#it's all outlined with notes about all the things I need to wrap up

[filet-o-feelings]

I'm in the mood to write but I can't settle long enough on any one wip to work on so I'm just sitting here scrolling...

[vienssunshine]

It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but i was extra inspired from a tiktok my friend sent me description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long that, when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different. 

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day. 

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot. 

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.” 

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped. 

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body. 

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?” 

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer. 

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?” 

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does. 

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him. 

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them. 

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation. 

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent. 

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say. 

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last. 

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“ 

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.” 

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it. 

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.” 

[morguecuts]

Incase I’m Not Here

five hargreeves has a baby with fem!reader  synopsis: five has saved the world from an apocalypse countless times. after creating a loving family of his own, his constant worry that the end will come again unfortunately became true. word count: 1.5k tags: five is a father, fluff, angst, death, a few sad moments authors note: this is one of my most beautiful, yet devastating pieces. i truly love the idea of five being a loving father :(

  ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱ the end of the world was an ongoing tragedy for many years, ruining the lives of billions over and over again, but especially the hargreeves. the umbrella academy, as they were called, spent endless months trying to prevent an apocalypse from occurring. they traveled from timeline to timeline, skipping around decades trying to save themselves and the remainder of earth. 

when the timeline was assumed to be restored, the superhumans had agreed to go separate ways and live their lives. diego and lila created their own family, housing a new timeline version of lila’s birth parents. viktor moved all the way to canada, owning a bar and a gray cat named misty. luther was typically off the grid, except the occasional birthday post for him and all of his siblings. klaus and allison lived together, in a three story house with allison’s daughter claire. 

five hargreeves traveled the world, worrying about the potential upcoming events that would force him and his siblings to reunite in tragedy. he tracked previous timelines, looking for artifacts that hint at a glitch in the system. after the first 5 years of silence, and seeming nothing pointing toward any timeline issues, he began to calm his nerves. 

that’s when he met the mother of his child. she was the light that five never knew he was missing. she ignited a burnt flame deep inside his soul, rekindling the lost inspiration he held for things that were other than research. in addition, her beauty was unmatched to anyone he had ever seen, or met before. her long hair completely covered the back of her body, tracing the outline of her beautiful shape. her perfectly puzzled face made him swoon almost immediately. most importantly, the way that she loved him made him learn to love who he was inside, instead of who people wanted him to be. 

their home was a perfect combination of their personalities. a matte black and white aesthetic, perfectly clean and chic, with a hint of victorian vampire. her feminine touch was visible in all the right places, creating a warm home for the two of them, and anyone else who entered. his headstrong worries of future destruction set up for typically annoying safety procedures, but she didn't mind it. the pair merged together quite beautifully, carbon copies of the other. if five didn’t know any better, which to be fair he actually did, then he would say they were lovers in every possible timeline. 

five was used to living for himself, his siblings, and even the rest of the world. his purpose was always meant to save other people, live for them, protect them. however, now 5 years into the loving marriage with her, he had learned to live for someone who wasn’t superhuman. 

he stood hovering over the clean white bassinet. the small beaded eyes glance up at him, an overwhelming amount of confusion falls over them before turning to love. her small nose scrunching at the sight of him. the few hairs brushed upon her head are slicked down away from her face. her small pursed lips release grumbles and whines at an alarming volume, desiring for the tall suited man to hold her.

“she isn’t going to crumble if you pick her up, five. you have to hold her eventually, she needs to know who her father is.” the child's mother cooed, leaning into his back, wrapping her arms around his waist lovingly. the man sighed into her touch, except it wasn't really there. the air behind him was cold and stiff. his body ached for her, a sense of comfort was quickly turned back into sadness. 

“what if she doesn't like me?” he spoke into the rather empty room. “what if something triggers me to teleport and i hurt her? my only way of protecting her is loving her from a distance.” the water in his eyes glasses over the blue. he reeks of sorrow, insecurity, and fear. 

“you are the one man designed to protect her, my love. don't let what happened in the past make you afraid of what's happening in the present. she’s going to need you, we both know i can't help you anymore. please just pick her up, five.” the voice echoes around him, his eyes narrowing down onto the now sleep filled child. 

he carefully unbuttons the sleeves on his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and draping it onto the side of the crib. he rolls his white undershirt above his elbows, hyping himself up in the process. the small fragile girl rests on the pillowed surface, her tiny chest rising and falling. his hands carefully wrapping around her body, supporting her head while raising her close to him.

the small being is unlike anything he’s ever seen. tiny hands attached to tiny arms, short legs with the smallest feet. she’s unable to do anything without him. her entire life for the next few years depends on his actions. a small worried smile spreads across his face, admiring the girl leaning against his arms. 

small eyes blink open tiredly, glaring around before landing on her fathers. pure love glistens with the hazel colors swimming around. she makes chirps and squirming noises, slightly frightening five in the process. he takes mental notes on all of her little features. definitely her mothers eyes and lips, but his nose. truly the perfect combination of the two lovebirds. tears form in his eyes when he sees her smile, a miniature yet exact replica that once belonged to her mother. 

a faint knock taps upon the nursery door, the caretaker is chattering unknown words outside. theres a moment of silence before she enters the room, glancing at five with the baby cradled lovingly in his embrace. he turns around at the sound of her appearance, looking into her puzzled face. “there’s been a call for you, it's from your sister in law.” her eyes are firm and strong, holding his gaze causing him to pause for a moment. 

“and what did she say?” he turns his back to her again, slowly rocking the baby back into her peaceful rest.

“a briefcase was found in new york this morning. i’m so sorry, but it’s starting, sir.” she holds her hands together in front of her body, head dipping into her chest. 

“how long do we have?” five knows his constant worrying would eventually lead to this. he thought by spending endless hours hunting down glitches in the timeline, he could find a cause, find a solution, but nothing ever came until now.

“they don't know anything yet. it could be weeks, months, possibly even years. i’ve been told it's not severe, but that doesn't mean that it won't become so.” the sorrow in her voice runs deep, an unfortunate sigh escapes her lips. 

his stillness is deafening, the room has a slight buzzing noise from the house's electricity, but otherwise is completely silent. the babe shifts in his arms, nuzzling into him for better warmth and comfort. it is at this exact moment that everything clicks into place. she is his new purpose, and she will be his future. if anything is to go wrong, he would sacrifice his life for her without a question. nothing will ever be able to cause harm to her as long as he is alive.

his mind races thinking of the possibilities, will she have powers like him? will she be as headstrong as him? will she be accurately able to save the world if he is no longer alive to do so himself? The caretaker takes a step backwards, beginning to leave the room before his voice breaks the silence. “i need parchment, as much as you can physically gather.” his words are cold, and demanding, nothing that he has ever been towards her before. “and pens as well, as many pens as you can find me. i have work i must do before it's too late.” he begins to lie the child back into her bassinet, gently wrapping her back into the warmth of the bed. “yes sir, is there anything else?” the caretaker steps towards the door once more, ready to step into motion as requested. five’s eyes scan over every inch of his beloved offspring, a protective concern washed over his face. “yes actually, the albums from the attic please. i want her to be able to recognize her family when things go south.” his comment is quieter, more personal and calm. the caretaker whisks away, leaving the man and his daughter alone once more.

“you will never be alone” a gentle hand brushes small hairs away and out of her face. rubbing her small, chubby cheeks before pulling back. “i will guide you through everything that i possibly know, you will not fail this world.” his feet step back from the white wooden crib, reaching for the black jacket that was hung upon it earlier that night. slipping into it before exiting the room, heading toward his office.

 ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

[xazse]

we need more merman satosugu 🙇‍♀️‼️. HEAR ME OUT what if it was both of them who is the dominant one and they team up on reader

Warnings: Dom!SatoSugu + Merman!SatoSugu + fem!reader + creampie + pussy-eating + smut + notproofread + little bit of SatoxSugu + cumming untouched

Notes: this probably wasn’t as “Dommy” as I’d liked but I really hope you enjoy it regardless!!!

You’ve found out a new place where you, Satoru and Suguru can relax, you all sit upon the shore with their tails still submerged in the water along with your legs. It’s nice to see them enjoying the sun and preening at the attention you give them.

You get to see them even closer, you get to see their tails halfway out of the water and just how much they shimmer and glitter when the sun bounces off them. Such pretty blue and purple hues being expressed. You also get to see their slits where their sensitive areas are closed, it makes you think about how long it had been since the last time you had sex with the both of them. It was damn near magical how good you felt that day and they probably do share the same feelings.

Suguru is stealing glances at you and Satoru, it’s cute. He seems to want you but is too shy to ask out rightly. Satoru is quite frankly fed up with the tense atmosphere (he’s the only one thinking it’s tense) he can feel his body slowly growing more and more hot by the second. Your attire isn’t helping either: deciding to go with a tank top that squeezes your chest and short shorts that make the outline of your cunt more prominent.

He’s the one that moves first, grabbing your cheeks and giving you soft kisses at first that as you accept him turn into more deeper kisses. When you try to take control of the kiss he’s quick to ruin it. He signals to Suguru to start removing your clothes and he listens obediently. Starting with your tops and then moving on to your shorts, he attacks your underwear next and hurriedly throws the damn things to the side.

Satoru trades places with Suguru to let him kiss you, Suguru isn’t soft at the start he immediately starts sucking on your thick tongue. While he’s keeping you busy Satoru begins fingering his slit, trying to coax his cock out of its sheath, after a few deep pumps his thick cock is fully hard and ready to be buried in you. He didn’t get to feel you wrapped around him like last time so he made an agreement with Suguru to let him fuck you first, he’ll try his damn hardest to last as long as possible.

Trying not to break up you and Suguru’s kiss, Satoru slowly moves your body to sit upon his tail where his cock lies, he takes his dick in his hand and slightly places it against your cunt, measuring the size. Your pussy is small compared to him, he truly does wonder if the water really helped Suguru slide in easily considering his size as well.

He teases his cock with your pussy, nudging the fat thing against your clit, you moan everytime he nudges up, slowly but surely he’s getting you wetter, combined with Suguru not letting you pull away for even a moment the whole thing has your head spinning. Satoru is leaking precum from his tip, his cock looks angry and ready to cum but he knows he shouldn’t.

Suguru grabs you by your waist and lifts you up so you’re hovering over Satoru’s reddened tip, he gently brings you down.

“Fuc..k..” you mutter quietly, as soon as he feels your pussy his mind is going blank, just having you submerge his tip feels so fucking good, this is what suguru was bragging about and he completely understands as you sink inch by inch.

Satoru replaces Suguru’s hands with his own on your waist, you do look like you need a moment but Satoru is just too needy, he begins bouncing you on his cock, your cum and his cum mixing creating a slippery mess, and even more nasty noises. With the little space provided Suguru dips his head inbetween and starts licking Satoru’s slit, he uses his fingers to pry it open and scissors his tongue in and out.

“Oh god- Suguru-“ he chokes out, he tries to keep his eyes from falling closed but finds it difficult, he wants to keep staring at your face contort into different phases of pleasure.

Satoru starts to get a little bit aggressive with his thrusting, he leans your body back a bit and starts hitting your spot directly on the mark, he’s a little startled when you let out a strangled moan. You must feel as good as he’s feeling, your walls are so damn tight and spongey against his cock. His thrusts get even more intense when Suguru starts fingering his slit hard.

“Pleas- does it feel good for you?” Satoru practically begs you to answer him in a whiny tone, you nod that’s all you can do. Your silent answer pushes him over, he slams you one final time down on his cock and his slimy cum is filling you so deeply, it doesn’t even occur to you that he had came inside of you, you don’t care, not when suguru leans over to suck on your bud. You cum right after Satoru, your cum soaking his cock.

You’re all panting wildly as you process what just happened and how good you all felt, you look to Suguru to see if maybe you can ride him as well but looking to his cock he’s made a mess completely untouched.

[daycourtofficial]

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 8k | Warnings: blood, gore, violence, death

Summary: in the immediate aftermath of your arrival in Autumn, Eris moves forward with his plans to overthrow Beron and secure the throne for himself

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and is a companion piece to ‘Chains around my demons, wool to brave the season’ but can be read by itself

Author’s note: Happy day 3 @erisweekofficial !!! The second I saw the betrayal prompt I knew EXACTLY where to go with it. I wanna give a big shout out to @mybestfriendmademe because they actually commented on my first gingerfucker fic about writing Eris killing Beron and it's always just been floating around in my head and now it’s here!!! Also need to thank @basketoffish - this fic wouldn't be half as good without her input/editing/brainstorming.

Beron Vanserra was going to die come sunset.

On the other side of the window, the trees shook from the wind, bending to their will. The branches occasionally scraped the window, calling for the male inside.

Eris laid in bed, gazing toward the closed window, his mate tucked into his arms. He never slept with the window open - it was a vulnerability, an opening, a way in. He watched the closed window, irritation creeping in at the persistence of the trees, their scratchy call grating on him.

You hadn’t been in Autumn for more than a few hours, but Eris could feel the tides changing. He couldn’t tell if your sudden arrival made the trees louder, their calls more insistent, or if he was more receptive to their pleas. 

He felt the call deep within him.

Eris has had centuries to contemplate the many, many ways one can kill their own father. Wrapping his fingers around Beron’s throat, applying more and more pressure until he felt the life seep from his body. Tying weights to his ankles and pushing him into the nearby lake. A dagger to the heart. A sword slicing across his neck. A hunting ‘accident’ that saw Beron caught in a bear trap laced with faebane, a sacrifice to the animals nearby that his father’s flesh was worth more as a meal than as a father.

Eris had imagined it all, each scenario becoming more and more detailed and gory than the last. None seemed foolproof enough to kill his father.

All except one.

It was dark as he moved about the room, though no less loud as he continued to ignore the shaking windows, the frenzied tapping of the trees as they tried calling out to him. He knew what they wanted, wanted it himself, but pretended to avoid it - his destiny - for as long as possible. Their calls followed him as he moved about the room, steps silent as he outlined his plan internally, going through every step as he placed plates of armor on his limbs. The clay colored metal fit like a second skin, that layer of protection doing little to slow him. He ran through every minute detail, everything that has to work out in his favor for a positive outcome.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice stops him cold, halting his movements. He hesitates before he turns around to face you - he hadn’t heard you stir, hadn’t felt the twinge in his chest at you waking - had no time to prepare for this reckoning,

“Going for a stroll.”

