him, how you wanted this to play out. You wanted him to come to you, to admit any feelings he might have, even if they’re just lust. You would never force yourself on him, reveal feelings you weren’t sure would be reciprocated. You would suffer in silence if it meant keeping the integrity of the team intact. 

His hands curl into fists as you take a step closer, nostrils flaring. You can only imagine what you smell like to him right now. He’s not in his right mind. He would have avoided your gaze, averted his from your almost naked body. Instead his eyes trail your form, watching one of the beads of arousal or sweat slide down to your knee. 

“I’ve had feelings for you for a while now.” You continue, ignoring the way his gaze starts to turn almost predatory, his eyes going almost black. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I didn’t want things to end up being awkward.” You sniffle, continuing to approach him slowly. “I didn’t want it to happen like this.” 

“Kriff, mesh’la.” He breathes, staring at you. He takes a deep breath, eyes screwing closed as he practically shudders. “I know. I’ve known for a while. Your heart rate...the arousal.” He swallows thickly. “I could sense it all. I-I’m your sergeant. I’m not supposed to take advantage of you like that.” 

“Is it really taking advantage of someone that wants it too?” Your voice shakes, more tears sliding down your cheeks.

Another wave of heat rolls beneath your skin, making you cramp. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart has been pumping. You’re scared. You cry out from the pain, knees buckling as you begin to fall forward.  

You don’t hit the floor. 

Arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against a sturdy chest. A groan rumbles through your body, Hunter’s face pressing into your neck. He inhales deeply, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat-soaked skin. He sighs out a long breath, making you shiver. His hands smooth up your back, his skin bare and rough against yours. 

You let out a whine as he mouths at your throat, legs still shaking. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. You’re starting to get dizzy again, the bacta wearing off as your fever comes back full force. 

“Please.” You beg, beginning to go limp against him. “Make it stop. Make it better.” 

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder and you let out a weak whimper at the sensation. “Gonna make you feel good.” He groans, voice rough and strained. He’s suffering almost as much as you are. “Could smell you as soon as I got on board.” 

He guides you onto the floor of the ship, letting you lay there limply. You feel sick again, not unlike how you had felt when you had first been shot with the dart. Your pussy is still throbbing, desperate for any sort of relief, but you’re beginning to feel it in the rest of your body again. You’re afraid. If this doesn't work...you may not come out on the other side. 

Hunter slips his hands around your back, practically ripping your breastband in an attempt to get it off. Your nipples pebble in the cool air in the ship, your breasts feeling heavy. Hunters thumbs tease your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You whimper, the pain beginning to ease as his hands tease you, every touch like electricity on your heated skin. 

He curses, sliding his hands down your sides. You shift your hips what little you can, helping him rid you of your panties. They land with a wet plop somewhere behind you, your legs spreading wide open for him. You’re slick and soaked, your pussy throbbing for him. His hands slide down your thighs, keeping your legs parted so far it’s almost painful but you don’t care. 

He leans down, breath fanning across the damp skin before he presses his face against your pussy, inhaling deeply. He lets go of your thighs, letting them close around his head as he stays there, face buried in your pussy as he breathes you in. You lift your head as much as you can, staring at him as he lays there, eyes closed in bliss. Your cheeks warm, having imagined this moment several times. 

Those fantasies could never compare to it actually happening. 

You let out a quiet sound as his eyes open, boring into yours. His gaze is primal and clouded with lust as he stares at you, shifting his head just enough that he can drag his tongue through your folds. 

Your fingers could never make you feel the way he does, not even when you had tried to get yourself off in the cockpit. You could cry from the pleasure as he drags his tongue through your folds, tasting the wetness your body has been producing in desperate need for someone to touch you. 

It’s obscene the way his tongue parts your lips, dragging from your hole to the top where he flicks it across your clit. You could cum just like this, just from watching him lick you. His gaze stays locked with yours as his hands slip under your ass, lifting your hips just slightly as he lowers his head, tracing your lips with his tongue before he sinks it into your pussy. 

His nose presses against your clit as he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can, your pussy fluttering around him in relief of finally having something inside you. His growl vibrates through your entire body, your hips shifting against his face. You gasp at the sensation of his nose dragging across your clit, shifting your hips again. 

