#i will be rotating it in my head for a while c:

[maiamore]

THREE STRIKES

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 2k

Summary: Joel fucks you in his truck.

Tags: road rage, cockwarming, orgasm denial, husband!joel, public sex, car sex, p in v, unprotected sex, use of the word daddy, grumpy!joel

A/N: swung this out in eight hours through pure adrenaline and proofreading with my homie MASTERLIST

If there was one thing you knew about Joel Miller, it was to never fuck with him when he was on the road.

It wasn’t that he was a bad driver, per se. Joel just had pretty low tolerance with shitty drivers, as evident by the dozens of times he’d changed his horn out in the past couple of months. You learned to sit pretty & let him grumble—being on your merry way as the passenger princess you were, humming along to whatever country station he flipped to.

“Left in the lane up ahead,” you cut in, interrupting Joel’s long-winded rant about the signages being too small. Which of course, his old man vision was probably more of the reason why, not the state's fault. Joel at the same time, refused to use a GPS, a stubborn stance that had already led to him missing an exit earlier. Considering the two of you were now running late to dinner to his younger brother,Tommy, and his wife’s place—you’d been on edge.

Joel glances at you, annoyance flickering across his face. “I know where I’m goin’, sweetheart.”

“Sure,” you replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from the single word.

“Joel!” Your arm whips directly in front of his face to point at the lane he was supposed to be in. He shoots you a sharp look in return, his palm pressing down on the base of the wheel, rotating it clockwise as he finally shifts over. You could tell, just from the tension in his jaw—that you’d hit strike one.

“I was about to,” he countered, his voice defensive.

“Yeah, didn’t seem like it.”

“My signal was on.”

“Oh, great, you announced your signalling intentions five hundred meters away from the lane. Can I please just put the GPS on?” you bit back, exasperated.

“We’ll get there. Quit fussin’.”

You’d slumped back into your seat, attempting to not let it affect you, Joel knew better though. He could tell you were ready to pop up with a “we need to turn here!”—despite your piss poor attempt at behaving for now.

His truck comes to a stop behind a Blue Toyota Yaris—with a slow rumble from the engine. Fingers drumming steadily against the steering wheel to fill the silence. Finally, he breaks the tension. “You plannin’ on sulkin’ all the way there?” 

“I’m not sulking.” You shot back.

Joel raises a brow, giving you a once-over. Gaze flicking to your thighs, clamped together and turned away from him. Well, that’ll do it. His lips twitched like he might’ve smirked. ���Mmhm. Sure looks like it.” His voice a smooth drawl.

You turned your head just enough to shoot him a mocking look, trying not to let it show just how much the hum in his response caused a visceral reaction in what went on below. 

Joel’s jaw clenches at that, the faintest crease forming between his brows.

Strike two. 

The light turns green.

With a long, drawn out sigh—Joel eased his boot off the brake, released the clutch and wrapped a firm hand around the gear shift to nudge it into first. The truck rolled forward with its familiar low rumble. He continued driving without saying a word, his patience teetering on the edge with how he was now holding the steering wheel with a white knuckled grip.

You shift in your seat, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when the click of a tongue snaps your attention back up. “You gotta be shittin’ me.” He breathes out. Gesturing angrily at the Blue Yaris driving way below the speed limit, you couldn’t really fault Joel for this one. You lean backwards, fully prepared to hear the end of it. 

He behaves for a while, but after a few miles, his patience snaps. With a grunt, he slams on the horn and flashed his lights, the sound cutting through the air like a gunshot. 

You groaned internally at his obnoxious habit. Before you could get a word in, the Yaris brake-checks him, sending the both of you careening forward.

Your face lights up in pure and utter amusement. You let out an audible hah! Karma was kind, you supposed, for the Yaris at least. But not for you. Definitely not for you. By the time you turned to look at Joel—

He was already looking your way.

That was three strikes.

“Oh, that’s funny now is it?” He says, with no humour in his tone.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so obnoxious with your honking. Just because you’ve got old people hearing—”

Joel swerves, stopping on the shoulder of the road. You twist your body a little when you feel the lock of your seat belt snapping open with a dull click.

“Up.”

You blinked. “Up where? Onto the dashboard?” You mused at his audacity. His eyes twitch. With a sharp tug of your arm, he attempts to pry you over the console towards his side. “Ow!—Okay, okay!” You huffed, unsteadily sliding over, your ass hitting the honk in the process, sending the both of you jolting.

Joel’s hand tightens around your wrist to pull you snug onto his lap. “Christ, Joel, what the hell?” You tried, effectively shutting up when you felt his very hard erection pressed against you. Your eyes widen, looking at Joel who didn’t have an ounce of embarrassment on his expression.

Clearly, someone liked you being a brat.

“Nothin’ to say now, mouth?” Joel tugs you by the back of your waist, your palms steadying yourself against his shoulders. You bit down on your lips to withhold just how much you enjoyed this “punishment”. With the thin material of your skirt, you’d felt every-single-fucking-thing. And god did it feel good.

So much for putting me in my place. You thought. 

Your heart was already thumping with how the truck was still illegally parked, surely, he wouldn’t fuck you into obedience here now would he? And risk getting arrested? Goody-two-shoes Joel?

Your gaze trails down as Joel snaps his belt buckle off. Nerves frayed in both trepidation and exhilaration. He brings his hand up to his mouth to wet his fingertips before slipping them beneath your skirt. 

You shudder at the motion, feeling his knuckles graze the sensitive skin, legs parting where it was tucked underneath your thighs. A thumb pushes the flimsy fabric of your thong aside, his knuckles grazing your clit. You jumped at the sensation. He gathers the slick to rub against the entrance of your folds before sinking two fingers into you in a go. You groan, tipping your head back at how full you already feel. 

“Fuck the lube, I guess.” He murmurs more so to himself. Lips quirked into a lop-sided grin as he curls his fingers up steadily into your slick pussy. Thrusting in and out. Iiiiin and out. You ground your hips impatiently to take his fingers deeper. Which surprisingly—he lets you. Normally you’d be met with a stern warning to stay still. 

He wasn’t that cruel to you, yet. A rough palm comes up to knead your tits over the pretty blue sundress you had on. You were on the precipice from coming with the adrenaline alone.

But just as you tightened around his fingers, your pussy clenches around….nothing. Your half lidded gaze meets Joel in confusion when he pulls his fingers out. You feel two heavy palms lift your hips, which you oblige without complaint.

“Upsy-daisy.” He grunts, stuffing you to the brim with his cock. The both of you let out a groan in unison. Your hand slams up onto the headrest, your pussy greedily swallowing all eight inches of him up. 

You attempt to plant your palms back onto his knees to ride Joel’s cock when a sturdy palm on your waist stops you, tugging your back towards his chest. You look back at Joel, a brow furrowed.

The truck then whirrrs back to life.

What the fuck.

What the fuck?

Your lips parted in disbelief, you feel the truck swerve back onto the road, the slight jump making his cock nudge deeper into you. A pitiful moan left you. “A-Are you kidding me? You’re driving like this? We’re gonna crash!” You protested. 

“We won’t if you keep your head down.” He emphasizes the down with a hand tugging the back of your neck till’ your cheeks smushed against his shoulders—eyes steadily welling up in tears from the growing ache.

“Wanna be my GPS so badly dontcha’, sugar?” He taunts,“go ‘head. Tell daddy how many miles he has left.”

You grimaced at his tone. You should’ve known punishment wasn’t going to taste sweet. 

Every goddamned dip in the road had you biting back a moan. Weakly, you glanced outside the car windows. “T-Two.” You manage. Eyes fluttered shut with hot tears staining Joel’s flannel. 

Your cunt tightens around Joel’s cock involuntarily. You lift your hips an inch to give yourself the bare minimum stimulation, gasping softly at every single jerk of the truck. 

“You best quit doin’ that if you want daddy to fuck you, baby.” He warns. 

You hiccup, forehead rubbing against Joel’s shoulders pitifully. “Joel…” You whined against his chest. 

“I know, sweetheart. How else are you gonna learn, huh? Testin’ me all damn—...“ He heaves, rocking you upwards until you come slamming down back onto his cock. “—day.” Grunting at the way your pussy grips around him like vice. You let out a stifled cry against his shoulder.

Thighs quivering now at the lack of proper attention to your cunt. 

“I-I’m sorry—…can’t—…Joel.” You begged, lifting your head up to trace the curve of your nose up the scuff of his jaw. 

Joel wasn’t a man of steel for sure, just feeling the wetness of his wife’s tears against his chest was enough for him to give in and fuck her like the pretty little slut she was for him. 

He clenches his jaw. Letting you pepper needy kisses up his neck. “Please…please please—…” 

“Need him, baby.”

The car nearly comes into a screeching halt when Joel stops in front of Tommy’s garage. 

You feel a firm tug at the back of your head. Cheeks flushed visibly. “Poor baby, you need him now do you?” He mutters softly. Joel gazes at you. Your pretty, tear stricken face making his cock throb even harder than he knew possible. 

“Even after you were such a fuckin’ brat?” You shake your head, not daring to move your hips in the slightest, in fear he might deny you. You didn’t think you could endure it any longer. 

“I’m sorry—…M’sorry.” You babbled, not even sure what exactly you were begging for anymore. You just needed something, anything to ease the ache.

With a content smirk, Joel’s hands run down your back in a soothing effort. 

“Keep quiet f’me?” He whispers. 

Your head tips back with a groan when Joel’s cock slams hard in you once, and again. 

And again. And again. 

He steadies your hips with a firm grip, snapping his hips upwards to meet the effort you took to grind your hips back down. Joel leans his head back against the seat. “Shit.” He whispers. 

It was bad enough he held back cumming into your tight little pussy for twenty minutes—but the way you were milking him now had him groaning in pain just to make sure you came before he did. 

“Sweet girl.” He coos. A rough palm sliding upwards to hold your jaw firm, facing him. “C’mon. Can’t come without you.” 

His thumb massages steadily against your clit, giving you the nudge you needed. Your palms shift to grip around his thighs. Arching your back in a way you didn’t know you even could before your entire body tenses. It doesn’t take long after for Joel to grunt with a heaving effort, flooding your pussy with his thick spend. He slides his hand down your throat, cupping around your waist to hold you against him.

The both of you remained there, panting heavily in the wake of what was possibly the best orgasms you’d had since your honeymoon. 

The haze of lust was short lived when the loud sound of Tommy’s garage door opening caught your attention. 

Joel laughs and you do too, he leans in to kiss the valley between your breasts up to your collarbone. You were officially a whole hour and a half late. 

“Think they’ll ever invite us again?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

[gojoscinnamonroll]

thinking about messing with ino! while he’s in the middle of a video game; he has been playing on that stupid game for what feels like hours and even though he’ll ask you every 10 minutes or so, “baby, are you okay?” “princess, do you need anything?” etc etc, you were still annoyed on how his video game had more of his attention than you.

so, when you finally got fed up and bored of lying on his bed scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, pinterest, instagram, and twitter on rotation for what feels like eons, you set your phone down and with a mischievous grin, walked over to him in his gaming chair and got on your knees. “whatcha doin’ pretty baby?” he asked with his eyes still glued to the screen, “oh, nothing… don’t mind me, just go back to playing your game ‘kay?” you looked up at him with a innocent smile. but in your head, you were thinking about how you were going to punish him for giving his attention to a stupid game on a tv than you being right in front of him and in his presence.

you started caressing at the bulge in his grey sweatpants and his breath hitched. ino was trying really hard to lock in and focus on getting his victory royale but he also wanted to just throw his controller across the room & watch you take him. “what’s wrong baby? thought you were too focused on your game? hm?” giving him a playful smile as you pull his length out of his sweatpants, pumping it a few times before pressing a kiss to his swollen tip already oozing with pre. "I- I am baby.." he exhaled as you felt him melt into your touch. you licked along the vein trailing down his cock slowly before enveloping him with your soft lips. he let out a low whine as you slowly take him whole. he didn't realize his character in game was dying over and over from being shot at because it wasn't moving until you stopped to look up at him with doe eyes and glossy lips, "focus.." you purred. "your game isn't going to win itself now is it?" he snapped out of his daze to focus on his game again, "y-yeah, you're right" he stuttered with flushed cheeks. you went back to stroking him again with delicate hands and your pretty mouth.

"f-fuuck mama, you f-feel so good" ino moaning as your head goes up and down him and gently playing with his balls overstimming him as he tries to concentrate on winning his game. teasing him, you trail a few kisses up and down his length as you murmured against him, "I'm sure I do..." still leaving kisses. "too bad you don't give your poor little girlfriend the same amount of attention as your silly little game."

whimpering, he starts to profusely apologize, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby, I'll get off the game and give you all my attention, I p-promise, you're making me feel so good, I-"

you interrupt him. "win this game for me and I'll let you be a good boy and cum down my throat" tapping his tip onto your pink, glossy pout with a pretend thinking face.

his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and starts spamming all types of buttons on his controller eager to win this game as you continue to bobble down his cock, drool spilling from the sides of your lips and getting so sloppy that you can practically blow bubbles on him.

VICTORY ROYALE!! pops up and takes over the screen of the tv and he starts blabbering as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, "baby baby baby baby can I- mmph.. can I c-cum please, please can I cum?" he throws the controller to the other side of the room and starts gripping onto the armrests of the game chair until his knuckles started turning white. "c'mon you nerd," you looked at him with lust in your eyes, "give it to me." as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out for him to release his load down your throat.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou" he rambled as you milked him for all he had. "learned your lesson? you goof." you laughed.

"yes. yes i did." getting up from the chair and kicking the rest of his sweats off and throwing them to the side to lean down and pick you up princess style and laying you down in the bed.

"now i'm going to make it up to you, your highness" kissing your hand teasingly and sliding your shorts off.

likes + reblogs appreciated <3 please don't steal/copy/modify my works!