You blinked, making a show of running your eyes over his partially armored body, clearly in disbelief. He could kiss you for not scoffing in question, cry because the understanding feels worse. He sighed in defeat, leaving his things on the bed before moving toward you. He reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, mouth opening and closing, the words not coming, but you waited.

“Please.”

It came out more like a sigh. He could have said more. He probably should have. Your soft gaze hardened his resolve even further, determination further settling in his bones as his shoulders straightened. The bond picked up in his chest, the duet between your souls a familiar song. As the sun would rise on this day, the melody that was so familiar to him would be played with trepidation, tempo increasing as the day continued, as if the string connecting your souls had no idea the outcome the day would provide, the Mother herself plucking the string in anticipation.

He took in the planes of your face and he could feel the lightest touch of your powers deep in his chest.

Resolve.

Determination.

Love.

He could hold you, tell you how he had to do this. How he couldn’t stomach the thought of you in Autumn with Beron just around the corner. How his world shifted with the mating bond, as if he had been walking through life at an angle but could now stand straight. Instead, he watched your breathing, eyes roaming across your face. His thumb brushed your lip, taking in the shape of your lips, the slope of your nose.

“My mate.”

It conveyed all of his thoughts and more. His thumb caught your jaw, holding it in his grasp just enough to keep you from turning away. As if you would ever look away.

“Stay with my mother. Please.”

His tone was urgent. A final instruction he had to share or else he’d be unable to leave. You must’ve seen the urgency, the plea in his eyes - protests and questions swallowed as you nodded. This was his fight. A meticulous plan he had cultivated over a century of scheming and bargaining and debating. The abruptness of his plan being put into motion wouldn’t stop him from keeping out any unknown players.

Especially you.

He looked to the window, finally acknowledging the call from the trees, allowing their song to entice him and coax him from his place of comfort. 

Gods, he hated leaving you. Hated every part of it. Years later, when he would think about this day, mull over all of the impossibles that happened, he would tell his children that the hardest part of the day was when he gave one final kiss before departing without looking back.

His hands itched to hold you longer, his palms burning with the feeling of you as he winnowed outside the Forest House, landing not too far from the exit. He had considered winnowing directly, however he had to be careful to reserve his magic for the day to come. He only winnowed outside the house so he would be seen by as few people as possible. 

Eyes and ears were everywhere inside.

Eris moved through the forest, the wind through the trees a familiar song as he looked to the moon, asking for the first time in centuries for some entity to look over him. A century of unanswered prayers led him to not bother to ask for much, but tonight it was more than his life on the line.

Eris followed the beaten path to the stables, long legs leading him through the stalls, until he finally came to a stop before Cameron, his red friesian, and his preferred mount of many years. She had been a young foal much too small to hold his weight when Eris first met her but he'd been patient and encouraging, feeding her sugar cubes as he watched her grow into her gangly limbs. He was rewarded by the now sure footed beast with gentleness and docility, even as the stable hands fought to land in her good graces.

Cameron had been a young foal when Eris met her, much too young and small to handle his weight. He had enjoyed watching the young beast grow, feeding her sugar cubes as she went from gangly limbs to a sure footed force to be reckoned with, docile and gentle for eris even as the stablehands fought to land in her good graces, but she was always docile and gentle for Eris.

He walked her out of the stall after providing a saddle for himself, closing it behind him, leaving as little evidence he was here as possible. Once out of the stall, he mounted her, swinging one leg over her back before she took off, the Forest House disappearing behind him quickly.

Eris tries not to think of the day ahead as he goes through the motions of saddling Cameron. Doesn’t want to think of the many lives on the line for him nor about how he would rather not involve Cameron or his brothers in this. He closed the door, double checking the stalls to make sure he's left as little evidence as possible. He cannot afford to count his regrets now. He will have an eternity to repent, as hellion or High Lord. Once out he mounted her with practiced ease, swinging a leg over her back mid stride, the Forest House a speck in the distance before he's fully seated.

The landscape changed as Cameron galloped beneath him, her hooves leaving impressions in the mud in their wake as they rode north, the trees leading Cameron with their song. Once the song got loud enough, he pulled the reins, stopping in a clear field. HIs pull urged Cameron to stop before dismounting and tying her reins to a nearby tree. He gently stroked her mane, the horse unsettled at Eris’s destination. He spoke softly, telling her he wouldn’t be long. It had a slight effect on the mare, her hooves staying planted as Eris turned from her.

The leaves crunching beneath his boots got louder as he approached the exact spot he’s thought about every day for the past century. Mapping out the exact route in his head thousands of times. The leaves sounded like the bones of the fallen beneath him, a walk through the graveyard of his father’s reparations.

He could feel the thrumming in his chest as he got closer, a rhythmic pulsing mirroring his own heart. It sounded nothing like the song of the mating bond inside him, the tones deeper and more primitive. Almost like the drums of fire night, calling to him from deep within his soul. The call to fire night is one of claiming a body. This call was the same, but the call asked for violence, not eroticism.

The drums became louder as he walked in circles, trying to pinpoint where the sound was loudest. If the sound grew softer, he marked a line in the dirt with his boots before turning around until eventually he had made a circle of marks about three feet in diameter.

Eris considered turning around, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, but the wind pushed him forward. He sunk his knees into the earth, his fingers breaking the topsoil. Dirt clung beneath his nails as he clawed through the soil, moving mound after mound toward him. The dirt began caving back into the hole, causing him to start pushing the dirt away from him.

He felt more and more rabid the further he dug, as if he should have brought his hound Clover to do this instead, her paws much more efficient and adept at digging than his fingers.

But he didn’t want Clover here, or any other living creature for that matter.

He hardly wanted Cameron here, but he needed her. Too far to travel by foot, and he didn’t want to waste his magic by winnowing everywhere.

The song in his ears had gotten louder as he dug, a chorus of long gone heartbeats drowning out all noise. The song was deafening now, uncertain he’d ever be able to hear any other song again.

His nails made a toe curling sound as they scratched across a metal box, his ears twitching at the sound. He dug around until he could see the entirety of the box, his hands moving to pull the box from the earth. He inspected the long box, the metal exterior having no cracks or screws keeping it in place. After finding none, he took a deep breath before placing his hand on the top side of the box, pushing heat from the palm of his hand onto the surface of the box, the dark gray metal glowing orange from the heat. 

His fingers gripped the hot metal, his skin unflinching from the heat as he curled his fingers into the metal, forging his own opening. The contents glittered through the hole he created, his eyes full of reflected light as his fingers wrapped tightly around the jewel encrusted hilt that turned into branches.

The hilt was magnificent - a sword truly made for slaying a beast. The song in his ears was louder, the heart beats racing as he unsheathed the sword from the prison it had been confined to for over five centuries. A legendary sword - one of the few magic imbued items in the Autumn Court.

The Spine of Autumn.

A name unspoken for centuries, millenia perhaps. Beron had spent a long time ensuring the few who had known about it were quickly taken care of, never to be seen again.

The light hit the metal as he pulled the sword out, the blade glistening in the sun. The sword was harsh on his senses - the glint of the hilt nearly blinding, the song in his ears deafening. 

The only thing keeping him grounded was the cool touch of the sword against his palms.

He placed the sword into the sheath he brought with him, the long blade covered in cracks of lava hidden once more. 

He placed its old sheath back into the box before he reburied it, the efforts much quicker than unearthing the blade. With the box in the ground once more, Eris turned his back on the mound of disturbed soil. His steps were quick as he reached Cameron, mounting her quickly before taking off once more, the handle of his sword gleaming in the sun.

The sun rose higher as Cameron ran through Autumn, her chestnut braided mane glowing in the morning light. Both of his stops were kept to a strict itinerary- entering his younger brother’s separate homes, Alastor and Cormac, telling them that they knew exactly what to do and to begin their work.

He didn’t linger - hardly spent enough time in their home for his scent to linger for long before departing onto the next brother. He hadn’t bothered planning for Flint, knowing it would be in vain. It was more likely that Flint would turn him into Beron for his treason than even consider helping, so he stuck to the brothers he knew would provide some aid.

The long journeys between his brothers gave him large chunks of time devoted to praying to the Mother that things were going as they should in the Forest House.

There was, unfortunately, one place Eris had to winnow to. Too far to reach in time by horse, once he had made it a few miles from the barracks, he had dismounted from Cameron before tying her reins to a tree once again.

“I shouldn’t be long, Cam.”

He stroked her mane slowly, trying to reassure the mare that he would be fine. There was a nip in the air as Eris strolled into the human lands, the early morning fog hovering just above the wet grass as he approached the manor. 

Swift knocks twinged with urgency met the wood. He could hear movement from behind the door, hushed voices coming from behind it before it swung open, a dark skinned woman with bright red hair looking up at him. Her eyes looked Eris up and down, an eyebrow raised as she quickly shut the door, steps quick as she went further back into the house, before a moment later the door swung open again, Lucien’s tan skin greeting Eris instead. Lucien’s hair shone against his dark chest, his fingers fumbling with the tie of his breeches.

“Lulu.”

Lucien met Eris’s tone with an eyeroll and a quiet fuck you before his fingers moved to shut the door, but Eris quickly placed his foot in the doorjam. Lucien sighed out of his nose, turning on his heel inside the house knowing Eris would follow. The inside of the manor was covered in gray walls, gold ornate furniture, and, much to Eris’s amusement, a bright pink couch he walked towards as Lucien sat opposite him in a red and gold armchair.

“What do I owe the displeasure?”

Eirs took in the room - a handful of landscape paintings on the walls, the two humans Lucien lived with down the hall listening. Lucien’s scent wasn’t very strong, meaning he likely got back into the moral lands not long before Eris’s arrival.

“There used to be a time when you were delighted to be in my company, sunshine.” 

“Anything is preferable to the company of our other brothers.”

The ruse grated on Eris. He had half a mind to come clean, uncaring of the two humans listening down the hall. But this was Lucien’s life. The choices he made were his to tell, and if Lucien wanted to continue the ruse, then so be it.

“I see your choice in decor has become rather flamboyant with time.”

“My time in Spring made me quite fond of hues of pink.”

The two brothers stared at one another, not letting many words pass between them, an almost awkward silence stifling the room. Eris had turned to the one common ground that always remained between them, like a second language only they knew.

“Have you heard about the birds of Night? The one so precious to Rhysand and the other bats?”

Lucien’s eyes widen if just for a second before returning to an unamused look.

“Yes, I’ve kept my ear to the ground and heard rumblings.”

I know about you two.

Eris reoriented himself, fixing his posture. “The flightless birds have left outside of their normal migratory patterns.”

She’s left Night unexpectedly.

Lucien shifted in his seat, and Eris knew he understood.

“And where have they gone?” Lucien was giving Eris his full attention, and it panged in Eris’s chest that the only reason for that was the subject matter.

“They’ve begun crossing the border, making it past Winter into Autumn, either forgetting or not caring about the predators that lurk there.”

“And why are you here?” An almost accusatory tone, one he has become accustomed to hearing from his youngest brother.

“I know you’re quite fond of these birds and I’m sure we can come up with some plot to protect them.”

Please help.

Lucien’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes cast to the door Vassa and Jurien stood behind with bated breath.

“Yes, I’m sure we can. Did you have something in mind?”

Eris nodded without speaking. Lucien nodded quickly before rising, running a hand through his long hair.

“Allow me to change into more appropriate attire and I shall accompany you.”

After several moments, Lucien reappeared in light armor that had their family crest on the chest, but he could see black leathers peeking out from beneath the metal plating. Eris’s throat went dry at the sight, not knowing Lucien had such armor, much less kept it for whatever purpose.

“Don’t look so surprised. Mother brought it some time ago.”

Of all the reasons for Lucien to be wearing Autumn armor, that was certainly not one of them. Before he could ask, Lucien clarified further.

“She dropped them by one evening quickly because the last time we had met, I had told her an interesting story about a bird and a fox.”

His mother had known for quite some time - but Eris had never indulged her in details past the night he discovered his mate. “And how did the story end?”

Lucien shrugged, attempting to seem unbothered, but his eye betrayed him. The golden thing whirred in its socket, making the hair on Eris’s arms raise. “It hasn’t yet.”

Eris waited as Lucien changed and the two brothers winnowed directly into the barracks, Lucien groaning at the site of Alastor and Cormac before him. 

“You failed to mention the likes of these two were involved in your harebrained schemes.”

“Don’t be a fool, Lucien. Everyone save for Flint is involved.”

Lucien opened his mouth to speak once more, but Eris’s raised finger stopped him.

“When all of this is done, the three of you may fight for a century for all I care. We don’t have to like each other, we just have to be in agreement as to the real threat.”

No one spoke his name. A habit since childhood, as if the utterance would summon him.

Eris breathed in through his nose, preparing himself to share parts of his grand plan.

“The three of you will be a part of my army.” Their voices started up again, but his raised voice immediately silenced them. “The three of you will blend into my army, seizing the Forest House. I will be meeting with him this afternoon, and the three of you will work with my guard to take control of the house once I’m inside. Once we have control, he will fall shortly after.”

“What of the advisors?” Cormac’s thick accented voice cuts through, interrupting Eris.

“Don’t worry about them. They are being dealt with now.”

That raised more questions than it answered, but Eris didn’t have the time to walk his brothers through his plans.

“I have to go, but I am entrusting this to you three. Having a stronghold in the Forest House is key to this plot, otherwise it will all fall apart and we will all be executed for treason.”

His eyes looked at each of his brothers, taking a few seconds to remember their faces. None of the relationships within the Vanserra family tree were ever simple and clearcut. His brothers all hated him for various reasons, and he them. The only thing truly connecting them other than blood was pure hatred directed toward their father.

On any other subject, he knew having his brothers involved would be a risk. But the three looking at him now would do anything to see Beron disposed of, no matter the cost. Petty squabbles can come later. His ears rang again with the drums, his fingers annoyed at every surface he touched that wasn’t the hilt of the sword.