He continues to fuck you with his tongue as you ride his face, your upper body falling limp against the floor. It’s not enough, not nearly enough to make you cum, but it’s the best you’ve felt since you got hit with the dart. 

“Please, Hunter.” You beg, continuing to grind desperately on his face. “Please, I need you inside me.” 

He groans, lifting his face from your pussy. It’s shining with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Taste so good.” His voice is deep and rough from his own need. “Such a sweet little pussy.” 

Your fingers pluck at your nipples as he strips out of his blacks, desperate to keep any sort of sensation going to abate the pain you know is waiting if you stop. You stare unabashedly at his hard cock as it's revealed to you. He’s not very long, but what he lacks in length, he makes up for in girth. You lick your lips, legs splaying open in invitation. 

You need him inside you now. 

He slides back in between your legs, meeting no resistance as he slides into you. You’ve been waiting for this moment, desperate for it for so long now. He folds his body over yours as he fills your needy pussy, the sensation of his sweaty skin against yours too much and not enough at the same time. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, so tight there’s almost no space between your bodies. You want to devour him, to pull him completely inside you so you’re one being. 

Your mind feels hazy as he begins to move, fucking into you with short, sharp thrusts. He buries his face in your neck as he fucks you, teeth sinking into your skin. It’s animalistic, the sounds he’s making, the wild way he’s fucking into you. You can do nothing but wrap yourself around him and hold on, letting him take what he needs from you, letting him ease the ache within you. 

Your vision nearly goes white as you’re thrown into your first orgasm, walls clamping down so tightly around him his rhythm stutters, cock pulsing inside you as you spasm around him. Your nails dig into his skin, drawing blood as white hot pleasure burns through you. 

It burns hotter than the fever that had been plaguing you, hotter than the drug could ever make you feel. You can’t feel anything but him for a moment, tears leaking out of your eyes as you ride out your first high.

He’s staring down at you, a rivulet of blood trailing down his chin as your vision begins to clear. There’s blood dripping from his sides, mixing with the sweat on your skin from where your nails had ripped at his skin. Despite your blinding orgasm, your pussy is still throbbing, the heat beneath your skin still burning hot. 

You’re nowhere near done. 

Hunter sits up and grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. You hit the floor with a thud, narrowly missing smashing your face into the hard metal. He forces your hips up, shaky legs keeping your ass raised for him. He kneels behind you, dragging his cock through your messy pussy before he’s sinking back in, filling your desperate cunt once more. 

It truly feels animalistic now, forced into such a primal position, unable to do anything but hold yourself up as he relentlessly fucks into you. His hands are bruising at your hips, blunt nails biting into your skin. He curses, tightening his grip until it’s almost painful as he stills, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his cum. 

You moan from the sensation of being filled with him, eyes rolling back as your own orgasm ripples through you. He’s still hard inside you, even as the last spurts of him hit your walls. 

This is far from over. 

Hunter keeps you in this position, picking up his pace once more. He can do nothing but grunt and growl as he fucks into you, nothing but whimpers and whines leaving your throat as he drags orgasm after orgasm from you, filling you over and over with his seed. 

Your knees begin to ache, sensations coming back to you as he releases your hips, tangling a hand in your hair instead. Your body drops, his following as he pins you to the floor, holding you in place as he seeks one last orgasm. There’s a pool of drool under your cheek, the floor a mess of blood and cum and sweat. 

His hand tightens in your hair painfully, gripping onto you as he cums one last time, forcing your body into one more orgasm with him. You both lay there panting, the heat under your skin beginning to fade. The hand in your hair begins to loosen until it’s sliding out, planting itself next to your head. 

“Hunter?” You whisper, voice cracking and rough. 

He’s breathing heavily, still inside you, still trapping you against the floor. “Mesh’la.” His voice cracks, heavy with emotion. 

You grab his wrist before he can pull away, shifting your hips until he slips out of you. You wince at the sensation, pussy sore from the pounding it had just taken. You feel weak and sore, limbs shaking as you roll yourself over onto your back so you can stare up at him. 