[bloodibambiidoll]

What would Rafe be like with weird!girl having to use their safe word? Also what do you reckon she’d use it for?

Okay so !! She’s only ever used it a few times but I think one thing would be edging her when she’s like really needy. Just like to the point that she can’t take it anymore bc she’s spoiled and overwhelmed and wants to cum. And he’s a sucker for her so he would, in fact, let her cum. There’s a lil callback to this blurb in this also. Ty for the request bb! 🤍

Warnings: Orgasm denial, pussy eating, fingering, pussy slapping, use of a safe word, Rafe calling reader “bats”, daddy kink, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, baby talk and gooey fluff at the end.

Rafe has been pushing you to the edge with his tongue and fingers and then ripping your orgasms away from you for what feels like hours now. No matter how hard you beg he won’t fuck you or let you cum and you feel like you’re going to go insane. Your pussy is pulsing and your entire body shakes as tears stream down your face, streaking your cheeks with your prettily applied make up. Your body is covered in a layer of sweat and your chest heaves from how loud you’ve been moaning and whining underneath him.

“Please let me cum Rafe -“ Your fiancé pulls his fingers and lips from you to land a harsh smack on your aching cunt and send you a look of disapproval. “Ah fuck! I’m sorry! Daddy, please please let me cum!”

“You’ll cum when I say you get to cum, your pussy belongs to me. I say when she gets to gush for me. Not you.” Rafe thrusts his fingers back into your puffy, dripping cunt and it causes you to yelp and arch your back off the bed. He pumps them in and out of you at a rough pace, curling his fingers against your walls and bullying your sweet spot. His thumb comes up to rub circles on your slick clit and it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as your pussy pulses around his thick digits. You’re so close and you think he’s going to finally let you cum but the minute that you’re about to finally tip over the edge it’s ripped away from you again. Rafe pulls his fingers out of you to smack your aching core and a loud sob rips through you.

“Daddy, please, please let me cum. I’m yours, only yours, my pussy is yours my cum is yours my body is yours. Please just fuck me!” Your voice is practically a babble from begging and sobbing and Rafe just smirks down at you. Loving you like this. And usually you love it too. But this is the longest it’s gone on and you’re starting to become delirious from how badly your body wants a release. You didn’t even do anything. It’s not your fault Mr. Robinson saw you at the country club and decided a good time to say hi was when Rafe went to the bathroom. When Rafe came out and saw him practically fucking you with his eyes he saw red. He grabbed you by the waist and hauled your ass home immediately. But not without giving the older man a piece of his mind, of course.

“Mmm, I don’t think I will, princess.” Rafe chuckles as he leans down between your legs and licks a stripe along your pussy to your clit before thrusting his tongue into your hole. He flicks it inside you and swirls it around while his hand comes up to give your throbbing clit attention. He rotates between fucking you with his fingers and his tongue, never letting your clit go untouched. When he sucks it hard into his mouth with his fingers rubbing against your g-spot you know you’re about to cum, your legs try to clamp around his head but he uses his free hand to keep you spread open for him. The knot in your stomach tightens and your walls spasm around his fingers. Half broken sobs leave your mouth as you beg him to let you finally cum.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum, please daddy!” You attempt to thrust your hips against his face to push yourself over the edge but his hold is too strong, and then it’s gone. He pulls away from you entirely, sitting up on his knees looking down at you with a fire in his eyes as he takes his dripping fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean before smirking down at you devilishly. And normally you would think that was insanely hot but all it does is make you sob. You know your period is close and it’s making you extra needy and the fact that he stopped again nearly devastates you.

“You’re so pretty like this, my pretty little slut begging me to let her cum. Crying f’me.” Rafe swipes his thumb across your cheek, wiping some of your tears clean. Then he uses his tear stained fingers to spread your pussy lips before pumping them inside of you, not even giving you time to think before he’s pushing you to the edge and pulling you away again. And then he’s fucking you with his tongue again and this time when he rips away you can’t take it anymore. Your eyes hurt from the mascara running into them and your thighs are sore from the way he’s kept you propped open. The worst part is despite how bad your pussy aches you still want to cum so badly and you know he’s not going to let you. He promised you that on the drive home.

“Pumpkin! Pumpkin! No more, no more.” You shake your head from side to side as buckets of tears stream down your face and your entire body shakes with sobs. Rafe’s demeanor changes immediately, you’ve only ever used the safe word one other time when he was choking you so hard with his belt that you passed out twice, his perfect little freak. But right now? He’s realizing these aren’t the kind of tears he likes to see coming from his girl.

“Shit. I’m sorry baby. It’s okay, come ere.” Rafe unties his sweats so he can pull out his thick, hard cock. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to cum for a while now himself. He gathers your sobbing form into his arms and leans back against the headboard with you straddling him. “Daddy will give you what you need, aight? Just shhh, it’s okay.”

Rafe runs his hands through your hair and places a soft peck on your lips before raising your hips so he can line his cock up with your entrance and push himself inside you in one thrust. The feeling of finally him fucking you makes your eyes cross and fills you with relief. Rafe plants his feet flat on the bed so he can fuck up into you rough and deep.

“It’s okay, Bats. You’re okay, cum for daddy.” His thumb finds your clit, he leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth and that’s all it takes to have ecstasy finally washing over you. A loud moan rips through you and your walls flutter around Rafe’s cock as a blistering explosion of pleasure overtakes your body. “That’s it, that’s my good girl. Gimme another one.”

Rafe flips you onto your back and throws your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck you even deeper. He leans down and kisses you messily, his thumb finding your abused clit as he practically folds you in half like a pretzel. You’re so sensitive that it doesn’t take much to have you gushing around his cock again. Your pretty moans and the feeling of your perfect fucking pussy has Rafe cumming right along with you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you with ropes of his cum. After catching his breath he pulls out and flips onto his back, pulling you to lay on top of him in one swift motion.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. Are you alright?” Rafe asks you softly as his hand gently caresses the curve of your back. “You’re usually into when I edge you. Did something happen?”

“Mmm, I’m okay, Rafey.” You hum and nuzzle into his firm chest. “Just gonna get my period soon and it just became too much. Wanted to cum on your cock so bad.” You look up at him with a pout and Rafe can’t help but chuckle at how cute you are.

“Yeah? Your body wants me to put a baby in you.” You scoff and swat his chest, rolling your eyes at the way he wiggles his brows down at you.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Are you ovulating, babe?” You return his raised brow with one of your own and a cheshire smirk to match.

“Oh my god, just because you said your safe word doesn’t mean I won’t still beat your little ass.” Rafe smirks back at you and lands a little swat on your bare as that makes you yelp. “I love you.”

“I love you too. But don’t think changing the subject means I’m going to stop teasing you about your baby fever.” You giggle and place a kiss on his cheek as he groans.

“I don’t have fuckin’ baby fever, Bats. Get your ass up and start the shower before I get the paddle, for real. I’m gonna get you some Jammie’s.” Rafe grabs a handful of your ass before smacking it again and getting up to go toward the closet. He spends the rest of the evening pampering you with a massage, a comfort movie, and your favorite take out before making you cum until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

Tagging pookies: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @eddiesxangel @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @xxladymjxx @that-sarcastic-writer @sturnioloshacker

Divider by @anitalenia

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[sugar-phoenix]

𖥔 . overheating . 𖥔

synopsis: you're out on an operation with Boothill, and after a long battle and a quick getaway, you turn to realize that the cyborg cowboy is...overheating. With all the implications that come with that. tags: f!reader (Boothill refers to reader as "Lady" and "Missy" once), no smut, fluff, light romance a/n: 1.3k words, wrote this in a craze based off of a headcanon that @k9wa and @nvuy posted about! tickled my brain too much!

ao3 link here!

The sound of gunshots rang out in the night. You ducked in your getaway vehicle, a hover car illegally outfitted with nitrogen turbo boosters. Sticking our head out of the car every now and then, you aimed your pistol at the heads of IPC guards, knocking them dead left and right.

Boothill had been inside the IPC base for a while now. It was supposed to be a quick job. He only needed to run in, download the secret data straight to one of the USB ports on his hip, and then run out. Probably nailing an IPC soldier or ten in the head while he was there.

“Boothill,” you muttered, “where are you?”

You met the cowboy only once before this operation — he had sought you out as a fellow Ranger against the IPC for your getaway vehicle.

“’M gonna be lootin’ a pretty big IPC base, ‘n I need some kinda escape route,” he drawled. “You git me?”

You happily agreed. Why not? Anything that would be a loss for the IPC was a win for you.

Not to mention the cyborg cowboy was one of the finer men you’d come across in your travels.

Presently, you shook that thought out of your mind and fired a shot at another guard. It’s better to stay clear-headed when you’re in a shootout. Any unholy thoughts were perfectly fine to sift through in safer, calmer settings.

“Where is that dang cowboy?” you muttered again for the fifth time.

A hoot and a holler rang through the air, and you glanced towards the entrance. As though in answer to your question, Boothill emerged from within the base, running full gallop towards the vehicle.

“Start drivin,’” he ordered as he slid into the passenger seat.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you replied as more IPC soldiers spilled out of the entrance. The engine roared as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

“Ugh, turn up the A/C,” Boothill groaned.

“Turn ‘em up yourself, cowboy,” you responded. “I’m too busy making sure we’re getting away.”

The cyborg reached towards the dashboard and rotated the knob to the coolest possible setting. He leaned back into his seat, huffing and panting.

“All good?”

“Yeah. ‘S just a lot of fighting. Got me worked up.” He sniffed. “This dang A/C ain’t cool enough for me.”

You shrugged, checking the rearview mirror. The IPC vehicles were hot on your heels.  Thankfully, that wasn’t a problem for you. As an expert driver, you were fully trained in the art of evasive maneuvers. It’s what the cowboy hired you to do, after all.

You sped into the nearby city, a metropolis that conveniently had many twisty alleys and tight turns.

“This’ll be a piece of cake. Don’t you worry, cowboy,” you chuckled. The cowboy didn’t answer, and you were too busy focused on the road to check on him.

Drifting through intersections and jumping across lanes, you managed to throw off the majority of the IPC squadron pursuing you. There were only three small hover vehicles left, chasing you through a single-lane alleyway. You revved your engine to taunt them and cackled as the reverberations echoed off the buildings on either side.

The hovercar drifted, fishtailing as you made a sharp turn to the right. You swore as the sound of screaming metal rang out in the air, signaling that your spoilers had scraped against the walls.

“That’s gonna cost ya, cowboy,” you quipped, smiling as you saw two of the three vehicles crash into the wall behind you.

“Lady, I ain’t at fault for your drivin’ skills.”

You snapped your head towards Boothill, giving him a full-on death glare.

“Not that you drive bad, missy! I was just sayin,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. It was then that you realized he’d unzipped his jacket, letting it fall lazily off his shoulders.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you snapped your attention back to the road, trying to evade the last IPC hover vehicle. A few quick turns and an IPC crash later, you pulled into a dark alleyway and braked, turning off the car.

“Why are we stoppin’?” Boothill asked.

“They’re probably swarming the city. Best to lie low for now until it all subsides.”

There was shuffling in the passenger seat, and you turned to look.

Boothill laid back against the seat, his limbs sprawled out. His bangs were arranged in wet clumps, and sweat gleamed off his face in the glow from distant neon signs. The rest of his long hair was put up along the headrest behind him, leaving his neck bare. His jacket, bandana, and hat were thrown in the back, leaving his upper torso bare for all the world to see. His pants were shrugged low on his hip, almost revealing his unmentionables (did cyborgs even have unmentionables?). Panting and huffing, he closed his eyes, frowning. You could hear a loud hum emanate from within his robot body.

“Boothill?” you croaked, fighting to speak through the feeling of your brain frying in your skull. It wasn’t just his appearance that was, well, hot, but a boiling heat was radiating off of him. You had hardly noticed in all the earlier action.

“Yes, darlin’?” He groaned. Your heart fluttered at the way he said darlin.’

“What. Are you doing?” You hardly thought the cowboy was one to give in to his darker desires at the drop of a hat, although there was something off about the scene that told you it wasn’t motivated by lust.

He chuckled before answering.

“Told ya I got worked up during that fight. I’m overheatin.’ One of the problems with having a robot body, ya get me?” Boothill breathed out heavily, his breath steaming in the air. “Fudge,” he muttered, closing his eyes and frowning again.

“Are you in pain?” you asked. His stance was akin to a man tortured, impaled from the back with hot iron spears.

“Nah, darlin,’ nothin’ like that. Just… hot, is all. Really fudgin’ hot.” Boothill let out a breath of steam again. “It’ll go away, like it always does. I jus’ need ta’ keep still for a lil’ bit. Let it cool down.”

You leaned over him, trying to ignore how close you were to his hot (both physically and metaphorically) abs, and pushed the passenger door open. It only went so far as the narrow alleyway let it, but you could feel the cold air of the night wash over you both.

“Thank ya’ kindly, darlin,’” he murmured.

“Don’t mention it,” you said, leaning back. You jumped when your arm brushed over his body.

“Did I burn ya?” Boothill didn’t move but his eyes fixed you with a worried look.

“No, you didn’t, it’s just…” You trailed off, not knowing how to end that sentence without embarrassing yourself. A heat creeped over your cheeks again.

“Oh, I see,” he smiled. “You can touch me if ya want darlin.’ I don’t bite.” He punctuated that sentence with a wide grin, showing off his shark-like teeth.

“But not right now,” he said as you tentatively reached an arm towards him. “Not while I’m hot like this. And it ain’t cause I might burn ya sweetie, but with all due respect, I ain’t wanna touch anything right this moment.”

“Got it,” you said sitting straight back in your seat.

A silence filled the car, gently broken by the whir of Boothill’s internal fans and the ambient hum of the city outside.