He spent several minutes going over the layout of the house with them, which strategies would work best for taking it as a stronghold. It was mostly for Lucien’s benefit, Beron having changed a few things around since his youngest brother was ran out of Autumn.

“You all know what to do.”

He didn’t have the ability to convey any of his feelings towards them. How he felt like he failed them by allowing Beron’s corruption to turn their hearts. How he should have killed Beron centuries ago.

But he doesn’t. Instead he turned, walking through the barracks before finding Cameron once more and riding through the trails of Autumn toward the Forest House.

Upon Eris’s arrival into the Forest House, the house moved about in a sense of normalcy. Servants fluttered about, avoiding his eyes as they went about their duties. He made his way to the throne room, where Beron preferred their private meetings to be held. He pushed open the double doors to find Beron already sitting at the throne, waiting expectantly. Eris walked forward before stopping halfway between the door and Beron to kneel.

Over the years, Eris had allowed himself to seem sloppy for this moment. He spent the mornings and afternoons training his soldiers, his armor more like a second skin. 

The first time had been a mere accident. He had forgotten to shed his armor, not thinking about the rules and expectations Beron sets upon his family. Instead of the issue they had planned to discuss, Beron had forced Eris to shed his chest plate, spending the hour-long meeting whipping his back instead.

When Eris had returned to his training, the pain from the wounds on his back gave him an idea. He didn’t do it frequently enough for Beron to punish him outside of these perceived wrongdoings, but just enough so a small pattern would form. Eris just needed the right moment, just needed Beron to be comfortable enough so he could move things into motion.

But it never came.

Beron’s voice filled the hall, the room entirely empty save the dais decorated with one throne.

“Any male in a position of power will always wonder how he will fall. He will try to see thousands of possibilities.”

Eris remained kneeling, not having been dismissed or even acknowledged when Beron began speaking.

“It is always on your mind - who is an ally and who is a foe?”

Screaming could be heard through the halls, the unmistakable sound of fighting coming through the crack beneath the door. Beron didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the sounds beyond the door. Somehow he knew this was coming.

Eris kept his head down, gritting his teeth in annoyance that someone tipped off his father, but his jaw fell slightly at the sounds of barking beyond the door.

It was Clover, he was sure of it. He had told Alastor to put armor on his hounds and release them, wanting them to act as an alert system to those inside the house that more soldiers were approaching. He didn’t expect them to be in the middle of the battle.

He could hear their growls and the shrieks of those they dug their jaws into.

He had been training the hounds for years on who to attack. Any advisors who happened to pass the kennels and were received less than kindly, Eris chalked it up to his hounds being bitches. The real truth was he spent decades gathering the scents of those advisors, guards he couldn’t sway, anyone who would stand in his way, using the clothing or fabric whenever he would be training his hounds on aggressive tactics. Getting them used to their targets.

But they still weren’t supposed to be here.

Thousands of hearts were beating in Eris’s ears, uncertain which was his own. He was sweating now, trying to keep the sword unsheathed for as long as possible.

Beron’s smile was feline as he took in the sounds of chaos. “Beautiful sound, isn’t it? I always loved the echo of treason in the afternoon.”

Beron breathed in deeply through his nose, straightening as he stood. Eris finally stood before he unsheathed the Spine of Autumn, the sword glowing all on its own. The molten lava in the metal practically crackling with heat. Beron laughed at the sight of it.

“You wield the power of things you don’t understand, boy. Give it to me.”

Berin held out his hands, fully expecting Eris to blindly obey his command. 

“No.”

Beron’s eyes crackled with anger. He never responded well to any defiance from any of his sons. In a fit of rage, Eris struck first. The first deviation from his plan. His sword sliced through the air, Beron quickly unsheathing his own to block. Beron’s counter attack was expected, Eris able to block with his hilt quickly. 

Several moments passed as the two swapped blows back and forth. Eris was sweating profusely, the roar of the sword growing louder in his ears, now silently chanting kill, kill, kill. Their combat consisted of matched hits, the room a sweltering heat between the two of them. Eris rolled from Beron’s blade, maneuvering through the room, trying to use anything in the bare room to get any form of leverage against his father. He walked up the steps of the dais, blocking each of Beron’s blows as he walked backward up to the throne.

The doors shook, he could make out occasional shouts and yells from his brothers from the other side, their voices desperate to get in. Each time he swung the blade, he could practically feel the rage of his last act of betrayal through the doors as he could hear them fighting off any more of Beron’s guard.

“I always wondered which one of you fools would try to overthrow me. Delightful to find out all of you participated in the coup.” Eris swung once more, his centuries of training his body into a weapon needed for this very moment. 

“Eris.”

His name was a hiss from his father.

“You are playing games you do not understand.”

The only other noise in the room was the clanging of their swords, the air heavy with dreams on both sides. One wanting a successful coup, the other wanting to prove time and again his strength and brutality.

“I understand well enough, father.” Beron tsked as if admonishing a schoolboy, his mouth sneering into a smile. “No, you don’t.”

Eris’s limbs ached as he bore the brunt of Beron’s full strength with each block and each attempted attack, the throne room devoid of any way to tell the passage of time. Was this purgatory, an in between life for those the Mother deemed unworthy of rebirth?

“A month before you were born, the stakes with Hybern were rising steadily. I found a witch and had a curse placed on myself.” 

The drumming in his ears made his father’s words next to impossible to make out, but somehow his mind knew what he was saying even if his ears couldn’t pick them out.

“Whoever kills me, kills themselves in the process.”

His father’s words did little to stop his movements, his attacks using more and more of his strength. The doors rattled once more, an echo of broken promises added to Eris’s neverending list of lies and betrayals.

He knew he was lying to his brothers when he said they would have a chance at Beron. The lie had rolled off his tongue, a means to get them here no matter what. Every plan he had had to get to this moment with their involvement in one way or another. Vengeance was always at the forefront of their minds and he gave them a taste for it. All he can do now is hope they will see this through.

His father having a debt for his soul, a life for a life, was not surprising to Eris. He was certain there was some cosmic debt for killing his father. Everything he worked for in this life came at a cost, why should that stop now in his final act?

If this was the end, he’d do all he could to ensure he had slain the dragon.

Eris mustered the last of his strength. The male who calculated every move, every breath he had taken over the past five centuries. 

It was the last move to make. The last time he’d deviate from the plan.

A life he’d dreamt of so close if he outstretched his arms his fingertips could ghost over it.

He thought of whispered promises, midnight declarations of love.

And he erupted.

The sword was bright and covered in blue flames as it met Beron’s sword once more, the clanging metal echoing through the air. Every slash, every hit was countered perfectly. 

A battle of wills.

Eris tapped into the well of rage within him, using that to push himself forward. To keep striking, even as Beron matched every hit. Eris felt his father having to use the well of power within him, and he was certain if he could just wear the bastard down he would have a shot.

Beron was powerful, a magic so deep and vast it wasn’t unheard of for new High Lords to drown in it. But Eris was ravenous, a hunger for that power so deep his bones were malnourished.

After what felt like centuries, Eris was finally able to thrust under Beron’s guard, the point of his sword nicking Beron in the neck. His father acted quickly, his counter parry catching Eris in the side, the heat from the blade slicing through the metal of his armor. Beron stomped forward, his sword raised over his head and Eris just barely blocked with his hilt in time. Eris pushed forward, using his legs to push Beron off of him to allow himself some breathing room. 

Beron took Eris’s expectation and used all his force to swipe his sword through the air, causing the Spine of Autumn to slip through Eris’s grasp.

Beron used the advantage to hit Eris in the torso, the reverberations from his armor causing his chest to vibrate. He took two more hits before his knees fell, the armor digging into his skin as he panted for breath.

“You stupid, stupid boy.” The words crashed into Eris as Beron’s sword hit him in the side.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see the greed in your brothers’ eyes? Expect your wretched softness to stray your mind?” 

Another clang, this one to his thigh. His limbs were roaring in pain, the heat of the room sweltering.

“You think I’d make my father’s mistake and let his runt of a son take his crown? No, my dear.” His tone was softer, as if he were imitating Eris’s mother, the sound causing Eris’s stomach to churn. 

Eris saw the sword glint in the moonlight, and he watched a hand cover the light from it. Beron smiled, his teeth covered in blood, making him appear more animal than fae.

“All of my idiot sons working against me. I should be proud to produce such heretics.”

Beron turned his sword, using the hilt to hit Eris square in the chest, causing him to fall onto his back, the clang of the armor echoing through the throne room. His father stalked toward him - a predator at the end of the hunt. His teeth gleamed in hunger.

“Perhaps your little coup would have worked if you had just one more of your brothers aiding you.”

Flint stepped out of the shadows, appearing from behind the High Lord. Flint was only a few years younger than Eris, but he had gladly taken on the personality that Beron wanted him to have. His long, practically maroon-colored hair covered parts of his face, but he made no move to fix it.

Eris was the only son to live permanently in the Forest House, all the others were scattered across Autumn in the hopes to keep more of the population in line. Flint had been sent to the furthest reaches of Autumn because he so resembled Beron with his cruelties that the High Lord wished for the farthest communities to feel his power.

Flint carried with him an air of unease, the scars on his face making him seem far more sinister than the legends that surrounded him could. He kept his words far and few between, preferring to keep any disagreements in the physical sense.

“Do not fret, I’m sure your mother and brothers can learn some very valuable lessons from your folly, even if you’re too charred to do the teaching.”

Beron gleamed with wicked delight as he heard Flint pick up the sword, his steps growing nearer. His father stayed rooted as his brother moved closer, dragging the sword behind him, the drag creating a terrible high-pitched noise.

Eris’s eyes were calculating as he looked to the sword, trying to gather any semblance of strength to move, to pick himself up. He just needed a speck of energy, to hold out long enough for the magic of the new High Lord to heal him.

But he was stuck. He couldn’t move. Forced to observe his own failed assassination. Ruminate on the life spent to get to this moment just to fall short.

Flint heated the sword, his flame dancing around the metal, turning into a redhot coloring.

His thoughts flicked through the hundreds of people he brought with him today, the fighting in the hallways, the banging on the throne room doors. It all faded to nothing, the only sound in his ears the tune of the mating bond deep on his chest.

It was a beautiful thing, even if it was only real for a glimmer of time.

Flint handled the sword, checking the weight of it as Beron looked to his oldest son, his eyes full of eagerness at the possibility of spilt blood.

Eris’s breathing was labored as Flint lifted the hilt high over his head before he quickly turned and sliced the sword through Beron’s neck, his blood flowing across the front of his body. The heated sword sliced easily through the High Lord, a squelching sound coming from him as Beron’s face remained with the sneer he held before it fell from his neck, his body following suit. Beron’s head rolled a few feet, his body slumping to the ground in a thump. He watched Beron’s eyes, watching the life seep from them as his head landed a few feet from Eris’s knees.

Beron’s armor clanged throughout the throne room, the last sounds of a tyrant jarring and almost anticlimactic.

The beast was slain, a shocking finale to a tyrant’s life. Eris couldn’t focus on him, couldn’t allow himself to feel anything other than concern at the male that was staggering before him, swaying on his feet.

Eris quickly moved to stand, not bothering to look at his father’s body as he darted forward, just in time to catch Flint. His weight was heavy in Eris’s arms, the deadweight nearly causing both males to collapse. Eris wiped the blood from his own mouth before trying to speak.

“What the Hel were you thinking?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, the deep brown full of sadness as if Eris could watch all of his memories through them. The air was colder now, the rhythmic prose of the sword gone from his ears as his intended target had been slain. The bloodthirst sword had been quenched, but his brother had paid a steep price.

“You told me to strike when they least expect it.”

Autumn leaves crunched beneath his feet, his boots blocking out the chill of the air, his ears full of the sounds of tiny exhalations. He stood, watching the small boy maneuver around the tree, cutting up the bark with each slice.

“You’re too loud.”

Flint moved his head quickly, startled at Eris’s presence.

“I didn’t hear you.”

Eris moved toward his younger brother, easily pulling the sword from his hands.

“That’s because I didn’t want you to.”

He looked at the hilt of the sword - much too heavy for a boy his brother’s size. He huffed as he pulled a small dagger from the lining of his jacket before handing that to Flint, ignoring his brother’s attempts at reaching the sword again.

“Flint, there’s a reason every male worth his weight carries a dagger.”

Flint handled the small blade, flicking it through the air as if fighting an opponent, nearly cutting Eris’s jacket in the process.

“Why?”

“Because daggers allow you to strike when your opponent least expects it.”

His own words echoed back to him, feeling so unfamiliar in Flint’s mouth.

He always had the same eyes. Full of depths Eris could never fathom, a bottomless well of sadness and concession to an unwanted life. Somewhere over the centuries they lost that spark that Eris loved so much. He wondered briefly if to have a child is to watch that spark dull. But then his thoughts wandered to Lucien - the only one who got out, who got their spark back.

“Flint, we’ll get the healer. Mother’s coming, you have to- you have to see her.”

Eris started clawing, tugging with everything in him on the bond in his chest, urging you to come quickly. He needed someone, anyone to come. To see what his brother had done for him, for all of them, for Autumn.

“Eris, I-“

His bloodied hand reached up, shushing Flint. He was growing pale, his cheeks losing the red glow they always had.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll- we’ll be okay.”

Tears fell from Eris, landing directly onto his brother’s chest. He wasn’t sure where it came from - perhaps some pit deep inside of himself still cared for Flint. Their relationship was rife with double and even triple crossing, each conversation a meticulous game of chess that allowed for no winners, only heartbreak.

The blood loss was getting to him, he was sure of it. The room was spinning and the pounding in his ears finally stopped only to be replaced with an incessant ringing. His limbs felt so warm, his body overheating. He wrapped himself around his brother, trying to warm him.

“Flint, I have - I have a mate.”

As he spoke, he heard the doors burst open, and could hear the footsteps as several fae entered the throne room. He didn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes on his brother’s. He didn’t know why the admission had come forth, some part of him knowing that his brother was not going to make it through the night. It slipped from his lips, only now realizing this was the first time he had told anyone he had a mate.