You can see it in his face, the reality beginning to set in, the gravity of the situation hitting him. You’re both a mess of blood and bruises and fluids. You try not to look down, try to keep your focus on his face, and his focus on yours. 

You lift shaking hands to his cheeks, his bandana somewhere on the floor beside you. You brush his hair from his face, the strands soaked with sweat. “One more time.” You whisper, tracing the skull tattoo. “One more time.” 

You can’t explain it, can’t give a reason but you don’t need to. He reaches down, jerking his cock a couple of times before he sinks back into you. You close your eyes, your face pinching a bit at the soreness. You’re not going to be able to walk or sit comfortably for a few days. You’re not likely to forget this. 

He stays still as he seats himself inside you, allowing his body to press against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him against you as he buries his face in your shoulder. You hold him as he begins to move, slow and deep, a contrast to what he had just done to your body. 

Your toes curl as raw pleasure burns through you, not like it had before, not brought on by the drug in your system. The heat that blossoms under your skin feels natural, feels normal. How it should feel. You pull his face from your shoulder, keeping his eyes on you as he fucks into you. Despite the discomfort, despite the pain, despite the ache deep in your bones you can feel the heat blooming in your stomach. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, his head lowering towards your face. 

For a moment you think he might kiss you but he doesn’t, letting his forehead rest against yours. You close your eyes, basking in the pleasure, basking in the feeling of him inside you, really inside you. Not the desperation you had been feeling, the need for him to utterly destroy you to keep you from dying. 

Just for a moment you can imagine what it would be like if he were yours. If you had been brave enough to tell him before. If your fantasies were more than just fantasies. 

You spasm around him as you cum, holding him tightly against you. He groans your name as he cums, cock twitching weakly inside you. You’re both exhausted, both feeling the effects of the drug wearing off. 

You hold onto him knowing this can’t happen again, knowing you’ll likely be putting in transfer paperwork as soon as you land. Tears prick your vision as you feel yourself fading, body giving out from exhaustion. 

***

It’s too bright when you wake. 

You hate medical centers and their harsh sterile environments. The GAR’s are no better, in fact they might be worse. You’re sticky from dried bacta, something tugging on your arm as you try to move it. Your fingers make out the shape of an IV moments before they’re gently eased away. 

“Don’t go pulling that out now.” A familiar voice says. 

“Wasn’t gonna.” You manage to get out, your tongue feeling swollen and throat dry. Your voice sounds like you’ve swallowed sand, rough and weak. 

You crack your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light of the medical station. The cot you’re on is hard and uncomfortable, and the blanket is scratchy against your sensitive skin. It was like no one cared about the comfort of the clones, even in a vulnerable place such as a medical station. 

You squint up at the reg medic above you, his head bowed as he stares at a datapad. You cast a quick glance around your bed. You’re slightly disappointed to find you’re alone. They’ve probably already left. You’ll be handed a transfer request as soon as you’re sitting up, you’re sure of it. 

You can’t blame them. 

The medic goes through a series of tests, explaining your injuries and what they had found left over in your bloodstream when you’d arrived, and what they had done to fix it. You should be perfectly fine, aside from some lingering soreness that could last as long as a few hours as the bacta finishes working its way through your system. 

You finally get some water and rations, downing almost a whole pitcher. Every time the door opens, you half expect it to be someone in command coming to give you your new orders. You wonder where they’ll put you. On a base somewhere? In with a larger battalion? Or were you going right back to Coruscant where you started? 

A doctor comes in to check you, double checking all your tests and vitals are normal. You withhold details, not sure how much the others had said, if they’d said anything at all. Regardless, you wouldn’t throw them under the bus, even if they did leave you here. 

“Your squad is waiting in the hangar.” The doctor says, signing off on the datapad. “They were banned from the upper levels after they started a fight with a medic who was trying to keep them from following you into the exam room.” 

You stare at the doctor with wide eyes, not expecting that. So they hadn’t left you? They had even started a fight for you? 

“You’re cleared to go.” The doctor says. 