It was a comfortable, soft kind of silence. You let it soak into your flesh, down to your bones, etching this moment inside of yourself. It was nice.

“’Course, when I’m not overheatin,” Boothill murmured, “you’re free to touch whatever.” He grinned mischievously.

“Stop it,” you said. “You’re gonna make me overheat.”

dividers by cafekitsune

[iceonneo]

office ; z.cl

chenle x fem! reader ˗ˏˋ ꒰ peek : voice caught in your throat as you felt him dragging down the dress zipper by his mouth. “I'll make it quick." ｡° warnings : swear words, unprotected sex, light degradation, edging, orgasms, dirty talk, use of names !! mdni ¡¡ ꒱

Tapping of the leather of the sofa, your eyes flickered towards the door knob as it began to twist.

In came your husband. His hand automatically pushing his hair back, other hand carrying a cup of coffee before he pushed the door behind him close by leaning on it. A sigh left his mouth and his vision landed on you.

His eyes lit up before darkening as his gaze trailed down your body. “You’re here?” He asked, voice breathless, setting down his coffee.

“Well you asked for me, didn’t you?” You exhaled before getting up as you walked over, hands immediately fixing his tie. “Yeah.” Chenle said, looking at your new dress that hugged your body way too good.

“Chenle, seriously, how could you forget those files?”

“Well, at least I get to see my wife, don’t I?” He cracked a grin causing you to throw your head back in frustration, a small laugh escaping your lips nevertheless, “Thank god you own the company so you’re not getting in trouble. What am I gonna do with you?”

Detaching your fingers from his tie, you walked around turning away from him, looking at the documents on his table, making sure they were the right ones for the upteenth time.

“Well for starters,” Chenle walked over, hands in pockets and his coral hair shining under the sunlight leaking through the blinds in his office. His figure right behind yours that slightly leaned against the table.

“You can be a good girl while I backshot right into you.” He whispered, his voice hitting your nape as you snorted, “The fuck?” Your attention diverting towards his hands that had started to travel from your sides to your thighs from behind.

Sending a warning glare towards him from the side you kept your hands over his, “Your meeting literally starts in 30 minutes by the way and we’re in your offi-”

Voice caught in your throat as you felt him dragging down the dress zipper by his mouth. “C-Chenle.” You said, trying to appear as stern as possible.

“I’ll make it quick.” He mumbled as his hands grabbed yours situating them over his belt. As if you already know what to do, your fingers already started unbuckling.

“Chenle we shouldn’t,” You breathed out as he rotated your hips, turning you around, “We shouldn't.” He nodded before tilting his head, smashing his lips, mouth all over yours.

Mouths moving fast and rhythmically against each others as your hands landed on his chest, “We should stop…”

“Totally.” He said before latching his mouth to your neck as the both of your hands landed on the table for support. His hand gripping your waist and the other dragging your zip completely down. The way his mouth sucked everywhere, leaving kisses and the way his tongue knew just how to turn you on. You could already feel yourself getting wet.

He was one of the most stubborn man you knew.

And before you know it, You were turned around again, against the table this time.

Feeling the air hit your bare back and bottom, you hissed. “Chenle, not here.” So intoxicated by him, you didn’t even when he unzipped himself and got his dick out.

“As you say.” He said and there it was. His cock entering you from behind as you held your breath, eyes shut and eyebrows pulled together. Though you couldn’t see him you know damn well how hard and throbbing his pale, pink dick must've been. “Couldn’t even hold back for a few minutes, could you?” You got out through your gritted teeth, head against the glass table.

“I didn’t even get this dick moving yet so fucking wet, aren't you?” He snapped back. The cockiness almost making you let a curse you before you felt him plunge into you. A loud moan left your lips before you slapped your palm to the mouth.

“Be a little quiet if you don’t want the entire management team to press their ears against the doors.” He said before gripping your sides, moving faster.

Body shaking with every thrust and you felt your knees get weaker. You struggled to keep your balance, your palms slipping slightly on the glass surface. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it harder to stay silent.

Chenle leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Being fucked where anyone could walk in at any moment.”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible.

He chuckled darkly, his pace quickening. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”

The way his cock, now coated with your fluids slid in and out, The pace making you see stars. He stretched you out so good, the position was too good, The feeling of him hitting each and every spot- it was all too good. Your grip tightened on the table as you felt the pressure building inside you. The risk, the thrill, it was all too much. You were close, so close.

“Sir?” A knock was heard from outside as your eyes widened. It were almost like a glass shattering inside your head as you came back to your senses.

Pushing him out of you, you quickly got up, zipping your dress back.

Chenle cursed loudly before composing himself, “Yes?” He said, loud enough for his secretary to hear from the outside.

“Sorry to interrupt you sir, I’ve come to remind you that the meeting starts roughly in 5 minutes.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, ears turned red as chenle rolled his eyes, annoyance visible in his tone “Yeah, you might as well leave now.”

“Fuck, the entire building is gonna find out” You screeched into your palms in distress as chenle groaned.

“That fucker donghyuck, I was about to hit it!” He exclaimed dramatically, “Let’s see how long his nosy ass lasts in my comp-”

“Chenle, zip yourself!” You gasped as your hands flew to his crotch, tucking his hanging load back in as you let out a bewildered laugh,

“Baby, should I cancel it?” He whined into your ears, hands around your hips.

You gasped again, turning him around as you pushed him by the butt towards the door, “You better get your ass into that meeting now!”

He laughed loudly, way too loudly, getting out the door as he winked your way, mouthing ‘wait till we get home.’ before he shut the door close while you chuckled to yourself.

ཐིཋྀ˚彡

Chenle didn't play when he meant wait till we get home.

The way he was devouring you wasn't helping. His tongue diving into every crease of yours only fueled to your high. the way his hot mouth sucked on your core as if he were some starved ass animal, the way his eyes occasionally looked up at yours just to admire that pretty face of yours, all fucked up and out of it just because of him.

Your thighs tense and red in contrast to his pale hand gripping your legs to keep you wide open. Trails of moans leaving your mouth as he finally found your spot, teasing you with it.

"C-Chenle please oh.." You got out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at your man below.

"Please what, baby?" He asked lowly, his breath hitting your open core. The sensation only making you squirm as you frowned. Chenle tutted before dragging his thumb along your slit, testing your patience.

You almost cried out, wanting him so bad. "Oh, please fuck me chenle fuc- OH FUCK" a squeal left your lips when you felt him suck on your sweet spot. His tongue and lips absolutely wrecking you. your eyes rolled way back your head and the grip of your hands over the sheets intensified.

"Just l-like that" You encouraged, tangling your fingers through his pink hair guiding him into yourself as he increased the friction without a complaint. His tongue moving in circles around the spot as you felt yourself get light headed almost. The feeling of it lighting up a fire in your stomach as you felt it coming. "Baby, I'm gonna- gonna cum" Were your last words before you burst and chenle watched you drip.

"So pretty, my baby." He murmured as he grabbed your hands, kissing the knuckle top.

Too fucked out too even process him on top of you until you felt his lips on yours. Reciprocating the kiss back, you felt his dick tease at your entrance.

your hands that gripped the couch transferred over to his hair as you groaned into his mouth, wanting more.

You had taken one step into the house and chenle had already locked the door, flung the curtains close and pinned you over to the couch right away before tearing your dress off you. God forbid you breathe peacefully one night even, your pussy had not known peace since you married this man. This man, also the love of your life.

"Oh fuck, you're gonna take me in baby?" Chenle asked against your mouth as your head dipped further against the armrest, frowning as you hummed in response.

His dick, hard and solid from replaying the picture of you bent over all meeting long, slid inside you as your mouth fell agape, at a loss of words. Not even given enough time to process and your legs were over his shoulder. His hands gripping your thighs as your legs thrown over him were already shaking.

"chen- oh fuck" was all you could get out when your husband started moving. No warning, no cockwarming nothing but straight up bang bang bang into that pussy.

Your cursed into air as his slams grew relentless. Each thrust sending a shock in your body as the moment felt way too good to be true. your nails dug into the couch as your body jolted up and down with his thrusts.

The sound of skin slapping against each other filling the room. You moaned as you felt him hit a certain spot. Chenle slowed down, a smirk fixed on his face as the grip on your thighs never left, "Oh is that your spot baby?"

Too fucked out to even hold an ounce of shame you moaned loudly as his tip dragged across the particular area, slow and torturing. "Chenle please.." You whispered out, wanting him more than ever. He raised his brows slightly, "Words, baby." He loved, absolutely loved the sight of you fucked out, contrasting from the character you were on a daily basis. Always as egoistic as him and Collected, but under the influence of his dick you turned nothing but his whore.

"Chenle please fuck me, I need to feel you deep inside me ple...- oh."

The sight was driving him crazy. Your hair messy, face flushed and eyes closed, brows pulled to a frown, lips caged by your teeth holding back the shameful lewd noises you wanted to moan out loud to let the whole city know how good this cock was, sweat covering your body, tits bouncing slightly and nipples hard as he thrusted slow into your tight cunt, full of your juices that leaked out whenever he moved back.

"Fucking hell" He groaned as he pulled out, gaze glued to your pussy, swollen, puffy and wet- wet would be an understatement, flooded actually. His attention quickly catching up to the stringy whines leaving your mouth.

Wasting no time, He gripped your inner thighs with force as he rammed his cock back. The feeling already awakening the rippling sensation in your stomach again as your hooked your ankles from the behind oh his neck, bringing your cores closer as chenle grunted. Your moans breathless loud and pitched than before with thighs thunderously shaking under his palms gave chenle the signal he needed.

He slipped on of his hands below, over the connection of your bodies, immediately pressing his thumb over your bud as you choked on your own moan. gasping loudly as you moaned his name over and over again.

His sloppy girthy dick plumbing into you along with the added stimulation of his fingers over your clit, rubbing in circles harshly made you lose your mind almost. The moans of your both bouncing off the walls as chenle practically thrashed you against the couch.

You didn't even know the couch could shake until today.

"Fuck, fuck fuck, I'm gonna.." You trailed off, attention diverted towards the wave of pleasure of your high washing over you as you arched your back to a maximum against the leather. Your slick flowing out of your hole over his dick making a mess. Chenle never stopped his dick, nor his fingers, pumping you over and over again as his grunts began frequently.

"C-chenle" you whimpered out, pussy already swollen, drenched and overstimulated. Yet the beast on top of you wouldn't budge a bit.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill your pussy up, I'm gonna have my load all over you, sit up." Nodding out of your daze, you slowly rose up, moving your thighs off his shoulders as chenle continued to fuck you. The way he had been pounding this dick into you since the past three hours, you just know you were bedridden for the week.

Giving final jerks into you, he moaned out as he flooded you. The warmth filling you from the inside as you felt complete. when your hole was leaking to the brim, he pulled out. Bringing his dick to your face as he fisted the remaining of his liquids out. His cum decorating your face, dripping off your chin right onto your nipple.

The sight so fucking unreal he thought he could come over again just by looking. "fuck baby" he breathed out before getting off the top of you, his palms over your knees as he spread you out. Your legs opened as he got a view of your core.

Almost as if he were beyond stunned he let his eyes rake over the sight. pussy still tight, bright, throbbing. fully swollen and coated with your slick. Your entrance oozing out his cum, white liquid dripping down, he was gonna go insane. As if hypnotized, he got his finger out, gathering and stuffing his seed back into you.

"Oh hell no, stop it" you groaned into your palms, feeling your conscious and shame take over. Chenle rose to his feet, fingers still burried deep in you, coating your walls white with his fingers, "Baby, can you take one mor-"

His sentence cut short before you detached yourself, thrashing a pillow over his face suffocating him almost as the poor guy below raised his hands by the side in defense.

With a huff, you got up already making your way to the bathroom with your wobbly legs as chenle pulled the pillow off, letting his laughter die down, "Baby wait, you can't walk I need to help you."

His arm extended out grabbing a towel as he quickly followed behind, "I heard if you fuck an even number of times, the universe grants you a long life so we might need to make that nine rounds a ten lets shower se-"

"ZHONG CHENLE!"

an original iceonneo work.

[slytherin-pen]

The Secret

pairing: Xaden x Reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: ONXY STORM SPOILERS, DO NOT READ FUTHER

a/n: ok so during my reread ahead of OS i caught some foreshadowing whenever Xaden talked about family but specifically when Violet asked if he had any siblings. idk it just rang bells in my head, i honestly thought he would have a secret sibling but then we saw what actually happened..i’m still proud of myself like i caught that shit! anyways, here’s me giving my theory some life. also, happy day 5 of Xaden Week! @empyreanevents

“Xaden what is going on?” you ask as you jog to catch up to his long strides.

He’s been acting weird all day. Being short with you, not kissing you, and seemingly avoiding any physical affection since you and your squad arrived at Riorson House for your two-week rotation.

It was your first rotation in Aretia from Basgiath since leadership came to an agreement of sorts to both protect Navarre and the provinces outside of the wards. You had been excited, Rhiannan and Ridoc teased you constantly during the days leading up to it. It would be the first time you got to spend more than a day there while conscious. When Xaden brought you here after you’d been stabbed by a venin during War Games, you slept most of the time and once you were awake you all rushed out the door back to Navarre for Garrick and Xaden’s graduation.

Now that you think of it, Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen have been acting weird since you arrived too. You had even asked Rhiannon if you smelt bad—worse than the usual smell you have after being on dragon back for hours—but she said no. Your confusion had only amplified.

An insecure part of you thought that he was about to break up with you. It’s the only explanation you could come up with. His friends are avoiding you. He’s avoiding you. Why else if not for knowing that the moment you arrived after not seeing him for weeks, he was going to end things? It angered you. Sure, they’re his friends, but you thought they were yours too. That you at least had some form of girl code with Imogen, and if she knew your heart was about to be broken she’d warn you. But you also knew their loyalty to him came above all else. That if he asked them not to say anything to you, they would listen.