His mother had sniffed it on him the night the bond snapped. Lucien - Eris had no idea how Lucien knew. 

But Flint was the first one Eris ever got to tell. And he watched his brother smile, an act more taxing than it should be, his eyes flickered with the life they used to have. Flint’s hand reached up, cupping Eris’s, before he nodded his head.

It was too late for words, but Eris knew what his brother was saying.

Eris looked into that dark brown - the color of soil, chocolate, coffee. Things that give life, things that are worth living for. And he swore he watched the life fade from them slowly, a dull sheen creeping in from the edges.

Traitors don’t get a victor’s life. 

To stab from behind is either cowardice or cunning, depending on which side of the blade you’re on.

He felt the presence of others, but this moment was all consuming: grief, relief, the new influx of emotions and sensations as High Lord.

This was supposed to be his ending. He had accepted that the moment Beron mentioned the curse, having given up any hope of leaving this room alive. He had accepted that Beron would be the last face he saw. A terrible ending to a life unlived.

He looked down at Flint, his eyes still having some life, and he called for his mother, beckoning her near. He didn’t take his eyes from his brother, but he somehow knew she was who Flint would want to see in his last moments. 

“Flint,” Marigold cooed, dropping to her knees next to Eris. He moved Flint’s head into her hands, his brother relaxing at her gentle touch, combing her fingers through his hair. His brother didn’t stir, so Eris jostled his body, desperate to get Flint this final moment with their mother.

“Come on, wake up. You have to tell her.”

Eris jostled him a bit more before his brother opened his eyes, half-lidded looking up at Marigold. Eris’s heart panged for her - another son gone at the hands of a Vanserra. Beron’s cruelty left no survivors, not even for a mother.

“I did it for you, Mother.” His voice was weak, but his words were full of need, as if this were a final confession. Marigold’s face remained soft, a flicker of a memory passing through Eris at being tucked in at night. Her soft voice lulled him to sleep, her serene smile the last thing he saw before he slumbered. Eris hoped death felt safe and warm like that memory. 

“I know, sweetheart.”

Flint coughed, a congested sound that didn’t sound right echoing through the throne room. Eris knew his other brothers littered about the room, but he didn’t dare look away from Flint. For the brother who gave up everything, Eris could devote his full attention in these final moments.

“It was all for you.”

He clutched her other hand tight in his, and she pulled him up to rest his head in the crook of her neck, sliding him from Eris’s grasp.

“I know, I know.”

Marigold did not ask for a healer. She must have known what Beron’s curse entailed. Perhaps having three of her sons killed by other family members was enough penance for her wrongdoings. 

Eris felt the magic surging through him, amplifying his senses, emotions, everything in him. It stitched and healed all the broken skin, the marred flesh. He felt his mate’s presence on his back, gentle touches that screamed I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. But his eyes stayed on his brother, each breath more taxing than the last one. 

It was Lucien who came forward with the ornate crown that looked like an infinite circle of branches with dying leaves and berries in his hands. A crown Eris had spent his whole life imagining how it would feel on his head. His neck didn’t ache with the weight of expectation like he thought it would as Lucien placed it atop his head.

It felt as if the sprigs were nestling onto his head, the crown coming to life to fit him perfectly, to take root with him as if to say you cannot go back.

Choices all led to this moment. Every decision made over the course of five centuries led to the thrumming power in his veins, the powerful family of nine now about to be a dwindled mess of five. 

There was no way back. What even would there be to go back to?

For centuries, Eris had thought he was doing it all alone. Scheming in the dead of night, forced to bloody his own hands. As his mother held Flint, his breaths taking longer pauses in between, his heart slowing in Marigold’s lap, Eris realized that he would never have gotten to this point alone.

A family fractured and wounded by each other for centuries, all coming together for this one moment in time. Nothing was simple in the Vanserra family, no relationship untouched by Beron. No matter how warped and twisted they were, this was still Eris’s family and they all came through when it mattered most.

There was no way to know how the future would unfold for the Vanserras. Millions of cruelties lay between all of them, even his mother was guilty for holding a grudge with him for what he took from her. No one in this room had the joys or naivety of youth.

Flint stopped breathing in his mother’s grasp and once she knew he was gone, she began sobbing into his head. His mother hardly cried. He had watched her deliver all of his brothers and been there in the aftermath. Heard her cries when Beron had first discovered her affair with Helion. These cries were different -like an animal howling at the moon in anguish. An unjust ending for their beloved child. Fire crackled in Eris’s veins, a silent promise that this was the last betrayal on the Vanserra line.

Roots popped up from beneath the tiling, startling Cormac before they wrapped around Beron’s body and severed head and dragged him beneath the surface, uncaring as they broke limbs and skin, the resounding crunch from either the tree or his body. His father’s body was pulled from the surface, a violent burial that left the throne room a disaster.

Outside the doors, Eris could hear the trees and paused at the tune of his mating bond. Despite there being no windows, the song was so loud his brothers could make out the melody. He listened closely, the song had a slow melody that flowed well. It sounded different than before - as if there were a different arrangement of instruments. The melody was the same, but it was less harsh than it was when he left the Forest House this morning. Then it sounded like a march, a call to battle. But now it sounded like he could make grand sweeping movements to it, spinning about a dance floor. It was then he understood. It was a waltz.

He listened once more, hearing the silences of the song that were usually filled in by your presence, only to find the gaps more prominent without your duet. His eyes stung as he realized they were singing a song of him and that it sounded beautiful.

The song of Eris floated through the trees, being carried on the wind throughout the fields of Autumn, telling the land that the evil has been expunged. The fields would bloom quickly, the land becoming more fertile and bursting with the life that had been missing for centuries. 

Across Autumn, the new High Lord’s song would be whispered, a beacon of hope to those long suffering beneath a tyrant. For the first time, the fae would hear Eris’s song and they would dance to it.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thanks for reading❣️

[honestsycrets]

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.” 

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program. 

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for. 

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking-- 

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well. 

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together. 

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers. 

“You’ll be working with me.” 

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.” 

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious.  Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.” 

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.” 

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

 “Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?” 

“Me.” 

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--” 

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.” 

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?” 

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.” 

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences. 

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out. 

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace.   Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed. 

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder. 

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all. 

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.” 

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side. 

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.” 

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine. 

“Gracias. From where?” 

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?” 

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.” 

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.  

“You like my sad love life?” 

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.” 

“Is that a request or an order?” 

“A date.” 

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too. 

“Miguel?” 

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.” 

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?” 

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely. 

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.” 

“Even you?” 

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?” 

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips. 

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?” 

“Swaying is good.”  

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong. 

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!” 

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.” 

“No need! I--” 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late? 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.” 

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky. 

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.” 

“Hm?” 

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet. 

“I told you not to wander off.” 

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.” 

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

 “I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.” 

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?” 

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?” 

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.” 

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for. 

He doesn’t make mistakes. 

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed-- 

“Miggy?” 

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?” 

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?” 

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.” 

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside. 

“You didn’t--” 

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.”  Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.” 

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe. 

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.” 

“I am.” 

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.” 

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples.  You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.” 

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…” 

“Lay down,” he told you. 

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face. 

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.” 

You flushed. 

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man. 

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission. 

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.” 

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his. 

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand. 

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?” 

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.” 

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.” 

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest. 

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,” 

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.” 

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor. 

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain. 

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--” 

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.” 

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock,  clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks. 

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva. 

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice. 

“Sí,” you answered. 

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.” 

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.” 

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Good. Let's fix our project.” 

[coralinnii]

Congrats on 2.7k followers!! You deserve it! :D For the event, may I request Malleus, Azul, Jade and Floyd with a gentle giant S/O? As you can already guess, S/O is super tall (you can change this detail if you’d like, but perhaps they’d even be noticeably taller than Malleus?) and maybe even kind of intimidating because of it, but they’re very friendly, quiet, and gentle. 

Again, congratulations on your achievements!! Keep up the great work you’re doing 🥳

‧₊˚✧ My Statuesque Sweetheart ‧₊˚✧

↳ Tall Gentle Giant/Reader

feat: Malleus ❋ Azul ❋ Jade ❋ Floyd genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, I love beluga whales (it’ll make sense in Jade’s ver.),

Sooo…being someone that can’t relate to being tall :I, I went around to ask some of my taller friends to know what’s that like, so this took longer cuz of research. I also got into Genshin to prep for another prompt someone asked me and dang, do I gotta research on that too.

Similar prompt: Tall!reader who loves hugs

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

You were certainly a surprise to him. In his long years, rarely does he find people where he doesn’t have to tilt his head down for once.

Despite your height, you were as cute and friendly as a woodland creature, a contrast to Malleus who exudes regal power without much effort. He’s fascinated by you as your stature can command the room yet your energy has a rather soothing effect on him and those around you. 

Man is saying you have zero scary dog energy, and that is adorable to him.

If you’re the affectionate type, congratulations! You’d be one of the few to be able (and allowed) to reach his horns. What started as curiosity soon became a habit as you made it your love language to care and clean Malleus’ iconic features. As a bonus, everytime you are done it’s fun to lay your head gently upon Malleus’, between his horns which catches him off guard no matter how often it happens. 

Having a tall man with money certainly has privileges as you now have access to his personal tailor as well. Was there a pair of pants you really like but it only reached your ankles? Not anymore, let the royal tailor deal with that and add some matching accessories to that. 

However you feel about your height, you are a sublime creature of beauty to Malleus. When he looks up to you smiling at him with the shining moon behind you highlighting your tall outline, he hasn’t seen anyone more otherworldly than you. 

You stand out amongst every human I have encountered. Hm? Ah, I do not refer to your stature but rather… the way you effortlessly capture my attention and ensnare my thoughts with visions of you.

Azul being around an incredibly tall person? What else is new? Azul doesn’t feel all that insecure about his height, before or after meeting you.

Well, you’re definitely the most pleasant person he knows that towers over him, at least. He knows that many, him included, would use your sort of stature as an advantage over others. Instead, he likes your rather sweet nature and way of conduct. 

If you have stretch marks due to your rapid growth spurts, Azul would feel absolutely touched if you trusted him enough to show it. Azul would genuinely praise your resilience to may have been an aching and painful experience to go through. If you let him, he could create a potion to get rid of the marks if it truly makes you insecure, but he finds you beautiful no matter what. 

Watch him flinch and get flustered anytime you wrap your arms around him, smothering him with your taller form. You would laugh to see him so easily out of sorts if you press your weight onto him. He can handle it of course, but the heat of your all-encompassing hugs is vastly different from his time in the cold sea. 

Azul would provide certain things that would suit your needs that others may overlook. Suddenly, you would find blankets that can cover you entirely, or you were gifted a coat that is actually a long coat that doesn’t awkwardly cut off at a weird length on you. Mirrors in Azul’s private room are always suspiciously up to your eye-level whenever you visit. 

He’s happy to know that you see him as someone reliable regardless of that. He has an interesting way of showing his appreciation

Do you like the new decor of the Mostro Lounge? The new additions are quite beautiful and eye-catching. The tall but dazzling designs were inspired by you, after all.

Oh my. What a sight to behold, you are. 

Jade doesn’t seem like the type to brag about his advantageous height, but he is aware that not many can reach his stature and even fewer actually pass him in that regard. 

He still treats you as courteously as he always does, even more so as the two of you start to grow closer. 

A nice bonus about having a tall boyfriend is that most of the things in his room are perfect for you! Beds you can fully stretch out in, actual full-length mirrors that don’t make you bend down, and furniture that doesn’t require you to squish yourself into. Jade’s (and Floyd’s) has become one of your favorite places to visit.

He does find it amusing that some people may find you intimidating because of your height as he knows that you were far from any definition of that word. Jade would chuckle to himself whenever he sees you getting happy or excited, like watching a playful beluga whale squeaking in joy. Your gentle features and bright smile shines through any misconceptions of your intimidating form. 

Though not quite used to it, Jade doesn’t mind having to crane his neck to meet your gaze. Especially not when he could watch your adorable quizzical expression as he asked you to lower your head to him, only to whisper teasing words into your ear. He especially finds it fun to watch you jump to your full height in flustered surprise, even occasionally bumping your head on a hanging decoration. 

Really, how could he resist you? 

Do you need rest, my love? Perhaps a cup of tea can soothe your aches and joints while you sit.

Oh, Floyd would have no issues with you being taller than him. Probably the opposite, really.

Don’t @ me but I fully believe Floyd has a thing for legs, be it his own or others. He’s so fascinated by these human features that you may even catch him blatantly staring appreciatively at your legs. 

“What’s the big deal? They’re right there, who can blame me?”

He will however, with full confidence, laugh his lungs out if you hit your head on the door frame or trip on an ottoman seat you didn’t notice. Maybe he’ll rub the ouchie away but he’ll be laughing while he does.

Be prepared for impromptu fashion shows with custom made shoes to show off your gorgeous mile-long legs. Floyd could spend hours looking through online shopping with you, showing you websites that specifically cater to tall drinks of water like yourself.

This man will be floored by the experience of being the little spoon of a hug. To be able to lean into your arms and rest his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while you  lovingly pat his hair? You can be unknowingly smothering him and he’ll be loving every moment of it. 

Regardless if you’re confident or not, Floyd loves to take you dancing. If you’re not confident in your dancing, Floyd is more than happy to lead you with every beat until you have fun. The man just loves to see the flashing lights paint your body, with your smile being the brightest of them all.

Did you get taller, Shrimpy? Aha ha, just pulling your leg there! Though, wouldn’t make a difference to me. You’re still a hottie even if you, hehe!

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance pt. 3

Author's Note: guys this semester has been raw dogging me tbh. curse my damn zoology classes. anyways love being a woman in stem and I love Stan Pines. I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO COME OUT IVE BEEN SO BUSY. ALSO I AM SO HONORED AND THANKFUL FOR ALL THE KIND RESPONSES YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME <3 (If there's typos my bad im running on like 2% capacity and horny)

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this eager to get home. The car ride back to your house was mainly spent in comfortable silence between you and Stan. That was alright, though. His hand was on your knee drawing lazy circles with his thumb while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was pure bliss. 