You blink at her for a moment before your mind catches up. You’re still in shock that they want to keep you on the squad, much less that they’d waited for you. You’re surprised the GAR hadn’t sent them on another mission while you were recovering. 

You change into the scratchy clothes the medical station laid out before you before you make your way through the maze to the hangar. You’re nervous on the lift ride down, your stomach churning, threatening to bring back up the rations. You could go straight to command and ask for a transfer yourself. You could ask to never have to see them again, never have to face them after everything. 

But they had waited for you. 

Were they waiting to serve you transfer papers themselves? Pass over your belongings before telling you to get out of their sight? You’re nearly sick as the lift slows to a stop, opening to the hangar. You step off, legs shaking as you scan the ships until you find the Marauder. 

You’ve convinced yourself to turn back around and board the lift when your name is called, loudly, echoing in the hangar. People stop and stare, your cheeks warming in embarrassment. 

Wrecker is waving his arm, towering over the civilians and regs milling about in the hangar. You can’t run for it now. You take a breath, letting it out before you weave through the crowd towards the Marauder. 

You’re scooped off your feet as soon as you’re in sight, joints cracking as Wrecker picks you up in a hug and spins you. You yelp in shock, not expecting such a welcoming response. 

“Easy, Wrecker.” Crosshair says. “You don’t want to send her back to a bacta tank, do you.” 

“Sorry.” Wrecker sets you back on your feet, patting your back a little too hard, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” 

“Yes, I read over the doctor’s notes.” Tech says. “I am pleased with the results of your tests.” 

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Good to see you too, Tech.” 

Your body floods with shame as you turn to Echo, remembering what you had put him through in the cockpit in your desperation to end your suffering. 

“Don’t.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You needed to try. I’m just sorry it didn’t work.” 

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for looking out for me.” 

He squeezes your shoulder again as you glance around. Hunter is nowhere to be found. Your brows pull together in a frown. Was he still being checked out? Did someone spill? Had they figured out what had happened and he was being reprimanded and being sent to be decommissioned. No, that wouldn’t be right. The others wouldn’t be so happy. They likely wouldn’t have let you walk out of there either. 

“He’s on board.” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes. “Wallowing in his own self-made misery.” 

They part the way for you, letting you walk up the steps into the Marauder. It feels different now, after what had happened. It’s been cleaned, likely meticulously by Tech while they waited. It hasn’t smelled this decent probably since it came off the line. 

You walk through the cockpit into the hull. Hunter has his back to you, standing near the gunner’s chair. You approach slowly, knowing he knows you’re there. You can’t hide anything from him. 

“Hunter?” You ask quietly, the others loading up behind you. 

“Was it true?” He asks, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder. “What you said?” 

You know what he’s talking about. You wanted him to know before, while there was still a shred of sanity. You wanted him to know in case he remembered. You didn’t want him to feel guilty. 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yes. All of it.” 

His shoulders slump, his head turning away from you. “It’s frowned upon.” He says. “We’re not supposed to fraternize.” 

“Since when do you follow rules?” You say, voice shaking just a little. 

His back straightens just a little, a laugh huffing from his chest. “You’re right.” 

He turns, crossing the distance between you quickly. He takes you in his arms, pressing his lips against yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft against yours, teeth nibbling at your lower lip. 

“You could at least wait until we take off.” Crosshair sighs behind you. 

You giggle against Hunter’s lips, his hand lifting from your back for a moment and you can imagine the rude sign he had just flashed at Crosshair. You pull him back to you, pressing your lips against his once more. 

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Star Wars: Prophets of the Dark Side Cover Art by Drew Struzan

[hanmaitani]

Sneaking Around

PAIRING - Roronoa Zoro x Reader WC - 0.8K GENRE - smut CW - secret relationship, unprotected sex, implied size kink (if you squint) SYNOPSIS - being on the straw hat crew and secretly dating another member leads to a lot of close calls and a lot of sneaking around...

happy birthday zoro baby <33

Zoro can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. Even if he could, he doesn’t really want to. Which would be fine… if you’d already told the crew that the two of you had been sneaking around behind closed doors.

Well… not really closed doors. More like slightly ajar doors or stuffed into closets or in quietly dark and deserted alleyways.