You lunge, gripping his wrist and he finally stops to face you. “Can you answer me?” you snap. “What the hell is going on?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales slowly. “I—just follow me.”

When all you do is glare at him in response, he sighs again. “Please?”

You drop his wrist but put more distance between him as you walk down the halls of Riorson House. If this is really how he breaks up with you, you’re going to be livid. Two years together and this is how it ends? This is how he treats you? You’ll stab him. And then when you’re done stabbing him, you’re going to stab his friends too. You get it. Kinda. He’s officially the Duke of Tyrrendor—or at least has the title back. He has a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders, on top of everything he already has. It’s a lot, and it doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for him to be your boyfriend. But you didn’t mind. Now, you want to kick yourself for sitting around like a lost puppy waiting for him to throw you scraps.

He unlocks a set of double doors with a flick of his wrist and motions for you to enter the room. Your boots scuff along the cobblestone floors as you hesitantly walk inside. The room is bare aside from a square wooden table and three chairs. The lack of dust on the table tells you it had been moved in here last minute for this very occasion. You nearly scoffed. You were definitely going to stab him after this.

Xaden clears his throat. “Just—uh—sit down and I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even get to send him a withering glare before he’s out the door again, shutting it behind him.

You stomp to the chair on its own side, across from the side with the two other chairs, and plop down. Your knee bounces with anticipation. You can tell he’s nervous. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve heard Xaden stutter, but the sympathy you usually feel for him in those moments is nowhere to be found. How does he think you feel? You’re not stupid. You can tell something is going on, and his nerves only exacerbate yours.

Anger flares in your chest. He has no right to be nervous. He’s not the one being broken up with. He’s not the one being ignored and led to a sketchy abandoned room by yourself. What’s next? He tells you that you can’t join your squad on the next rotation? That he never wants to see you again? Tears prick your eyes but you blink them away. He doesn’t get to see you sad. You’ll stab him and then go cry to your squad. You know at least Sawyer would help you stab the others who knew about this.

As your thoughts continue to spiral, the door finally opens again. Xaden stands in the doorway, shielding your view of the hall with his body and the door.

You roll your eyes. “Just spit it out Xaden. I don’t have all day. Might as well get it over with.”

Confusion flashes across his face but he reins it in quickly. “I have something to tell you.”

“No shit,” you scoff.

Again with the confused face. As if he has no idea why you’re so angry. He really does think you’re too stupid to figure it out.

“Just try not to be mad at me,” he pleads softly. “I had my reasons and you know how far I’ll go to protect the ones I love. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, but no one who didn’t already know before the Apostasy could find out. It was the only safe option.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. Your face scrunches as you look him up and down. What the hell is he talking about?

He pushes the door open the rest of the way as he slowly walks inside. It isn’t until he’s made it past the doorway that you notice something behind him. Correction. Someone.

Your jaw drops as a child—a boy—who looks like the carbon copy of Xaden shuffles in behind him. He couldn’t be older than ten. He has the same black hair and brows. The same tawny skin and onyx eyes. His hands are held behind his back, just like Xaden’s. The perfect, confident posture that you only learn from years of being taught how to carry yourself as a leader. Regardless, you can tell the boy is nervous with the furrow between his brows. The way he keeps looking at Xaden for reassurance.

“My love,” Xaden begins, glancing from you to the boy, “this is my little brother, Jace.”

The boy—Jace—steps forward and dips his chin in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

Your mouth gapes like a fish, your brain still grappling with the fact you are not being broken up with but instead being introduced to a child.

“Little brother?” you manage to choke out.

Xaden nods, placing a hand on Jace’s shoulder as he guides him to sit down in a chair across from you, Xaden taking the seat next to him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, but it was crucial no one knew of his existence until it was safe. Now that we have some form of an alliance with Navarre, his presence can be known by others but still kept quiet.”

“I—I’m sorry. You have a little brother. That’s why you brought me here?” you stammer.

Xaden tilts his head as he regards you with his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, love, this is why I brought you here. Why else?”

You shake your head, hoping that rattling your brain around will help unscramble your thoughts. “I’m just shocked is all,” you say. “It’s not at all what I was expecting. It’s wonderful to meet you, Jace.”

Jace gives you a shy smile and looks back to his brother.

“Why exactly has he been kept a secret?” you ask.

Xaden sighs and ruffles Jace’s hair, to which Jace swats his arm away with a glare that could one day rival Xaden’s. “As of right now, he’s my heir. With all the targets on my back, and even Bodhi’s who everyone thinks is my last living relative, it was the only way to keep Jace safe. You want to believe no one would kill a child for the sake of ending a family line, but I wanted to believe an entire kingdom wouldn’t keep venin and wyverns a secret from its people for so long, yet here we are. If anyone high up had known that Duke Lewellen was harboring my little brother—I don’t even want to think about what they would have done.”

You nod solemnly. He’s right. You would want to believe they wouldn’t kill an innocent child but you have seen just how far they’re willing to go to keep their secrets or further their agendas. Jace would have been an easy target.

“So now that you’re back, he doesn’t have to be a secret anymore?” you hedge.

“Kind of. Those who are trusted to come to Riorson House are allowed to know about him, but I ask everyone to not let it leave Aretia. Things are still rocky between Tyrrendor and Navarre despite the treaty, and I won’t take any risks when it comes to him. But now that I’m home to watch over him myself, I feel a little better about letting him out into the world.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jace chides.

You roll your lips together as you try to suppress a smile. He’s practically Xaden Junior and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. That your thoughts spiraled to something so terrible when in reality, Jace will probably be the greatest gift. He’ll at least make things a lot more fun around here.

Xaden smirks as he looks down at Jace. “Yeah, I’m sure you could, little man. You’ll give Bodhi a run for his money when he starts training you in combat.”

They joke and tussle each other some more while you watch with a fond smile. Your galloping heart is still slowing, still soaking in the truth, but the sight of Xaden and Jace laughing together soothes you. Xaden is so serious all the time, always brooding or giving orders. It’s nice to see him be a little more lighthearted.

As they calm down and remember their company, the seriousness returns to Xaden’s face as he looks at you. There he is.

“I wanted to tell you first, Xaden murmurs. “But I didn’t get to pick the rotation schedule. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I honestly—“ You halted, remembering Jace and deciding it wasn’t best to have this conversation in front of him.

Xaden seemed to realize your hesitation and told Jace to go find Garrick with a pat on his head. Jace smiles at you in goodbye and you return it. Xaden picks up his chair and moved it to your side of the table, leaning so his elbows rest on his knees and gives you his full attention.

You reposition yourself in your seat and grab one of Xaden’s hands to fiddle with his fingers in an effort to calm your nerves.

“I thought you were breaking up with me,” you whisper.

His head rears back, shock clear on his face. “Why the hell would you think that?”

Heat spreads across your cheeks from embarrassment. “You were acting weird. Everyone was acting weird. It’s just the first thing that came to mind, I’m sorry.”

Xaden places one of his hands on yours to stop your fidgeting, forcing you to look up at him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone was acting weird because they knew I’d be telling you today and honestly, I was terrified,” he says, his voice cracking at the end.

Your brows furrow with confusion.

Xaden sighs and scoots his chair closer to you, your knees touching. “In the beginning, I had to keep so many secrets from you. And we promised each other to be truthful after you found out about the revolution. I worried that when you found out…you’d break up with me. It’s why I didn’t let myself touch or kiss you. I thought it would just make it worse for myself.“

“Oh, Xaden,” you sigh. You get up from your chair and crawl into his lap, straddling his muscular thighs as he moves his hands to your hips to support you. Your hands cup his face as you speak. “I don’t blame you for my insecurities. And I definitely don’t blame you for protecting your little brother. It’s quite sweet, actually.”

Xaden scoffs and looks away, a slight blush crawling up his cheeks. You smile at the man you love. The man you are so happy isn’t breaking up with you. It’s the first time you’ve been grateful he had another secret.

Onyx eyes meet yours and you practically melt at the love shining in them. “I’m so glad you aren’t mad at me,” he whispers.

“I’m glad you aren’t breaking up with me,” you whisper back.

His lips find yours, slow and passionate. As if he’s pouring his love into your mouth and making sure you savor every declaration.

He rests his head against yours, your chests heaving as you catch your breaths. “We are going to have a talk about why in Dunne’s name you thought I would ever let you go.”

You laugh, throwing your arms around his shoulders as your head tilts back.

There’s a smirk on his face when you calm down, but his eyes tell you he’s not joking. He won’t be letting this go anytime soon.

“So when do I get to watch Jace kick Bodhi’s ass?” you ask.

This time Xaden is the one to laugh.

[k6ssbxnny]

MDNI!!! Explicit content ahead.

Sleazy mechanic! Toji hears the low, scratchy rumble of tire and gravel closing in on his shop late at night and his first reaction is to roll his eyes in annoyance. Though sweaty n tired from working all day, he surges with energy when he catches sight of a you, doey eyes wet with tears, huffing and stuttering and babbling about some weird smoke puffing out from your car, how you're out here all alone, how you can't fix it no matter how hard you try, how this is all the money you have, and you really, really need help -

"'S not enough, little lady," he shrugs, knowing damn well it's plenty enough, sticking the wad of cash back in your manicured hands, wondering how they'd look wrapped around his fat cock.

"It's hard work fixin' a car this fucked, y'know?" It's not, he just likes how your tits bounce when you pace in a panic. Cute.

And you're begging and begging, pleading with him about how afraid you are of your weird, messed up car, how the only places to stay nearby are sketchy looking motels with broken doors and soiled beds, how you'll do just about anything, anything if it means he'll fix your car!

"S'pose I could make an exception, pretty girl," he muses, pretending to mull over your pleas as if he hadn't made up his mind the second he saw your ass,  "payment doesn't always have t'be in cash, right?"

And then you're squirming, thighs squished together as you get all slippery n sticky, whining for a bit of friction all from sucking his cock, nose pressed tight into his messy pubes as he sinks himself into your warm, wet mouth, bunching a fistful of your hair as he pumps into you, balls against your drool-slick chin, trying not to cum too quick. For a minute, he really does consider simply painting your pretty face, prying your mouth open and smearing his cum on your tongue with the chubby head of his thick dick. But then he sees your arched back, pushing the fat of your ass into your heels where you kneel, and he knows he can't just waste his cum on your mouth.

So he has you trapped and bent, on all fours like a bitch in heat, whimpering and mewling nonsense about how he's "too big", and that "i-it won't fit, c-can't, won't go in, please, I'll use my mouth!"

"Dunno, missy," he leers, pushing your head down with one hand and cupping a handful of your pudgy ass cheek with the other, so he can get a clear view of your sticky cunt, swollen and dribbling for attention. "Seems t'me that she thinks I'll fit." His lips curl into a lazy grin as he splits your slit with a thick thumb.

Your mouth pulls open into a soundless gasp when he bullies the head of his cock into you. There's nothing you can do except feel it, feel the stretch as he opens you up for him and he warmth of his chest as he mounts you, pushing you tight against the ground as he connects himself to you. He's rough: hard, slow, taking the time to pull his entire length out of you, linked to your pussy by a mere thread of precum, before stretching you open all over again, breaching your hole as you lose the ability to breathe properly, to think at all, reduced to all but a squealing, babbling mess, "f-faster, ah... t-too much! H-hard... s'good, m-mister Toji!"

You can't help but sink under the weight of his pounding, his heavy thrusts pushing your messy thighs apart as he beats himself into the space between your legs, calloused hands squeezing and teasing your tits.

"Don't run," he grunts, pulling your hips back to meet his pelvis as he stuffs you full, relishing in the feeble squeak that leaves your lips when he holds you still, forcing you in place while he slams into your hole, faster and faster - messier - as he nears his climax. He snakes a strong hand from your chest to your stomach, then down to your clit, rolling the puffy bud, rotating between soft, tantalizing touches and harsh, nearly sadistic pinches. You egg him on with your helpless cries, shivering and moaning some nonsense about how you "c-can't take it anymore, ah- ah! Gonna - mhm - g'nna cum!"

You clench around him so tight, pussy pulsing on him with so much strength that he gives into you wholly, prying your legs apart as he pushes his tip right up against your cervix, allowing himself the pleasure of a quiet, slight groan just before he spills into you, so much, and so heavy, and so thick that you can feel your insides twisting and churning from the impact of his dick, still throbbing into you.

When he pulls out, he makes sure to sit back on his heels, enjoying the look of his handiwork as you crawl and twitch aimlessly, semen filling the slit between your legs and dribbling lewdly over your lips, making a slow, sticky way down the fat of your welted thighs.

You look sweet, he thinks. He'll make sure to taste test you next time.