The radio then started to play a love song that you couldn’t remember the name of anymore. You smiled and began to sing along quietly, tapping to the beat of the song on Stan’s skin. You heard him chuckle. 

“Sorry, I’m doing a drum solo on your neck,” you joked, increasing the speed of your tapping. He grinned, still looking at the road. 

“S’alright.” He then looked over at you fondly. “I like your singing, by the way. Ya got a voice that matches your face” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“I don’t know about that, but thank you,” you replied. 

You soon saw the familiar opening of your driveway. Stan parked his Diablo behind your car. He then unbuckled his seatbelt at the speed of light and flung open his door. He jogged to the passenger side to open the door for you. He stood with his back straight like he was your bodyguard.

You giggled, stepping out of the car. “You’re real chivalrous, Pines,” you cooed, patting his cheek. 

He winked at you. “I did my homework.” 

“Well,” you stood on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “let’s see how you do on the final exam.” You swore you could feel the heat from his blush radiating off him. 

“Yes, well, I hope, I mean- I will pass,” he stammered as you took hold of his hand. You guided him up your front porch stairs to unlock the door. Once you were inside, you both began to kick your shoes off. “Nice digs you got here, doll. I especially like this thing.” He had walked over to your dining table while you were still unstrapping your sandals to pick up a clay structure you had found at an antique store. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was colorful and was a perfect centerpiece. 

You figured he was being sarcastic so you responded, “Aw, leave it alone!”

He looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “What? I’m being serious. I like art. There’s a reason I’m banned at museums.” You laughed and threw your shoe on the floor. You crossed over to him as he continued to examine it to wrap yourself around his midsection. He hummed and set the piece down to caress your forearms. 

You kissed his back through the fabric of his button-up. “You wanna go to my room?” you asked softly. He turned around and swiftly picked you up, your legs hooking around his waist. Your eyes were as wide as saucers, face beginning to flush. His hands were digging into your thighs to support you; they felt rough against your soft flesh. 

“Where to, sweetheart?” he mumbled, planting kisses on your jawline. 

“L-last door on the right,” you squeaked. He started to walk carefully with you in his arms to your room before laying you down on your bed. His cheeks were tinged a light pink as his lips met yours once again. He kissed you firmly, his forearms bracing himself on either side of your head. You snaked your arms around his torso to pull him closer to you while your tongue slipped past his lips. He tasted like the cheap cigars he got from the Dusk-2-Dawn in town, but you needed to taste more of him. 

Your hands moved to his dark hair, entangling it in your fingers. You groaned as the kiss became more sloppy. His right hand dragged down the side of you, outlining your waist and hip and eventually stopping to grip the outside of your thigh. Stan then broke the kiss to take a look at you. Your makeup had been smudged and your hair was spilling out behind your head. You were a vision. 

“Fuck,” Stan groaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck. His finger slipped underneath the strap of your dress. “Can I take this off? Please?” His voice was dripping with lust as he kissed you gently on your cheek. Oh, shit was this really happening? You talked big game outside, but now that it got down to it, you were getting a little nervous. 

“Uh, yes. Let me get up real quick.” He rolled off of you to let you stand up, your back facing towards him. You began to unzip your dress, but it got stuck at the top of the zipper. 

“Oh, hold on, sweetheart. I got you.” Stan stood up to maneuver the slider so that it went down easier. You bit your lip to suppress the grin forming over something so domestic. “There we go,” he said, unzipping your dress the rest of the way. This was still Stan. You had nothing to be worried about. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning to face him. His eyebrows lifted as you let the dress fall from your shoulders and crumple on the shoulder. Both of you were blushing from the vulnerability of the situation. You stood before him in a lacy bra push-up bra and matching light pink panties. 

He swallowed hard. “I, wow,” he ran his hands through his hair and exhaled, “you’re…beautiful.” You gave him a wide smile. 

“Your turn now, handsome.” You kissed him and began to unbutton his shirt one by one while his hands slid down your back. His hands began to wander over your hips, waist, and down to your butt where he squeezed roughly. He swallowed the squeak you made by colliding his lips with yours. His shirt fell to the floor showing off a broad, hairy chest. You ran your fingers through the coarse hair before grasping onto his burly shoulders for balance. His teeth and tongue fought with yours while he sat on the edge of the bed, bringing you into his lap. 

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” Stan whispered, fumbling with the hook of your bra. You felt some light pressure as it came undone. He tossed it to the floor with the growing pile of clothes. His eyes then became transfixed on your breasts. You saw him swallow and his face turned an even deeper shade of red. 

“Are they okay?” you asked self-consciously. 

His eyes met yours immediately. “Okay?” He glanced back down at your breasts and the back at you. “Babe, they’re…” he shook his head, “they’re fucking smokin’.” Your laughter from his blunt compliment was cut off by a sharp inhale. His lips had latched on to your right nipple while he fondled the other breast vigorously. Your fingers weaved into his hair, nails scraping at his scalp, and his tongue swirling over your areola. 

“Stan…” you breathed, grinding down on the bulge in his blue jeans. He had started to repeat his same ministrations on your other nipple, giving it a gentle bite. You yelped; he looked up at you with that shit-eating grin that said Ha, I made you make that sound. He then pulled you to him as he laid his back against the comforter of your bed. 

“You mind if I take these off, doll?” Stan asked, tugging at the waistband of your panties. You grinned. 

“I don’t mind,” you replied. “What are you gonna do when they’re off?” 

Stan rolled his eyes playfully. “Not tellin’.” He carefully slid his panties over the globes of your ass. “That’ll ruin the surprise.” He suddenly flipped you over so that your positions were switched. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face. “Learned that from boxing,” he joked, now watching as he removed your panties the rest of the way. He licked his lips; the lacy material grazing your calf. He eventually set them at the end of the bed, eyes never leaving your molten core. 

“Stan?” you asked. His eyes darted to meet yours. His pupils were insanely dilated…Hungry even. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just… Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Would you mind if I…” his voice trailed off. He leaned down to peck at your kneecap. Oh.

“Oh, you mean, like oral?” you stammered. 

“I mean like eating you out,” Stan clarified. So you were right. 

“Y-you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind, but don’t you want me to take care of you?” To be honest, you weren’t used to guys putting you first. 

Stan frowned. “Toots, I have been thinking about your legs around my head all night. This is for me as much as it is for you.” You felt every part of your body heat up. 

“Oh, okay then. Yes, I think that would be very enjoyable,” you replied nervously, unsure of how to respond. Stan laughed before placing his hands at your thighs to gently part your legs further. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he murmured, head moving down to leave open-mouthed kisses up your leg. His hands were splayed on the outside of your thighs; his mouth was slowly inching to where you needed him most. Your breath shuddered, clutching the sheets to brace yourself for his touch. 

“So pretty,” Stan groaned, pressing his lips against your labia. You gasped at the contact, making him chuckle. “So wet for me, too.” His big hands moved to your hips while the tip of his tongue teased your slit. He then pulled you closer to his mouth to give your swollen clit the attention it needed so badly. He swirled his tongue around the bud carefully, the pads of his fingers sinking into your hips. 

“Oh, God,” you cried out. You quickly covered your mouth with the palms of both your hands out of embarrassment. 

“Uh, uh,” Stan chastised. He lifted his head to gently take your wrists and uncover your face. “I want to hear everything.” He then positioned your hands to the back of his head. “And don’t be afraid to take what you want, sweetheart.” Stan delved back into your cunt, not being as tender as he was before. He was fucking you with his tongue, tasting every bit of you that he could.

You gripped his hair and squeezed your thighs around his head. “Stan! Please,” you exclaimed, “don’t stop.” You were now grinding your clit against his strong nose, hips swiveling to their own accord. Stan sighed dreamily, using the flat of his tongue to lick a stripe up your pussy. You accidentally tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck causing him to let out what can only be described as a guttural whimper. That was the cause of your undoing. The build-up developing in your abdomen reached its peak by gushing onto Stan’s mouth and sending shockwaves through your body. 

When you came down from your high, Stan was laying there wide-eyed in awe of what he had just witnessed. “That…” he breathed, “was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He laid his head on your stomach and gave it a quick peck. “Ya know, if you’re up to it, I got a rubber in my-”

“Yes,” you interjected. “I need to feel you in me right now.” 

“Oh, alright. Hold on let me just,” he fumbled over his words, reaching into his pocket to reveal a worn leather wallet. He pulled out a square golden wrapper and ripped it open with his teeth. You crawled over to him to unbuckle his belt, kneeling at the end of the bed.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this,” you confessed, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. 

“Oh, fuck,” Stan groaned as you exposed his throbbing cock form his boxers. It was painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. You wrapped your lips around it, sucking it slightly before dragging your tongue down his shaft. He threw his head back as you used your fingers to fondle his balls gently and take him further into your mouth. His fingers wove into the hair above your ear, cradling your head. You gazed up at him to see his face flushed and eyelids hooded. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not gonna last much longer like this, and I really want to feel ya,” Stan apologized. You nodded and removed your mouth from his cock so he could slide the condom on. You laid down on the bed and let him hover over you, lining himself up with your entrance. This was really happening.

“Okay, I’m about to put it in. Just, let me know if I hurt ya, okay? Let me know what feels good too,” Stan instructed lovingly. He caged your head in with his forearms and gave you a sweet kiss. You then felt pressure in your lower half of Stan entering you. You and Stan gasped in unison at the feeling. 

“Stan,” you breathed. “You feel…so good.” He started to move his hips back and forth, eyes studying your face and how it scrunched up in pleasure. 

“You do too, Y/N. Oh, God.” His pace began to pick up. He looked from side to side at your arms in search of something to anchor him. He interlocked your hands in his and put his head in the crook of your neck, grunting into your skin. It was so much. It was so sensual. He made you feel so beautiful. That familiar feeling was approaching as his hips slammed into yours. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and starting to shake. 

“I’m almost there, Stan.”

Stan’s eyes met yours, his hair a mess and sweat starting to bead at his temples. “Come on, baby, let me feel it. Give it to me,” he begged. Once again, his gruff voice was the cause of your intense orgasm. You screamed his name while he chased his own. His thrusts were no longer uniform but sloppy. 

You felt his body tense up and relax as he came. He pressed his forehead into the valley of your breasts and just breathed. You played with his hair absentmindedly, still feeling the effects of your own orgasms. 

He eventually pulled himself from you, making you feel empty. He went to the bathroom to toss the used condom and came back to hold you flush to his chest. He kissed along the shell of your ear and held you by your waist. 

“Breakfast is on me in the morning,” Stan whispered. “I’ll make you my special: Stancakes.” 

You burst into a fit of giggles as you shifted your body to face him. He was giving you a dopey smile. You planted a kiss on his nose. “Can’t wait.”

People who wanted to be tagged (i love y’all): @lucas1253 @vitality-falls @daniel-meyer-03 @marvelous-maniac @daisysinadarkmedow @lordbelkamort @mayhaps-nerd @ziragus

[mistyresolve]

| The Moment They Realize They Are In Love With You

Word Count - 1k

Summary - just a little blurb about Ghost and König

Tags - fluff 

A/N - spring and pollen are kicking my ass rn and i haven’t been able to work on much so here is something different i’ve had it sitting in my drafts for a while 

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form 

Ghost 

The moment Simon realized he loved you, was way after you did. You had known you loved him for weeks but decided it was best to wait for him to catch up before you said anything. Even when he made it really hard. Even when he was sweet. 

Having grown used to the protection and security of his mask he sometimes forgets that people can see every facial expression and twitch of the brow when he takes it off. You’ve decided against your better conscience to use this to your advantage. You’ve started taking note of his reactions to everything you do. What makes him smile, what irks him, what makes him shy.  

The first time you made and saw him blush it was on accident. The sight was so lovely that you stopped to consider snapping a picture of him. It started at his neck, splattering across his cheeks and burning the tips of his ears. His eyes flitted between you and the walls. 

But what really got him were the little touches and fleeting brushes of skin.   

It was something as simple as whispering endearments into his ear or giving him compliments as you walk past him. His attention would catch on you every time, following your disappearing figure with his eyes. He’d feel the heat rise, and he knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent it.  

“Stop that,” he had once muttered in response, his gaze hardening. “Oh? You seem to be liking it” You brushed a thumb over his cheek and the dust of pink there. “It’s a natural physical reaction,” he riposted, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling your hand away. 

You grasped his hand with your other, unfurling it and placing it palm up in yours. Your fingertips danced across his, and his calluses scraped against your soft skin, tickling you. You traced the line where his hand met his wrist, and with your nail dragged your finger back to his once more. He tried to fight back the shiver but failed miserably. His hand twitched. Maybe to pull it away from you. Maybe to pull you into him. 

You became distracted as you started outlining and sketching over his tattoos. The ink had become familiar to you at this point, and you might be able to trace it with your eyes closed. Lord knew you tried doing so every night when his arm wrapped around you, tucking you in impossibly closer to him. You hummed to yourself as goosebumps rose up on his arms.

He made no move to his hand back from you. When you looked back up at him you almost fell back. 

“I don’t think I can live without you,” was all he said. It was all he needed to say. 

He wasn’t saying he would cease to exist if you decided to leave him, he was saying that he was alive when he was with you. With you, he could feel the warmth of his blood, and the beat of his heart. With you, he discovered that the sky was blue and the summer air was sweet. 

Before you, he was in limbo, stuck in survival mode. He was simply living his character, and even when he returned home he was waiting for the next call so he could return to combat. It was all he knew. The violence. The bloodshed.    

You were his life support, the only thing keeping him from crashing and burning

König 

He’s always had a problem with looking people in the eyes. The intimacy sometimes was too much for him. He always felt like the other person was looking into him through his eyes. 

Expect when it was you. When he looks into your eyes he knows he was safe from judgment or mockery. There is nothing but warmth and adoration within your gaze and it used to make him fidget. Now, he thrived off your regards. You made him feel wanted and worthy. He didn’t realize how much he needed someone to look at him like that until one day when it all clicked into place for him. It was then he knew you would be the one he married. The one he shared his life with.   