Quite literally any time that the two of you got alone time, Zoro had you like how you are now…

Your back flush against the wall, his body slotted between your thighs, pressed flush against yours. He’s got both your legs tossed over his arms, pinning them open, your knees dangerously close to tapping your shoulders. One of his arms is wrapped around your hips, keeping them angled towards him while the other has snaked its way up to cup the back of your head, keeping it from hitting the wall.

Zoro’s hips move impossibly fast, deliciously so. He attempts to keep quiet but the fast movements only cause the loud wet noises that accompany them to be even more prominent. The lewd sound of his cock stretching out your cunt.

It’s delicious and dizzying, the way he chases both of your highs as your hands try to grip onto his shoulders.

There’s no real reason for you to grip his shoulders, both of you know this. It’s just a show of trying to hold yourself up, but he’s doing all the work for you. It’s just so you can touch him, ground yourself as he fucks you into the heavens.

Both of you are all too aware that your alone time could be over at any minute. That in a second’s notice  you could be forced to scramble to either look presentable or for one of you to hide.

Today it would be you hiding if you couldn’t be presentable fast enough, you were in his training area. And he wanted you to finish before that had to happen, both of you.

“Z-Zo…” You whine into his ear, his forehead is pressed against your shoulder as he pants desperately across his chest. He’d give anything to hear that sound on repeat.

“Sh, sh, princess, I know.” He mumbles against your skin, lips pressing to yours to keep you quiet as his hips drills into you harder. He’s swallowing your shallow cries, the ones you’re trying and failing to swallow on your own, the ones that could get you caught if you’re not careful. “God fuck, feel so good.” He kisses the words into your mouth as his hand spreads over your scalp, fingers brushing softly against your skin, trying to soothe you as you cling to him.

He could feel you clamping down on his cock, your body squeezing his as you tipped over the edge. His hips ground against you, as you came, his lips kissing yours more desperately as he fucks you through your high, focusing on his own now. His grip on your body tightens as his thrusts get more erratic, chasing down his finish, needing it to be in you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He mutters against your lips as his hips stutter into you. Both of your breathing shaky as he releases your tangle of limbs. Your legs are unsteady under your own weight as he eases you down. Both of your lips are still moving against each other, trying to keep the intimacy until you hear a few distant bangs heading your way.

You pull back quickly, gasping as you reach for your pants, shakily trying to pull them on as Zoro fixes his own. Zoro had only just launched himself halfway across the room when the door slams open.

“ZORO DINNER!” Luffy’s hand is still on the door when his eyes land on you. “Oh, hey! Were you training with Zoro too?” Your voice gets caught in your throat and you settle on just nodding your head, confirming his incorrect suspicions. “No fair! You didn’t invite me!!” Luffy pouted slightly before remembering why he came in here. “C’mon! Dinner!” He bolts out of the room as fast as he’d entered and you can’t help but collapse in a heap on the floor, sighing out the stress you’d just gone through.

Zoro chuckles as he walks over and helps you off the ground. “Are you okay?”

“He almost caught us.” You mumble, shaking your head in worry. “Zoro what-” your breath hitches as his lips brush your neck again. “Wh-what are you…”

“C’mon, one more quick one before dinner,” he asks softly in your ear as his hands already move back towards your hips.

You whine in worry, but you can’t help melting into his arms, unable to resist him.

Zoro could never seem to keep his hands off of you… but you were truly no better.

TAGLIST -

@tsukiran @qichun @s0uldarling @stunies @little-miss-naill

@hayatoseyepatch @appalost

[doctrined]

⠀ &͟&͟.

⠀⠀LUCID DREAMS ⁎ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀II ⠀ ⠀⠀

synopsis: ❛ Greed.❜

It was the first word I ever whispered.

The second was Kale, a name laced with the hollow sweetness of devotion, a name that meant everything to me. But greed festered in the spaces between the syllables, twisting it, twisting him. And when he showed me—it was never Kale. It was Caleb.

And then, the world showed me I could not love him. I should not love him. Not him. Not the boy I thought a brother, the one who recoiled from my touch, the one who despised me for loving him in the first place.