© 2024 k6ssbxnny

[fairlyang]

this is self indulgent bc its my bday but also goes out to any other fellow sag girlies that love wade<3

w/c: 926

pairing: wade wilson x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. celebrating your birthday, mutual masturbation mention, teasing, cumming fast, dirty talk, somno, unprotected sex, creampie, making you breakfast, surprise gift

taglist: @reader-1290

smutmas masterlist | main masterlist

celebrating your birthday with wade!⚔️

birthdays. a whole rotation around the sun, or the moon? whichever it was, he always forgot the saying but he didn’t really care for them, at least not his own.

but yours was a different story. for yours he always had to make you feel special because you were. in his eyes you were the most special and on this day more than any another besides valentine’s day, he had to make sure you knew it without a single trace of doubt in your head.

the first thing he did was tease you an hour before midnight by jerking off in front of you but saying you can’t touch each other until the clock hit twelve. you were losing it so fast and your patience ran even more thin than his and that said a lot. 

by the time the clock did hit midnight, you were overstimulated and had been edging yourself with him. he made you ride his dick only for you to cum too fast but he continued thrusting into you and quickly having his own orgasm as well. 

what you thought would be the end of your night was really just the start and he pulled three more orgasms out of you with ease and only then decided that was enough for the night. 

he'd help clean you up because he might be a somewhat cruel man but he wasn't inconsiderate and made sure you were clean and in new panties plus one of his t shirts. you would knock the fuck out, body aching but sleeping peacefully in his arms.

his ass would absolutely come up with the grand idea to wake you up with head and that's what it would start off as until he couldn't help himself and had to slide inside you. already having done this plenty of times before but never ever resisting the urge to fuck you because he was the biggest perv and you just looked so good.

you were knocked out fucking cold but still wet as if you were awake? how on god's green earth could he possibly be blamed for this?

you fit like a fucking glove as he was completely inside you, gripping his cock like your life depended on it. he was cracking jokes to himself under his breath while he slowly fucked you, only going slow because he didn't want you to wake up yet. 

taking his time, watching how your pussy took him in and listening oh so intently to the small sounds you'd make. so cute and just absolutely clueless.

"if you saw this view, gorgeous, you wouldn't be able to blame me either." 

"think i gotta do this even more often…" 

"never getting tired of doing this."

your consciousness awoke, suddenly feeling filled between your legs and all because of his yapping did you realize what was going on. you yawned and wiped your eyes, looking behind you to see your boyfriend with his eyes rolled back and that was when you felt him spill his load deep inside you. 

before you could even clown him, he immediately started pounding into you, not caring whatsoever that he was going to overstimulate himself because this was about you and pleasuring you. he just couldn't help himself, yet again. 

he'd keep fucking you until he felt you clenching against him and shaking in front of his eyes while he held you lovingly, murmuring sweet dirty words into your ears. he had to stop himself from giving you another load, instead deciding to pull out just in time and shoot it at your mouth. 

he'd offer to clean you up but instead you just asked for his help to take you to the bathroom to take a shower. after helping you get there and quickly saying no to helping you because he would get distracted too easily, he went to the kitchen to make the most decent breakfast he could make, eggs, frozen hash browns, and bacon. 

with your favorite mug filled with your coffee, just how you like it. 

he quickly scrambled to the living room floor, taking off a piece of the floor to grab the stacks of money he had just for you. was technically clean money, he just so happened to take from a rich man that owed him said money. he just took more as interest.

he also grabbed the bag of balloons that were all shades of pink and blew them up and tied them up with string as fast as he could, just praying he would beat you. 

he set the balloons around your chair on the dining table and he set the stack up in a pyramid on the table then scrambled (pun intended)  to put your breakfast on one plate.

once you stepped foot out of the room, your eyes landed on the handful of stacks of money wrapped in a baby pink ribbon shaped like bows. your eyes went wide as he yelled, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

"who did you steal that from?!??!" 

"no one! well… no one important, princess, don't worry about it. it's all yours now." he said with the sweetest smile on his face, he looked so proud of himself.

you gave him a big hug, appreciative of the gesture, since this was practically his love language in a way. a little different than the normal but normal was boring and you were grateful he was anything but that.

"this is your birthday and christmas present by the way." he quickly quips making you chuckle, "of course it is."

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

hey, so like. I'm a vaguely sex-indifferent asexual who's only had sex a handful of times but like. I had sex with someone who wanted me to ride them once and I could not for the life of me work out how the fuck you're supposed to move to make that both pleasurable and to not accidentally slip off your partner's dick and just.

"bounces on dick like I'm riding him to half canter."

my dude you have no idea how much this has clicked into my head as oh of course that's how that'd work. thank you??? idk when I'll ever ride someone's dick again but now I know how to make it way more enjoyable.

LMAOOOOOOOOOO there's a reason horse girls are all fucking sluuuuuuuuuuts (i say as a former horsehirl and current, proud slut)

People will sell you all manner of workouts to "make you better in bed" but fundamentally the best workout for sexual stamina I've ever had was daily horseback riding back when i worked as a stable hand. That shit will make you ride dick/strap like a motherfucking god

Also: it's a cheap and dirty trick for almost everything sex related, but yall, I'm begging my fellow three-holed sex havers to start doing kegel exercises with weighted aids until you can literally just orgasm command because I've had to do pelvic floor exercises my entire life and one time I rode dick so hard,so long, and so good, that the dick came dry on the last round and this was in no small part because I am capable of massaging the dick on purpose from the inside out baybeeeeeee. You know that trick people do with blowjobs where they put the condom on with their mouth? I can do that with my pussy folks, and trust me, they fuckin NOTICE the quality.

Not to mention, once your pelvic floor is in real good shape, basically anything can feel pleasurable because it's less about WHAT IS HAPPENING IN YOUR VAG and more about you physically inducing orgasm via muscle manipulation. It's the great equalizer of sex and orgasms. I have a lot of neuroses that mean I struggle with orgasm broadly, and especially on my own, but kegels have made it so that I am "sensitive" enough to orgasm real fast as soon as a partner whose movement I am not personally responsible for gets involved.

If anyone has seen that post about "none of your deserve to joke about pillow princesses until you respect the skill", this is kinda what that's talking about. Not that it's MY preference (I am not a pillow princess but I've fucked some and 😍😍😍😍) but I am very capable of laying back and making my top cum **no matter what they're doing** or if it should actually work out that way, because I understand how to perform kegels during sex to A) prevent dick/strap from fully popping out when things get a lil too wet and wild, B) "stroke" the dick/strap in an intentional grip and movement like with a handjob but in my pussy, my anus, or my mouth/throat as well, C) make sure I'm not getting so tight the dick can't keep doing its thing (less of an issue for straps but you fuck a glass strap for 3hrs and tell me how you feel about the idea that you can't get too tight on one for it to work right), and D) how to rotate my hips to adjust depths of thrusts to a top's preference for reaching or holding off from orgasm. That takes skill motherfucker, don't tell me a pillow princess doesn't work hard, that hole is premium grade have some respect and eat it out like it deserves.

.....I've gotten off topic here.

Anyway, I always HATED riding dick/strap because it's just not my thing you know, and like even now it is the worst of the positions for my personal pleasure. But you just can't beat the look on a power bottom's face when you pillow princess them from above like a goddamn succubus, and it turns out that horseback riding will teach you how to do just that while absolutely never once acknowledging that half the point of a morning ride for the horses is rubbing a few out in the saddle where no one can judge you but you and your god

[cinnbar-bun]

Could I request some poly Shanks X Mihawk X Gn! Reader headcanons please? (Sfw and NSFW if that's okay) and more importantly... Happy Holidays/Early New Years! I hope you have a wonderful time!

A/n: I'm literally exposing how long this has been in my inbox, I'm so sorry darling, please forgive me with these headcanons.

Shanks and Mihawk Poly!Gen HCs

Rating: SFW + NSFW (more under cut)

Notes: GN!Reader, no specific genitalia or pronouns used for Reader.

You can read this on my AO3 here!

SFW

Congratulations Shanks, now you have TWO babysitters! 

It really is like that sometimes, Shanks is quite the energetic and spirited guy, while you and Mihawk are more “restrained”. 

By “restrained”, I mean you are probably the only truly sane one there since Mihawk will also suggest something in the total opposite direction of Shanks’s suggestion that they both circle back to agreeing. 

“We should get wasted” Shank says. “We should not,” Mihawk shakes his head. “Oh, thank you, Mihawk, I was thinking-” “We should fight some marines.” “Now you’re talking, Mihawk!” 

It’s honestly a toss up on whose ideas will be the one to come out on top because lord these two men can make your head spin so fast. 

Generally, though, Mihawk tends to have your back while you two placate and reel Shanks back in. On occasion Shanks has been known to take your side, but lord, if these two men team up against you, it’s gonna take a lot to get your way. 

Thankfully, these two are helpless to you. Shanks is very enthusiastic to be with you so he is most likely to baby you and spoil you rotten with his affections. 

Not to say that Mihawk never does, Mihawk is just more subtle and expensive with his gestures. 

Shanks’s gestures: Lots of snuggling, hugs, and kisses. Silly nicknames reserved just for you, and nicknames only you/Mihawk are allowed to call him. Lots of whiny and teasing ‘baaaaaabbe’ here and there. An increasing amount of pouts and a tendency to have his arm on you at almost all times. Lots of shopping ventures and has a habit of pretty much blowing his money on alcohol and gifts for you two.

Mihawk’s gestures: Cooking you your favorite meals, making sure your cups are never empty, tailored outfits, custom gifts for the two of you, matching jewelry. Tender and gentle touches in order to remain polite. Guard dog (hawk?) privileges. 

Most of their gestures overlap in many aspects, they’re both passionate men, but just in their own ways when it comes to romance. Shanks is very go with the flow and freeform, but Mihawk retains a sense of traditionalism and elegance to his behavior towards you two. 

Mihawk is such house husband material and takes pride in you and Shanks’s enjoyment of his home cooked meals and house cleaning. 

Shanks meanwhile loves discussing his adventures and impressing the two of you with his feats and bounties. As well as random gifts he finds on his travels or shops he stopped at. 

While Shanks is more likely to suggest partying or going in the city for a night out, Mihawk suggests staying in and doing activities together. So a rotation and voting was implemented to make sure everyone was comfortable and having fun. 

At the end of the day, Shanks is gonna be sleeping like an old, drunk man and snore everyone’s ears off while Mihawk sleeps on his back, still as a statue. You get to stay in the middle so as to avoid getting pushed off the bed thanks to Shanks. 

NSFW

You thought they were competitive and crazy outside the bedroom, imagine inside the bedroom!

Let’s just say you got two absolute freaks on your hands. 

Shanks is pretty much down to fuck at any given point of the day (like, what do you think he’s gonna say, no????). He has fuckboy energy, sorry. You or Mihawk will say “I’m going to shower” and Mr. Red-Hair will be all “without me hehe??” 

Honestly, it’s insane how horny Shanks can and will be with you and Mihawk. He will even try to get you two riled up in public (Mihawk had nearly strangled him for those stunts). Date nights can get wild when Shanks is around and wants to have a go at you two.

Mihawk, again, is more subtle than Shanks. There’s some slight changes to his behavior when the mood strikes him. Shanks is very perceptive and will tease the shit out of Mihawk for it, before Mihawk threatens him. 

Both men are very vocal when it comes to sex. Especially Shanks. You and Mihawk have to gag him sometimes because he will not shut the hell up and wants to comment about everything. 

Shanks’s words tend to be more praise and comments about how good you and Mihawk are feeling/doing. 

That mouth can do more than just talk, though. He’s amazing at giving oral, both to you and Mihawk. And he’s got such a shit-eating grin on his face whenever you two fall apart from his lips alone. (And the stubble, too, can you imagine?)

Mihawk also tends to praise you, but sometimes he gives commands or likes to degrade your current position and behavior. 

Tells you your behavior is “unbecoming” of you while you’re (be)coming on his dick (I’ll see myself out). 

Like I said though, these two are pretty much freaks. I think very little would ever be a hard “no” from them, and both are enthusiastic to try anything and everything at least once. 

Mihawk likes to set strict boundaries and often is the one who makes the safe words and nonverbal cues for everyone to follow for the night. 

These two also just have some insane stamina. You’re probably puckered out after one or two rounds and the two will still be raring to go. 

Just my little headcanon, I think they are big on scents. Mihawk loves giving you expensive cologne/perfume for you to wear, and Shanks will often compliment it. 

Wearing their clothes also tends to get them riled, but I’d mostly say wear Mihawk’s so you can at least ensure they were washed (also Mihawk’s shirts having such a big boob opening you can be happy knowing the men will tease there lots). 

Immaculate aftercare with fun bubble baths, massages, and cuddles. And Shanks snoring loudly again, that’s never changing.

[risrambles]

possible hot take but lowkey the reason that the hype for doomsday isn’t as high as endgame or infinity war and the the reason it’s getting more joked about is kinda bc they haven’t done much building up to the movies and nothing has really connected like it did in the other phases. like all the movies leading up to the avengers were so tightly woven into that eventual product. then phase two everything led up to civil war and such, and then obviously endgame. but phase 4 and on has jumped around so much and introduced so many characters that it’s like… we know these all won’t tie in. like we get a hawkeye show but neither protagonist is in the cast (yet), we get moon knight and not a character is in the cast (yet), we get she-hulk and not a character is in the cast (yet). they overload it with tv shows and movies that end up being one-offs bc it’s quantity over quality atp. whereas phases 1-3 all lead up to something together, this is just. kind of a mess. and i say this as someone who was in the fandom a lot in 2021 and kinda saw the beginning of the end. and i say this now as someone who loves marvel so dearly.

not saying i don’t think it’ll be good—i think it has potential. but instead of marvel being the epitome of modern superhero storytelling and being considered good media, it’s turned into more of a joke bc people a) hate too much for the wrong reasons b) the movies are actually not good c) we get one good movie or show once in a while that is actually really high quality with meaning that is immediately followed up by something less hype d) the characters are going up against things so much bigger than themselves that it’s just plain unrealistic to the MAX. like sure thanos was a Big Bad but at least it kinda seemed like an avengers level threat. all this multiverse stuff with Not Enough multiverse-level superheroes is wearing on me. not to mention they either kill their best or most interesting characters (aka wanda, who had a lot of potential) or bench them (moon knight). the strongest characters currently in rotation off the top of my head are doctor strange, loki, and sentry (who is apparently in doomsday, so that’s cool!) but honestly other than that it’s all supersoldiers or people with physical skill over the skill and power actually needed to fight god level villains.

i’m not a hater, i promise. i just miss when it wasn’t so unrealistic that it was hard to get past and have a fun time watching. (and i get that it’s movies so it can be unrealistic, but comparing it to the actually decently realist tones of the first few phases it just takes me out of it when i’m watching) it’s probably a part of the reason that people always seem to like ca:tws or the avengers or iron man, because it was smaller scale and it makes sense why it’s only those heroes in those movies. cause why is it just the thunderbolts trying to handle sentry?

take catws. it’s captain america, black widow, and falcon against hydra and more specifically the winter soldier. THAT makes sense. it makes sense why it wasn’t anyone else. it was a small scale threat that can be played off during the movie as a big one bc to the characters in the movie it is and to the ones not in it, it isn’t. the entire avengers team doesn’t have to assemble to fight the winter soldier and they don’t, which is good! Then take wandavision, where it was jimmy woo, monica rambeau, and a few others against the literal scarlet witch who was bending reality, not a single avenger really even tried to stop by. this is a situation where every avenger should have been locked and loaded and ready to step in but it just WASNT.

now remember i say this as a marvel FAN. i love marvel and ive loved marvel since i first watched captain america the winter soldier. i guess im a sucker for old marvel but it comes to a point where even though they’re doing a lot, it’s just like they’re trying too many things at once. i hold out hope for doomsday and secret wars, and i hope they wrap all of these individual projects together nicely, but i dont know. if im going to be honest, im not the biggest fan of the multiverse saga even though some of my favorite projects have come from it.