You had your feet propped up on his lap while the both of you lounged on the couch. His one arm was thrown on the back of the couch, and the other hand was wrapped around your ankle, playing with the skin there, making lazy slow circles. The touch was harmless, but it was a testament to just how comfortable he had become with you. He didn’t even notice he was touching you, and didn’t have the mind to worry about the potential social faux pas he would have ruminated over.  

He was flipping through movie options, trying to convince you to watch the one he wanted. He was listing off actors and explaining the plot to you when he turned to face you. His voice dropped away into the dark room and faded into the shadows beyond. One side of his face was aglow with the light from the TV. His blue eyes were wide, trying to take in everything all at once. Your calm, tentative face. The soft, titled smile. 

I love you. 

He didn’t realize he had said it aloud until a larger smile blossomed on your face. Your eyes twinkling at the confession. Heat burned his cheeks and he was conflicted over whether or not he wanted to take it back and shove the words back into his mouth. 

You pulled your legs back from his lap moving into a kneeling position beside him on the couch. He followed you with his eyes, and his palms began to sweat because you hadn’t said it back yet. He held his breath and you inched closer, bracing your hands on his thighs. 

“Say it again,” you insisted.

“I-” he interrupted himself with a nervous giggle, “I love you.”

You slithered onto his lap and he instinctively place his hands on your hips. Even in this position you had to slightly look up at him. 

“One more time,” you wanted to hear him say it a thousand times again. Wanted to hear it when you woke up and before you went to bed. When he came home from work and when you were out getting groceries. 

“I,” you kissed him, “love you.”  

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form   

A/N - im trying out some könig

Tag List - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎  @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds, ❤︎ @v1naco​ ❤︎ @purplefishingline

[baronessvonglitter]

Vices

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

Word count: 4.3K

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

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

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

FULL MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Show her what she's missing..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din hangs on by a mere thread, heart beating double time, now using all of his self-control not to either thrust up into Saskia and fill her up with his cum, or better yet to push her off and fuck you hard, spread-eagled beneath him like he's always fantasized.

"Is that all?" Saskia asks as you pull away a moment from your ministrations. "I doubt you'll be able to break me apart so easily."

"Get off his lap," you say in a low, authoritative voice, making no mistake that you intend her to comply.

Still kneeling, you have a perfect view as she slips off Din's lap, watching as Din's cock comes into view, slick with her arousal, and so thick, heavy under its own weight as it springs back up once Saskia rises. You want you mouth on it, to taste him and her. As she gets situated sitting next to him, you press two fingers deep inside her cunt, brushing her hand away when she dares to try to grab Din's flesh.

Din lets out a surprised sigh as your warm, wet mouth descends on his dick, and he thrusts up slowly, refraining from slamming his whole length into your welcoming throat as he desperately wants to do.

He's delicious.. but you force yourself away for a moment, kneeling between Saskia's spread thighs as you run your tongue up and down her crease. "I didn't think you'd be so.. talented." She threads her fingers through your hair, gasping and trembling, and you chuckle, letting the sound vibrate against her cunt.

"My first preference is always women. But occasionally.." your free hand strokes Din's cock.

Listening to his and Saskia's sighs you kiss up her body, sucking at her nipple while your fingers move inside her again. Her back arches, pressing herself to your mouth, her eyes darting from you to Din and back again, imagining scenarios you've likely already envisioned yourself.

"Din, you should taste her," you tell him, tempting him to lift his helmet up a little as you bring your glistening fingers to him, heart leaping as he reveals his pink, pouty lips that close around your proffered fingers. His tongue swirls around them, licking off every last trace of Saskia's nectar.

"Good boy," you can't help but murmur, going back to Saskia's needy cunt and wrapping your arms around her thighs. She trembles in your grasp, her body completely at your mercy, keeping a light grip on your hair as you continue your work, her breath coming in sharp gasps. You suction your lips around her bud, thrusting your fingers in and out of her slippery pussy. She cries out, body arching off the sofa, eyes squinting shut. "You're-- so.. good!" she gasps.

"You taste so sweet.. heavens, you're so wet," you murmur.

Saskia moans. "Please don't stop.. almost there.."

"Not gonna stop, not until this pretty pussy comes all over my face," you tell her, still lapping up her juices.

She lets out a strangled gasp, her svelte body tensing.

"That's it, come for me," you coax her.

It's a thing of beauty to watch her come, the way her body seizes up, tenses and releases, her tight little pussy clamping down on your invading fingers. Your clit throbs just watching her, needing your own release. Purring, you lap up every drop of her essence.

Saskia collapses against the sofa, body limp and trembling, breaths coming out in ragged gasps. She looks absolutely wrecked, completely satisfied and disheveled. She leans against Din's shoulder, eyes drifting to his naked lap. "And you," she breathed, "haven't gotten a chance yet."

"He will." You get up, heart pounding as you slowly straddle Din's lap. "Is this okay?" you whisper.

His body is taut, breathing shaky. Despite the cover of his helmet you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"Yes," he whispers hoarsely. "Please."

Your breath hitches as the bulbous head of his dick presses into you. Din trembles with restraint. "Kriff," he groans, voice rough. "You feel so--"

"Oh Din," you moan, slowly bringing yourself down on him.

"More," he utters. "Faster." His grip on your hips is tight, unyielding.

You savor the feel of him, bigger than you'd imagined, filling you, and at his command you move faster, the friction like lightning. His hands move to your thighs, pulling you down on him at his own pace. You cry out his name as he impales you over and over upon his rigid cock, bucking up into your tight channel.

He lifts his helmet again, just enough to reveal his mouth, brushing his lips across your neck, his warm breath on your skin the most intimate thing you've felt. He nips at your throat, stubble scratching against your skin as his mouth traces to your ear.

"I've always wanted this, cyare," he confesses, no longer the timid work partner, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours, his kiss hungry and desperate, all his pent-up desire pouring into it. Still gripping your thighs he holds you down on him as he devours your mouth. With the entire length of him buried inside you, your cunt twitches around him, needing you or him to move.

You taste Saskia on his tongue, remembering she's still there, sitting close and watching your love play with Din, her hands running lazily over her body.

"Kiss him," you tell her. "Thank him for making you come."

Din keeps his helmet lifted as she gives him a soft, sensual kiss. Thank you seems inadequate for what he's given her tonight, but she says it, a low purr against his pouty pink lips.

He's so good," you murmur as they kiss, his fingers splayed against your ass, grabbing your cheeks as you continue to ride him. Greedily, you join their kiss, your lips and teeth and tongues clashing, a messy kiss indeed, but nothing about this night has been tidy.

He's flustered under your praise, storing the sound of it away for later, blushing and glad you can't see it. "I-- I need--"

"You need to come," you say simply. "But not yet. You made Saskia come, and now it's my turn."

Saskia chuckles, her fingertips trailing his arm. "She's going to completely wreck you, you know that?"

Din lets out a breathless laugh, body tensing as you move on top of him. You pull Saskia in for a kiss as she cups your breast, her other hand traveling to the apex of your thighs. Din watches the two of you, rapt, as she kisses your neck, lips moving down your chest, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake.

"You both feel.. so.. good," you moan, moving faster.

Saskia's teeth graze your neck, fingers pressing your clit. You caress her breast, giving her nipple a pinch before lightly swatting the firm flesh, then dipping your fingers into her wetness again.

"Ride my fingers, just like that," you swipe your thumb over her sensitive nub as you ride Din harder. "Want you both to come with me.."

Saskia's tight cunt flutters around your fingers, and Din groans as you pick up the pace.

"Doing so well," you murmur to both of them, Saskia's slick coats your hand. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby." You stay still while she does.

"Gods!" Your eyes screw shut tight as you rear back, your climax growing and radiating outward. "I'm coming!" you shout hoarsely as a strong, sweet shudder rocks your world. Saskia follows close behind, clenching as she comes undone on top of your fingers, and Din tenses before he comes deep inside you, thrusting up into you once, twice, thrice as a guttural moan tears from his throat.

Moments later, you chuckle darkly as you're all slumped over together, sweaty, satisfied.

Who knows how long you lay there, in and out of sated, dreamless sleep, until your comm device goes off. Grunting, you lean over Din to rifle through your discarded clothes to find it and stop its incessant beeping. "Damn it," you mutter. "We gotta go." You gently shake his shoulder.

He groans, reluctantly pulling himself from his relaxed, contented sleep. "Is it a client?" he asks. His voice is soft and groggy, making you desire him again.

"Yeah, new bounty. The signal here's choppy, I'm waiting for an image."

Din gets up, sore, and not just from the debauchery with you and Saskia last night, but from the times he'd been shot at, thrown around, and fought in the past few days. "I'll get the ship ready," he grumbles, stretching, reaching to the floor to get his clothes as well. "Hey, she's gone.." he says, puzzled.

You see the spot where Saskia had laid with you, now empty, as if she'd never existed.

"Where did she go?" Din asks.

You smile at his naivete. "I don't think she didn't want to say goodbye."

Once you're dressed and ready to go, your comm device beeps again, the signal strong enough to provide an image to go along with your new bounty.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you mutter in disbelief.

He snaps his head towards you, knowing that tone in your voice. "What?"

You almost laugh, showing him the image sent to you. "Take a look at our new target."

It's Saskia.

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

tagging those who showed interest in my snippet last week: @rivnedell @the-mandawhor1an @notjustjavierpena @evolnoomym @woopeingg @ice-echo26

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; jax

requested by ; anonymous (26/10/23) & anonymous (27/10/23)

fandom(s) ; the amazing digital circus

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; jax

outline ; “i'm so excited you're doing requests for TADC!!!!! do you have any general dating hcs for jax?”

&

“I saw that you now do The Amazing Digital Circus requests!

Soooo how about Jax relationship headcanons?”

note ; characterisation may be shaky as we only have the pilot episode out so far

warning(s) ; canon typical asshole behaviour from jax, mostly fluff!

first and foremost, jax is an asshole and that will not change when the two of you start flirting or when you become an ‘official’ couple — he’s not outright malicious towards you anymore, sure, but he’ll keep on teasing and messing with you at every opportunity (he’s also very unlikely to apologise unless he feels like you’re genuinely upset with him and he can’t sweet talk his way out of it)

pranks and teasing are a big part of your relationship, especially if you’re able to match his mischievousness — whether that’s him leaving things in your room for you to find later that he knows will startle you, using nicknames for you that are more amusing than intimate (e.g. something poking fun at your avatar’s height, an inside joke, or just generally teasing you for something you’ve done in front of him that he refuses to let you live down)

he’s a massive flirt and always finds a way to work around caine’s rules and regulations — he leaves just enough unsaid to get the real message across and absolutely loves watching you process what he’s said and then get flustered or frustrated once you realise what he really means (even if you playfully smack him on the chest or arm because it’s more than worth it for him)

physical affection with jax only really occurs on his terms with very few exceptions — such as when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his side, or (if your avatar has hair) when he messes up your hair right after you’ve finished the introduction song — the main exception to the rule is if you’re really not doing too well and need to be grounded or comforted because of it (i.e. you’re experiencing a mental break due to your circumstances or are starting to get close to the point of abstraction for whatever reason — he might be an ass, but he cares and he doesn’t want to lose you)

during caine’s missions he generally prefers to hang out with you if possible, whether that means going off and doing your own thing, watching the inevitable chaos unfold from a safe distance, or actually participating (usually because you’re bored and he just wants to see funny things happen to people) — but that doesn’t mean you’re safe if he decides he’s bored, and he has on several occasions pushed you straight into the ‘line of fire’ of whatever you’re meant to be fighting just to see what you’ll do

(he wouldn’t do it if you could actually get hurt, mind you, but as you’re all physically safe no matter what you’re facing he’s willing to take the risk and the time in the ‘dog rabbit house’ for a laugh)

you’re just about the only person he’ll listen to if ever you tell him to ‘tone it down’… but only for a short while — yeah he can stop teasing pomni for ten minutes to let the poor jester get her bearings, and sure he’ll lay off the bugs in ragatha’s room for a week, but things always return to normal after that because he’s remarkably stubborn, a bit of an ass, and endlessly amused by the ‘suffering’ of others in the circus

if a new character or npc tries to flirt with you then he’s going to go from sassy and sarcastic to outright malicious — more openly so if it’s an npc (at least until caine gets the hint and decommissions them) but if it’s a new character trying to intrude on your relationship then he’s going to make it explicitly clear that (a) you’re taken, (b) you’re exclusive with him, and (c) he will make their time in the circus even more unpleasant if they continue down that path (especially if it’s actively making you uncomfortable in addition to just being disrespectful)

(he might not be able to cause them any harm, but he has keys to everyone’s room and little regard for the safety of others during ‘missions’ so he’s more than able to make them regret flirting with you if he wants)

[ghostofskywalker]

Sweet Dreams

Hunter/Reader

Fictober Day 1 of 31

Words: 914

Summary: You get a visitor in your bunk for the night, and Hunter can't help but find it adorable.

Note: happy october everyone! i'll be posting 31 fics for 31 different characters this month!

Clone Troopers Masterlist

The sound of someone whispering your name and the feeling of that same person shaking you awake was the first thing you registered when you opened your eyes. The bunk area of the Marauder was still completely dark, indicating that it was not yet morning, so you were a little confused about the reason you were being woken up at this point.

Blinking your eyes open (and trying to keep them from immediately closing again), you could see the faint outline of someone next to your bed. “You need smmm?” you managed to croak out, voice heavy with sleep. There weren’t too many rules on this ship, but one of the ones that did exist (and was usually well-respected among the squad) was the one about not waking you up, unless there was a serious problem (like fire, death, or ambush).

In the haze of your sleepy state, you could hear Omega’s voice, and as the world came into focus you could see that it was indeed the young girl who had woken you. “What’s wrong?” you asked, immediately snapping awake when you noticed the tearful expression on her face.

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted softly. “And I know you said-”

You reached out to take her hand. “I remember,” you said, shifting so that there was more space next to you in your bunk. “Do you want to lay with me for a while?”