So, he became Caleb the loathsome.

They found him on the battlefield, a savior of war, a broken thing wrapped in glory. And the whispers—they spread like poison, a slow, suffocating venom in the halls of Galdoria.

And thus, the serpent came—the one that sank its fangs deep into my soul, feeding me venom that tasted like him. He was the poison, the hunger, the disease I could never rid myself of. The world told me I was broken, that I was nothing more than an empty vessel of desire, a creature to be gawked at by men, but never to be desired by the one I wanted most.

I wanted him.

I wanted him with a ferocity that burned me alive. That was my sin. To want what I could never have. To long for the one who could never see me the way I saw him.

He was everything I could not touch.

And yet—he was the only one who could see the hunger in my eyes and let it burn. He made me understand. He made me see the ugliness in the idea of us. He showed me that my desires were not innocent. That I, too, was tainted. That I was no longer a princess.

I was a woman who could want and be wanted. A woman who could be destroyed.

But the worst part is, he ruined me—destroyed me in the most exquisite way. His love, if it could be called love, came wrapped in agony, wrapped in pain, wrapped in devastation. He tore me apart, shattered the princess I had been, and put me back together, but not as I was before. Not as the woman I was meant to be.

But as something darker.

Something hungry.

He was the hunger consuming me alive. A man who wasn’t afraid of death, but feared me. A mute who only ever wanted her knight’s love, her knight’s first kiss, her knight’s first everything. And he did it, but only at the cost of devastation, ripping us apart, tearing my soul to pieces and piecing me back together like poetry.

And when the serpent bit me, when society turned its eyes away in disgust, it took my voice. It took my words. My tongue, my lips, my lungs—they were no longer mine. They were his.

It silenced me.

But in that silence, I found the woman I was always meant to be.

Not a princess. Never a princess.

A woman who could take. A woman who could destroy. A woman who ruled, not by the title I was born to, but by the hunger that consumed me.

Did that stop me from fighting back?

Did it stop me from pulling my knight from the clutches of war—dragging him to me, back to me, even when he rejected me?

Even when he rejected us?

&. chapter one;

tags; @alevres @icedoatlatte29 @starlitfool @rcvcgers @puckpuckvt @jadeloverxd @spacenott @marina27826 @starkdarya @darkx143

CHAPTER TWO

Violet eyes.

I was five years old when I first saw them. The lush color of a lavender field, a vibrancy and sadness that a little me didn't understand but devoured the very expression he'd made upon seeing me.

"Papa?"

I watched men pour in like bees, their armor clinking, their faces grimy with ash, dust, and sweat from the battlefield. The unmistakable scent of iron and blood clung to them, their bodies heavy with exhaustion and the weight of war. It made my nostrils flare with disgust, the air thick with the stench of death and despair. I made a choking sound, a reflex to push it all away. A gentle hand cupped my head, and before I knew it, I was lifted into the air, the warmth of my father's embrace pushing the acrid air away for a moment. I snuggled close to his chest, burying myself in the familiar scent of him—- leather, steel, and something uniquely his.

"Why is my little darling still awake?"

"Eed," I told him, holding up a torn scroll.

My father took it from my hands, seeming to inspect the brown, tattered paper, his fingers brushing over the crinkled edges. A small puff of laughter escaped him, full and bountiful, and soon, the soldiers in the room joined in with their deep chuckles. But the sound didn't comfort me—it made my little heart twinge with confusion and pain.

What had I said wrong?

I peered into his glistening eyes, mouth parting in disapproval. But truly, my features twisted, and tears streamed down my cheeks as he laughed harder, gently rubbing my back with his large, calloused hands. I tried to blink it away, but the sting of humiliation clung.

"Greed, Cecilia, love." My father corrected; his voice warm but edged with amusement. A soft kiss graced my temple, and for a moment, his kindness drowned the noise of the soldiers, but only for a moment. The harshness of their world, of war, seemed so distant in the quiet of his affection.

Yet, I couldn't shake the dissonance—the laughter felt foreign to me, like a language I hadn't been taught, a code I couldn't crack. I wiped my tear-streaked cheeks, feeling the weight of confusion still pressing against my chest, but the hiccup that hitched my breath quickly pulled my attention elsewhere.