[aynavaano]

Beautifully blind

Tech x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 4.6k

Summary:

Ever since you joined the Bad Batch you had your eyes on Tech, he is everything you could possibly want, soft, intelligent, caring but also strong and protective. You’ve been flirting with him for a while without any response and gave up thinking he is just not interested in you. But one day when you are left alone working on one of his modifications on the Marauder together it turns out the whole time you were speaking a language he didn’t understand.

Notes:

I really really miss Tech in S3 so I wanted to write some sweet soft smut with him. This work is inspired by “The beginners guid to Osculation” but I took things a bit further…

It’ a first time sex fic Tech x F!reader. Reader is experienced and in love with him. There is fingering, oral (f and m recieving) and unprotected sex but also a lot of fluff. It’s my first time writing Tech and a hope he is not too OOC.

You and Tech are standing in the Cockpit of the Marauder, fiddling with some cables, hanging from a wall panel, together just as Crosshair, Wrecker, and Hunter prepare for another supply run. It's been a few rotations since your arrival here, the Marauder carefully concealed in a secluded forestry patch a few klicks away from the next settlement. During this time, you've managed some much needed repairs and some of Techs planned modifications, as well as restocking on supplies. While the last supply run was a joint effort, today you and Tech decided to remain on the ship finishing his latest project and preparing for your departure, as there's little left to gather from the nearby town. Just when they're about to leave you overhear Crosshair boast to his brothers about his plans to fuck the girl from the market again, telling them they don’t need to wait for him on the way back because he’s planning to take his sweet time with her, a smug grin adorning his face, as always and a toothpick dangling in the corner of his mouth. As they make their way out Wrecker pats Crosshairs shoulder jolting him a step forward and they all burst into laughter, leaving you and Tech alone in the cockpit.

You caught a fleeting glimpse of disappointment, perhaps even a hint of sadness, in Tech's eyes at Crosshairs words and try not to think about it too much, but you can’t ignore it, you care too much about him. After silently working alongside him for a while, handing him tools and lending a hand you approach him cautiously. "Tech," you start, "I couldn't help but notice your reaction to Crosshair talking about the girl from the market. Were you... also into her?"

"What brought you to that conclusion?" he asks hesitantly, tilting his head towards you, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"I saw your face when Crosshair mentioned her, you seemed disappointed or even sad," you say, breaking the uncomfortable silence that hung between you for a moment. He doesn't respond immediately, the weight of your observation sinking in.

To ease the tension, you quickly add, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business," before turning back to continue working on the panel. After a moment, Tech sighs and let’s his arms sink down, his gaze fixed on a distant point as he gathers his thoughts.

"It's not about that particular girl," he begins, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "but rather that I have never experienced the kind of intimacy Crosshair was referring to." He pauses, struggling to articulate his feelings. "It's always my brothers that succeed in getting a woman because it is extremely difficult for me to understand the subtle signs and the body language of someone I am attracted to, even if I've did a lot of research about the topic. I have accepted it but sometimes, when they brag about their experiences it’s difficult for me"

His confession catches you off guard, and you look at him with wide eyes, trying to comprehend his revelation. "Are you saying you've never been with someone... in that way?" you ask, your voice filled with disbelief.

Tech nods solemnly. "Correct, that's exactly what I said," he confirms. The realization hits you like a blaster shot to your guts – the handsome, beautiful man before you, that you’ve been admiring for such a long time, has seemingly never had the chance to experience any kind of sexual activities, and has accepted it as his fate.

"You're telling me you're a virgin?" you blurt out, startled by the revelation.

"I don't particularly like that word, but yes, that is the proper term that would apply to me," Tech responds, his expression vulnerable yet resolute. "However, to be precise, there was one incident where my brothers tried to pair me off with a woman, but I stopped it immediately, it felt extremely uncomfortable." He pauses, reflecting on his research. "For some people, it seems to be pleasant to have casual sexual encounters, while others prefer to have an emotional connection to their sexual partner. I think the latter applies to me, it needs to be with someone I know, someone I feel safe with, and am more than just attracted to in a physical way." He admit, his vulnerability shining through as he reveals, "Someone like you," the last bit of his sentence, slipping from his lips before his mind can stop him.

You almost choke on your breath, caught off guard by Tech's unexpected confession, but a giggle escapes your lips nonetheless. However, the lighthearted moment is quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment on his face. He tries to compose himself, his words stumbling out as he apologizes, "I'm… sorry,… I shouldn't have said that. Please don't ridicule me for it. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you." He hesitates before continuing, "You don't have to say anything. I know I would never have a chance with you,"

"Oh Tech," you respond softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "I've not been laughing at you. I just couldn't grasp what you were saying, and how beautifully blind we both seem to be. I've been into you since forever, literally since I became part of the crew, and I've been trying to flirt with you for months, but I thought you were just not interested in me, so I gave up and let you be, because I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Tech's eyes widen in surprise at your confession. "I... I thought you were... maybe interested in Wrecker because you recently spent so much time together," he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Oh, but that's just because Hunter wanted me to learn more about explosives, that's why, you know how bad I am with handling that kind of stuff," you explain, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings.

"Undoubtedly I see why Hunter ordered that, you almost killed us all on Onderon with that thermal detonator. I’m relieved to know you’re taking care of it” he says, adjusting his goggles to have a better look at you. You giggle gazing up at him, almost loosing yourself in his beautiful brown eyes.

“The thought never crossed my mind that someone like you would be attracted to me like that," Tech confesses, his tone tinged with self-doubt. "While I exceed my brothers in many aspects, this is a particular field where I never stood a chance against them. I see the signs, but I cannot interpret them. I observed that you've come closer to me, you are touching my arm and that your face has slightly reddened, indicating an accelerated heartbeat, but I don't know how to proceed with that information."

"Tech... stop talking," you hesitantly interject, inching a little closer to him and seeking his gaze. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Your heart races as you feel the tension building between you, his eyes locking onto yours, a sense of understanding flickering over his features.

"Yes, I would very much like that," he responds earnestly, his voice filled with anticipation. "I am positive that you already know that I am recording everything, but I want your consent if I keep recording. Will you let me?" he adds slightly nervous.

You nod in agreement, giving him the permission he seeks.

"Do you want me to kiss you, or do you want to begin?" you inquire, seeking his preference.

He pauses for a moment before expressing his desire for you to initiate the kiss and guide him.

With a soft smile, glancing up at him seeking his gaze you lean in and wrap your arms around his neck. Gently, you pull his head slightly down towards you, tilting yours upwards, eyes shut, closing the gap between your lips. It's a soft kiss, yet filled with a hunger, hoping to leave him wanting more. His lips are incredibly soft and your body starts to tingle a bit by the realization that you are really kissing Tech, it’s not another one of your daydreams, he is right here in your arms.

He doesn’t respond to the kiss, but he allows you to kiss him for a little bit longer and when you part, you notice his dilated pupils and feel the rapid beat of his heart against his chest. ”How did that feel?” you whisper, as your eyes meet, arms still wrapped around him.

"I very much enjoy how my body reacts to you, unfamiliar but very pleasant," he admits, his voice tinged with awe and slightly out of breath.

"Do you want more?" you offer selfishly, glancing up at him with a smile. He nods eagerly in response.

Encouraged, you kiss him again, now with a bit more passion. And this time he instantly responds, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, his lips eagerly moving against yours. You brush your tongue against his lower lip and he opens up letting you in. You can barely control yourself anymore and when your tongues meet you feel the heat rising in your body, pooling between your legs. “Tech..” you moan softly, not parting the kiss.

Suddenly, he picks you up maneuvering you to the other side of the cockpit and onto the control panel of the Marauder. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, feeling the subtle pressure of his growing arousal against you. The intensity of the moment causes him to break the kiss, gasping for air as he tries to compose himself.

You gently cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and ask, “Do you want to try more than just kissing?” His eyes flicker with uncertainty, and you try to voice it more clearly, “Do you want to have sex with me Tech?”

His response is eager, almost breathless, as he nods and replies, “Yes, I want.”

With a sense of anticipation coursing through you, you don’t wait any longer an swiftly discard your shirt, revealing the contours of your body to him. His gaze lingers, wide-eyed, on your bare chest, and you feel a rush of excitement at his reaction. “Touch me,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, inviting him to explore you further.

He hesitates, his hand trembling slightly as he reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before trailing down to your chest. As his fingers gently slide over your nipple, a soft gasp escapes your lips, eliciting a smile from him. “I very much like that sound,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of wonder.

With a tentative question in his eyes, he asks, “Can I kiss you there?” You nod in response, a mixture of anticipation and desire coursing through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he trails soft kisses down your neck, lingering at the curve of your breast. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but let out a few more soft moans, encouraging him to continue. He slowly gets more courageous exploring you and begins to suck one of you hardened nipples into his mouth eliciting even more gasps and moans from you. It feels like he is enjoying to test what kind of sounds he can get out of you.

Trying not to break from his touch you wiggle yourself out of your pants, leaving you clad only in your little satin panties, grateful that you put one of the nicer ones on this morning. His eyes widen with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as he takes in the sight of you before him, his gaze roaming over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour.

“Explore my body, Tech,” you urge him, your voice filled with longing. His fingers trace over your skin, trailing along the inside of your thighs, hesitating slightly as they brush over the soaked fabric of your panties, already dampened by your arousal. "I studied some publications about female arousal," he begins, his voice laced with curiosity, "telling from the level of wetness I assume you enjoy this a lot. Is it because you haven’t been with someone in a while? I understood that once you tried and enjoyed sexual activities, it can become something of a need?"

A soft chuckle escapes your lips at his earnestness, and you reply, "It’s not because I need it, Tech. It’s because I want it, because I want you. Your touch and your kisses caused that."

"Interesting," he remarks, his tone thoughtful as if he's processing the information. At your instruction, he carefully removes your panties, his excitement undeniable as he takes in the sight of you naked body before him. His gaze roams over you, exploring every inch of your nakedness, before he drops to his knees to get a better view.

"Touch me," you encourage him, leaning over the control panel, pressing a button to seal the entrance to the cockpit, just in case the others come back earlier than expected. With eager anticipation, he trails his fingers over your slick folds, the slightest touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. He slides one finger between your outer lips, gently parting them, his movements cautious yet purposeful, and he asks, "Is that ok?"

"You don’t have to ask for my consent anymore, Tech," you reassure him, your desire evident in your voice. "I want this. I want you."

With that assurance, he very carefully begins to slide a finger into you, and you moan softly at the sensation, encouraging him to continue. Another finger follows suit, and he begins to move hesitantly, exploring the depths of your warm core. It feels incredible, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you entirely.

So many months you had spent fantasizing about something like this, but after he didn’t react to your flirting attempts you gave up and now you are here, completely naked, spread all over the control panel, with Tech between your legs and his fingers pushing into you.

He curls his fingers up, finding that sweet, soft spot that sends waves of extra strong pleasure coursing through your body and you can't help but cry out his name. His touch is intoxicating, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of an orgasm.

Feeling yourself on the brink, you gasp, "Tech, I won’t last long if you keep doing that." He hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do, but you encourage him to continue. "No, it’s good. I just… you will make me cum very quickly if you keep doing that," you assure him, your voice filled with desire.

Surprised but delighted by your response, Tech eagerly returns to his attention to your core. "Oh, I would love to give you an orgasm if you let me," he admits, his enthusiasm undeniable. You nod “Please” and with your consent, he thrust back into you, his fingers moving with purpose and determination.

Leaning in closer, he focuses his attention on your clit, his tongue adding a new dimension to the pleasure. It's a revelation, the intensity building with each thrust of his fingers, you cant believe he’s never done that before, but then again he is the man that knows everything.

You feel your body tensing up already and it takes only a few more flicks of his tongue against your clit before you cum. Stars shatter before your eyes and it feels incredibly good to ride out your orgasm on his fingers, your body trembling with the force of your release. You moan his name, lost in the pleasure pulsing through you, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in bliss.

Looking up at you in awe, Tech savors the sight before him. He's completely captivated by the way your body responds to his touch, determined not to miss a single moment of it.

After you slowly descend from the heights of your orgasm, he carefully slides his finger out of you and rises to his feet, standing before you. You lean up and press your lips to his. "Do you want me to explore your body?" you inquire, and he eagerly nods in response. You gracefully slip from the control panels, your eyes locked on him as he swiftly sheds his armor with practiced hands. When he's down to the bottom of his blacks, you gently guide him backward into the pilot's seat, a silent invitation for him to surrender to your touch.