Omega nodded, immediately crawling in next to you. A little bit after she had started traveling with you and the Bad Batch, you had all had a conversation about nightmares. When the other members of the batch had left the area, you had softly offered that if she ever had a nightmare and she wanted some company or wanted to be somewhere else, she had full permission to just crawl into your bunk, whether you were in there or not. At first she had tried to say that your offer wasn’t necessary, but softened when you talked about having nightmares yourself, and the two of you agreed that even big kids could be scared sometimes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked as she got settled next to you, and you wrapped your arm around her once she had gotten comfortable.

“Not really.” Her voice was soft and slightly shaky, and you just smiled as you brought your arm up to run through her hair, the soothing gesture bringing a smile to her face.

“That’s fine,” you whispered. “I’m here if you change your mind, but it’s okay if you just want to stay here too.”

She nodded, and you could see (even in the dark of the ship) that she was growing more and more tired. You brought your blanket up to cover more of her body than it had been before, and the sound of your soft hums guided her to sleep, with you falling back asleep right beside her.

***

As Hunter stared out at the blue streaks of hyperspace passing by, he tried to keep his fatigue at bay. If it were up to him, right now he would be snuggled up in his bunk, fast asleep as someone else took a shift making sure that nothing in the cockpit blew up while they soared between systems. But unfortunately it was his turn to spend half of the night awake, and that dream could not be a reality for another hour or so.

Well, if it was really up to him, he would be snuggled up next to you. While he did not yet have the official title of “boyfriend,” something serious was certainly developing between you and him, and sometimes the two of you shared a bunk (something he secretly hoped happened every night). He didn’t think his brothers knew anything about it, but he wasn’t sure.

By the time Echo stepped into the cockpit to relieve him of his “shift,” Hunter was yawning and could barely find the ability to stay awake. He nodded at his brother in thanks as he got up to head back to the bunks, but as he walked down the hall, he could have sworn that he heard Echo say something about not being able to sleep in his bunk, which he just barely acknowledged before stepping into the room. Suddenly, his brother’s comment made both more sense and less sense (if that even made sense at all).

Hunter’s bunk (as expected) was completely empty, but he finally found the answers to his questions when his head turned to look at your bunk.

Omega was cuddled up next to you, and the two of you had similar expressions of tranquility on your faces. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at the scene, and there was a part of him that wanted to see if he could get into bed as well, to try and wrap his arms around both of you. But he knew (as did Echo, apparently) that he wouldn’t be able to do so without disturbing you, and so Hunter decided to sleep in his own bunk for the night.

As he fell asleep, he tried not to think about the fact that he had apparently not been as secret in his affections as he previously thought, and it was likely that everyone on the ship knew something about his affinity for you.

And of course, he also couldn’t stop thinking about how cute you and Omega looked cuddled up together.

- the end - 

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[fhatbhabiee]

Darlin, If You Only Knew

Jack Daniels x Plus Size Reader ft Javier Peña

word count: 1k

warnings: MDNI 18+ light smut

note: hello :) long time no see. got a few things going on in life rn so haven't been able to write as much as i'd like to and tbh w everything that's been going on here i don't miss it here at all 🙂‍↕️ BUT i had this idea w the help of a fellow friend so why not share it? and before you ask- yes there's gonna be more parts to this. enjoy.

part 2

He walked into the ranch house, kicking his dirty boots off at the front door while the delicious aroma of dinner went in his nose. He walked into the kitchen, admiring the sight of his beautiful wife. The way your sundress hugged your curves perfectly- exposing the love handles on your hips and the indent of your waist, along with the sweet outline of your ass and chest- all covered by your dress and apron.

“I can feel you staring, Jack.” you chuckled, not looking up from the pan in front of you.

Jack smiled and walked over, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Can you blame me when my wife looks so damn good no matter what?” he whispered into the nape of your neck, leaving a few wet kisses behind as his hands trailed down to the hem of your dress.

“Jack…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, fingers slipping under the soft fabric, bunching the skirt around your waist. He let out a soft chuckle as he realized you were wearing nothing underneath.

“Dirty lil thing aren't you sugar?”

“Maybe…” you mumbled, chewing on your bottom lip as you felt your husband's fingertips trail to your warm core. You spread your legs apart just enough for Jack to slip his hand where you desperately wanted him. You gasped at the cool feeling of his wedding ring on your slick-covered folds.

“Oh she's desperate for me ain't she mama?”

That damned pet name. You wished you never told him about it. Just as you were about to respond, his phone went off.

“Ignore it baby…” he whispered, his fingers teasing your swollen and neglected clit. His phone went quiet but seconds later it rang again. He let out a groan and pulled away as he fished his phone out from his pocket.

“What?” he answered. You pulled away from him and fixed the skirt of your dress, going back to cooking. Jack stayed quiet, brows furrowed as he listened to the other person on the line. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek before walking out of the kitchen and out the back door.

Must've been important…

—

You laid down in bed next to your husband, letting out a small sigh at the feeling of the soft mattress. During dinner he explained to you what the phone call was about. He was stuck on the answer ‘no’ but you were trying to change his mind.

“Well,” you continued your conversation. “What do you wanna do?”

Jack let out a small sigh and rubbed his face with the palm of his hand.

“Sweetheart… he's bad news.”

“But he's your brother- your baby brother nonetheless. He needs you now more then ever. Who knows what he went through over there…”

You felt your husband's arm wrap around you as he pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your temple. You smiled at the feeling- still after all these years of being married to Jack, everyday felt like the night you met.

“I'll talk to him in the morning.” Jack whispered before you both drifted off to sleep.

—

Jack leaned against his Bronco, arms crossed over his chest, as he waited for his brother to walk out of the airport. He ran everything through his head over and over, wondering if this was a good idea to even begin with. He wanted to get in the car and drive off, but before he could the sliding doors to the airport opened and out walked his brother with an unlit cigarette in between his lips.

“Jack…” he mumbled, holding the lighter up. Jack reached over and grabbed the cigarette from his lips.

“No smoking.” Jack grunted, tossing the cigarette on the floor and stepping on it. His brother chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Pendejo…” he muttered as he tossed his bag in the back of Jack’s Bronco and got into the passenger seat.

“What did I get myself into…” Jack whispered to himself before getting in the Bronco.

—

Jack pulled into the driveway and shut the car off, sitting in silence with his brother.

“So… pop gave you the house?” his brother asked, looking over at Jack.

“Yeah… Wedding gift.”

His brother scoffed. “Some gift.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Before you get in here, there's a few rules-”

“Here we go…”

“Listen to me. You're gonna be living here rent free, there's gonna be rules. No smoking, no drinking, no girls, and you're gonna be helping around the ranch. Understood?”

His brother stayed quiet, looking off to the big open land that peaked out from behind the house. Memories of his childhood and his dad flowing through his mind.

“Understood…” Fuck that tasted bitter coming out.

“Cmon…” Jack muttered as he got out of the Bronco and headed into the house. He called out your name and seconds later you popped out from the laundry room. You walked over and kissed Jack softly, happy he made it home safe.

“How was the ride?” you asked, gently rubbing his chest.

“Fine… Already startin.” he muttered.

“Honey, he's your brother. You're bound to butt heads but just lay off his back while he gets settled in.” Jack sighed and nodded, knowing that you were right. The front door opened and closed again, making Jack look over.

“This is my brother, Javier.”

You smiled and held your hand out to him. “Hi Javier.”

He took your hand into his, his mind going blank for a second as he was in awe of your beauty.

“Please… Call me Javi.”

beta'd: @ak-vintage

moodboard: @notjustjavierpena

divider: @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist — Jack Daniels Masterlist

[breathe-101]

The long drive home!

Characters: Jacob Scipio and writer.

Dear diary,


Hehehe, look at you and your nosy self.

There's some PG18 stuff I need to share.

As you were!


Sooooo, I’ve been dating Jacob for about six months now.

It was my idea to keep it private of course.

Honestly, after loving him from a distance for so long, I just wanted to give it a chance.

You know better than anyone that he's my first boyfriend.

It's exciting but I can't really say I'm not scared.

Just a little. Okay, maybe a lot.

Oh my days what the fork am I saying!


Anyway, having flown in this morning he insisted on picking me up after work.

I didn’t want him to cause man needed sleep.

The press tour was long and to expect anything from him now was just ridiculous.

We settled on spending the weekend together.

It’s been a hectic week and sleep was all I wanted really.

I don’t think coffee is the answer anymore, might just give myself heart failure at this rate.
 
Oooo and before we move on with the story, I actually said goodbye to my colleagues before leaving the office today.

Talk about progress.

Still don't really like them though.

Anyways, back to the story.


Jacobs black Jaguar pulled up out front.

Sprinting to the car, my first thought was to get the fuck out of there before my colleagues

had something to write about in the group chat.

Forget the butterflies of excitement welling up in my tummy, those villians gossip like fish wives.


Jumping in, there he was, you know.

After weeks of FaceTiming he was actually here.

‘Hi’ I whispered. It was all I could manage in that moment.

No judgement please!


Jacobs hair had grown longer.

Dark curls bouncing effortlessly as he moved his head, looking at me then the road again.

I hadn't even realised we’d started moving.

He had one hand on the wheel and the other now resting comfortably on my thigh giving it a slight squeeze.

You know that grip.

The one that makes you all giddy. Ahhhhh!!!


Okay, so. My eyes made their way down his face, his skin looked good.

Clear and somehow giving off a glow.

He didn’t have any makeup on having had the morning off.

I liked his bare face.

His almond eyes looked more defined against his now darker completion.

Guess the Florida sun agrees with him cause even his lashes looked longer.
The car came to a sudden stop.

Red light.

Lips parting slowly, his face turned towards me and he finally whispered,

‘Hi'. You knowwww, the way guys do when they want you to lean in closer cause you can't hear what they're saying.

Hmmmmm, I see you Jacob!


I watched him unable to speak.

I had so many things I wanted to tell him about

and so many questions to ask but, nothing.

I just happily stared at the amused expression on his face.

His scent filled my nose as he placed his hand on my cheek, outlining my brow then gliding down to rest on my neck.

‘I missed you' he whispered again.

Aaaahhhhh! (Hand on the chest level of excitement)


I followed his inspecting eyes as they made their way up my body.

Starting with my stocking covered legs, then a glance at my full thighs.

Eyes stopping at my chest, Jacob slowly released a deep breath then quickly looked me in the eye.

I could feel him moving closer, fingers caressing the short hair on the back of my neck.

Beeeeeeep!

His gaze sharply turned back to the road as the honking snapped us out of the moment.

Seriously!


It was a long drive to my apartment.

I'd just started a new job and hadn't found a closer place yet.

Note to self, get that sorted ASAP.

He'd packed a bag for the weekend and had several paper bags I didn't recognise.

I wanted to ask but exhaustion got the better of me.

We drove in silence.

Both of us reluctant to disturb the heavy tension in the air.

We'd said a few words about our weekend plans then continued an amusing dance of stealing glances at each other. 
This was all new to me. I'd never really liked someone this much.

I just wanted to touch him.

Feel the weight of his legs wrapped around me and rest my head on his chiseled chest.

He'd been working out.

I could tell. Jacobs arms had grown bigger more defined.

The dark T-shirt hugged his bicep as he loosely held the wheel.

I could see the outline of his abs under the fitted shirt.

His waist looked smaller against his broad shoulders.

His legs had grown bigger, leaner.

Jacob was holding my hand now, squeezing it lightly, stroking my finger with his thumb.

Keep it together girl!


We made a quick stop to get some snacks for the road then continued home.

The heavy atmosphere and smooth car ride made me drowsy.

I wanted to look at him longer but my eyes were fighting a losing battle.

I'd forgotten just how cute he was when he was happy.

Jacobs face broke into a mischievous smile, amused by the drowsy look on my face.


'I thought you were excited to see me. How dare you fall asleep.' He chuckled,

admiring my blushing face unaware of the Pervy thoughts flying around in there.

I let out a lazy laugh, pulling his warm hand closer to my chest.


Jacob moved his hand down to my legs, slowly caressing my inner thigh.

I looked up at him, eyes half closed.

The sky had grown dark, low lights hitting his face, outlining his now fuller beard.

He looked good, really good.

Jacobs hand slowly made its way further between my legs, strong fingers sliding their way against my tight stockings.

I shifted, slightly parting them in response.

Feeling a strong tug, they ripped making way for his fingers.

Hand lightly tracing the ladder paving its way down my inner thigh, his grip on the wheel tightened.


The car stopped.

Red light.

Taking advantage of the short pause, he leaned over, his face right up against mine.

Moving even closer, breathing heavily, I anticipated the feel of his warm, full lips... but he stopped. Such a tease!

His warm breath now flowed into my slightly parted lips.

I was struggling to keep my eyes open but I craved him.

I craved the mouth I hadn't felt for three weeks.

I wanted to bite his plump lip, feel him wince against me then aggressively come back for more.

Invading my mouth, not knowing where his saliva started and mine ended.

Licking the blood off his lip wanting more of him on my tongue.

Girrrrl who are you!

Holding my gaze, he slowly lowered my car seat then turned to face the road.

‘Rest.' He demanded.

The car started moving again.

‘You fiend' I muttered under my breath.


I could feel my body fully relax into the seat as sleep came over me.

But his hand started moving again this time moving closer .

Hhhmmmm This man will be the death of me, I swear.

I'd like to sleep now ,Sir. If you don't mind.'

He let out a deep chuckle, pinching my thigh in the process.

I jumped surprised by the sudden attack.

I smacked his hand and he chuckled again. 'Such a tease' I muttered accusingly.


The hand crept even closer caressing back and forth,

reaching its goal then moving away again.

The frustration from exhaustion and this slow seduction had my body screaming.

Eyes closed I grabbed his hand and slowly guided it up to where we both wanted it.

Parting my legs further, I arched my back, moving my hips higher up the seat to give him a better view.

‘I’d like to drive if you don't mind' his deep voice tugging at my stomach.

I chuckled leaning my head back giving him a good view of my now exposed throat.

‘You can have your hand back if you need it. You seem to be doing just fine with one'.

‘Hmmm' he reluctantly moaned in agreement.


The car stopped, another red light.

Sitting up, I moved closer to him.

Squeezing his hand tighter between my thighs.