My head turned, and in the shifting shadows of the room, I saw him.

"Cecilia, this is..." There was a pause when I was placed on the floor, hesitation curling my father's voice.

The next thing I knew, my feet moved of their own accord, my tiny heart pounding like a war drum. My fingers, stiff and trembling, reached out as if drawn by something far more powerful than my own will, as if I were compelled by an invisible pull. That very greed I had been studying in the scroll made me touch his hair—lightly at first, tentative, then more frantically, my fingers brushing against the rough texture of his dirt-smeared strands, the faint scent of sweat and earth clinging to him. His face, hard and unyielding, bore no expression, only those eyes—- violet eyes—watching me silently.

They flickered in the dim candlelight, their color so unnatural it almost seemed to shimmer like some distant, unattainable star.

And then, despite the weight of the air, I kissed him.

On the lips, on the cheek, my small fingers brushing against his worn shoulder as I stood beside him, feeling a warmth stir in my chest—something like pride, something like happiness, as if I had finally done something right. But all around me, laughter erupted once again, louder this time, sharp against my ears. My father’s booming laugh mixed with the soldiers’ deep chuckles, a sound that seemed to shake the very walls of the room. And yet, despite the warmth of my father’s embrace, I felt suddenly alone.

Because you see… words were not a thing for me.

They were reptilian creatures I couldn’t catch, no matter how many times I tried. Each word slithered away from me, a fury, and the sound that curled in my voice upon speaking was relentlessly an embarrassment.

So, I learned to speak differently.

Through my hands. Through my actions. Through the things I chose to touch and keep close.

Thus, I liked violet eyes.

I loved them.

But perhaps that was the odd part, no? How quickly, within the first moment of speaking through my touch and actions, I had told my father I liked him. I wanted him to be everything: a brother, someone I could play with, someone whose hair I could braid. But instead, their laughter confused me, and more tears fell, no longer stifled but drawn out in waves of realization that I was different.

That I didn’t belong.

That I never had.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𓂋𓂋𓂋

A jarring blast of the horn and fingers digging into the flesh of my right arm jolted me back to reality. The veil of memories lifted, dragging me unwillingly from the broken moment. My pulse was still racing, and the weight of those memories clung to me, but I forced myself to turn and face the hand that gripped me.

The rain, relentless as ever, seemed to fall in sheets now, turning the streets into a grim, swirling mess of mud and puddles. The cold dampness of the world around me pressed in, soaking my skin, and the sky above was an oppressive shade of gray, heavy with the promise of more storms to come.

What was it with sad eyes today?

Severus’s grip tightened on my arm, his fingers digging into my skin, grounding me to the present with a cruel reminder of the moment. His eyes, sharp as knives, locked onto mine. His voice cut through the downpour, slicing the silence between us with brutal clarity.

"Do you intend to die in this rain like a pathetic loser?"

The words were harsh, the bitterness in them unmistakable. The sting of his tone wasn’t just the cruelty of the words themselves; it was the weight behind them, the venom that seeped from a place I hadn’t been prepared for. The pain in his voice, raw and cutting, was unmistakable. But what hurt more was knowing it was directed at me, that I was the reason for the frustration that twisted his features.

A surge of anger flared in my chest. I wanted to lash out, to push him away, to say something sharp, something that would tear through the wall of hurt between us. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms, and my body tensed, a coil of energy ready to snap.

But there was no strength left in me.

The fight that had always existed between us—sharp words and sharper glances, our own version of rivalry—felt hollow now, empty. The anger, the old bitterness, no longer made sense. It didn’t burn the same way. It wasn’t the same fire.

It had always been reserved for one person.

Caleb.

I stared at Severus, unable to understand the change in the air between us. His usual sharpness had lost its edge, replaced by something deeper, something I couldn't quite grasp. There was pain in his eyes, in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his shoulders were stiff and tense, as if he were holding everything inside. He wasn’t angry, at least not in the way I was used to. He was hurt—hurt by Caleb’s departure just as much as I was.