You approach him with a mix of excitement and tenderness, fully aware that this is his first experience and taking care not to overwhelm him. You position yourself between his legs, one hand trailing over his chest and you leave a few heated kisses on his neck before you kneel down, your eyes lock with his, offering reassurance. "Relax, Tech. Let me take care of you," you say softly.

With a slow and deliberate hand, you begin to undo his pants, revealing his evident arousal. Your gaze flickers to his cock, noting its impressive length and girth, feeling a surge of desire as you prepare to pleasure him. Slowly taking him into your mouth, you start with gentle movements, savoring the taste of him as you explore each inch of his beautiful thick cock.

Tech's breath catches in his throat as you work him, his fingers tightening on the armrests. "Do you like how it feels?" you murmur, your voice a soft hum against his sensitive skin. He manages to nod, his expression a mix of pleasure and wonder as you continue.

Adjusting your pace, you find a rhythm that suits him, teasing and tantalizing as you build his arousal. With each movement, you feel him growing harder beneath your touch, his hips shifting instinctively to meet your mouth. "I…I’m close," he gasps, his voice strained with desire.

Despite the temptation to push him over the edge just now and see his beautiful brown eyes flutter, you hold back, knowing that you want to give him more. With a loving smile, you ease off, allowing him a moment to catch his breath. "Not yet," you whisper, your voice laced with anticipation. “I would like to ride you, do you want that?”

Tech's eyes widen with surprise and need as he understands what you want to do. With a hungry look in his eyes, he nods eagerly.

You rise from your knees, moving with purpose as you straddle his lap, positioning yourself above him. With a delicate touch, you guide his throbbing cock to the entrance of your slick, wet core, feeling the anticipation building between you. The pressure of his length against you already sends shivers down your spine, aching with desire for more. "Are you ready?" you whisper, your breath hot against his ear as you pepper his neck with soft kisses. Unable to speak, Tech nods eagerly, his eyes filled with longing as he awaits your next move.

As you lower yourself onto him, a wave of pleasure washes over you, his thick cock stretching you in all the right ways. You moan with satisfaction, relishing in the sensation of being filled by him. Tech's heartbeat quickens beneath you, his shallow breaths echoing the intensity of the moment. "Breathe, Tech," you murmur, planting tender kisses along his jawline, allowing him a moment to adjust to the feeling of being inside you.

With a slow, deliberate pace, you begin to move, rising and falling on his length, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Tech's composed facade begins to crack, his control slipping away as he succumbs to the ecstasy of your union. You enjoy to see him slowly coming undone in front of you. Tech, who is always in control, always composed is coming undone. And you love that you can do that to him.

As you increase your rhythm, Tech's hands find hold on your waist, his touch grounding you as you ride him. You brace yourself against his shoulders, granting him a beautiful view of your bouncing breasts right before his face, fueling his desire even further. You feel him tensing up, his cock pressing even harder against your walls with every move. “It’s okay Tech” you reassure him, “cum inside me”urging him to let go and release within you.

You lean down to leave a few kisses and gentle bites along his neck, increasing your pace further and it doesn’t take long until he succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure, his cock pulsating within you as he spills his warm cum deep inside your core. The sensation of him filling you up is so overwhelmingly good it triggers another orgasm, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out his name as you clench around him, the intensity of your orgasm echoing his own. He looks at you in awe by the sensation of your pussy tightening around his cock. Collapsing onto his chest, you both bask in the aftermath, your bodies entwined and slick with sweat, lost in the euphoria of your connection.

Tech catches his breath first, his chest rising and falling as he composes himself. "I would enjoy doing that again sometime," he admits, his voice filled with a hint of longing but also uncertainty.

You smile warmly, reassurance in your eyes as you reply, "Whenever you want, Tech. I'm yours." Leaning in, you press your lips against his, a soft and tender kiss filled with promise. “I love you,” you whisper, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

As his softened cock slowly begins to slip out of you, you feel his warm cum dripping from your core onto the seat beneath you. "I should clean that up before we make a mess here," you remark, a playful glint in your eyes as you glance down at the evidence of your shared passion.

Tech nods in agreement, his gaze lingering on you as he gestures towards the fresher. "Go on. I'll take care of the cockpit," he offers, his tone gentle yet determined, showing his willingness to share the responsibilities.

Before you can leave, he pulls you close, his lips capturing yours in a deep and passionate kiss. "Thank you," he murmurs against your lips, his gratitude evident in his touch as he expresses his appreciation for your connection.

"For what?" you wonder, eager to understand the depth of his emotions.

"For communicating with me in a way that I understand," he explains, his words resonating with sincerity as he acknowledges the significance of your connection and the efforts you've made to bridge any gaps in understanding.

With a smile and a soft kiss, you accept his gesture, making your way to the fresher, mindful not to leave a trail of cum behind as you prepare to clean up. As you go, you're filled with a sense of contentment, knowing that despite any challenges, you and Tech have found a way to connect deeply, both physically and emotionally.

When you tap out of the fresher, all cleaned up, clothes back on, you are relieved to see that the others seemingly still haven’t returned, giving you and Tech a little more time together. Glancing over at the cockpit, you notice it looks nice and clean, as if nothing had happened. Satisfied, you step outside the Marauder and find Tech sitting in the low grass, his datapad in hand and connected to his ears. He smiles at you, and you can't help but return the smile as you approach him.

"What are you doing?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your tone.

"I'm listening to the sounds you made," he responds, a happy glance in his eyes. Your cheeks flush at his words, and he chuckles softly. "I enjoy this very much, it's already my favorite recording."

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you melt into his embrace, feeling a sense of warmth and affection wash over you. You make yourself comfortable in the grass next to him and he hands you a cup of fresh caff, asking if you feel good.

"Haven’t felt so good in a while…and thank you for cleaning up the cockpit," you express your gratitude, but a hint of worry creeps into your voice. "But I guess that Hunter will smell it anyway. He can smell a Bantha ten klicks against the wind."

Tech laughs, reassuring you. "That is precisely right, but don't worry. I spilled some caff to cover up the scent for now. However, we will need to tell them eventually that we…we…”

“…had sex in Hunters ship and will continue to do so?” you offer to finish the sentence with a wide grin on your face.

“That we are engaging in a romantic relationship. And that is MY ship" he corrects you. “But I fear their response to this news will not be that elated at first.”

You furrow your brows in concern, prompting him to explain further. "Why do you think your brothers won't be happy for you, Tech?"

He adjusts his goggles, his expression thoughtful. "Because shortly after you became part of our crew, they made a bet on who would get… who would succeed in having sex with you first. And the bet was not on me. And not on a relationship either, rather on a more... casual encounter."

"Who was it?" you ask, curious to know the outcome.

Tech sighs, his gaze dropping momentarily. "On Crosshair. It was on Crosshair. I bet on him too. Statistically, he has the highest success rate, so it was a safe bet... I thought."

You chuckle softly, realizing the implications, of course it was Crosshair. "Well, that will dent his ego a bit, but he'll survive it," you laugh, needless to say Crosshair is a handsome man with an aura that is best described as intense but he’s just not your type, you prefer soft and nerdy but lethal, and sometimes a bit unhinged, just like the beautiful man sitting beside you.

Feeling a sense of content wash over you, you happily lean into Tech, resting your head on his chest as you revel in the comfort and security of his embrace.

Shouldn't we finish the modification we abandoned?" you inquire, gazing up at the sky.

"I would much rather enjoy the time with you out here," Tech responds, his voice filled with warmth. "It is not often that we are on a planet where the atmosphere is breathable, meteorological conditions are predominantly pleasant, and there is no extremely hostile wildlife that we have to pay attention to. Besides, with your help, I can quickly finish the modification later. We will need to learn to enjoy the moments we get together without my brothers, as they will be scarce."

You gaze up at him in awe, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you as you cuddle closer to him. "Well,if we have time, then tell me everything you know about those little fuzzy creatures up there jumping around in the trees," you say, pointing towards the playful fury animals in the distance.

He smiles down at you, his eyes reflecting fondness. "Gladly," he responds, before leaning in to give you the softest, most loving kiss.

As he begins to speak, his voice takes on the tone of a database, filled with information about the local wildlife. You've always loved animals and listening to Tech talking for hours about the local wildlife and its possible dangers or benefits during missions has fascinated you each time. But now, wrapped in his arms, experiencing this as private lecture and stealing a few kisses in between is the best feeling in the galaxy

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi~! I was wondering if I can request a scenario for Mammon, Asmo and Belphie where the reader is on the curvier side and is very insecure about it? If you’re able to that’s great! Thank you so much~! 😊

This is definitely borderline NSFW, so Minors is back away now. 18+ Only

~~~~~ MAMMON ~~~~~

You were standing in Mammon's room getting dressed for the gala tonight. Mammon had bought a custom-made gold dress for you to match him with his newly freed Goldie. The only problem was he chose a very revealing dress that showed off your curves more than you desired. Looking at yourself in the revealing dress, you noticed your breasts pushing out, your love handles sucking in the sides of the dress, and most of all, when you turned around, you could just barely see the crescents of your ass hanging out. You knew Mammon liked to show off, but this seemed a bit too much. You did one final look over as you put on the 'M' necklace that Mammon had gotten you. Suddenly self-conscious about your body, you went to his closet and grabbed one of his fur jackets. It didn't offer much help covering your bottom half, but it at least covered your top half.

You went downstairs, where Mammon was waiting in his black and gold suit. He turned to look at you, confused, "My treasure, it's summer in the devildom right now. You're telling me you are cold?" You looked down at yourself and then at him with a small smile. "Why yes, you did choose quite the scandalous outfit." You laughed nervously as Mammon closed in on you. When you were within arm's reach, Mammon removed your jacket and noticed your immediate discomfort. Mammon sighed before scooping you up and walking back up to his room. Mammon placed you down on his bed and told you to sit still. Watching him intently, you saw Mammon rearrange the room so that his mirror was facing the bed. Once done, Mammon helped you up and then sat behind you. You saw the exact reflection in the mirror in this stupid gold dress only moments ago. The only difference this time is you were situated between Mammon's open thighs.

"Now look at yourself for me and look at each place on you I talk about as I go down the list of why you are the most gorgeous person to exist." You blushed deeply as Mammon reached up and caressed your head. "Your hair is a beautiful (H/C), so lovely to touch and pull." Mammon's hands moved above your eyes, "Your (E/C) is so vibrant and alluring." Next came your cheeks and lips, "Your round cheeks and pretty pouty lips are so kissable." Soon, you felt Mammon's hands land on your chest, "Your chest is so full and inviting, could sleep right here on them, no questions asked." You felt his soft touch grace your sides and then firmly grip your love handles. "Now, these are for me to hold on to while I have fun with you." As you went to retort back, you felt him grab your ass hard. "And this your pretty ass is for me to stare at while you walk around." You blushed darker, panting slightly at his firmness. Mammon gently rotated you in his lap so you faced him. You placed your hands on his shoulders to try and stabilize yourself. As you breathed out, Mammon pulled you closer, having you straddle his lap. "To hell with the gala treasure, I'll enjoy you right now." Oh, and enjoy you, he did.

~~~~~ ASMODEUS ~~~~~

Asmodeus had roped you in to help him with another fashion show. You don't know how you allowed this to happen. Initially, it was supposed to be you two watching together, but in classic drama fashion, someone got sick, and Asmodeus signed you up to be the new model. As you were being dressed, you heard a sigh from behind you. You turned as much as you could in the awkward angle you were in for fitting to see Asmodeus standing there admiring you. "My peach you are so beautiful, this outfit makes you look like a goddess." You laughed at the silly comment, bringing your attention back to the mirror you were in front of. You took in your whole appearance as the stylist finished the last alterations. You were in a beautiful light pink gown that was just sheer enough that you could imagine what was underneath. The top of the dress was left a little covered as your large breasts were practically spilling out. The slit on the side was high, exposing your thick thighs and the pretty black heels you were in. Your hair was done just right, with subtle pink makeup effects on your face. You turned to look at Asmodeus once more.

"What do you think lover?" Asmodeus smiled, coming towards you and spinning you around. The motion caused the dress to flair slightly and show more of your body to him. Asmodeus closed in on you slowly, closing your eyes, ready for whatever he was planning to do with you. A sudden cleared throat caused you two to separate. You were escorted to the lineup while Asmodeus was taken to the audience. Soon, the lights dimmed, and only the runway was lit as you and the other models showcased the collection. As you went out, it was clear that other demons weren't expecting a plus-sized model to be with the others. You held your head up and kept strutting. Mentally preparing to hear negative whispers, you were surprised by the number of wolf whistles and awe-struck faces you saw. Maybe bigger girls weren't ordinary in the devildom. As you finished your walk, the designer asked you to step out with him again as he closed the ceremony since you were the most liked model. Walking out with him, you felt an arm wrapped around your waist. You looked at the demon in question with displeasure, ready to reem him in front of others for touching you this way, when ,suddenly a pink flash darted past you.