I stared into his eyes, reflecting the GPS light. Moving his other hand off the wheel,

I placed it firmly around my throat, squeezing slightly.

We stared at each other desire hanging heavy in the small space.

Eyes barely open I parted my lips, releasing a slow breath, coated with the smell of Maltesers, his favourite.

My hot breath hit his lips then moved down to his throat.

I swallowed.

Making sure his hand felt every inch of the movement before moving it slowly down to my erect nipple.

Orange light.

Peeling his hand off my breast, I returned it to the wheel.

Moving away, I settled back into my seat, fully closing my eyes.

Green light.

‘You should drive Mr Scipio. Don't want to hold up traffic now do we?’

Running his fingers through his hair, eyes fixated on my charged body, Jacob slowly accelerated.

‘You f*cking tease' he breathed, pinching my thigh again as he turned to face the road.

PS: I’ll tell you the rest later xx

[yuri-is-online]

Jade would be VERY pleased about finally having another club member. I would be happy to listen to him info dump while we look at mushrooms and neat nature stuff.

I let this sit in my ask box for too long but I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while and then harveston had to go and drop that one line validating my delusions and you've given me an excuse to post it ha

notes: they/them used for Yuu, violence against animals (a bear), swearing at animals (the same bear), Yuu is unnaturally strong (enough to fight a bear), Yuu is implied to have grown up in a forest/woodsy environment, Jade typical blackmail. Other more serious fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Once upon a time, back when you first arrived in this world, you had been unsure how to feel about NRC. Castles existed back home, sure, but ones like this belonged firmly in illustrations or video games; it felt a but nauseating to walk through your wildest dreams brought to life, even if it was exciting sometimes. It was little wonder to you then that the idea of a Mountain Lover's Club was so appealing.

"Did you hike a lot back home?" Trey has that strange smile on his face that suggests you have made him tense somehow.

"Yes. I practically grew up in the woods." The flow of wind through the branches, the smell of fresh rain on the decomposing earth below, all of it wrapped you in a familiar sense of serenity even if the tree line was completely foreign to you. What are men to rocks and mountains after all? You could make yourself right at home here-

"I still don't think you should join." Trey says with all the air of a man who is certainly not telling you something, but the surprising harsh nod of agreement Riddle gives before injecting himself into the conversation convinces you more than whatever Trey had in mind likely could.

"I'm not entirely certain what they do," Riddle has never forbid you from participating in things since you and his dorm-mates brought him back to his senses," but if you want to hike it might be safer if you did it by yourself, assuming you let one of us know when you are going and when you expect to be back. It wouldn't do to have something that brings you so much joy used against you prefect, none of us want that." But he has always expressed concern when he thinks things to be unsafe, and in this case his argument was something you found yourself agreeing with. Hiking is best done at your own pace anyway, why get a club full of self-centered assholes involved in your me time? Though you did wish now they had been a bit more... specific with their concerns. Maybe outlined some of the club's scheduling, but then they would have needed to ask him and in so doing betrayed your interest.

Which would have been much less embarrassing than how Jade actually found out. Because of course he did, was there ever any doubt he would? ~~~~ There is a creek not far up the mountain path behind your dorm you like to rest at when coming back from your adventures. It's a good place to check over the photos on your camera and enjoy the last few rays of sunlight before returning to whatever mess Grim had made in Ramshackle searching for where you had moved all the tuna cans. Sometimes he joined you, and the two of you would have a little picnic up the path a bit further, but that day had not been one of those days. Nor had the day you met this particular nemesis who is staring you down from just across the creek with such a judgmental glance you would think this was a Sunday brunch and not an afternoon meander through the forest.

"The fuck do you want bitch?" You snarl and the bear indignantly sniffs as if to imply she's better than you. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't realize it was my fault your face is so fucking crooked, thought you were just born that way." She huffs again, making a big show of turning her back on you as you rush to get your equipment off and tucked safely out of reach before the skankiest grizzly you've ever met whips around and charges you shrieking something about "how dare you steal her man!!!!" and blah blah blah "I'll show you, you good for nothing hussy!!!!" as if you could actually understand her and this wasn't a three act play you insisted on writing yourself. You weren't even sure this bear was a girl if you stopped to think about it in between punches, not that you really cared. She huffs and makes a valiant attempt to pin you as you snarl and flash your teeth and beat her right back into the creek laughing at what sounds like pathetic winging about "kids these days!!!" and how rude you are for-

A startled noise pauses your match, as you both turn, harsh glares towards a break in the thicket where a very out of place, very surprised looking man stands, hand infuriatingly poised casually at his chin. His infuriating smirk doesn't unfurl until you growl, deep and low reverberating through your opponent just enough that she decides to leave for the day while you are preoccupied.

"Oya, this is a surprise." Jade doesn't move and you stay firm in the creek, body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he decides to move just a bit closer. "If you were that desperate for a sparring partner, I'm sure Floyd would have obliged, animal abuse is not exactly legal you know?"

"What the fuck are you doing here." You spit before you exit the creek, a flash of something darting through Jade's eyes as his gaze darts between you and your pack on the ground.

"Me? I should be asking that of you. The Mountain Lover's Club had to go through quite an ordeal to get permission to leave the school grounds unsupervised..." His teeth begin to show as you crash down from your high, you hadn't actually thought of whether or not you would need to talk to someone other than a friend about where you were going... surely Riddle would have mentioned something if you did? Or did he not think to ask since he wasn't the adventurous sort? "I can't imagine how the Headmage would react to know his ward had been sneaking out to terrorize the local wildlife."

"Hey Brenda started it!" You snap and Jade looks briefly towards the treeline where a very indignant bear is pursing her lips and inspecting her claws, the very picture of innocence if he does say so himself. "She stole my sandwich while I was taking pictures of the sunset!"

"Maybe you should have had someone there to hold it for you." He laughs, finally moving from his spot towards you and your pack, eyes gleaming with familiarity as he looks over your things. "Perhaps, someone who would be willing to... forget about what he just saw if they accompanied him next time?" It's a threat using what gives you joy against you certainly, and you huff indignantly at it but don't deny his request. Jade is an eel of his word, and his joy at doubling the Mountain Lover's Club membership cannot be contained as he ushers you the rest of the way down the mountain, eager to plan your first expedition together.

Not that he intends to ever delete the pictures he took. Your angry face is just too cute.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 6th

Dubcon, Mary Goore x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Dubcon; somnophilia; established relationship; role play; fellatio; unprotected sex; no prep; no foreplay; choking; fear play; nipple play; praise kink; face slapping; face sitting; cum eating; roleplay

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener

Author's Note: Hey, all! Me again!

Just wanted to pop in and say this fic does include dubcon, and while it's stated that this is a consensual act, they roleplay as if it's not.

If this isn't something you can enjoy at this time then absolutely pretend this fic doesn't exist. Your mental health is far more important than a work of fiction.

I also do not condone the actions taken in this work, it's all written for entertainment purposes only.

Thanks!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

It was dark when you opened the door to the bedroom that you and Mary shared. The usual nightlight that he used snuffed completely out, yet the curtains remained open bathing the room in the ethereal glow of the moonlight. You saw the outline of him tucked under the thin duvet, with the exception of a leg hanging out from the heat. His briefs had risen up a little in his sleep, revealing even more of his thick thigh to you. That thigh you always loved to bite and mark and ride. Heat pooled between your legs as you imagined all the things you wanted to do - what you could do…

Mary had this fantasy, this idea that came to his mind sometimes when he was alone. He emphasised to you that in real life, he never wanted it to happen, but sometimes when he was completely alone with his hand wrapped around his cock, he fantasised about the idea of a crazy fan walking into his room and doing what they wanted to him. Especially now that he had you, this wasn’t much of a fantasy anymore - not something he had thought about for a while at least. And he knew that if a real fan broke in, he’d be terrified. But the idea of it kept haunting you. You were a fan of his band and him when you met and you still are. But you were his girlfriend now. You could do what you wanted and he’d be fine with it.

That was how you were justifying it to yourself as you were gently pulling back the covers, revealing his near-naked body to you. That was how your mind had come to accept it as you ran your hand over his clothed dick. You convinced yourself that this was okay to do when you pulled down the waistband of his underwear and took his flaccid cock into your mouth, softly sucking on it to get him hard enough to enact your spontaneous plan.

His cock always felt good to have in your mouth. You adored the weight of him. When he was awake, you’d ask him to fuck your throat because the noises he made were delectable. Tonight, however, his sleeping mind had begun to take notice of the fact that something was happening, and small whimpers left his mouth as the blood started to rush south. Your cunt by now was soaked in anticipation, buzzing with the idea that he was yours to play with as you pleased and right now there was nothing or no one that could stop you. It took everything you had not to reach down and play with your clit. You wanted to cum around his cock - you needed to. His hips would move forward every now and then, his brain finally registering the pleasure he was feeling and getting his body to move accordingly. This was how you knew he was ready for you.

Removing every item of your own clothing, you carefully climbed onto his hips and lined him up to your entrance, your wetness coating the head of his cock as you began to sink down all the way to the hilt. Your other hand covered your mouth so as not to wake him with your moans. The stretch was divine as it usually was - except more so given that you’d not prepped yourself. Usually his thick rough, fingers would stretch you open for his impressive size, but this time there was none of that. Just his cock filling you up so much you could burst. You stayed still for a second, allowing yourself to adjust to his size while also making sure you didn’t move too much and wake him up. And so once you were in the clear, you leaned forward and began moving your hips up and down his shaft.

It didn’t matter the position when it came to fucking Mary, he always hit the right spots inside you - and now you knew he could even do it in his sleep.

You looked down at him, still unconscious and oblivious to his girlfriend bouncing on his cock at three o’clock in the morning. He had no idea that it was your cunt that was making him feel so good. He was yours to touch, yours to play with. As your hips moved, you bent down and took one of his sensitive nipples in your mouth, your tongue licking and swirling around the bud. This would usually warrant an involuntary grunt from him, but tonight all you got was a shaky exhale. Even in his sleep, he was noisy and needy. Never usually this pliant for you though.

However, while you were bent over him and lowered yourself down, he hit the back of your pussy causing you to cry out in pleasure. You sat up quickly, just in time to catch his eyes open - filled with such a fear you’ve never seen from him before. The sadist in you that you didn’t know was there suddenly came alive, feeding off the horror he was feeling and making you bounce on him harder.

His movements were sluggish but he immediately tried to fight you. He used his hips to try and buck you off him, his hands came up to your head to try and hit you. He struggled so much but each movement to no avail, especially since his brain and his body was still wracked with sleep. You pinned his wrists down to the bed, and moved your mouth to his ear. “Be good and this will be enjoyable for you.” You told him.

Upon hearing your voice and clearly recognising you, he did as he was told a particular slam of your cunt onto him dragging out a loud moan from his throat. Somehow, he picked up what you were doing and began to play along. He knew the safe word, he’d say it if he needed to. “Why are you d-doing this?” He asked through whimpers, losing his mind over the feel of your tongue on his neck.

“Because I love you, Mary,” you told him. You sat up and placed both of your hands on his chest to brace yourself and let yourself bounce even more roughly on him. “I’m your biggest fan.” His hands moved to your hips and gripped tightly.

“Fuck - please, you have to stop. I have a girlfriend. Th-this is wrong.”

You stopped bouncing and ground your hips down onto him, your clit rubbing against his underwear. “Clearly your girlfriend doesn’t take care of you like she should. You don’t want me to stop, do you? Your cock is so hard for me.”

“It’s not, please stop.”

“You want this, don’t you?”

He groaned loudly when you bounced again. “Fuck! No!” His feet planted into the bed and helped him lift his hips to meet yours.

You moved your hands to his throat and began restricting it. “I’ve been to all your shows, Mary. I know all the lyrics to your songs.” You let out a damn near pornographic moan at his cock hitting you again. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. For years I’ve loved you. Spent so many hours trying to get your attention, just trying to love you. Why won’t you let me love you now, hm?”

You released him and he gasped for air. “Please stop. Please stop.” He moved his hands from your hips and tried to push at your shoulders, half-heartedly fighting to get you off him again. Without warning, your own hand came down hard across his face, the sound of it filling the air over his moans and your sopping cunt.

“I told you to behave!” Your hand came round his throat again. “I didn’t want to hurt you but you gave me no choice. So beautiful,” you mutter. “Always so stunning, even when you’re dolled up in makeup and stained with blood. When you’re wearing those tight jeans —fuck!” His cock was getting further and deeper inside of you as you groaned and scratched your nails over Mary’s throat and down his chest.

“I don’t want this!”

You ground down onto him, taunting him, “Your mouth says that you don’t, but your body is telling me otherwise,” you kept playing with Mary’s nipples. “You can’t lie to me, darling boy. You fucking love this. Having your cock this deeply buried inside of me feels amazing, doesn’t it? When was the last time you got fucked like this? When was the last time someone worshipped you the way you deserve?”

Mary’s hands moved back to your hips and he moaned your name. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum. Holy shit!”

“Cum inside me, Mary. Let me feel you.”

With you seated on top of him, he pulled you impossibly further onto his cock and rammed himself inside you a final time, his cum spurting out and onto your waiting walls. Strings of expletives fell from his mouth and his eyes were tightly shut. The feeling of him emptying his balls inside of you almost made you cum with him, but all stimulation had stopped. Though he was breathing heavily, you weren’t done with him.

You pulled yourself off him, Mary wincing at the severity of the move, and climbed up to his shoulders. “It’s my turn now, make me cum.”

You hovered over his mouth and lowered yourself down. As his tongue buried itself into you, his hands moved over your thighs and pinned you to him. He lapped at your entrance, using your wetness and his cum combined to wet your clit. It didn’t take long before you were cumming on his face.

Clambering off him, you watched him swallow his spend, some of it spilling out the corners of his mouth for you to lick up. You lay next to him and pulled him towards you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to do that.”

He raised his head and peppered you with desperate kisses. “That was the hottest thing you’ve done in a long time, baby. Thank you.” His eyes darkened. “Although,” he sat up and pushed your thighs apart, sitting himself between them. He pulled you down closer to him by your hips, an evil smile on his lips, “don’t think I won’t pay you back for that, you little bitch.”

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