His gaze flickered, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. The rain poured down around us, but I barely noticed it.

“Why him, Cecilia?” Severus’s voice was softer now, almost pained. His fingers, still wrapped around my arm, loosened slightly as he stepped closer, his presence imposing despite the distance he tried to keep. “Why him? When you knew what it would do... what it would mean...”

I could hear the tremor in his words, the crack in the veneer of his tough exterior, and it made something inside me twist painfully. He was asking the same thing I had asked myself a hundred times. Why Caleb? Why did I let him get so close, knowing what it would cost us? Knowing what it would cost me?

But I didn’t have an answer.

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken things. Severus’s chest rose and fell with his breath, ragged and uneven. There was something almost desperate in the way he looked at me, like he was reaching for something he knew he couldn’t have.

It was too late. It had always been too late.

And still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the distance between us—Severus and me—was growing wider, just as surely as the space that had opened between me and Caleb.

But for the first time in a long while, I realized that maybe it was no longer just Caleb I was losing. The prodigal son. The unwanted man thrown into a world of violence where everyone wanted a piece of him.

What became of a boy who’d seen darkness at the age of nine?

Truth is, it had changed him. And that very same darkness swirling in the pools of his violet eyes? It was still there. Except now, the flames of hatred burned hotter, stronger, nearly drowning everyone around him.

Including me.

"Where's Isolde and Lucian?" I asked, my voice shaking with the bitter weight of the rain.

Before Severus could respond, I became aware of my surroundings—or, more accurately, the absence of awareness I had earlier.

I was standing in the middle of the street—drenched to the bone, uncaring to the point of recklessness.

The whispers weren’t for me.

They were for the spectacle I had become.

The princess in the rain.

Unbothered and broken.

A mess for all to see. Reality was a crueler fate, so I gave in, mustering up the courage and lifting my hand to pry off Severus’s biting cold fingers. His grip lingered for a fraction longer, as if he meant to hold on—to stop me—but I wrenched free, my skin stinging where his fingers had pressed too hard. He didn't say anything as I stepped away, but his eyes burned with something unspoken, something that sent a sharp pang through my chest. The rain had softened into a steady drizzle, yet the world felt no less cold. My steps hastened toward the waiting carriage, the heavy fabric of my gown clinging to my legs, soaked through from my time standing in the storm. The streets blurred around me, murky puddles reflecting the dull light of lanterns.

Roman and Cassian stood by the carriage, their expressions unreadable. Despite carrying an umbrella, they were both drenched to the bone, their dark cloaks hanging heavy with water. Roman’s arms were crossed over his chest, a shadow flickering in his gaze as he watched me approach. Cassian, ever the quieter one, said nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line.

Severus had called after me once, my name slipping through the rain, but I didn’t turn back. Not when I reached the carriage. Not even when I felt my brothers’ scrutinizing gazes burn into me as I climbed inside, lifting my skirts to keep the drenched hem from tangling. Inside, the warmth was a stark contrast to the cold, though it did little to ease the tightness in my chest. Isolde and Lucian sat stiffly across from me, both soaked despite the protection of the carriage roof. The rain had found them, just as it had found me. Lucian’s silence was cutting. His usual teasing smirk, the one that had comforted me since childhood, was absent. His damp hair curled against his forehead, and his arms rested loosely on his knees, but his hands were tense, fingers curled against his trousers. He didn’t look at me.

Isolde, on the other hand, did. Her earthy green eyes glistened with unshed tears as she reached forward, her fingers pressing gently against my knee. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver through me, grounding me, though it did little to soothe the ache deep in my chest. For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the cobblestone as the carriage lurched forward, leaving Severus behind in the rain.

The sight of him standing there, of his figure growing smaller in the distance, was one I wouldn’t soon forget.

Everyone loved Caleb.

Everyone, including my father.

[thegoldencontracts]

Jade: Frankly, I'm truly evil. Filled with darkness. I can't help but strike fear into the souls of-

Yuu: Don't you sleep with that Mushroom Plushie named Robbie or whatever?

Jade: His name is Robert, and he is incredibly fearsome, thank you very much.