Screams echoed in the hall, followed by more loud noises, and before you knew it, your arm was being dragged by Asmodeus in his demon form. You stared at him in shock as he kept leading you around until he found a private room for you two. Once locked in, he turned to look at you, observing to ensure you were okay. Once content, he slowly started returning to his usual self. "What was that all about Asmo? I could have handled it." He just sighed before pulling you into him. "I know you could have, but just because I am the embodiment of lust doesn't mean I will let others touch what is mine." You blushed deeply; when Asmodeus pulled away, he looked you over again. In the heat of the chaos, your dress tore a bit, leaving your legs a lot more exposed, and your top was close to busting. Asmodeus smirked before getting close to your ear. "You know, why don't I show all these demons who really owns you." You were well-marked and claimed when you finally returned to the House of Lamentation.

~~~~~ BELPHEGOR ~~~~~

It had been a long day, and you were ready to retire for the night. As you approached your room, you passed the staircase leading up to Belphie's hiding place. You walked into your room and changed into the cow pjs you had gotten yourself a few days ago. Putting them on, you realize you may have gotten the wrong size. The shorts were so short and rode up your butt quite a lot, whereas the top was turned more into a crop top by your breasts. Wrapping yourself in a blanket and grabbing your pillow, you went to Belphie's spot. As you entered, you found the sleepy man snuggled up with his blankets and pillows. Slowly, you tiptoed into the room and made yourself comfy beside him with your blanket. Slowly starting to drift off you felt Belphie wrap you up in his arms.

You woke up to a loud bang and a mumbled voice. As you opened your eyes, you saw Belphie sitting on the opposite side of the room with a deep red blush. You sat up on your knees, facing Belphie with your head tilted. "What's wrong, my dear? Did you have another bad dream?" As you spoke, it didn't go unnoticed, Belphie's wondering eyes on your body. "N-No, I just didn't expect you to be there and dressed like that." You looked down and pouted slightly, you bought it to impress him what does he mean dressed like that. Belphie noticed your expression before waving his hands around and speaking, "No its not like that I like it I might like it to much I just normally you wear pants and a big t-shirt not that revealing stuff." You laughed gently, standing up and slowly walking over to Belhpie, his eyes bouncing between your chest and thighs. As you reached him, you squatted down to his level, looking into his eyes. "You really like it?"

Belphie noddedd gently before he reached out and pushed some hair behind your ear. You giggled and grabbed his hand, standing you two up and returning to your blanket pillow fort. As you reached your spot and bent over to rearrange some things that had been moved, you felt Belphie's hand caress you. You gasped slightly, standing and turning to face him. Your face was painted in a dark red blush as you saw Belphie slowly move in on you. Before you knew it, you were down on the makeshift bed Belphie on top of you. "You know cows are my favorite animal, and you just so happen to have these beautiful mounds that need milking." You nodded once, eyes never leaving his. "I-I'd like that, Belphie." He smirked. He may have been a sleepy man, but once you got him riled up, he was like a bull in heat before he went back to bed.

[luimagines]

I dare you to do one with your favorite trope to write (unless you've already done it)

Oh my goodness, this might be longer that usual. XD

And I really had to think about what I wanted to write. I think I'll make this a one-shot. (unless you guys want more anyway) Prepare for this to be as self indulgent as hell. :D

And I'll make it Time while I'm at it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

This was the third time this week that you found something like this. You didn't know who was doing this.

A basket, filled to the brim with goodies and trinkets alike, sat properly outside of your window sill. It would be charming if you weren't on the third floor. Someone was climbing up to your balcony and leaving the baskets for you to find.

It was creepy- to a degree. There was never anything malicious about it though. The baskets typically held a flower, a warm meal (or groceries) and some little thing for you to put around your apartment.

You see, you moved to the Kingdom of Kokiri with nothing but a backpack and small child's wagon. Your apartment wasn't even on a nicer side of town. But it hard to be worried about robbers when you're home is bare and empty.

Slowly, that's been changing though. The baskets always had a poem attached, but no name. You secret admirer would give little things from time to time. The baskets are getting more frequent too.

What used to be a small monthly thing, turned weekly then bi weekly- and you're beginning to suspect that they're turning into a daily thing.

Part of you worries that whoever this is, is spending too much on you.

But seeing that the last basket had a new set of dining wear with plates and cups and a some nice utensils to match- you're not inclined to have them stop anytime soon when they're improve your very living conditions as it is. Even if you feel a little guilty.

That being said, this basket had a warm meal already prepared, still steaming in the glass tupperware. There was a small bouquet of roses near the top and a small little box that you opened to see a single slice of chocolate cake.

The card was attached on the inside but it lacked the typical poem. It simple read: "Rest well, Love. You've worked hard today. Dinner's on me. I just want to see you smile in the morning."

You smiles and tucked the card back into its place, bringing the basket back into your apartment.

You have to figure out who this secret admirer of yours is. It has to be someone with access to your floor but it can't be a neighbor. Right? You're on the corner so it can't be anyone to your left. But maybe your neighbor to the right? That's a creepy thought. You hardy ever see him and you don't think he showers throughout the week.

It can't be him. Or at least you're going to deny it.

Maybe it's someone from above? That's more likely. There is this cute guy that you know lives on the floor above you, but you don't know which apartment. It wouldn't be hard to drop the basket secretively onto your balcony from above if that was the case.

The thought rotates in your head as you eat the food. It's delicious. Decadent, even.

Gratitude fills your heart and soul. you have to return the favor somehow after everything this person has provided for you. But how?

You head to bed with a smile on your face and a full stomach. You'll have to start small but you can think of something.

The next morning you head to the castle and walk straight to the throne room.

It was a deal that the king had proposed personally to you. You get to work concern free in his kingdom but you have to report to him every other Tuesday. Seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you didn't think it wise to refuse.

You've grown somewhat close, but with his power and status by his side, you couldn't help but slightly intimidated by him even now.

The king- like most Royals of Kingdoms of Hyrule- was a dragon. Sure, he could take the form of a typical man, but he stayed in his half form more often than not. His age and strength add to his credentials. As the current senior amongst dragons, all you've gathered is that he's lived longer than he appears. The older the dragon, the stronger they are.

King Link is a force to be reckoned with.

However, he's kind and patient with you. He's not all that bad.

You nod and grin at the Captain, who's affectionately called Warrior. Another dragon hidden among the people. You don't know his story, but he's a hard working fellow. He also came to the king in a time of need, looking for asylum and has been working under his employ ever since. He is the king's right hand man.

Warrior smiles back and salutes you softly as you enter. You'll never understand why you've more or less been given free reign of the castle, but with his approval, you feel better to head on in.

You meet the king and curtsy clumsily, still feeling rushed. He's asked you call him Time and he stands from the throne. His face is kind, amused even. A chuckle tumbles out of him as he walks toward you, his marble like tail swinging behind him. "I thought we were passed the formalities, my dear."

You clear your throat. "Were we? I don't recall."

He laughs again. "Come. We have much to discuss."

You nod and follow. He leads you to the back room with a gentle touch the small of your back. It's a familiar routine that you've grown comfortable with.

There's a small rounded table with a pale blue laced table cloth. There's a delicate tea set and it's covered to the brim with snacks and treats alike. You think you see a few of your favorites and your eyes light up at the sight.

King Time notices and he smiles, pleased. "Sit."

You nod and take your usual spot. Time sits across from you and serves you the pieces that you eyes earlier. You almost feel bad. You're still full from the night before.

Time notices. "Something wrong, dear?"

"No." You shake your head, afraid of insulting him. "Someone gave me dinner last night and I'm still a bit full from it."

Time seemed to be shocked by the tidbit. "Really?... Was it good?"

"It was delicious!" You can't help but gush. "I would normally cook for myself but they send food from time to time and it was still warm so I couldn't resist."

His smile turns a little tight. "Is that so? I'm glad that you were fed adequately then.... May I ask who?"

You falter, the smile on your face turning more soft and shy. "Um... I think it was my neighbor..."

"...You don't know who it is?"

You blush and look down onto the table, playing with the treats on your plate. "I know that I should be more cautious. But they've only ever left it on my balcony... It's a secret admirer so to speak. They've given me trinkets and flowers and food. It seems as if they've slowly been furnishing my house for me. I don't know... I've been trying to think about who it may be, but I'm coming up short. Regardless, enough about my lack of love life-"

Time abruptly puts his hand under the table but you catch the reason why before he can hide it.

He's bent the fork in half with his hand, seemingly without realizing it. He smiles brightly, as if nothing happened and the thought gets put on the back burner for now. "Right... Well, you can always ask for my assistance, Darling."

You shake your head with a small smile. "Thank you, but I'm here to report my work. Let's get to business then."

Time clenches his jaw slightly but nods in agreement. "Right. I believe last time you mentioned that you were following a trail of some suspicious individuals on the property of the farm lands for relief efforts. Did that bloom into anything substantial?"

You pull out a manila folder with a smirk and hand it to the king. "Did it ever."

The time passes before you know it. Little by little, as you give your report, if drifts away and you're talking about your lives as much as you can before you leave.

Warrior comes in, informing Time of another meeting has to attend. He looks apologetic.

The king winces but you're quick to stand up, mid panic. "I'm sorry. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Impossible." Time blurts, standing abruptly as well. He reach out as if to stop you and moves around the table as if to block your path. His tail curls around your ankle, stopping your in your tracks. It's gentle but firm. Even if his grip is painless, you can already tell that you wouldn't be able to escape on your own.

You freeze and after a beat he lets you go. Time gulps and stands, seemingly more aware of what he was doing. His grip falls away and he takes a step back. "R-right... I won't keep you from your work much longer then."

You can't help but blush. He's always been fine with putting a hand on your shoulder or your back... but the tail is one of the most sensitive parts of a dragon. And he just grabbed you with it. For some reason, you find yourself blushing.

You nod dumbly, as if your schedule is jammed packed like his. Your heart is pounding. You follow Warrior out of the room as he leads you back to the main gate of the castle.

"Sorry." Warrior says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nonono-" You're still shaken by the phantom feelings of the scales around you. Even if it was just a brush, there was a power there. You don't know why you're so out of whack suddenly. The act was more intimate than you were able to admit. "If you didn't say anything, I would have kept going. Honestly, I swear he's just humoring most of the time."

"This is the only time we get him to actually take a break." Warrior tells you. "He'd work himself t the bone if it weren't for you. It's not like he can't afford it. He's two years ahead of his work. By all means, keep him there longer."

You flush and look away, walking out of the gate. "Oh please, he'll get sick of me before we'd know it."

Warrior is quick to bite his tongue, biting back the instant retort that no doubt sat on his tongue. He takes a breath and shakes his head.

"...He likes you." Warrior looks pained. Like there's something there that he wants to say but can't. You don't see it. "Would you like me to walk you home? If I recall you live far enough away-"

"Not enough to cause concern, Captain." You smile and pat his shoulder. "But thank you."

"His Majesty wouldn't like it if anything happened to you." Warrior tries to push it a little bit.

You shake you head. "And take more of your time away? You work just as hard, if not harder, than the entirety of the castle staff. I think only the King works harder than you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. His own scales poke from under his skin. Something is riling him up but you don't know what. You've never seen his dragon form or even his half. He seems to hide it more often than not. You would never know he was a dragon if the King hadn't said anything earlier.

Warrior sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Very well... Just... be safe, yeah? I don't think the goddesses themselves would be able to calm the king should things go wrong."

"Like what?" You snort. "I end up in the hospital? I'll be fine. No worries."

You wink for good measure and head home, happy, fulfilled and ready to take on the rest of the week.

You miss the next three visits.

Part 2

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll. 

The other twenty-two are, though. 

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it. 

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums. 

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.” 

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?” 

He bristles. “You…!” 

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time. 

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap. 

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?” 

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query. 

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss. 

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.” 

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?” 

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch. 

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.” 

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.” 

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments. 

You both elect to ignore her. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?” 

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away. 

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.” 

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck. 

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.” 

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey. 

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease. 

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.” 

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.” 

“I never needed one before.” 

A glass shatters violently. 

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath. 

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.” 

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.  

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’ 

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly. 

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew. 

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you. 

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether. 

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged. 

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again. 

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you. 

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.” 

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement. 

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it. 

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede. 

You have to stand on your own strength. 

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago. 

You grumble a few choice words. 

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.” 

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods. 

And so the three of you part ways. 

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office. 

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially. 

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond. 

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist. 

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.” 

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong. 

“Who will be there?” Blade asks. 

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality. 

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.” 

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps. 

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?” 

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.” 

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone. 

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic. 

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment? 

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?” 

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.” 

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely? 

“What do you consider a sin?” 

“Anything that defies the natural order.” 

“Such as…?” 

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over. 

“Defying death.” 

“Not inflicting it?” 

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.” 

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity. 

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption? 

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper. 

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.” 

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.” 

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature. 

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys. 

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. 

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.” 

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.” 

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting. 

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan. 

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?” 

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.” 

“Hm.” 

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that. 

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds. 

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary. 

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not. 

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back. 

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression. 

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply. 

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous. 

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. 

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world. 

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks. 

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”  

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.” 

“Have an underling do it.” 

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.” 

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence. 

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.” 

You rise to your feet. 

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…” 

What have I sacrificed my freedom for? 

Blade’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.” 

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes. 

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter. 

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready. 

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received. 

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again. 

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too. 

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump. 

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?” 

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better. 

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?” 

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament. 

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”  

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!” 

(It sounded better in your head). 

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?” 

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground. 

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end. 

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished. 

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness. 

The planet itself is frozen for a time. 

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon. 

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire. 

Then the screaming begins. 

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind. 

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes. 

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone. 

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?” 

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus. 

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. 

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin. 

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops. 

The dark swath — that’s Blade. 

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely. 

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch. 

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive? 

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold… 

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed. 

Unless he chose to shield you. 

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions. 

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are. 

Blade stirs. 

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it. 

Or so is your conviction until he moves again. 

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position. 

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket. 

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place. 

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand. 

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks. 

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid? 

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause. 

“If you can’t speak, point instead.” 

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy. 

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short. 

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision. 

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone. 

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest. 

“It’s not my priority,” he says. 

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches. 

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated. 

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye. 

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework. 

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights? 

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle. 

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later. 

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded. 

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop. 

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated. 

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle. 

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second? 

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress. 

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out. 

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts. 

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate. 

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks. 

An invisible force hauls you back. 

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader. 

You blink and you’re back in reality. 

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you, 

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.” 

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet! 

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against. 

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…? 

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.” 

The sentence has been delivered. 

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber.