#sex is cool but have you ever reached skill that allows you to draw an in-universe exrtaordinarily attractive character the way god intended

[yandere-sins]

One More

Genshin makes my imagination vibrate pleasantly. I just want to give Kaeya a reason to make me go “Oh?” cause he’s not even my one of my favs. But the sheer sex appeal coming from that man is dangerous.

Characters: Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Groping, Innuendos, Alcohol, Aphrodisiacs, Insults

»»———————— ♡ ————————««        

“Hey there, Sweetheart. What’s bringing you to the tavern so late at night?”

You had barely entered Angel’s Share and sat down at the bar before hearing the ever-so chipper voice of the cavalry captain drawing closer. There was nothing strange about meeting Kaeya here after a long day of work, but you and Charles exchanged a glance, the bartender sighing deeply. “I’ve only served him two drinks so far,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but think that was already one too many. 

But who were you to say no to the Kaeya?

Perhaps better than anyone, Kaeya knew about the little game you two were playing. The always so icy shoulder you gave him as he continued to pressure you with his flirts was only making him want you so much more. You couldn’t count the number of times he had stopped you in the headquarters, pinned you between him and the wall - in broad daylight nonetheless - asking how you’re doing and if you need help with anything. You. Were. Sick of it! If he wanted a child to play father for, he could ask Klee to hang out with him! You, on the other hand, were a remarkable knight, trusted enough with complicated orders that - luckily! - kept you out of the city for a prolonged time so you could avoid him. 

It only was hard when you weren’t on duty. Or in the city. Or close to him. 

That’s when he became frisky, rather needy too.

Kaeya brushed his face from the left side of your head to the right, taking a deep breath. If it wasn’t known that you two reached back all the way to your training days, anyone would have raised an eyebrow. But most of the other guards were able to brush off his weirdness for affectionate friendship. It was almost like only you could see behind the farce, and perhaps his estranged brother. Not like Diluc had been any help to you, though, aside from breaking Kaeya off you once or twice when he was around and noticing your discomfort.

Taking up the stool beside you, there was no prior question if the seat was taken. A rather empty keg arrived with Kaeya at the bar, and he briefly tapped the rim until Charles fished for another bottle of alcohol to fill it up with. One could say Kaeya and a drink were a good mix, but to you, they were a terrible combination. Drinking made him bold. Unrestrained even. 

Even though he offered his keg to you, you merely looked away, sipping at your own glass, one you much rather preferred to the brew he drank his night away with. Grinning, he instead took a hearty sip, leaning against the counter leisurely as he watched the bards perform near the entrance, but you didn’t miss even a single glance he sent your way every few seconds. 

It was very unfortunate that you liked Angel’s Share for its drinks best; otherwise, you’d have had a good reason to avoid the establishment. But at the same time, you couldn’t let Kaeya direct all of your life. It was no state that you shouldn’t do what you enjoyed just because he could be there, and yet, you considered it. 

“So, how was your mission? I’ve been missing your skills at training.”

“It was fine,” you answered curtly, uninterested in the conversation he initiated. There weren’t many people you talked to when you came back to Mondstadt. Somehow… it had always been hard for you to make friends with the other knights. Part of you suspected Kaeya being a reason why no one seemed to want to hang around, forcing you to spend most of your training with him since no one was willing to spar with you. Then again, you never had any evidence to confirm your suspicion, just like with many other phenomena you experienced over the years.

More than once had there been instances where your orders had been withdrawn just when you came close to solving the problems, often with the excuses that you were still too inexperienced or needed somewhere else. It had been so hard to raise in the ranks while Kaeya seemed to make leaps forward without a worry, but at least, you managed to secure your place now--one far away from the cavalry captain.

Sighing, Kaeya turned around to face the counter again, plopping his arm around your shoulders. Uncomfortably, you rolled your joints, but he instead pulled you closer to him, the smell of alcohol drafting off his lips as he spoke. “No need to play coy. You know you can tell me the truth. Didn’t you miss being home? I’m sure cleaning up those camps must have been exhausting!”

Missed being with me? seemed to be the words he wanted to say, but he packaged them in a way he knew they’d actually affect you. Kaeya had always been clever enough to poke the places that hurt. Of course, you missed home. You’d miss it more if not for him, but you had your family here, your siblings and parents that you’d like to see more often. But there was no chance with how much Kaeya liked to interfere in it. As if he was already part of your family, inviting himself and always showing up unannounced to hang out.

“‘Twas okay,” you replied after a moment of thought. 

“Well, I missed you,” he chuckled before taking another sip of his keg. “I missed you sooo much!”

That was enough for you, brushing his arm off roughly before turning on your stool to leave. You knew even finding another space to sit wouldn’t spare you from him, and if you ended up in a less crowded area, you didn’t want to imagine what he’d do. “Aw, come on,” you heard behind you as he gripped your arm, making you stop. “I get it, I get it, you’re tired. But you can’t be tired enough not to drink one more with your old pal, right?”

With his voice rising in volume, you two finally gained some attention, and you instantly felt a rush of embarrassment as you stared into quite a few pairs of perplex eyes. Kaeya might have been eccentric, but he was well-liked nonetheless. Causing a scene had never worked well for you, and since you were already deemed an outsider, you’d only catapult yourself more into the shadows if any rumors spread after you left. 

Clicking your tongue, you tore yourself out of his grip before sitting back on your chair again, holding up your finger. “One more. Only one more.”

“Of course,” Kaeya grinned, getting his will once again. “Only one.”

»»————— ♡

Hot lips brushing against each other, you had no better way to describe your state of being other than burning. For someone so cool and with an icy skill, Kaeya was not even close to being cold and reserved when it came to touching you. With a smile displayed on his mouth whenever he wasn’t using it to tease you, you could barely remember how you two ended up making out in one of the backstreets of Mondstadt. His hands were seemingly everywhere, and at the same time, lingered at the spots that created an audible cue from you when he squeezed them. 

“You’re so sensitive,” he noted as you hung in his arms, hands currently squeezing your ass from your thighs upwards. “That’s good, I like that.”

“Fucker,” you merely cursed back. “You only said one more drink! I feel like shit! What the hell was that?”

“On the contrary, you feel amazing,” he ignored your questions, pushing his leg between yours as he pressed you closer to the cold stone wall behind you. A welcome sensation, giving you back some of your senses as the chill helped to calm your heated body. “I fucking hate you, Kaeya,” you confessed drunkenly, but the time was as good as any to say it.

“Ouch,” he brushed it off with a chuckle. “Are you sure? Your body grinding against mine is giving me very different vibes, Darling.”

Next thing, he was back in your mouth, his tongue roaming and keeping yours busy as you slung your arms around him. “You’re so stupid and mean, always testing everyone. You’re probably the reason everyone is avoiding me too, and you don’t let off no matter how much I tell you to leave me alone!”

“Mhm,” he hummed as his lips wandered down your neck, making you stretch it out for him so he could reach better. “And now... I don’t even know! You drugged me?!” 

A soft laugh escaped him before you felt a suck at your collarbone, followed by the wet sensation of a tongue tasting your skin. “Bingo, Baby. Lisa really wanted to know what would happen if someone drank this potion and you were all too eager to get it down your throat-”

“To get away from you!” you interrupted him.

“Whatever.”

Finally, Kaeya came up on eye level again, the two of you staring at each other for a moment in silence. 

“Whatever?” you questioned, confused by his reaction. 

“Yeah, whatever. I think kissing you made me swallow at least, hm... half of it too. Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t be able to stop now, don’t you think?” 

One of the most disgusting grins you had ever seen on the face of a person played around his lips as he pressed up to you, uniting you two in another kiss. Of course, you could stop it! You could, and you would right now. After all, you had allowed it to go on for far too long now! Pressing your hands into his shoulders, Kaeya let out a soft sigh against your lips, his uncovered eye closed as he enjoyed the affection. “One more,” he mumbled as he kissed you again and again, feverishly and impatiently. “I’ve been waiting forever to do this.”

With the excitement of a teenage boy, his hands roamed your body, pulling out the shirt from your trousers to lodge themselves beneath it. Skillful fingertips drew patterns over your skin, up your spine, and down your sides until you were gasping and shivering in his grasp. “Good,” he sighed against your lips, unbothered by you still trying to push him away, only ever flinching as he groped you. “Don’t you already know it? How much you drive me crazy? It’s only fair I drive you crazy too.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about--” you tried to contradict him. But Kaeya was quick to muffle your voice with another deep kiss. Intentionally or not, he met one of your sensitive spots as he explored you, causing a hitched moan to escape you, followed by a satisfied grunt from him. “I’ve been waiting for so long, I can’t have you take it from me now,” he breathed out huskily. 

“I’ll scream!” you threatened him. “Let me go now, Kaeya!”

“Ah-ah,” he rebuked you, one of his hands being freed of groping-duty to cover your mouth. “No one’s going to take you away from me now either. Come one, be good, okay?”

Waiting for the right moment, Kaeya couldn’t endure your angry stare for very long before falling into soft laughter. “All right, all right,” he chuckled before leaning forward brushing his lips against his hand. “One more kiss, okay? I will leave you alone after that.”

Furrowing your brows even more, he interpreted you shaking your head as a ‘no’, letting out a long, “Aww…” 

“Only one more, pretty please?” 

You had to give it to him: persistency was something he didn’t lack. It felt like shooting into your own foot, but part of you just wanted it to be over. You two had kissed so much up till now; how much worse would one more be? And if he let you go afterwards, you could definitely endure it. Lifting up your hand to yank his from your mouth, Kaeya didn’t expect you to take the initiative, looking at you perplexed as you leaned forward to kiss him. No one ever taught you how to kiss, and without his directions, you weren’t actually sure on how any of it worked, but he didn’t seem to mind, humming a pleased tune before returning your awkward smooches.

When was a kiss one kiss? When the lips parted? After the first initial touch? Kaeya’s definition was two minutes of continuous connection between you two, only briefly drawing back for air but never without upholding the contact by biting and pulling on your lip or having your tongue following his out of your mouth into the cold night. He gripped your head tightly in his palms, not allowing you to get away. Only when he let go did you fall back hard against the wall as you two finally broke apart, and you hadn’t noticed how much he had held you up. 

The rich flavor of alcohol on your tongue and his scent in your nose didn’t help with getting a clear mind, but nothing about you made sense anymore. Now that he had let you fall back and away from him, you felt even hotter than before, your body clearly bothered by the lack of stimulation. What part of ‘I wanted none of this’ did you not understand yourself? At least by the throbbing in your abdomen, you could tell that whatever kind of potion he had given to you definitely wasn’t a fun experience, but all the more potent. 

“Hurts, huh?” he laughed across from you. “Oh, fuck off,” you mustered to say, but the pain was obvious by your expression. You were barely able to keep yourself up properly.

“I’d offer my help, but you made it clear you didn’t want it.” The situation must have been really funny to him, only agitating you more. If it at least hadn’t been Kaeya, you might have accepted help, but you knew you’d have to get yourself home now all by yourself in a state of constant heat with no way to resolve it. 

“You caused all of this! You should at least take responsibility without taking advantage of the situation!”

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you decided it was time to step away. There was no use in talking with Kaeya, but the moment your support dwindled, you noticed how wobbly your legs felt, barely capable of holding you up. What had you trained all these years for if a mere potion could make you so incredibly weak? Before you could get back to the wall, one knee gave away, making you sink to the ground where you could barely catch yourself with your hands. 

“It’s really working you hard, isn’t it?” you heard him speak down from above. Squatting to your level, you felt his hand slide through your hair before gripping and lifting your head to face him. “Tell you what: If you ask nicely, I’ll help you. Can’t promise you’ll wake up in your bed tomorrow morning, but a bed nonetheless, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed back, and he shook his head, disappointed. 

“Try again.”

What choices did you have? Risk the little bit of reputation you still had by being found in the morning, disheveled and drunk from the night before? The knights absolutely hated anything that would ruin their pristine prestige, so much even you knew. You had worked so hard to get where you were, could you really risk all of it? “... please,” escaped you before you could think it through further. 

“What was that?” he teased you, and you wondered why he could still be so clear even after drinking much more than you did and having had a taste of the potion from your lips. “Please help me get home.”

This time, he laughed out loud, obviously amused by how pitiful you had to behave to please him. “One more time. Say it one more time, and say it nice.”

Frustrated, you wished you could have punched him in the face, but you only bit your lip, taking a deep breath before complying. “Please, Kaeya. I need your help to get home. Please help me home!”

Embarrassment was all you could think about as he conditioned you to do as he wanted, but finally, after you did what Kaeya demanded, he petted your head, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before reaching under your arms to pull you up. “Look at you, all cute and begging me for help.”

Quickly being lifted from the ground, you found your new halt by gripping into his shoulders tightly and wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you in front of him. “You’re so adorable!” he chuckled as you clung to him much more in fear of him letting you fall than because you wanted it. He seemed to have similar thoughts, giving you a bit of a scare as he let go of you, having you hang from him by only your own strength, which you didn’t trust anymore. But just as quickly, your horrified expression made him laugh, and he gave your rear a teasing slap. Lucky for you, Kaeya didn’t make you fear any longer, embracing you back and allowing you to sink against him more as he started to make his way through the streets of Mondstadt. From an onlooker’s point of view, it might have seemed like you jumped him out of joy, but really, you clung on as if your life depended on it while Kaeya seemingly enjoyed the hug.

“Just get me home, you Asshole,” you grumbled, but your insults didn’t do any damage to his good mood. “Sure, I’ll get you home,” he replied chipper, but you already had bad thoughts as you heard that.

“At least, the place I call ‘home’,” he confirmed your suspicion, and inwardly, you already admitted defeat even as you punched your fist into his shoulder. 

“You know how it is,” he brushed it off lightly, patting your backside while he climbed the stairs towards the headquarters with seemingly no effort. 

“I can never refuse you or leave you be. I adore you way too much.”

[angryschnauzer]

Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare​

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites​ or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

-

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

-

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in. 

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”

[no-droids]

The Secret

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Rating: Explicit

Summary: On a dark and dreary night, Anakin tries to see if he can influence your dreams.

A/N: idk what in the hell this even is tbh I just started writing it two days ago idk what happened this is some inception shit but not the crazy ass mind bending plot twist part at the very end of inception but like just the cool middle part where you kinda get what’s sorta going on but not really okay anyways I gotta go

Warnings: There are DUBCON/NONCON ELEMENTS to this, smut/oral sex, a splash of m/m (sorta?), dark Anakin uses the force to mess with your dreams without your knowledge or consent so please read at your own discretion

***

Anakin knows it’s wrong.

It’s the middle of the night on a moon he never bothered learning the name of and Anakin knows it’s wrong when his eyes shift over to you for the fifth time in the past minute.  Curled up with your back to him and the crackling firelight illuminating this tiny little cave, breathing soft and quiet through your nose as you sleep, the wind roaring monstrously outside.  Anakin acknowledges it—the moral impropriety of even sitting here thinking about things he shouldn’t be with you so close by.  It’s wrong, no getting around it.

But there’s also something inside him that… wants the wrongness.

He likes it.  Anakin likes having secrets, he likes breaking rules even when nobody is consciously here to witness it.  It makes him feel alive in a way that battlefields just can’t anymore, not after two years of constant conflict where the only enemies to feel his wrath have been comprised of nuts and bolts, their robotic cries never leaving him with any satisfaction anymore.  At the start of the Clone Wars, sure, it was a thrill to slice through voice boxes and body parts, even if they were mechanical.  But the droids aren’t afraid of death, they’re just programmed to stay alive.  It’s like killing large, dumb swarms of bugs—it needs to be done for the common good but there’s never any true fulfillment in it anymore, it just feels like a task to be completed instead of an earnest, hard-earned goal.

He’s also been given direct permission to do it.  He’s even been ordered to carry out enormous droid massacres on behalf of the Republic, but that’s the thing.  Anakin isn’t looking for permission, see, it takes away half the thrill.

No, he wants to feel wrong.  He wants to wonder if he shouldn’t have.  He wants the quiet guilt, the sparkle of holding a secret he’ll never breathe a word about, the addictive power trip from having real influence over something, something equally as real.

Technically, Anakin is supposed to be on lookout right now.  He’s meant to stay awake and patrol the perimeter of the cave for enemy combatants, but he doesn’t even bother pretending to be diligent when it’s just you two here.  It’s not necessary.  He’d be able to sense another lifeform miles away in this secluded, barren wasteland; there’s no threat to be found right now.  He can keep warm by the crackling firelight in this cave, sheltered from the dust storm that spontaneously broke out a few hours ago.  He can stay awake without moving a muscle and listen to your slow breathing all night long, letting it fill him with shameful desires he spends the daylight hours fighting and suppressing.

He silently flicks his gaze over to you once more, blinking as he studies you.  He can sense your mind becoming creative in its slumber, beginning to swirl into dreamlike possibilities around yourself, about to choose a path for your consciousness to follow tonight.  Yes, this is what he’s waiting for.  He can’t force you to dream—that’s beyond his expertise as a Jedi.  But if he finds himself in the right place at the right time, he can certainly try his best to… give you a suggestion.

The wind whistles outside and the fire pops quietly and you continue to breathe.  In, and out.  In, and out.

Anakin closes his eyes, and begins.

He first maps your body with the Force, trying to understand it on a deeper level.  Gauge it—its proportions, its ambience, the thrumming lifeforce flowing through your veins even as you sleep.  He has to be careful—as a fellow Knight, there’s no guarantee you won’t immediately be able to spot him exploring your energy in this way, there’s nothing to stop you from suddenly rolling over and asking just what exactly he thinks he’s doing.

But Anakin is patient.  It’s one of the only times he can remember truly exercising that untapped potential inside him, perfectly content to allow you to drift while he works to find his bearings with you.  Minds are complex, especially when they’re unconscious.  They’re finicky and never stay in the same spot for long—it’s not like they evade, necessarily, but instead, they just… float around.  Pulsing.  In and out of existence, hiding behind and under immovable things, no rhyme or reason for it, vanishing into uncertainty and nothingness as soon as he thinks he’s found it.  Like trying to find a microscopic air pocket in the depths of a pitch black ocean.  He’s not losing any oxygen by existing right at the edges of your sleep, but it takes hard concentration to stay here, hidden, not allowing himself to slip.  He’s looking, he’s looking… but he soon realizes he just needs to wait longer.  He needs to wait until you float your way back around to him, until you present the opening yourself.

So Anakin waits.

And waits…

And then suddenly—

—There.  He locks onto a flicker in the Force and holds, finally isolating and breaching the surface of your inner subconscious.  Anakin smiles softly, a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his temple at the effort it took to locate you without alerting you of his presence.  There you are.  Maker, it sure is pretty in here, isn't it?  He has you, he’s cradling the buried, hidden, most fragile part of your soul as you slumber, not knowing any better.

His heart thumps with excitement even though he’s barely done anything yet.  To someone without sensitivity to the Force, they might just think the both of you are asleep right now.  Just the two of you sitting still in this relatively small space, eyes closed, neither of you are touching, nobody has said anything or made any substantial movements in hours, nothing has changed in this world.  All of it is existing in another plane, a place most people wouldn’t be able to recognize unless someone informed them of its existence, and even then, it would be beyond understanding.

But he has you now.  He’s there, and he’s not going anywhere.  He can allow his focus to dip just slightly, knowing your mind will pull him along through the comatose current.  He senses you already working through the beginning whispers of dreams, but they’re not the kind people can ever remember.  These aren’t formed, there’s no substance to them—it’s just pure, abstract dreamspace for your mind to drift through while you slumber.

Finding your true consciousness through all the murky, shapeless slumber was the test in skill.  Now comes the luck.

Very carefully, without arousing any suspicion or drawing undue attention to himself, Anakin begins to drag the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth.  He doesn’t open his mouth, he doesn’t move a single muscle outwardly—he just lets his tongue begin to flitter around slowly in its enclosed cavern as he breathes, making the movements as soft and hypnotic as he can, matching the aimless way you’re carrying your mind and his shadow through the darkness.

He’s tried this before.  Once or twice, with a pretty Ambassador he was tasked with protecting for a few months at the start of the Clone Wars, but the results were always less than ideal.  He could never seamlessly transfer his desires through her consciousness before she awoke, perhaps because she wasn’t Force sensitive.  The dream would either never happen, or he would push too hard and it’d turn into a rabid nightmare that fractured her thoughts and made her terrified to close her eyes for weeks.  Not this time, though, Anakin isn’t going to allow it.  Not with you, not after all the unprecedented effort it took to even just get himself here.

He finds a bit more passion to put into his movements, his jaw beginning to work with more purpose.  Stars, he wants this to work, and while it’s probable that there’s an easier way to accomplish it, this isn’t something the Academy trains for.  There’s only so much he can do except just be patient and giving with his soft, muted thoughts, urging you to make use of them without ever saying them aloud.

And suddenly, like the dark waves of your sleep decide to illuminate for him all on their own, your subconscious mind responds to the gentle stimulus.  It carefully reaches out and studies the suggestion he’s silently offering, having spent what feels like an eternity trying to entice your rawest, most fundamental being into going somewhere it normally wouldn’t go, all without letting you know he’s even there.

His tongue is still moving.  With purpose, with a specific intent in mind, Anakin allows his head to slowly fall back as he lifts his chin up towards it, wanting it more and more the longer you take to consider it, as if your mind is actively trying to tease him by playing hard to get.  He can feel you right there, feel you thinking about it, and the whole thing is almost like some elaborate courting ritual while he waits with bated breath for you to decide whether or not to humor him.

But then, just when Anakin fears you may be too strong to be swayed, too powerful in the Force to be tempted by an outside source, you abruptly snatch the idea from him and start to run with it.

Suddenly parts of your spirit begin illuminating that should be dormant right now, and Anakin follows you, wherever you’re leading him.  He knows none of this is necessarily intentional on your behalf—nobody can consciously pick and choose their dreams, not even Jedi.  But this endeavor proves that it’s absolutely possible to subtly inspire them in each other, regardless of the morality behind it.

The wind continues to howl outside the cave and remind him that an entire universe still exists beyond your beautifully soporose mind, but the dreamscape gradually begins unfolding around him without any further prompting, requiring nothing more than what he’s already provided.  Anakin’s tongue continues to simulate and suggest regardless, only now he feels the ghost of it beginning to materialize somewhere else besides the roof of his mouth, the sensations appearing before the images can be conjured to fill in the gaps.  His hands suddenly tighten on his thighs at the soft, enticing feeling beginning to take root in you.

And oh.  It’s… good.  It feels different when his own body isn’t really the target of the stimulation, when he’s doing nothing more than simply experiencing it vicariously.  Anakin supposes he could’ve bypassed all this effort, just aimed the pleasure more directly from the very beginning instead of working to inspire and coax it out of your own consciousness, but that was never his intention and it misses the point entirely.  Where’s the challenge in it?  The finesse is lost, it doesn’t appeal to him.  It’s brash and brutish and not his style.  No, this is what he wanted.  He wanted to get just close enough to plant the most basic, fundamental idea in your head and then witness the rest of it all play out as a phantom passenger.  Step back, strap in, and see how you kindle and manipulate the desire yourself, exactly the way you want it.

Anakin starts to breathe a little heavier through his nose, shoulders tense as he works to ride the slow swelling of your own prolonged pleasure with you, not knowing if or when it’s going to peak.  He’s never made it this far before, he has no idea what to expect.  Your consciousness does all the heavy lifting for him, your floor muscles move and contract without him needing to do anything to encourage it, the dream he seeded now completely taking over and whisking you both away.

But then… then suddenly Anakin doesn’t understand.  Because yes, your mind works exactly the way he hoped it would—everything goes the incredibly precise direction he intended, and yet the destination is somehow… here?  Back at the very beginning?

You dream of a cave.  It’s exactly the same as the one you’re both silently holed up in for the night, and no new faces have appeared.  If Anakin fluttered his eyes open at this specific moment, absolutely nothing around him would change.  Except, perhaps, the subtle glow around everything—the watery way the air seems to be moving, as if it can’t decide whether it wants to exist or not so it strangely succeeds in doing both at the same time.  He’s not really here—at least, he doesn’t think he is, he’s just seated on the dirt floor, appearing as nothing more than an invisible witness to it.

No.  No, actually, he takes that back, he… is here.  It takes him a moment to see the full picture as you’re still putting the puzzle pieces together, but… that’s him.  A projection of himself at least, looking only slightly different but recognizable enough.  Dark robes, robotic right arm, steady gaze.

But where are you?  Anakin looks around the empty cave, still trying to understand how you’re painting this, his conscious mind moving much more rapidly than your own abstract one and yet also somehow taking so much longer to catch up to you.  You’re not here.  Why aren’t you here?  He’s getting stuck on the details, he knows he’s lagging behind.

It takes a moment longer.  Just one, before Anakin suddenly realizes that… he’s not just an invisible witness, is he?

He looks back down to see his own head now buried between his thighs.

But they’re not his thighs, not really.  They’re yours.  He’s just seeing everything from your point of view, feeling everything you’re feeling from the small little space he’s occupying in your mind.

At this point, Anakin needs to anchor.  He feels himself—his real self, the one currently stuck in a cave in the midst of an unexpected dust storm—curl inwards and clamp his legs together.  This will work.  If he focuses enough to pinpoint the way his knees feel pressed tight together, he can have a tether to separate himself from your dream, the way yours are currently… wide open.  This is all too similar to your true surroundings—he didn’t expect this, he doesn’t want to get lost.

And yet… Maker, it feels good.  His long curls feel so soft in your hands, his tongue drags slow magic between your legs.  When Anakin first suggested the idea to you, he didn’t think you’d assign the role back to him.  He assumed you had someone else in mind, somewhere else you wished to be besides this dull, dreary setting.  He gave you just an inkling of a prompt, and this is what the most creative part of your mind created.  Something he could be doing at this exact moment, if only he’d known you’d be interested.

Then again, Anakin thinks, you may have just recognized him subconsciously.  You may have attached him to the idea already, if only because he was the truest originator of it.  But it doesn’t matter now, he can’t process such complex thoughts while maintaining the suspended mental state he’s in—he feels like he’ll either completely fall into it or out of it if he tries.

But as your muscles continue to work and your pleasure continues to build, it becomes harder and harder to separate where he is in relation to you.  Anakin clenches his legs tighter together as you open yours wider apart, the dream gaining more strength as it develops.  Stars, it’s—it’s—

Anakin starts to lose it and he needs to tug on that tether to his surroundings again, but it’s way more difficult than it should be to recognize himself.  His calloused fingers on his left hand tremble as he reaches up and uses them to cover his face, biting his tongue to stop the low rumbles of ecstasy that want to claw their way out of his throat.  Maker, this feels so… different from the build he knows.  He thought—if he was successful—that he’d be able to handle it as silently and stoically as he’s able to handle his own pleasure, but this is something else entirely.  Why does it feel so… so spectacular?  Maker, he never realized the sensation was all that different on the inside, much less that he was actually missing out by having a dick between his legs.

But then suddenly there’s a pause, a break in the way you’ve been rhythmically squeezing and flexing your body for him.

The dream adapts to it.  Anakin looks down between your open thighs just in time to see himself pulling away from your warmth, putting two fingers in his mouth, before slowly easing his hand back down between them.

No, he thinks, a bright flare of panic sparking inside him as he immediately snatches and yanks the tether to reality, popping his eyes open and pulling away from your mind entirely, oh no—wait, that’s not what I—

But see.  That’s the thing about being so meticulous about conjuring something that doesn’t actually exist.  Once his brilliant creation decides to backfire on him—a fool-proof way to escape it doesn’t actually exist either.

He… he can’t wake up.  No matter how much his body struggles backwards on the dirt floor of the cave, how wide he can feel his eyes are right now, how excruciatingly aware he is that none of this is real, none of this is actually happening to him, he’s caught in the dream he planted and you’re hauling him along for the ride.  The closest he can describe it is like having footage play in one eye while the other can see perfectly fine.  He knows where the line that separates reality is, but he can’t escape your consciousness’s crushing gravitational pull; it’s too massive and overwhelming now, he can’t gain enough velocity to get home.  Real life exists but only through a window, and being stuck on the other side like this—knowing he’s dreaming but not being able to jolt awake when he’s very ready to leave—is suddenly more terrifying than any nightmare Anakin has ever experienced.

It also has unintended consequences.  Clinging so desperately to his own body has made him completely aware of it in the purgatory he’s now trapped himself in, but the pleasure is still there so the source of the stimulation is still there.  They’re not your thighs anymore, they’re his thighs again.  But that’s also still him between his legs, continuing to ease his fingers forwards.

He keeps retreating back and away from them no matter what, but there’s nothing more he can do.

Anakin helplessly watches on as his own fingers slowly disappear up inside himself, and his eyes instantly lose focus and his jaw goes slack as he feels it the way you would.  They’re not real, so there’s no pain, no true pressure or stretch, just… hard, unadulterated stimulation starting to burn up inside him.

He doesn’t realize his body kept moving until he suddenly feels the wall of the cave slam into his back and he has to brace himself against it, frantically shoving himself back into it as far as he can with his legs and digging his nails into dirt at the base, scrabbling for breath and stability.  Anakin tightens up wickedly as you both bear down on the phantom intrusion, sweat beading at his hairline as he works to process the foreign sensation and you whimper quietly in your sleep.  His cock is rock hard between his legs and he shudders to think that his mind will compensate for the difference and his alter ego will actually take it into his mouth—but no, the projection doesn’t change because it’s still coming from you, still being led by your own desires.  Dream-Anakin’s mouth drops and his tongue comes out to keep licking your slit but to the real Anakin, it just looks like his mouth disappears somewhere near his balls, and then a magnificent swell of bliss suddenly kicks in before he can fight as savagely against it as he wants.  He’d normally be repulsed, and maybe he currently is to some extent, but because your pleasure spikes so dangerously with it, his hips stutter into the sensation just as desperately.

He’s making noise, he knows he is—he can feel his throat working too hard for just air to be moving through.  No, he’s whimpering, or moaning, or doing something but he can’t hear himself at all.  His instinct is to yell as loudly as he can, to try and wake you up manually, but it doesn’t seem to work, you’re way too far gone now.  He listens for the dust storm that should be screaming outside, the popping of the fire somewhere in this cave, but they’re suddenly nowhere to be found.  He’s being dragged under by your enormous current that’s somehow still continuing to build in strength, losing oxygen by the second.  He’s not ready for it, he doesn’t want it, he’s terrified, he needs to wake up—

Anakin slams his head back against the wall hard enough to make himself bleed and gasps raggedly as he loses his grip on everything, shutting his eyes tight with his fist shoved up against his teeth.  Nothing exists at all anymore but the swirling typhoon that continues raging forth.  Beyond purgatory, and then beyond heaven.

When you finally do manage to find the absolute peak of your climb, he’s sure he all but blacks out with it.

It’s pure, blinding rapture on all levels—physical, metaphysical, whatever else exists after that.  It surges up with razor-sharp claws of merciless ecstasy and he’s just not equipped to experience anything anywhere close to it.  The connection between your minds thrums and sparks violently; Anakin feels the way your body practically soars over top of the pleasure while his is just being ruthlessly pummeled into the ground by it.  He’s not meant to handle this, he literally wasn’t made to survive the devastating anomaly—it’s as wicked and excruciating as it is dazzling, and he wonders if he’ll ever truly be able to come back from it.

Eventually, Anakin manages to find his way back to himself.  Eventually.

His cock is throbbing, that’s the first thing he‘s able to notice.  The dirt floor beneath him that somehow feels slightly different than before, the fetal position he’s assuming on top of it, the once sturdy wall now crumbling to dust against his back.

The next thing he notices is the utter, complete mess he made.  Blood slowly drips in a line down his neck and more cum than he’s ever felt himself produce before drenches the front of his pants.  Anakin slowly blinks his eyes open, trying to fight the vertigo and wondering if he might have a concussion right now.  There are cracks and fractures in the ground that branch out from the small crater at his back, and the fire is completely extinguished now, charred logs splintered and strewn about like somebody detonated a bomb in here.

At some point, his gaze drags over towards you, and remarkably, you haven’t moved.  Still curled up on your side with your back to him, still breathing slow and steady and undisturbed.

Anakin pants in exhaustion and waits for you to turn over to address him and what he did.  There’s no way you’re still asleep, not after what just happened.  Anakin couldn’t get through it without sending a giant shockwave through the entire cave and quite literally rupturing the ground beneath him, he’s surprised you even managed to stay in one spot the entire time.  He doesn’t know if you feel violated right now and are refusing to acknowledge him, or if it’s just taking as long as he is for your brain to catch up and start functioning again.

That is, until he hears a small snore come from your unmoving body once more.

Anakin blinks.

No.  You have to be awake, he figures, moving to prop himself upright and wipe the blood from his neck with the dark sleeve of his robe.  There’s no possible way that the orgasm you both shared is actually… normal, no, the sheer power of it had to be influenced by his presence somehow.  He must have… increased it, or something.  Anakin doesn’t know how, but he knows he must be directly responsible, this had to have been the strongest you’ve ever cum in your life and you just don’t know how to confront him about it right now, so you’re pretending to sleep.  Yes, that’s what it is, that’s what it has to be.

He’s not going to check, though.  He’s not going to find any lingering energy left within himself to summon and look for the thick darkness of sleep still enveloping you, he’s not going anywhere near your signature right now.  No, Anakin is fine just like this, exactly where he is.  Instead of verifying or confirming his own understanding, he’ll just be extra confident in it, that’s always worked well for him.

So he just sits back and takes a deep, shuddering breath, feeling like his whole body is weak and trembling with fatigue.  Maybe you are asleep, he shrugs.  Maybe he’s wrong, and selfish, and an idiot.  Or maybe.

Maybe you just like keeping secrets, too.

[duskholland]

please indulge me with a post-proposal balcony celebration where y/n’s dress doesn’t come all the way off thank youuuu

status: post-story; engaged; your pov - balcony shenanigans. read the fame game!

this is...a need and not a want. thank you for sending it in :’)

— finishing tfg blurb night! — // contains nsfw -- 18+ minors dni.

extended warnings: contains fem-receiving fingering and unprotected balcony sex (please wrap before you tap) 

———

The hard railing of the balcony presses into your back, but the ache is the last thing on your mind as your lips meet with Tom’s again and again. Your hands are on his shoulders, and in the dim glow coming up from the city below you, the engagement ring on your finger glints. It catches your eye, makes you pull away from Tom’s lips, so soft and pillowy, to stare at the diamond, a small smirk flickering out across your face.

“What is it?” Tom grunts, his hands on your waist. He presses his face into your neck as you inspect the ring, his nose cool against your skin.

“Just admiring my new accessory,” you mumble. Your breath hitches as his lips roam the column of your throat, biting and sucking at your sensitive skin until you’re moaning. “Fuck, Tom.” You finally stop looking at your ring, drawing your hands up to hold his hair. You pull him nearer, your eyes screwing shut as he nips at the tender patch below your ear before smoothing over the bite with his tongue.

Tom weaves his way around to your mouth, leaving a series of wet kiss along your jawline before capturing your lips in a deep snog.

“You know,” he says, speaking against your lips. His hands are on your waist, but they creep back to rest on the curves of your bum. As he pulls you closer, his eyes glint in the dim evening light. “Been thinking about pulling off this dress all night.” His voice is low, accented, and it sends thrills down your spine, straight to your centre. “You look bloody stunning, love.”

You bite your lip, stifling a moan as Tom grabs handfuls of your ass over the material of the dress. “Thank you,” you manage. You’re overcome with a very sudden, very deep urge to have him, as you look at the lust in his eyes. Your fiancé looks exceptionally handsome tonight - covered in that fitted suit, his short brown hair clipped and styled just how you like it. The scent of his cologne is almost overpowering. “Tom.”

“Mm?”

You drop your lips to his ear, letting your teeth briefly brush his lobe before whispering, darkly, “Want you to fuck me on this balcony.”

Tom groans, and you think you can feel the hard line of his length pushing up against you before he moves away, his hands shifting down your thighs. He very quickly and easily moves them beneath your dress, the loose skirt giving him easy access. You moan softly when he knocks your thighs apart and drags two of his fingers across the front of your panties.

“Well, well, well,” Tom murmurs. He looks up at you, a cocky smirk hanging from his lips. “You’re wet.”

You bite back a moan as his hand dips beneath the material. With those skilled, slender digits, Tom dips his fingertips down to your hot entrance, gathering some of the slick pooled at your hole before dragging it up to your clit. He watches your face, seeming to enjoy the small whimpering moans that leave your lips as he works his touch over your tender bud.

“Feels so good,” you tell him, voice hoarse. You press back against the railing, glad for the support. Tom’s back to kissing up your neck, suckling small hickeys against your skin. You pull him closer, grinning when you feel his cock, more pronounced that ever, nudging against your thigh. “I like this suit on you,” you add, “Makes you look very dashing.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom easily slips two of his fingers into you, quickly opening you up. There’s no resistance - you’re needy for it, soaked with arousal, your blood boiling in your veins as you grip to his shoulders and grind down to meet his digits as they explore your passage.

“You should keep it on,” you say, breathless. Though it’s the last thing you want to do, you push him back a little. Tom retracts his fingers, giving your clit a final rub before moving his hand to his mouth and sucking off your arousal, his eyes dark.

“Oh, really?” Tom hands move over your figure, stroking over your hips, applying a hard pressure that makes you whimper. “Are you that fucking desperate?”

You nod, throat running dry. “Yeah,” you admit, “I need you, Tom.” You decide to tease him, running a hand down until you feel his crotch, your palm applying firm pressure to his straining member. “I think you need me too,” you add, whispering into the night sky. He groans as he grinds against you, and the sight of his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes blown wide with lust makes you feel powerful. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

Tom almost groans, his voice strained. “There is nothing I’d like to do more than make beautiful, passionate love to my gorgeous fiancé all night,” he affirms, making you shiver in response. He raises an eyebrow, one of his hands going to your cheek. “Why don’t you undo my belt and turn around, love?”

You do as instructed, excited fingers trembling as you release his belt buckle and turn around. You reach down for the hem of your dress, pulling it up, up, up, until it’s bunched at your waist. You glance back to Tom, watching as he kicks off his trousers and boxers, one of his hands going to his cock. He keeps his eyes on yours as he slowly jerks himself off, running his thumb over his weeping tip as he smirks.

“Like what you see?” He asks.

“You know I do.”

Tom releases himself, his fingers going to the waistband of your panties. He kneels behind you as he tugs them down your legs, depositing a few kisses to the back of your shins as he helps you out of the lace. As Tom makes his way back up your figure, his hands find purchase on your hips. He pulls you back and you arch your spine, fingers curling around the smooth metal railing of the balcony as you bend over.

“You’re bloody lucky we don’t have any neighbours up here,” he mumbles. You gasp as you feel his tip press up against your clit, his cock sliding between your folds with ease. “Doesn’t mean the neighbours down the hill won’t be able to hear you scream, though.”

You shiver, dropping your head between your arms as you feel him press up against your entrance, teasing you.

“You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?” Tom chuckles, his voice full of fondness. “You little minx.”

Before you can think of a suitable response, Tom knocks you off-guard by entering you, easing into you with a slow thrust that makes you cry out in pleasure. Your fingers tighten around the railing as he pulls back, at a pace so torturously languid that it makes you swear beneath your breath.

“Faster,” you beg, adding a moment later, “Please.”

Tom squeezes your waist, humming. “Mm, anything for my future wife.”

He delivers on his word, and you find yourself breathing heavily as he starts to fuck you properly. With his hands wandering your hips, cock slapping up deep within you and his slow grunting moans filling the air around you, you find your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine. The angle feels incredibly satisfying, and as you drop your head lower and redistribute your weight, it allows him to slip into you deeper, tip hitting your soft, sweet spot. “Fuck.”

“Does that feel good?” He asks, voice cocky. He knows it’s good, knows how much you love to feel him all over you.

“Yes,” you agree. “So good.”

Your body jerks as one of Tom’s hands curls around your front, going down to stimulate your clit as his other gropes your chest. He’s so close to you, his crotch hitting against you with each focused thrust, sounds of skin on skin slapping through the air. As he rubs your slick bud, you moan loudly, your walls clenching around him as you feel yourself near the verge of a slow, building high.

“Can’t wait to do this for the rest of my fucking life,” Tom tells you, rasping into the darkness. “Love this sweet cunt.” He’s rambling, but his voice remains clear, hanging heavy with his accent that always seems to jump out a little more prominently when he takes you like this. “Feels like it was made just for me.”

“It was.” You’re grinding back to meet him, your grip on the railing tightening each time his length hits you just right. Your face is hot, your hair unsettled, and you’re panting, but it’s perfect, and it’s hot, because it’s Tom pulling at your body and speaking praise into the air. “What’s mine is yours.”

Tom seems to really like that, and he grunts as he rubs your clit a little faster.

“Squeezing me so tight, darling,” he murmurs. “”M gonna cum.”

You bite your lip, feeling the brink of your high ready to spill. “Me too,” you manage, voice tight.

“Go on, love,” he urges, “I want to watch you cum for me.”

It’s a bit of a blur - a mess of clenched knuckles, shaking legs and an orgasm so intense it makes you cry out loudly. You’re glad for Tom’s arms wrapped around you, because the strength of the climax that unfurls in the pit of your stomach and rolls across your figure in waves is so deep, and unprecedented that it makes you falter. Tom, on the other hand, stands steadier, holding you closer, thrusting into you as he cums a few moments after you. His cock throbs inside your hot passage as he works his fingers over you, drawing out your climax until you’re shaking.

“Shit,” you say breathlessly, relaxing as Tom slips from you. He pulls you up, and you shake your hands out as he hugs you from behind, your dress slipping back down, obscuring the mess of his cum dripping down between your thighs.

You meet him in a sloppy kiss, both of you breathing hot and heavy.

“You’re unreal,” he almost moans. “Unreal.” Tom shifts his lips to your nose, making you giggle.

“So are you,” you say. You twist in his arms until you’re able to throw your hands around his neck, your fingers finding home in his hair. “Never a dull moment with you, Tom.”

Your fiancé nods, grinning at you before returning his hands to your waist. He pulls you closer, lips nudging your cheek before your ear.

“We’re not done yet,” Tom promises. “The night is just beginning, love, and we have a lot of things to celebrate.”

You smile, gazing at him with love in your eyes.

“Let’s get to it, then.”

[velvetmel0n]

Go to Town

Summary: Poe makes you a proposition after you call his skills into question.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.2k?  It was supposed to be a drabble how did we end up here.

Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving), some light  edging, don’t ever bet Poe Dameron that he can’t do something or suffer the consequences. 

A/N: Based on “Go to Town” by Doja Cat, requested by anon for my 100 follower celebration.

@darksideofclarke @himbopoes @poeticandors @tarrevizslas @tintinwrites​@writefightandflightclub @slfreya​ @obipoelover​ @rzrcrst​ @justawriterwithdreams​ @lcandothisallday​

“Give me five minutes.” And you think, fine. Okay. There is no way Poe Dameron can make you cum, zero to sixty, within five minutes. There’s just no way.

You’re so sure of it that you square your shoulders and stick your hand out, thinking that if nothing else you’ll be able to lord this over his head for the rest of time because he can’t be as good as he claims to be.  “Go to town then,” You tell him, proud of how nonchalant you manage to sound because he’s staring at you, dark eyes glittering in the artificial lighting of your room and a curl falling across his forehead.

He rolls his tongue against his teeth and smirks at you then, clasping your hand in his and giving one firm shake to seal the deal. His hand is warm around yours and strong and you have a moment of doubt, wondering if this is really such a good idea after all. Poe, insufferable as he is, is still a friend- a friend that you’ve been harboring a tiny- minuscule, really, crush on for what felt like ages at this point. A friend that you had just agreed to let eat you out for the sake of proving a point.

But then he’s yanking you closer, holding your hand to his chest and his smirk widening into an almost diabolical grin when you gasp from the sudden movement. “Lay down,” His tone is soft, his body thrumming with energy because after months of teasing and bickering and dancing around what he thought to be an obvious attraction between the two of you, you were finally letting him do something to you.

Sure, it might have started because you made an offhand remark trying to shut him up and he actually took you up on it- but the outcome is the same and that’s all he cares about. 

You try to regain the composure you just lost by huffing a little too forcefully, a little too theatrically, and slip your palm from his grasp to crawl onto your bed. You can’t believe you’re doing this, that you’re scooting yourself up towards the headboard to make room for his body between your thighs on the uncomfortable slab that’s masquerading as a mattress.

You feel shivery, fingers trembling when you grip the sheets underneath you and you’re suddenly struck by how monumentally bad this idea had been. You’d known it the second the words left your mouth without thinking because Poe had pulled up short, digesting what you had just said. You’d known the second the slow grin started spreading across his perfect face, and did you try to stop him?

No. Did you try to stop him when he stepped up into your personal space, that smile of his making something low in your belly start to twist and heat climb up your neck? No, and you’re thinking you really should have because judging by the look in his eyes there’s a chance that he’s going to kill you. 

“Shouldn’t we set a timer or something?” You’re bracing yourself up on your elbows, watching as he slowly makes his way towards you. Watching as he places one knee on the bed and then the other, slides a rough hand around the back of your knee and tugs your legs wider to make room for him. 

“Worried you won’t be able to keep time?” He taunts as he crawls up your body, pressing you just a little bit harder into the mattress, letting you feel the weight of him on top of you. To your annoyance you can’t even come up with a witty retort for that because he’s right in front of your face now, and if you push yourself up just a little further you’d be able to kiss him. 

Your breath shallows as a side effect of him being this close, of the heat he’s radiating off of him. You squeeze the sheets tighter beneath you because you want to reach for him instead, because your skin is crawling with anticipation and it feels like he’s looking straight through you. You feel almost...exposed to him, vulnerable. Like he knows how many nights you’ve spent thinking about him and how, okay, it really did start off as harmless bickering but you knew he’d jump at the chance, knew he wouldn’t just let something like that go. 

And, for reasons you really don’t feel like dissecting right at this very moment, it turns you on.

 “When- when does it start?” It’s a legitimate question, imperative really to keeping up the whole charade at least for the next couple minutes because pride is telling you to not admit how much you actually like him because that would also mean admitting defeat, and you are nothing if not stubborn. 

But he’s stubborn too and doesn’t answer you right away. Oh no, instead he shifts so that he can run his thumb along your bottom lip, following the movement with his eyes, and you think you stop breathing for a moment. He hasn’t even done anything to you yet and still you can feel yourself growing slick between your thighs, heat beginning to engulf you and it’s then that you realize you’re a goner. 

He hums almost thoughtfully as he pulls your lip free of your teeth, not even realizing that you’d begun to nibble on the pillowy flesh. He dips his thumb just slightly into your mouth, running the pad over the tops of your teeth and you don't think you should be held responsible for the way your tongue flicks out, just catching the tip of his finger and allowing you taste the hint of salt on his skin. Not with the way he’s looking at you right now. 

One corner of his mouth kicks up in a salacious smile in response, his breath washing over your face. “Shouldn’t start ‘til I take your pants off,” He’s changing the rules and you’re letting him because he’s hovering over you, not hiding the fact that he wants to eat you alive because regardless of how it started, you agreed to it and he’s not going to let this chance just slip from his grasp. 

Your clothes feel too tight for your body and it’s all you can do not to squeeze your thighs together, wanting to deny him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm already and knowing that his waist will just prevent any friction from happening.

The hand cradling your jaw begins to slide down your neck and you almost have a crisis because his hand on your throat has no business feeling as good as does. It finally comes to a stop at the center of your chest, fingers splayed wide across your cleavage, to push you down onto the bed so that your elbows slip out from under you. And then he just leaves his hand there, not moving, and you can feel your heart thump-thumping away against the solid weight of it. Instead of teasing you for it like you expect, like you’re waiting for, he only lowers his head and presses a kiss just below your rib cage and you jolt from the softness of it. 

You keep your eyes locked on the ceiling, trying to focus on sucking in slow, measured breaths because the hand on your chest has slid off and now he’s pushing your shirt up your stomach. He leaves open mouthed kisses on every new inch of skin that’s revealed to him, glancing up in time to see your eyes flutter shut and he grins at the sight. 

“Take your shirt off for me,” He coaxes from somewhere in the general vicinity of your stomach, having worked his way back down once he reached the middle of your sternum. You hate how soft his voice is in this moment, rasping against your skin. You hate how it gives you goosebumps.

It takes you a moment but you lift yourself up and notice how Poe pauses in what he’s doing, propping his chin on your hip to watch you. His fingers draw lazy circles on either of your hips and there’s something in the soft touches that make you think he’s rewarding you for listening to him and for may what very well be the first time since you’ve met him you want to keep pleasing him. Keep having him reward you with those little touches- and more, judging by the way you’ve started aching in earnest now. 

Catching the hem of your shirt- that he’d already pushed up nearly over your breasts to make room for his mouth, you pull it over your head and toss it somewhere over the side of the bed, past the point of caring where your clothes went. You find yourself looking down at Poe then and he only smiles, swirling his tongue over your belly button.

“Good girl,” The words are muffled against your skin and this time you can’t stop yourself from moving, thighs squeezing his shoulders because there’s something about those words coming out of his mouth that has your spine arcing off the bed.

Your breathing deepens when he starts working on your pants and you’re raising back to your elbows to watch him, lips parting at the sight. You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry because he looks...he looks so big on your small bed with his shoulders wedged between your thighs, dark head bent over you while his hands work.

You lift your hips to help him when he starts yanking your pants down like they’ve personally offended him, sucking in a breath because he’d taken your underwear with them and you aren’t prepared for the sudden rush of cool air against your weeping slit.

“Time?” You’ve never heard your voice tremble like it’s doing now but you can’t really find it in yourself to care because Poe is crawling back between your legs, running a stubbled cheek along the sensitive skin of the inside of your thigh and you feel a whine climbing in your throat. 

Poe dimly realizes that his mouth is watering as he takes in the sight of you, all swollen and needy and starting to rock your hips towards his mouth because he’s not doing anything aside from looking at you and it’s driving you up the fucking wall. 

“Time.” He mutters finally, tone clipped and dark against the very center of you.

The first touch of his tongue on your slippery hot cunt has your back arching and the breath leaving your body. You barely perceive his hands slipping under you before they’re grasping at the globes of your ass, lifting you like a bowl to his mouth and then you’re saying his name in a way you’ve never said it before, high pitched and keening. 

He runs the flat of his tongue along the length of your slit, lapping at your heat before his lips are wrapping around your clit. You don’t exactly know when your arms had given out underneath you but you’re putting the newfound freedom to good use by reaching down and grasping at his hair, wanting his mouth even closer than it already is. You feel the noise he makes rather than hear it, a low groan that vibrates through your whole body and leaves you gasping for air.

His mouth is engulfing your clit, tongue rubbing deliberate circles around the swollen bundle of nerves before he starts sucking on it and you think, okay. 

Okay. Maybe he is as good as he says he is because it feels like your stomach is filled up with liquid fire, body covered with a thin sheen of sweat from all the writhing around you’re doing and you can’t stop yourself from trying to buck your hips, eyes rolling back in your head when it only makes him suck harder

Your breath hitches, head thrashing against your sheets and you start babbling because you are this fucking close and if he’ll just keep doing that- 

“Wha-what are you-” You have difficulty raising your head to look at him but you do because the son of a bitch just took his mouth away from you.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” His mouth is shining and if you weren’t already sweating you would be because he maintains eye contact while he licks his lips. “You taste good, you know that?” He asks you, almost nonchalant as he kisses a path to one of your hips. 

“So why did you stop?” You know how petulant you sound but you can’t help it, your thighs shaking with how close you’d been and it’s a good thing he still has a grip on your legs, the weight of his upper body leaning against them, because you have half a mind to kick him you’re so frustrated. 

One of his hands drifts over to between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your soaking pussy almost delicately while he hums, nibbling at your skin now while you try to remember how to breathe properly. “Can’t let you have all the fun,” He looks up at you then, his grin firmly in place despite his blown out pupils. Of course he couldn’t just let you have your orgasm in peace, of course he had to make you work for it, wouldn’t let you have it until he was satisfied. 

You collapse back onto your bed with a wrecked groan, his strained laughter in your ears. But you don’t close your thighs- if anything you just inch them while you back down off the ledge he’d worked you to because while you can feel him toying with you, thumb pressing into your clit for a split second before its back down at your entrance, just barely dipping inside, it’s still just shy of being quite enough.

Poe’s cheek is resting on the junction where your hip meets your thigh now, watching his fingers work against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever had the privilege to witness. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push his thumb inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat.

You do your best to breathe through it, his thumb nowhere near deep enough for you but it was thick and you’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping into his hand. He holds his thumb there for you don’t know how long, his weight on your hips preventing you from really doing anything about it.

“Please,” You warble, pussy clutching desperately at his thumb the longer he just held it within you. “Poe, please.” Your begging is music to the pilot’s ears and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of you saying his name like that, all sweet and nice and needy like you’ll just die if he doesn’t do something to you. 

“Well,” he begins, pulling his hand away completely only to return a moment later, stuffing you with two of his fingers. “Since you asked so nicely,” But he doesn’t thrust them like you need, instead only moving them languidly and watching your chest heave, how your hands alternate between fisting the sheets underneath you and reaching out for him. 

“I th-think I hate you, Dameron,” You say it between ragged breaths, a whimper on your lips. He’s avoiding your clit now, the bastard, but the plunge and scrape of his thick digits is almost, almost nice enough to forgive him for it. 

He clucks his tongue at you but he’s moving his head back towards your pussy, deciding to take pity on you then because you’re making such sweet sounds for him. In between calling him names and claiming to hate him, but sweet nonetheless. He’s already thinking of doing this again, how long he’d be able to draw this out for until you’re quivering and filling his head with all sorts of pleas. Maybe even crying for it. 

But that would be later. After you can admit that yes, you do in fact like his mouth, love it even. He wants to hear you say it and see how you’ll set your jaw and roll your eyes at him to distract from the fact that he’s putting you on the spot and you’re flustered by it- he’s known you long enough that he knows your tells and thinks it’s cute that you still think you can fool him.

his mouth thankfully, blissfully enveloping you again and the electricity starts to coil back up at the base of your spine. He doesn’t take his fingers from you, instead letting you have them as he focuses back in on your clit.

Maybe his mouth is good for something besides annoying you after all you keep thinking, the sentiment rattling around in the background of your mind because the forefront is consumed by your friend’s mouth between your legs and his fingers pumping away.  You grip his hair again and he groans into you, curling his fingers in such a way that has little detonations going off behind your eyelids. 

It’s starting to overtake you now, the pleasure. Rising up in your chest and filling your mouth but it’s his name that spills out of you while your hips buck and your fingers pull probably a little too hard on his hair but he isn’t complaining. If anything it just makes him redouble his efforts, pressing his tongue hard into your clit and curling his fingers again and it only takes a few seconds for you to completely fall apart, feeling like you’re spiraling off into some other galaxy.

Your heart is thundering, blood rushing in your ears while he eats at you, not stopping until your hand slips from his hair to his forehead, weakly pushing him back if he keeps going, if he keeps sucking and tonguing you think you might actually start to cry. 

“Not so bad, then, huh?” His voice scrapes over your skin and you shudder from the sound of it, prying your eyes open just in time to see him suck your slick off of his fingers and the retort you had ready for him died on your lips. 

There’s color high in his cheeks, his poor curls all over the place and a bright grin on his lips. He only moves from his place between your legs to come face to face with you and you aren’t pushing him away, claiming he made his point and for this to never be spoken of again. 

Instead you’re reaching for him for the hundredth maybe thousandth, time that night, inviting him to settle his weight on you and you don’t miss the way his cock is pressing hard and insistent against you.

“Well it wasn’t the worst,” You tell him, not having anticipated how hard it is to keep up the whole unaffected, unimpressed attitude when he’s still looking at you like that and all you want to do is spend the rest of the night with him. 

Poe barks a short laugh, gathering you closer because he suddenly can’t stand to be more than an inch apart from you. “I’ll show you the worst.” 

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

poly quarantine with the lost boys? please?

God, this is such a vibe anon. Writing this while I'm bored at work so here you go!!

Poly!Lost Boys x Quarantining with S/O

The boys have dealt with outbreaks and diseases like this before. They've been around since the the late 1800s, so they witnessed the Spanish flu. They knew that they couldn't get sick, so, whether you were already living with them or not, they insisted you quarantine with them. That way there was absolute no possiblity of you getting sick.

You were worried about the boys not having enough to eat for the first few weeks, but they assured you that there would still be plenty of people for them to pick off. To your surprise, there was. Apparently, not everyone was obeying quarantine, and the boys were far too satisfied with their kills. Still, if the pickings were light one night, you'd let them take a few sips from you. They kept a rotation, and they kept their feedings off you light. They didn't want to end up making you faint and they made sure that you drank plenty of fluids.

To curb their boredom, each boy threw themselves into something different. After being alive for so many years, they each had their own way of keeping themselves entertained.

Paul proceeded to get stoned out of his mind and practice his guitar for hours. (Luckily, the second he heard the whispers of going into quarantine, Paul stocked up on herbal refreshment to last all of you for a good while) He even tried to teach you how to play, but he kept pausing to giggle at how cute you looked with his guitar in your hands. And when you played something right? He got so excited. Will clap excitedly and then yank you in for a victory kiss. But be careful, because Paul will definitely try to start his other favorite way of keeping boredom at bay (wink wink)

Marko is the reason there's so much graffiti all over the walls, and he basically went out to buy a whole new set of paints, spray cans, and drawing materials right before quarantine started. He completely paints over one half of the cave so he can have a "blank canvas" and starts making a mural that will literally take him weeks to complete. He has you help him outline the bottom part of the cave while he floats above you outlining the top. When he's not working on his mural, he's sketching you. He claims that he needs "posing practice" and sets you up in a different pose each day (some of them a little bit more sexual than others). Paul will complain that Marko is hogging you, especially since you're not even doing anything. When the mural is finished, he gives the other boys, and you, free reign to add their own little details to make it "all of yours"

Dwayne decided to use this time to read all the books he's been meaning to read. Half of the books he has stacked up in the cave are unread and on "queue". He'll lend you his copies and the two of you will curl up on the couch or in your nest just each reading your own books. One of you is playing with the others hair while you read, those are just the facts. You two have conversations about the books you're reading, and take breaks to have a small makeout session here or there. If you're willing to learn, Dwayne will teach you how to skateboard as well. He'll hold your waist as he helps you balance on the board, and he'll help you do circles around the fountain. When you start getting good, he'll get you your own board

David is the king of movie marathons. He plans one each week, and they're usually horror so- He usually has a theme, and, while the movie marathons are mainly just for you two, the others are welcome to join. But he's the one you're gonna cuddle with. No exceptions. He has you sit in his lap with your head on his chest. The two of you will binge watch your favorite TV shows well into the morning, and the only thing that will force you to stop is the sunlight creeping into the cave. But if you guys put the TV in your nest? That's a dangerous game. The two of you won't come out for days, and you're both mumbling incoherently about a season finale that none of the others have seen.

The boys go food shopping for you. Sorry, but you're not allowed to leave the house (at least for the first few months). They can't have you getting sick, so if you ever need anything one of the boys will get it for you. It sucks when stores start closing earlier at night, but David will definitely try to use it as an excuse to get you to turn

Paul always forgets his mask. Deadass the type to ride out of the cave without it and get all the way to the store before he realizes he forgot it. Drives back angrily mumbling about "stupid fucking masks" before putting it on and driving back out to get whatever you asked for. Will complain in public that they don't need masks, but it's literally because the boys don't need them. Will say "I can't breathe in them" just for Dwayne to remind him that he doesn't need to breathe

Marko stays strapped with masks. He never forgets and he always has extras. He's the one to use cloth masks and he makes his own. Not only does it give him something to do, but it's also just a reason for him to break out his sewing skills. He uses cool patterns to make them "fashion", because that boy is all about diy and self expression. Will make you a mask, and considers selling them for some extra cash. Is very happy whenever someone compliments him on his mask

Dwayne is a strickler for masks. While technically none of the boys need to wear one, you do. Because of that, he will be the type to glare at people that don't wear masks in public. Keeps you very close and cannot stand people that don't obey the six feet rule. He doesn't like to start drama, but they're endangering your health so he will say something if someone is getting a little too close. God help whoever scoffs at the two of you for wearing masks because they're a "scam". They will get eaten. Reminds you before you go anywhere about whether or not you have your mask. Will carry hand sanitizer for you

David is chaotic about masks. He makes sure that you wear them, but then won't wear one himself when you're just walking around/out and about. The only way to get him to wear one is when Marko made him a black cloth one. Throws around the idea of getting a gas mask just to be extra. Likes to make life for others harder so he's definitely the type to not wear the mask over his nose. But if you try to do the same? He will fix it. It's actually low-key kinda cute whenever he reaches over to adjust your mask for you. The boy already wears gloves so he may invest in getting you a pair as well

The boys use quarantine as an excuse to have semi-constant sex. Would you expect anything different? You get told a lot of, "Well, I mean, if you're bored we could..."

When restaurants start opening up again the boys are esctatic. Even if they usually only get takeout, they'll take you out to eat just to get you (and Paul) out of the house for a bit

The boys place bets on how many people will come to the beach and you're flabbergasted when you find out that their guesses weren't actually that high. They're hesitant to take you to the boardwalk with them, and they keep a close eye on you when they do. Will form a protective circle around you and no one is allowed to touch you (it was already like that before but now they have a reason)

If you show any symptoms? You bet your ass you're either being confined to your nest for two weeks or you're drinking out of the wine bottle, it's your choice

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 1

Title: The Armorer and an Introduction Word Count: ~2350 Pairing: Paz x Reader Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Summary: 

Mandalorian courtship is very simple: declare your interest in someone, spend time together if they reciprocate, and get married after a year or so. Getting married is even easier – simply swap the vows and announce it a few days later to the Tribe so you can all celebrate the happy news. Then spend the next few months fending off the nosy Elders (who all want to know when they can expect to hear more little feet on the ground). At the end of it all, Mandalorians court the same way the rest of the galaxy does.

Except for Paz Vizla. Despite his Traditionalist background, he goes about this courtship and marriage business in a very nontraditional way...a very, very, very nontraditional way. This can also be found at AO3. Chapters: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

📚 My Master List 📚 Author’s Notes:

This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story in a very long time. 

I’ve been working on this since February. It’s been finished for a few weeks now, but I’ve been procrastinating in posting because I have had such a hard time justifying why Paz behaves the way he does even though we only see him for like 3 seconds in the series. I’m not sure if anyone else does this, but I like having a reason to write a story, even if it’s just to get the fluff out. For this, I wanted to flesh out Paz’s character for future works, but I have had such a hard time figuring out the words for it that I just...didn’t post. It felt wrong to continue forward without being able to explain to myself why he does what he does. Something that @plexflexico said in one of their responses to a review I left resonated with me and finally inspired me to post this publicly.

“Paz might have had less than a minute of screen time, but that time was VERY enlightening because both scenes were at moments of great tension and high emotion. I felt that any man who could succinctly put his people’s plight into words, and was so angry over this betrayal by someone who should have known better that there was no way this was simply a brute. This is a man who thinks and feels, deeply.”

This. This is exactly what I couldn’t find the words for. This, to me, is Paz Vizla. I have seen stories/HCs that portray him as a brute in an attempt to show him as a strong, confident, and masculine character. I am not fond of that portrayal because it lacks depth. I don't see that from a man whose culture embraces competency and skill before gender or sex. For those of you who have not read Asterism, go do it now, I promise you will love every single word. @plexflexico perfectly captures every emotion and thought of each scene just perfectly. This is Grade Amazing Super Plus Rank writing and Plex deserves an award for their work. And also for the inspiration because her Paz is the man everyone who wants a man deserves to have in their life.

The Foundry is the most sacred place for any Tribe blessed enough to have one of its own. It is the physical manifestation of the Resol'nare: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, the language, and the leader. Here, children and new recruits receive their first set of beskar'gam and swear their oaths to follow the path, making the Foundry the spiritual birthplace of every member of the Tribe.

At night, when the work is finished, and the flames are dimmed, the young and old gather within so they may learn from and educate one another. Most importantly, this is where most individuals begin their first lessons in Mando'a, under the guidance of the Elders. The foundry is where the armaments are made and dispensed for the protection of each person and the Tribe as a whole. When a hunter returns with their offerings, they return to the Foundry, and disperse it to those who depend upon them for sustenance and care. Finally, the Foundry serves as a place for the leadership to gather.

Armorer has had the distinct honor and privilege of being both armorer and leader to her people for many years, though she is now only the armorer for the tribe. Upon joining with tribe Marell, she relinquished her role as the Alor. However, the respect and authority she commands is not diminished in any capacity. Should Alor Dezha not be available to decide on a course of action, the Tribe will come to her, and her decision will be both supported and respected. Dezha respects her a great deal, and he will often seek her opinion if his path is unclear. Despite the differences in their interpretations of the Oath, they have come to live in harmony with one another. They strengthen what is weak in each other, and that is how it should be in a flourishing Tribe.

Tonight, she once more has the honor of being part of a marriage ceremony. Lifting her heavy hammer, Armorer brings it down onto the glowing ingot of metal, watching as it flattens and spreads under her blow. She continues to strike the metal with slow, methodical precision until it reaches the proper thickness. Then the Armorer takes it back to the flame, where she allows it to glow blazing white. It only takes a few moments, and she returns it to the anvil. The steady clang clang of her hammer is punctuated only by the occasional trip to the flames.

The union of two Mandalorians in marriage is – and always has been – a joyous occasion, for that union brings forth stability for the children and the Tribe. Traditionally, the parents take turns hunting, or if the Tribe has the numbers, both parents will hunt together, and leave their children in the care of the rest of the family. Having that one trusted person, the one who knows their every strength and weakness by their side, leads to success, both in the field and at home.

She pauses once more to check the ingot. When she sees it is properly folded, she divides it in half, and begins to form each blade precisely with her smaller hammer. Two Mandalorians, forged into one soul and body by marriage, whether they are together, or they are apart. Two blades, made from a single piece of steel, to symbolize that union. When they are formed to her satisfaction, she takes the blades to the oil vat and quenches them, a satisfying hiss escaping the bubbling liquid.

Then she returns to the forge, narrowing one of the flames to begin the differential tempering process. Here, the tang and the edges of the blades will be hardened to resist shattering, yet the spines will remain flexible, so that they may flex as needed. Once joined, the couple hardens themselves to outsiders; instead, they will turn their affection and respect inward, so they may grow together. Where one is brittle, the other is flexible, and together, they become stronger than they would be individually. She withdraws the first blade from the flame just as the pale amber color creeps to the edges of the blade and plunges it directly into the water bath to cool.

It takes hours to sharpen the ceremonial blades on the grinding belts, but she works steadily and carefully, honing the edges with precision. The hilts are left bare; they will be wrapped by the parties entering the marriage. When they speak their vows, they will exchange blades, so they may carry a piece of the other with them when they are physically parted. She nestles the blades into separate boxes lined with soft fabric. When she delivers the blades tonight, the newlyweds will handle the rest on their own. Armorer lowers the heat of the flame before she returns to her quarters. There she draws the curtain across her living space. Exhaling, she takes a seat at her low table with a pot of hot tea to await being summoned by the Elders to acknowledge the vows. Her shoulders are tense and tight. It is a good sign of hard work.

It has been many years since she has witnessed a proper Mandalorian courtship unfold and blossom into marriage. The Armorer has known from the start that Paz would be the one to fully embrace the traditional ways. Now, he has chosen to make himself an example to the younger Mandalorians and enter the bonds of matrimony. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines the future progeny they will gift to the Tribe, whether they are born or found. However, she takes the time to close her eyes and pray to the spirits. The newlyweds will need guidance.

Hopefully, the wedding night will not result in nearly as much structural damage as the courtship had.

-

-

-

The first time Paz ever laid eyes upon you was shortly after the Armorer had finished negotiations to join with yours. It took nearly three weeks of negotiations, but your Tribe had ultimately yielded. No sane alor would turn away a dozen Hunters and their children, anyway. Paz admits that he did not find you all that impressive at first. You were – and still are - pretty average. Your armor at the time consisted of a bes’kar helmet and a steel chestplate that looked like the Armorer’s. Everything else was made of leather.

Tradesperson, he thought to himself, and he put you out of his mind.

As time went on, Paz came to like you, and even enjoy spending a few minutes with you here and there as his duties allowed. Even though you openly admitted that were an average warrior (at best), you did your job freakishly well. You had made your desire for a large family vocal, and that, combined with your skills, had caught the attention of several Hunters visiting to deliver the latest news. According to the Elders, the offers of marriage had come flooding in the instant you completed your first hunt, even though you hadn’t completed it until your twenty-third birthday.

When the average Mandalorian completed their first hunt by their nineteenth.

And Paz completed his on his seventeenth.

It didn’t take long for him to understand how you earned the loving-yet-frighteningly-accurate nickname shu’shika from the Tribe – you truly are a tiny disaster. You are dearly loved by your Tribe, but there is a tendency for things to break while you are around.

You are stubborn to a fault. That Paz can deal with. Over the past thirty or so years, he has had plenty of practice to out-stubborn his subordinates, and he always wins. The same holds true with his bounties. With you? There have been a few situations where he has come dangerously close to cracking and losing his temper. It is only your terrible self-defense skills and his affection for you that keep him from simply putting you in a headlock until you submit.

Paz sometimes wonders if you provoke him on purpose because you know he will not throw fists with someone who lacks proper training. He takes no pleasure in winning a fight if it was never a true fight to begin with.

Far too often, you get mouthy with him, to the point where he sometimes wants to grab you around the waist and launch you straight into the lake for being such a brat. You are never truly disrespectful, but you have no problem telling him what you think. Even when he does not ask for your opinion. He does, however, appreciate your honesty with him, since others are usually too intimidated by him to be as direct as you.

You’re kriffing fearless, to the point of recklessness. His threats to launch you into the lake have gone from true threats to playful teasing, and it always earns a laugh from you.

Your forgetfulness…it is truly obnoxious. At this point, he has stopped reminding you to pick up your shit. He has grown used to simply picking up your things off the floor (or the couch, or the tables, or the showers), stuffing them in a bag, and dumping it all on your table in the workshop. Just like everyone else in the Tribe does for you. Or, if he wants to see you, he will pocket your datapad until you come wandering into the common areas, and hand it over without a word. It never ceases to amaze you that Paz somehow seems to know exactly what you are looking for.

Paz has no doubts that if you ever set your bucket down, you will lose it. He kind of finds it endearing. But only from you. He has no problems holding armor, weapons, or personal property for ransom if some idiot leaves it unattended.

If there is even a single power cable in a wide-open room, you will invariably find it and trip over it. Stairs have to be clearly marked with vibrant tape to remind you of their existence even though they’ve been there for ten kriffing years. Your navigational skills are nonexistent. It is all Paz can do to refrain from simply attaching a tracker to your backside to keep you from getting lost whenever someone takes you to the market.

The first time he had taken you to the market, he lost you within forty-eight seconds. He panicked the entire time he looked for you. Fortunately, he found you trying to dig enough money out of your bag to buy some ice cream, with no regards as to how you were going to eat the kriffing ice cream with a damn bucket on your head.

Sometimes, Paz feels like his relationship with you is going to give him a full head of grey hair before his fiftieth birthday. But he thinks you are the most beautiful disaster he has ever seen in his life.

You get his dumb jokes and laugh at his silly puns. You let him steal the end pieces of the bread when you bake. You try so damn hard to improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, even when Doctor Shen threatens to tie you to a bed to keep you from hurting yourself. You turn to him first when you want to learn a new technique. You play hunters-and-prey with the children for hours, like you don’t care that the others are grumbling about you spoiling the kids. You listen to him ramble about whatever random topic he has picked up that week, and while you may not know anything about it, you ask questions and take the time to learn more about what makes him happy. You even offer to share your tiingilar with him, even when you only have a quarter ration of it.

He has spent most of his forty-four years alone in life. His eight-year relationship had ended exactly ten years ago when his partner chose to commit adultery. He was on the verge of proposing marriage when he caught them in his bed. Neither had been wearing their helmet. It was a privilege his partner had never granted him, even after nearly a decade together. After that gut-wrenching betrayal, something had shattered in him. Paz invested himself in his work fervently, his bitterness turning him away from the possibility of a long-term relationship. Now that he is older and wiser, he feels a sort of emptiness to his days. Like his successes mean nothing without having someone to share them with. He wants someone there to encourage and support him in his hunts. Someone who is not as cynical and burnt out from the constant threat of death and war. Someone who still has that shereshoya – that Mandalorian lust for each new day and every experience that it brings. That brightness in your soul draws him to you like a moth to the flame. It is your hidden gentility that has him so happily trapped in your orbit.

He wants to make you strong where you are weak.

He wants you to make him strong where he is weak.

Seeing you waiting for him at the shooting range brings a spring to his step. Hearing your laughter at one of his awful jokes makes him glad he wears a helmet so no one can see the ridiculous grin on his face. Smelling the sweet, flowery soap that you use makes his knees go all wobbly, though he’s not sure if it’s from affection or just from age. Just feeling your hand brush up against his makes him turn into a sweaty, flushed mess.

Paz Vizla feels like he’s strapped to the wing of a TIE fighter spinning out of control as it plummets to the ground below, or something like a fully-grown rath’tar has wrapped itself around his heart to squeeze. His belly is jam-packed with spice-crazed minochs and his heart is pounding wildly. When he thinks about kissing you one day, maybe just gently pressing his helmet against yours, his heart gets so full he can barely breathe.

You make him Feel Things he has never felt before.

Paz Vizla turns into a hot kriffing mess under his armor when he is around you, and he wants off this malfunctioning jetpack.

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Feel free to leave comments, concerns, or critiques. I love all sorts of feedback <3

[jihoonluvclub]

Hypnotism (M)

About: Your mentor found an ancient spell he was interested in studying, and you were the perfect test subject. Pairing: Wizard!Wonwoo x Apprentice!Reader Genre: Smut Warning: Explicit content, (magical) tentacles, Word Count: 1.5k

The damp, cool air of Wonwoo’s quarters made you shiver as you stood in the middle of an arcane circle, the runes glowing in a dim blue light around you. The shadows that were cast on the wooden walls by your slight movement set you on edge somehow. He was off to the side, carefully writing something into his grimoire.

The runes strategically placed cast gaunt shadows on his features. His dark eyes glimmered as he finished whatever he was writing. He slipped the carelessly bound book of spells into the folds of his cloak, focusing his gaze back on to you.

“Are you ready, my dear?” The resounding effect of his voice made you shiver even more than the uncomfortable air striking your skin. You hated how easily you found yourself giving in to his whims. Not that long ago he was only ‘Mr.Jeon’ to you, now in the quiet hours of night he was calling you his.

No, not at all. You were never quite ready, you would never voice it though. You were fascinated with alchemy, and what better way to learn than to be stuck right in the middle of it by the best teacher you knew. Wonwoo could be exhausting, just as skilled in magic as he was in pressing your buttons. But you had fallen for him, hard and unrelentingly.

His other students, even his colleagues would say he was callous and bitter. A loner who would rather collect ingredients than speak to other humans. But you knew better. When he had you alone, he could almost suffocate you with his affection.

He was nothing if not thorough, both in love and incantations. Sometimes the love lavished upon you left you unable to walk the next day, scratches and bruises that would require a healing cast to hide.

“Yes. I am ready,” you respond dryly, glancing down at the intricate patterns of conjuration around your feet. As always, Wonwoo’s skill with drawing sigils was flawless, and you couldn’t help as you admired the beauty of the glowing symbols that surrounded you.

“Wonderful.” Wonwoo came and stood directly in front of you, his poise and posture being the picture of perfection. In the azure glow of the runic circle, his almost black hair shone even darker.

“Now remember, darling,” Wonwoo states as he raised his hands, palms downward and outstretched towards the circle, “if it gets to be too much, state so immediately so I can cease the conjuration. I don’t wish for you to be hurt for the sake of research.”

“I have already cast mage armor.” You wiggled your fingers and gestured towards your body, which was encased in a thin layer of magical energy. The look he gives you tells you that he doesn’t believe you were being serious enough for his liking. “Fine. I’ll tell you if you need to stop.”

His eyes went black as pitch and glazed over. He spoke in a voice not of his own; dark and deep and dangerous, it was alarmingly inhuman and not meant for your ears. The words were incomprehensible. You were not sure even Wonwoo knew what he was saying, though his pride would never allow him to admit it.

The runes began to glow brighter, filling the room with a bright and almost incandescent blue light. It was so bright that you had to close your eyes, but you could still see blue behind your eyelids.

There was an odd tension in the air, akin to the feeling before a storm just before it begins to thunder. Your skin prickled at the tension. The ground beneath you rumbled ever so slightly. Somewhere inside of you, the primal urge to run begged you to take heed of its warning.

A tension left your body, leaving you light as air on your feet. Your eyes snapped open, you hadn’t even realized they were closed, and you looked wide eyed at Wonwoo. A smile graced his features, confusing you more than ever.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to figure out what spell was made.

“Do you trust me?” He asked in return, avoiding your question.

You nodded, knowing he has never put you in real danger during any experiment before. With the nod of your head your legs drifted apart, a transparent apparition curling along your calf, only visible if you focused your mind on the shadowy movement.

“I’m starting to think this wasn’t actually for research.” You say as the feeling of wraith-like tendrils climb up the length of your lower limbs.

“It might not be something that would be sanctioned at the college, but it is still research.” Wonwoo exclaimed while looking for a pen and a clean sheet of parchment to scribe upon. “Tell me what you are feeling. In detail.”

You took in a breath as these things reached higher and higher, running underneath your loose fitting robes. You gasped as the shadow moved towards your sex. “Are you controlling these?”

“Not exactly. So, what is happening? What do you feel?” He pressed, fascinated with the movement the phantom sprigs took on.

“I feel them on me. All over,” you panted out as they dissolved past your undergarments as if the fabric were as translucent as air. Something penetrated you, slick and smooth as water. The feeling was neither hollow nor turgid, it was like the memory of a sensation. “It feels... Good.”

One reached your chest, wrapping around the soft flesh of your breasts while encircling the hard bud of your nipples. “Really good.”

“Incredible,” he said to no one in particular, quickly writing things down on paper.

“Wo-Wonwoo,” you moan out as something stimulated the sensitive nub between your folds. You opened your mouth to describe more of the sensations, but the attempt died in your throat, replaced by a breathy whine when the shadow moved inside of you.

The movement was slow and methodical, as if it knew exactly what was doing. The feeling left the tips of your fingers and toes tingling in pleasure. The tentacle, if you could even call it that, in your underclothes began a rhythmic pattern of sliding back and forth against your clit. Another one moved to untie the knots that held your clothes in place.

Everything about this was foreign to you. You had seen creatures conjured to life, just as realistic and whole as a natural animal or even a human, but these were odd. No corporeal form to attach to, just floating bands of energy that moved on their own accord.

You heard the sound of fabric ripping when the thick tendrils holding your thigh start to tear at your clothes with an almost eager tenderness. You let a little moan slip past your lips when you felt your clothing fall apart, fluttering to the floor, leaving your form completely exposed.

The wraiths movement was reflected by the dull light of the room, shining at times as they snaked and writhed around you. Wonwoo stared, notes long forgotten as he watched your body hovered just inches off the ground as his conjuration manipulated your form.

Pressure began to build in the pit of your stomach, your body grew hot as the outgrowth moved ever so slightly faster. Wonwoo couldn’t help but recline against his study, running his hand coyly against the bulge in his trousers.

You moan as your climax approached, warmth and tingling spreading higher and higher. Your arms flailed in the tentacle’s grasp, desperate to find purchase on anything when the one inside your core moved quicker. The tentacles that were assaulting your chest with careless movements began to pay particular attention to your nipples, squeezing and rotating the tips with skillful precision.

Your clit was experiencing the same treatment, grinding and circling around the nub until you shuttered in the magic creature’s hold. You mewled out Wonwoo’s name, unsure of why. Pleasure fills you, white hot and blinding.

You lose the capacity for human speech when the tentacle ravishing your clit surrounded the entirety of the small nub in its coils and squeezed just right. The sheer bliss of your orgasm wrapped you in a blanket of ecstasy. The tentacle inside of your entrance gave one last, very powerful thrust, causing your hips to arch upwards while you let out a desperate moan of pleasure.

When you came back down to reality you were a panting, sweating, heaving mess in the midst of the tendrils. You didn’t even notice when you were placed on the ground as the magical figures never lost contact with your body.

You watched as Wonwoo stroked his now exposed length, his eyes ablaze with restless fire as they raked up and down your spent form. The transparent forms spread your thighs apart once more, this time pinning your body against the ground. Wonwoo brushed the hair from you face as he locked his lips with yours.

“Ready for another experiment?”

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Pyrite Ch. 18 Alternate

I found this early version of the 18th chapter of Pyrite while cleaning up my computer today. I thought it would be cool to share. :)

“Wow, holding hands,” whistled Dr. Bradley as he watched Jane and Maura stroll into his office. 

“Something new we thought we’d try,” Offered Jane, who waited for Maura to sit before taking her own place. 

“You two have made some progress, then?” he asked as they all settled in, straightening the neck tie of yet another dapper ensemble. He crossed his legs and readied his notes.

“I think you could say that,” said Maura. 

“It’s been two weeks. The homework I gave you must really be helping,” he commented, impressed. 

Jane gulped and looked to the ground. “We’ve uh, we’ve been talking a lot, that’s for sure.”

“I take that to mean you weren’t successful in abstaining.”

“Not quite,” Maura answered.

“Well, this is new, and of course, no one is perfect. But have you at least seen a difference? How many times have you had sex since our last meeting?”

Jane coughed some indiscernible number. 

What was that?”

“Eight.” she clarified, her face hot.

“Oh. I see,” Dr. Bradley said, trying not to laugh. “Did you even attempt to resist?”

“Define attempt,” said Jane.

Maura rolled her eyes. “She likes to deflect. We were successful three times. But, for the sake of clarity, I must say that there were… extraordinary circumstances that arose right after we saw you last, Dr. Bradley.”

“And what were those circumstances?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Well, Jane… Jane performed surveillance on a murder suspect that week, and it turned into a shots fired situation. She was alone.”

“And you were angry with her?”

“No. It was the opposite, in fact. I was very pleased with her.”

“That is definitely interesting. Why?”

“Because she asked for help, both from her brother and on the radio.”

“And this is new?”

“She never does this. Not when it’s just her. It was… the sign that I was looking for. The sign that she had changed enough, that she had taken me seriously, that I could trust her to do what was necessary for her family.”

“This is… very good,” Dr. Bradley said, “and very lucky, Maura. Usually, people don’t get the external ‘signs’ they seek in order to propel them into action. I’m glad to hear that you got what you were looking for. Jane, did you get what you were looking for?”

“I was… am, looking to get my family back. I think we’re on the way there,” Jane answered.

“Hmm. Now, at our last session, visits with Elena were a sore spot. Are you allowed to see her unsupervised now?”

“Sometimes.”

“I still have some discomfort with that,” Maura cut in. “She is allowed to see her on the weekends, take her to practices and meetings, but I am hesitant to let her pick up Elena from school alone.”

“And this is because picking Elena up from school is what started this whole thing,” Dr. Bradley said. 

“Yeah,” Jane responded. “But it’s been two weeks. I don’t expect her to just be comfortable overnight.”

“Speaking of, are you staying overnight?” he asked Jane, seemingly out of left field. 

“I’m sorry?”

“At night. Are the two of you sleeping in the same bed?”

“We… have a few times,” Maura answered honestly. 

“I’m just asking for clarification. I assume this means that the two of you have made a decision about the future of your relationship.”

“We have,” said Maura. She and Jane shared a perplexed look. 

“We would like to get back together,” Jane shrugged. “Sooner rather than later.”

“And how has Elena taken that?” At that question, they shared a mortified one.

***

“He’s right. She deserves to know,” Maura said as she was guided up to the front door with a hand at the small of her back.

“But now?” Jane nearly whined as she fished for her keys.

“Yes. I think it’s best. We’ve known for a week and a half now. It’s not fair to keep it from her when it involves her, you know?”

“I know.” The key turned in the lock, and the two of them walked in to Angela and Elena drawing at the kitchen table. “Hey Ma.”

“Hey, baby. How was your day?” Angela asked, smiling, but not getting up from her seat. Elena, deep in concentration, did not look toward her parents.

“It was good. Thanks for watching Elena while we were out, huh?”

“Of course, you know it’s the highlight of my week.”

“Yeah,” smiled Jane. “Could you uh, give us a second to talk to her?”

Immediately Angela scanned their faces for tears, for the remnants of an argument, for tragedy. She saw none of it, but still nodded cautiously. “Sure. You have a good night, ok?” she said as she kissed Elena’s head, and waved to Jane and Maura as she walked out.

Jane’s mention of a private conversation was enough to pull the girl from her pencil and paper. She sweated as Jane and Maura took seats at her sides, shook her leg in a nervous habit until she could contain it no longer. “Are you getting divorced?” she asked, the last of it coming out more like a wail than a question.

Maura grabbed her hand. “What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Well, my friend at school said that when his parents got divorced, his mom stopped wearing a ring and his Dad made him have a serious talk at the table,” she sniffled, glad to hear that she was wrong, but still on edge.

Jane pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Jesus,” she cursed, taking in a calming breath before speaking to her daughter. “We’re not getting a divorce, kid. We were separated for a little while, but that’s what we wanted to talk to you about.” She looked to Maura, who often claimed to have no skills in social situations, but also proved a way better Elena Giuliana Rizzoli tamer than herself.

Maura turned Elena’s chin towards her and smiled. “My love. Your Mamma and I, well, we have decided not to fight anymore. We’ve decided that it’s time to move on. So, that means that she would eventually be moving back in here with you and I. We want to know your thoughts - as a part of this family, your opinion matters. What do you think about that? Would you like it if she came back to live with us?”

Elena answered only in quiet tears and a slump into Jane’s open arms.

***

“You know, I kind of miss outside lights and yard decorations for christmas,” said Nina, who sat next to Maura on the sofa with their feet curled up and mugs of cocoa in their hands. “I do not miss being the one to put them up, however.”

Maura laughed. “Why do you think I married into this family? They’re so competitive that I never have to call movers, or decorators, or plumbers…”

“Anything with their hands and they’re on it, aren’t they?” Nina asked, a salacious little wiggle of her eyebrows providing the punctuation to her question.

“They are certainly… gifted,” Maura agreed, hiding a blush behind the steam of her drink.

Nina leaned in and whispered, “Like… best you’ve ever had gifted? Because girl. I think it might be up there for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of experience,” Maura said, looking around for little ears before continuing, “but yes. My god, yes. Not even because she’s so athletic, but because she means it. Really, really means it. Every time.”

“Yes! That’s it. They’re so… passionate. I mean it can get annoying out and about in the real world,” Nina replied, and as though to prove her point, they heard a thump and a trail of Italian-American curses from both Jane and Frankie just outside the window. 

Maura motioned toward the back of the courtyard as though to say I see exactly what you mean. “Give me a moment, please.”

Nina nodded and bit her lip to stifle a chuckle.

“Hey!” Maura warned as she opened the door to the outside between the guest house and the main house. She saw Jane on a ladder, sucking on her thumb, Frankie standing by with a tangle of lights on his head, and Elena off to the side, laughing at their expense. “I appreciate that this is difficult, but can you watch your language around our child?”

“Oh c’mon Maura, I just stapled the sh…. living daylights out of my hand,” Jane whined. “And it’s not like she hasn’t heard me say bad words before.”

“Yes, I know,” Maura said, in a way that screamed I know all too well, “but don’t normalize the behavior for her.”

“a’right, a’right,” Jane grumbled. “hand me the lights, little brother.”

Frankie did as told, rubbing the welt forming near his hairline from where Jane had dropped the lights on his head, and then held the ladder steady for his sister. “We’re gonna need the current tap soon,” he said.

Jane stood on her tiptoes to reach a spot barely within her arm’s reach, and it exposed her lower belly. Maura licked her lips. “Elena, sweetheart, go into the garage and there should be one next to our stock of lightbulbs. It looks like an electrical outlet and has a pull chain on it,” she ordered gently. “Frankie, there should be another box of lights close by. Help her, would you?”

He nodded, and handed her the current strand. She stood under Jane.

“There a reason you sent all my help away?” Jane asked as she looked down at her wife.

“I’m more than enough help for right now,” asserted Maura with a simper. Jane hummed in agreement. “You know, I had forgotten how much more… charged things are between us when we live together,” she offered.

“An electricity pun right now, Maura? Really?” Jane’s teasing exasperation, mixed with the sharp pound of the staple gun, only served to stoke the fire.

“Not intentional,” she said. “but I do think we should send your brother and Nina on a movie date with our daughter tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Jane asked, her coy tone traveling over icy air with ease.

“Because Christmas is in two weeks and your family is going to be around more than ever,” Maura said. “we need to take every chance to be alone that we can get.”

“I see your point and I appreciate it, trust me. But Frankie and I gotta take Elena to the cages today.”

“What? It’s the middle of winter, not to mention the holiday season!”

“Greatness doesn’t take days off, Maura.”

Maura rolled her eyes. “She’s six.”

“Exactly, and in a month, she’ll be seven. Just think of how good she’ll be at seventeen!” Jane exclaimed, stapling the last of Maura’s lights.

Maura simply pulled Jane down from her perch on the ladder, and then brought them flush against each other. “She should be spending time with her family, my love.”

“Then you and Nina come with us,” Jane offered. “There aren’t any rules saying you can’t.”

Maura pulled back to catch Jane’s face - see if she was serious. “Really?”

“Yeah. I never made you stay home, I just figured you did because you wanted to,” reasoned Jane.

“Then we’ll go together.”

“Great. Hey!” Jane called into the house with Maura still holding close to her, seeing Frankie and Elena walk through the door, and winking at Nina. “Change of plans. We’re having a family outing. Everyone grab a bat!”

Frankie and Nina looked mostly confused, but Elena did not need to be told twice. Jane watched her bound up the stairs and into the supply closet with amusement and more than a little pride.

You’re my Natural, Giuliana Ballgame.

[devilbat]

Dr. Jekyll and Mistress Hyde

A/n: 2nd one shot of my classic movie monster list.

Warning: just porn no plot. Whole lot of smut. And rough at that. Some dirty talk.

Loki x reader

It was another stormy night. Thunder rumbled, getting louder as it neared. Sounding like Thor and Loki were at it again. Lightning flashed a cross the dark lit sky. Another late night in the lab. Working hard as always. Mixing several types of liquid compound for non lethal weapons. Tony and Bruce had both left for the day. Beings there was a group of other going to the nearest bar. They had invited you, but you declined. You were to shy to go out. Even if you knew Loki would be there. You had always been the shy quiet girl, that kept herself in the lab. Only really talking with Tony and Bruce. You social skills weren't the best. When nervous or your social anxiety kicked in you would start rambling on about different periodic table compounds and what there use was. Something that could make a toddler fall asleep. So you avoided people like the plague.

Thunder boomed over head this time making you a tad bit jumpy. In hindsight you probably should had stopped what you were currently pouring into the small beaker. But when the door suddenly swung open. You jumped pouring red substance over yourself. Next thing you knew was the room was spinning, and everything went black.

          When you woke you felt quite a bit different. This growing need, hunger. An animalistic need. Still feeling a bit dizzy you headed to your room, and straight for the shower. Washing whatever you had spilled on yourself. Stepping out you looked in the mirror. You looked the same but the desire in you grow hungry. Decided it might be a good idea to finally get out.

         Loki was in mid conversation with his brother when you walked in. At first it took him a moment to realize it was you. The form fitting dress, left not much to the imagination like your normal attire. It shocked him to see his little kitten showing off her claws. Sure you weren't his, but he would surly dream about you as such. There was something about your shy, quiet demeanor that draw Loki to you. Your cute little squeaks when he would Surprise you unintentionally. But now you looked to be on the hunt. As you swooped over to a group of guys asking any of them if they would like to buy you a drink. Batting you eyes at them, biting on your lower lip. Which was obviously working. Loki observed this new behavior of your. Keeping a keen eye on the mortal men.

        It was an hour in you had two men on your arm. They practically pawed at you. Loki had about enough. This was ridiculous, this wasn't you. You were shy and sweet, it was like something switch. His sweet little Dr. Y/n Jekyll. Turned into some kind of sex craved monster. Loki staked towards you before you could leave with anyone. His eyes narrowed in on you. As he grabbed ahold of you arm swung you around.

          "What are you doing y/n?" Loki hissed ignoring the two worthless mortals. You batted your eyes at loki almost innocently.

           "What a girl can't have some fun?" You asked Sickeningly sweet. "It was stuffy in the lab and I needed to get a little frustration out. So if you will. I'm going to go have my fun and hopefully fill." You winked as you tried to walk  away. Loki's grip on your wrist tightened. Before you knew it, you were in your bedroom. Tuning on your heels to glare at loki. "What the hell Loki?"

           "You are not about to let some pathetic mortal ravish you. You are most certainly not in your right mind. And haven't been for a few days now." Loki growled, he towered over you. The way loki was being all possessive, turned you on. Taking a step towards him. Before he could yell at you more. Your hands gripped around his black tie pulling him down to meet your lips. Kissing him roughly. Loki only froze for a moment, then pulling away from you. Still only few inches from you, your hand still tightly around his tie. Your free hand moved over his lean torso.

         "I always wanted to know what was under these suits." You purred. "What wonders hide under them." You hand made its way downward. With in minutes your roaming hand was Caught by Loki's.

          "What in the nine realms has gotten into you woman." Loki grumbled, pulling your hand  away.

       "Nothing, but if it’s not you ravishing me, then I'll just find someone else." You said like it was nothing. Like you were not trying to seduce him. "There's this itch deep inside me that need to be scratched. Well more like fucked out of me. I was hoping you would be the one to help me." Purring as your other hand moved from his tie, happily found its way to a painfully hard and ready covered bulge. You looked down at his twitching cock, then back up into those eye. You giggled before bitting your lip. Palming him throw his pants.

         "Darling this isn't you." Loki moaned out. Trying to keep himself in control. But slowly losing that battle. "You would regret it in the morning."

         "I'm shocked Loki, the way you look at me. Like I'm a cherry just waiting to be popped. " pulling away from him. Slowly pulling your dress down. Revealing full perky breasts to him. "Just right for the taking." You hands rubbed over your heavy breast teasing him, taunting him. “To be ravished by a god." You moaned, stepping closer to loki again, slipped out of the dress. The sound of fabric hitting the floor. Was louder then Loki would ever thought. But his eye never looking down as you stood in front of him completely bare.

             "Do you know how wet you make me Loki. How much I desire for you to fuck me hard claiming as yours. Ruining me for any other man." You moaned out, your hands roamed over your body. You finger dipping between your thighs. Slowly running your fingers along your wet fold collecting your arousal. You could hear the low growl Loki made, even if he tried to hide it. He watched your fingers dipped between lovely thighs. Pulling your covered fingers from your thighs. Bring them up to your mouth, placing them between your full lips, sucking them clean before removing them with a pop. Even in heels you had to tiptoe to reach Loki's lips, pressing your naked form against him. Taking his lips with your. Loki could tase what was left on your lips. Driving him insane with lust.

           Loki growled pulling away, glancing down at your naked form, it was what he had always pictured your body would look like Valhalla, in the form a mortal woman. You took a step back giving the god more of a view. You tuned on your heels and sauntered towards the bed, before crawling across it. Beckoning Loki to follow. Which he willingly obeyed. Loki reaches the edge of the bed. You backside wiggled at him. With a giggle you looked over your shoulder.

        "Please Loki." You begged, feeling his hand roam over you ass. You push back against his cool palm. Wanting more of him. It was evident on how wet you were for him. You juices trickling down your luscious thighs. His other hand swiped along them. His hand covered in your arousal.

          "By the gods." Loki groaned, how could he deny such a sight before him. You so eagerly willing to have him clam you. His thumb ran along your folds, making you gasp and moan for him. "I wouldn't even need to prepare you. You are soaking wet, and oh so ready for my cock to fuck that little cunt of yours.

       "Yes, Loki all of this is ready for you fuck me ruthlessly into unconsciousness." You whimpered, wiggling against his thumb wanting more friction. Loki didn't leave you wanting for much longer, losing the battle with his morals. He freed him self of his clothing with magic. He grabbed a hold of your hips pulling you to the edge of the bed. Not giving you time to do anything other then scream out when his cock thrusted into your entrance. His his left hand digging into your hips, pulling you into each hard deep thrust. His right hand fisted into your hair. Pushing you face into the mattress.

        You walls clinched tightly around his huge cock. The felling of his cock deep inside you, had you feeling overly full it was almost painful. But it felt to damn good to give any care. He pounded into you like no other has. You moaned, screamed for more. You were so close Loki could feel it too. He slowed his thrust almost to a stop, making you whine. Your attempt to look up at him failed as he hand held your head in place against the mattress.

           "You don't get to cum yet. You were practically begging for me to fuck you! And now that I am pet, you don't get to cum until I say so." He yanked your hair.

         "Please Loki, I want to cum around your cock." You whines, your eyes begging him. Feeling his cock twitch inside of you. You tried to grind yourself against him. Only for you to receive a hard slap to your ass making you yelp and almost jump off his cock.

          "No," Loki growled inot your ear. "This is for teasing me. By flirting with those pathetic mortals." He pulled his cock out from your seeping core. "For trying to bed them." He slammed back into you. You cried out. Then he slowly pulled back out. "For Threatening to go find another when I deny you." Loki slammed back into you. Then slowly pulled out. He did this repeatedly after each sentence. Making you a withering, whining, moaning mess. He knew torture and he was taking it out on you. "So again pet." He stayed still inside of you. "You will do as your told. And will be aloud to cum, when I've have filled you with my own cum. And maybe then I will allow you, your release." He pulled out of you once more. "Do you understand me?" Pulling you head up by your hair. You nodded slowly.

          "Use your words little one." He growled.

          "Yes, Loki." You gasped out. Loki released your hair, you dropped back down as he did so.

           "Now be a good girl, and turn around open that whore of a mouth.” You did as he commanded. His cock standing high and proud in front your face. Loki grabbed your chin and his cock placing it against your mouth. "Now I'm going to fuck that slut out of you and maybe it will teach you not to tease, or throw yourself to another man. You my little toy and mine only." Grabbed the back of your head he pushed you forward, your mouth greedily wrapped around his member. "Now suck."

          Doing as you were told to do, you sucked on him hard. Bobbing your head up and down his length. You hand pumping what you couldn’t get. His hand stilling holding your head in place. Your tongue pressed hard along the underside of his hard cock. Loki twitched and throbbed in side you mouth. Loki moaned and praised you. You had him close to coming, befor he harshly pulled you off his cock.

          "What a greedy little girl. Wanting my cum so soon. He have yet to finish with you." He smirked placing himself on the bed. His hand petted you cheek. "Sense you wanted to fuck me so bad. I want you to ride my cock, until I cum." He laid there his hands moved behind his head. You Crawled on top of him. Straddling his hips, your core dripping as you easily slid down his length. First your started grinding against him. You hands on either side of his head. Your lips against his. "That's it pet. Fuck yourself on my cock." His breath fanned over your lips.

          Pulling yourself away from his lips. You started

Bouncing up and down his swelling cock. Picking up your pace. Trying to hold your own Orgasm back. You took him deep and hard. He twitched and spasms as he found his release, Lazily thrust into you. Ropes of his cool cum shot deep inside your warm and welcoming cunt. Filling you fuller then you have ever been. His cum Leaking out of you.

          "Gods, that's it. Take all of what I have to give you." He moaned out. His thumb found your soaking clit, pushing hard circles long it. His free hand kneaded your breasts. Flicking, pinching at harden buds. It was enough to make you scream, your walls griping him tightly. “Cum around my cock.” Finally came the build up had you gushing hard. Leaving a mess on him and the bed. You collapsed onto his chest. Both of you panting heavily.

         You woke up with a start. You had passed out shortly after falling on to Loki's chest. Your body felt sore. You felt this odd feeling of being full. When your legs stretched you felt odd wetness sensation between your thighs. There was also A presence behind you. You peaked over your shoulder, seeing Loki sleeping face. Your eyes widened when you realize what had happened. Not knowing what to do. You slowly pulled yourself out of the bed. Well tried only for arms to wrap around your waist pulling you back in.

        "Good morning my little minx's. Or should I say Doctor Jekyll. I see mistress Hyde left." Loki hummed. Kissing the back of your neck.

         "I-Loki I'm so sorry. I didn't know what got into me. One minute I was in the lab and the next I was using you for my own pleasure. I-I shouldn't have done that." You stammered out. Loki raises himself onto his elbows, look over at you. You hide your face from him. Making Loki chuckle, he pulling your chin carefully, unlike last night. Your doe eyes looked at him horrified.

         "You didn't use me. I took my own pleasure from you as well. But the real question is little one. Did you enjoy yourself?" Him cooed his thumb stroking your jaw. You nodded shyly hiding your face into his palm.

        "Then that is all that matters. Do not apologize. Now if you would like. Let me take care of your body." Loki kisses you tenderly. "Would you like that?" You nodded again shyly. "That's my shy little one. I take care of what's mine. Both of you." As he laid you back down kissing each bruise, bite, and scratch he had left last night. Even if his body looked the same as yours.

Permanent tags: @kitkatkl @lokilvrr @instantnoodlese @drakesfiance @meyoko10 @miraclesoflove @wolfcore227, @madleiine @teageowen @scorpionchild81 @redlipsinkorea @mintzxi @it-jinxed-us

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[scandalsavagefanfic]

I LOVE your "Jason bangs the JL, and also the World" series SO MUCH, seriously. But now I'm also thinking about an AU in which Jason sleeps his way through the JL, the Wayne Board, various Gothamite socialites, etc. just to get Bruce's attention. Bruce is seethingly jealous and VERY bad at hiding it.

Hi there! I’m so glad you like that little verse!

I wrote something for this ask but it… well, it ended up going a much darker direction than anticipated 😬  So I’m going to post up to the point where things take a turn here and maybe add something nicer later, just so we can all pretend that I didn’t ruin this happy, lighthearted verse with angst and horror. But I’ll post the link to the whole thing on Ao3 so everyone interested in the dark ending can enjoy.

We’re also going to just go ahead and call this an AU of the “Jason bangs the JL and all the villains” AU so that that one can remain untainted 🤣

So here you go.

PART 1     PART 2     PART 3

Darkest Knight - just the good stuff 

[Read the whole darker story on Ao3!]

Words: 1110

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None for the following, but check warnings and tags if you follow the link.

_____________________________________

It was already bad enough, knowing about the villains and his colleagues. But then Bruce sees a blurry picture with the unmistakable silhouette Vicki Vale and Jason’s signature jacket in a tabloid.

Still, he tries to stay calm. Tries to examine why he’s so angry about this when no one else seems bothered. 

Then he walks into Fox’s office to find Jason sitting on the edge of the desk, Lucius standing between his spread legs.

They’re not doing anything. They’re both fully clothed. But the flirty tilt to Jason’s head and the soft, affectionate smile on Lucius’s lips would have been damning even without Jason’s finger looped between buttons on the older man’s shirt, and Fox’s hand on the younger man’s thigh. Not to mention the way Lucius takes a quick but dignified step back and Jason flushes pink.

His first thought is that maybe Jason is purposefully flaunting it. Shoving Bruce’s face in his exploits just to get under his skin.

But Bruce had come to Fox’s office to let him know his “business meeting” in Norway had ended early and Bruce was back two days ahead of schedule. They couldn’t have known.

After an extremely awkward moment where they all just stare at each other, Bruce turns on his heel and leaves as quickly as he can.

This is ridiculous. He needs to get a hold of himself. Needs to find a way to let this go.

If he were smart, he’d try to encourage the obvious mutual feelings between Jason and the youngest Green Lantern. Try to nudge Jason into something more committed and… norm—healthy.

But something stops him. Something won’t allow him to entertain thoughts of Jason being serious with anyone.

Those feelings and anger boil inside him, getting hotter and hotter at every little hint of Jason’s… relationships. The way Clark can’t seem to look him in the eyes anymore. Jordan’s smug grin. Slade’s and Talia’s and Lex’s pointed jabs. 

The way Rayner seems to always just… be there now.

It’s Tim who makes him realize.

“Jesus Christ, Bruce. Stop acting like a jealous ex lover. Jason is an adult and he’s not being taken advantage of. You read the report from Ra’s. You know that.”

Bruce didn’t hear anything after “lover”.

As per his modus operandi, he spends the next couple weeks obsessing over Tim’s words. 

Then he plans.

——————————

Batman hides in the shadows, waiting for Jason’s guest to leave, and is unsurprised to find it’s the cocky Green Lantern (not that all of them aren’t cocky. Honestly, Stewart is the only one Bruce even kind of likes).

He doesn’t go in immediately. It takes another hour, give or take, to steal his nerves for what he’s about to do.

When he finally does, Jason’s security is fairly easy to bypass. Like he didn’t even bother to lock things down after Kyle left. 

Hovering over Jason’s bed watching him sleep is creepy. Bruce knows that. Especially with the smell of sex somehow still thick in the air. 

It does nothing but make that something in him go feral.

But he takes a deep breath, keeping his cool, and steps back. Just in case.

“Jason,” he growls. It’s a low, gravely rumble. Not quite Batman’s voice—he’ll only use that if he has to—but not his normal one either.

The younger man positively leaps out of bed, lights from the city beyond the windows glinting off the curves of his meticulously sharped kris. It’s wielded with obvious skill and comfort, despite being jolted from the middle of a REM cycle.

The light also casts flattering shadows across Jason’s bared form, cutting dark valleys in the dips of his muscles and glistening peaks at the swells. His ebony curls are sleep tousled and sticking up in different directions. 

“B?” Jason asks, voice thick and a little slurred with sleep. He straightens out of his fighting stance, eyes narrowed in confusion. Then he tucks the knife back under his pillow and runs his fingers through the streak of white at his forehead.

Bruce can’t stop his own gaze from flicking down or the way he licks his lips.

Even in the darkness, he can see the color bloom across Jason’s face as he realizes he’s fully exposed.

There is no conscious thought to move. Jason reaches for the sheet on the bed and suddenly the room blurs, a surprised yelp rings like sweet music in his ears. And when things clear, Bruce has Jason up against the wall, the younger man’s wrists in a steel grip.

Jason stares at him with wide, bright eyes, breath coming in short, shaky puffs that make his chest heave. Which draws his attention down to the dark metal bars pierced through Jason nipples. He hadn’t even known they were there.

It’s mesmerizing, watching them move slowly up and down.

“Bruce… wh-what are you doing?”

Jason’s voice is soft, breathless. Usually Bruce is good at reading people but he can’t tell if Jason is excited… or scared.

He steps closer, eyes traveling over the warm, scarred skin, connecting the dots from bite mark to hickey to fingerprint. 

“I want you stop,” Bruce finally demands. “I want you to call off all your arrangements and dates.”

“And when have I ever cared what you want?” Jason smirks but his body language, the tense line of his shoulders, out his continued discomfort. 

Bruce steps closer, takes both of Jason’s wrists in one hand and raises the other to lightly cup Jason’s neck, thumb caressing over the younger man’s chin and inching towards his lips. He feels it when Jason gulps.

“You used to. Once. When you were younger,” he purrs, enjoying the way Jason shivers when his breath wafts over the boy’s face.

“That was a long time ago, Bruce. I was different person. You were a different person. Things have changed. We’re not close anymore and I need—“

“I’ll provide everything you need,” Bruce rumbles. “Whatever you need. Anything you ask for; no questions, no strings. Weapons, intel, cash, Kryponite,” he slots his thigh between Jason’s legs, slides it high to feel the younger man’s cock, making Jason gasp and squirm. “Feeding the hunger the Pit left inside you.”

Jason freezes for a moment, eyes going wide again.

“You-you can’t be serious,” he grumbles and starts wriggling harder. Like he’s making a real effort to get out of Bruce’s hold.

Bruce just tightens his grip; squeezes Jason’s wrists hard enough he can feel the bones grind against his palm. “I am. Very.”

[daniharperdominant]

Freaky Friday

WHO: Dani & Ash WHAT: Exploring new things WHEN: the Friday of mark switch week

@ash-clarington

If it had been anyone else in charge, Dani might have been uncomfortable.  But she'd spent enough time with Ash, knew enough about her, to know that she had nothing to fear.  The scene would be her first real experience into submission, and she was looking forward to just what Ash had in mind for her.  The velcro restraints that held her were surprisingly effective, and Dani made a mental note to include them in a scene one day before turning her attention back to Ash and trying to surrender herself to the right mindset. The silk robe that she wore clung in all of the right places and Dani's hands ached to touch.  For now, though, she would be a good girl.

The set up Ash came to find, was half the battle. She struggled with remembering to give verbal commands and did her best not to physically react every time the word Miss was said in her direction. Ash was angry that Dani had been denied the proper experience she had sought and though that was partly with herself for not stepping up she figured this was the least she could do. She sat with her legs crossed and back straight between Dani's legs, her determination distracting her from fully taking in the sight of the usually Dominant woman tied up and exposed before her. In truth Ash kept her focus on the fact that what she was doing was pleasing Dani in a way as she teased her. A fresh size 8 bright style paint brush gripped between her fingertips and her only point of contact between the two. Ash was careful not to brush against Dani's thighs as she moved the end of the tool delicately over her clit repeatedly and when she felt like she was building Dani up too much she backed off, reminding herself that ultimately it was what the Dominant wanted her to be doing.

Dani was definitely admiring the view.  Ash might not have been a natural Domme, nor was it something she much wanted to do, but as she laid there secured it was hard to see her as anything but in the moment.  There was a bit of pride in Dani as Ash began to tease her, both because it was what she wanted and because it was done with confidence that must have been difficult to muster.  As the paintbrush trailed over her she couldn't help but be bemused that she was finally learning what that sort of teasing would feel like from the other side - in that sense, at least, the exercise was teaching her something.  All of those thoughts, however, moved to the back of her brain as Ash worked her up and let her fall, leaving her gasping and wriggling on the bed.  Part of her wanted to beg, but she was still just a little bit too proud for that; surely she could hold on without begging.

The paintbrush made its way everywhere but where Dani needed it for a while, allowing for a cool off period. Ash was determined to take her time and draw things out for hopefully as long as Dani could stand. When she finally moved to continue slow strokes over the woman's clit Ash raised her eyes as she did so, curious to see the expression it would draw. Unexpectedly she caught Dani's eyes and the submissive had to will herself not to avert her gaze. Ash held her eyes as she stroked over her slowly and then flicked the brush a few times firmly, fully invested in the reaction she could cause.

As Ash worked her magic Dani wondered whether someday they could try something similar with actual paint on the brush.  It would be fascinating to see what shapes Ash might want to try creating on her, and what that might look like by the time they were done.  When the brush returned to her clit she inhaled sharply and clenched her fists, back arching slightly off of the bed before falling again.  Her gaze landed on Ash's just in time for her to give the brush a few flicks.  There was no quiet inhale, Dani went straight to a muffled curse.  "Shit," she gasped, hands flexing as she tried to reach out for contact.  "That's a good trick, Miss."

In spite of herself and the title Ash repeated the action with a slight smirk. Her body buzzed to life at the sound of the curse and ragged breath, and a noticeable throb made itself known between her legs. Teasing wasn't Ash's preferred method but she had never really heard Dani sound like that before and it colored her cheeks and tugged at her intrigue. She flicked the brush for longer that time, extending the direct contact to a torturously stalled end as Ash pulled it away entirely again, careful not to take things further than she meant to.

Dani's response to the next flick was decidedly non verbal as she traded in a low moan for her curse.  Her body was thrumming, and her chest rose and fell in an uneven pattern as she tried to control her breathing as much as possible.  "Ash," she groaned as the brush was put to a new and interesting use.  Dani writhed in the restraints as she sought out just a little more contact, enough that she could pull herself toward the edge.  "Miss," she corrected herself.  "Please..." begging hadn't been on the agenda, but she didn't mind after all.  It would hopefully make Ash feel good, and powerful.

Goosebumps rose on Ash's skin to the sound of her name said like that. It didn't surprise her how much she enjoyed it, she was always happy to please her partners but the circumstances of how she'd earned it did make it feel different somehow. She squirmed slightly where she sat, readjusting. "Please...what?" Ash asked as she returned her attention to painfully avoiding Dani's clit. It was hard to remind herself not to remain silent and simply take in and absorb her partners responses but to also actively drive their scene forward.

It should have frustrated her, having to plead.  But Dani found that in Ash's hands she could let herself do so without it feeling too unnatural.  The next day she'd be back to herself, but for one night she could give in.  "Please," she gasped as the brush dragged across a particularly sensitive spot, "please can I cum, Miss?"  Chances were the first request would be denied - it was how she'd have played the scene, at least - but she still needed to ask.  Her desperation was rising a little and it was Ash who would decide when it ended.

Ash paused before responding, the question hanging in the air between them. She placed the tip of the brush at the top of Dani’s center and slowly moved it down to her opening and back. Ash focused on the slow steady strokes for a few passes before finally shaking her head and deciding, “No.” The word felt wrong to say and it filled the submissive’s mouth with a sour taste, her cheeks flushing and the hair on the back of her neck raising as a shiver passed over her. Slowly down. Slowly up. Ash swallowed the aversion and the feeling of being out of line and focused on her attempt to tease the Dominant with the light even strokes. Her pace unchanging for several minutes.

Dani tried not to be impatient.  She had always been the one to drive this sort of scene, this sort of interaction, and as the brush traced a path along sensitive areas she could feel her need growing.  In the end, the denial wasn't a surprise, but Dani still huffed in frustration as she wriggled.  "Miss," the word was less of a collection of syllables and more a strangled cry.  Trying to know how soon to ask again from the other side was an impossible challenge.

The urge to ditch the paintbrush grew and Ash gripped at it much firmer than she would had she been painting on a canvas. The submissive wanted more than anything to simply lean forward, wrap her lips around Dani, and make her come as many times as the Dominant wanted. But she didn’t. Ash assessed herself and the situation and on impulse she rose from where she was sitting and turned her her body around. With her knees digging into the bed at Dani’s side and some of her focus locked on the delicate stokes of a brush, Ash pulled up her robe and presented herself to Dani, silently lowering her sex in a 69 position as more of an offering than a demand. The best Ash could muster. “You can come after I do.”

Dani hadn't ever expected permission.  She understood how to play a scene like the one they were sharing from a Dominant perspective, but from underneath it was impossible to gauge what would be realistic in terms of permissions and time.  Ash took her by surprise, though, when she turned around to offer herself.  The instructions were clear, and Dani felt more sure of herself with them in mind.  "Understood, Miss," she nodded, pulling her hair out of her face and pressing her tongue firmly to Ash's folds.

Ash stifled her gasp and muted a moan with a bite to her lip as Dani began fulfilling the unspoken order. Her attention to her own task was stifled as she leaned backward into the welcome touch. Slowly down. Slowly up. Ash flicked the tip to the Domme’s exposed clit with each pass, intent on drawing as much out of  Dani as she could without pushing her beyond control. It occurred to her that she could take Dani’s orgasm whether she gave the permission or not and something about that flickered excitement deep in her belly. Her own orgasm quickly approaching.

Dani's conflicting feelings on mark week, her frustration, all of it was compartmentalized as she focused on the task at hand.  Making Ash cum didn't require her to act submissive, it didn't take any skill that she didn't already possess.  What did make it more challenging, though, was the skillful way that Ash tortured her with the brush.  Her feet twitched as she tried to stay in control, focusing all of her attention on Ash's clit in response - hoping to get her over the edge as quickly as possible and end her own sweet torture.

The precipice came quickly and Ash held her breath and closed her eyes, allowing a feeling of control she never indulged in wash over her. She held herself at the edge, fighting Dani’s practiced methods at getting her off and simply began flicking the brush in short deliberate motions. It felt like a race, Ash daring Dani to defy her and fall into her orgasm prematurely and her company and submissive for the night clearly putting her all into getting them there as quickly as possible. “Ok.” She huffed out when she was finally ready, every inch of her body alert and on fire. “Ok, ok...” Ash gave a nod and a final few passes of the brush before she felt herself fall to jelly and crumble into an orgasm she didn’t expect to be so forceful.

She hadn't intended it to be a competition, but when it became one she also had no intention of losing.  Ash was going to climax so that she could, and it was just as simple as that.  Dani was hardly prepared for the artful little ways that she was pushed towards her own, though, the brush leaving her an aching mess who felt truly out of control for the first time all week.  Fortunately in the end either her technique won out or Ash gave in, but either way Dani was finally allowed to let go.  Burying her face against Ash, Dani let out a scream of pleasure as her body twitched before falling back against the bed feeling exhausted and sated.  "Jesus fuck," she whimpered.  "Thank you, Miss."

Ash had gone forward, her body strewn out over Dani’s as she caught her breath. She hummed at the thanks, unwilling to move quite yet with her heart still pounding in her ears. After a few calm moments she rose up and reached for Dani’s ankles, the Velcro restraints undone in one swift motion each. When the submissive did her wrists she hovered over her. Ash trailed firm fingers down Dani’s arms, sinking them into muscles that had moments before been tensed as she went. She took a moment to bring her lips to Dani’s, kissing her softly in the laze and wake of their climax. “Good girl.” She whispered and peppered a few more light kisses to the Dominant’s face.

In the afterglow, Dani found something unexpected.  As the restraints were loosed and she drank in the kiss and compliments she shivered.  And kept shivering.  An adrenaline crash, perhaps, maybe sub drop, if such a thing were possible for a Domme, but something had clearly gotten to her.  And rather than pull away she tried to do what she'd have counselled Ash to do: reach out.  She curled as close as she could to her in the hopes that she'd warm up a little, resting her head against her chest.  "Sorry," she forced through chattering teeth, not even sure what it was she was apologizing for.

The paintbrush was lost and forgotten somewhere in the bed, there hadn’t even been a spare thought toward it. Ash was only zoned in on the way Dani pressed into her, on the way she could feel her shake against her and Ash was quick to put her arms around her and bury her face in her hair. She shushed away the apology. “Stay here with me.” Ash said, recognizing the lack of question in her voice and unnerved at how easily it came in the moment. She rubbed har palm soothingly across Dani’s back, hoping to warm her.

She'd never felt anything like it before, and was sure Ash had never had to deal with anything like it before, but Ash's quick response was exactly what she needed.  She burrowed as close as she could, nodding her understanding of what she'd been told - and not noticing just how confidently it was phrased.  "I'm here," she offered softly.  "I can feel you."  The shakes began to ease as she pulled warmth from Ash's body, and she sighed softly as she began to find her way back to herself.

Ash knew there was very little chance Dani was actually cold, she could feel how warm her body still was against her but she guided them in tugging the top sheet out from under them and also indulged herself in the feel of the thin cool fabric settling over bare skin. She found her fingers in Dani’s hair, stroking through it as they seemed to meld together. “Just like this until morning.” She said, unintentionally sounding like a promise. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer it sooner.” Ash admitted into the quiet room. “You deserve to know what it feels like to be taken care of like...” the submissive paused to collect her words, feeling oddly emotional “You deserve to know what it’s like to feel as safe as you make me feel.”

Until morning.  The words filled Dani's heart with a lightness that she'd only admit to if she were asked under duress.  It was a relief to know that she didn't have to move, didn't have to pull away or be without Ash's arms around her.  She held more tightly to Ash at the apology, shaking her head.  "It's not even remotely your fault.  I didn't have a way to express...any of what I'm feeling."  She knew what subdrop looked like from the other side, of course, but she'd never gone through it herself and couldn't describe it if she was asked.  It felt good - incredibly so - to know that she made Ash feel safe.  "I feel safe right now," she promised.  "Right here, like this."

Ash pulled back enough to look at Dani, wanting to see her face and blue eyes scanned her expressions for meaning behind her words. It was genuine but Dani was wrong. Ash had been wrapped up in a lot of bullshit of her own making and to put it plainly, she was afraid and uncomfortable with the idea of dominance. She forced a deep breath to expand her lungs against the remaining ache in her ribs and sighed it out slowly. Dani would have never left her to the mercy of leftovers had the same event had a different focus. Ash couldn’t be convinced otherwise. Still, she nodded. It wasn’t the time to dwell, she just wanted Dani to hear it. The submissive kissed her forehead. “Right here. Like this.”

[go-hux-yourself]

Drop

A little late xmas present for @thethespacecoyote​ :D Did not go where I thought, but still lots of fun! Hux experiences omega-drop from Kylo being an idiot of an alpha. Kylo catches Hux in bed with two of his knights to combat it. Things get worse before they get better.

Also on my ao3 here :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

--

There was something going on with Hux and his knights, he was sure of it.

He didn’t have any proof yet aside from a feeling, and while Ren could easily distill the truth of months of slight suspicion by force, the fall out if he was wrong would absolutely not be worth it. Things were tenuous enough with his rule, and it wouldn’t help to have his closest confidants think he didn’t trust them. He couldn’t probe the minds of his knights without them knowing, and such an intrusion without consent-- even by their master- would be taken as a serious breach of trust.

Not that he should have any problems violating that trust if he thought something was seriously happening with his omega and his knights (and paranoia was a potent-thing, but he wouldn’t allow it to rule him).

Infidelity would be one thing if he and Hux were bonded (which they weren’t), and the betrayal another if Hux had lied to him (which he hadn’t, as Kylo hadn’t accused him of anything just yet). But it was a gut-feeling. Something his instincts were telling him, aside from what his nose was telling him.

Smelling his knights on Hux was normal; they were his personal guard on the ship after Ren had seized power by murdering Snoke. His reign as Supreme Leader hadn’t been very long at all, and there were plenty in High Command that cared as much for him as they did for an omega commanding in a position like Hux. The presence of his knights around the general was entirely warranted, and the scent entirely explained.

But something unseen was happening with them, he was sure of it. What exactly that was, he still didn’t know, and meditation hadn’t revealed anything to him when the paranoia got bad enough for him to reach out to the wisdom of the force. Whatever it was, it was certainly below the force’s notice.

Or at least in comparison to larger problems.

There had been a few spoiled coups and assassination attempts already, but they’d waned in recent months. Partly because of a strategy Hux had developed, wherein his knights were rotated about the ships in the fleet to not let their commanders forget just what kind of a hands-on alpha they had for a leader. Mind-readers, force-users, all skilled in deadly combat. It helped to secure his rule, but just because things felt safer didn’t mean he’d stop having Hux personally guarded, despite the general’s roll of the eyes and insistence that he could take care of himself.

It was a sore point for many of their arguments; arguments which usually stemmed from Kylo’s overprotectiveness.

Hux hated it. Kylo was Supreme Leader now. Hux should be his proper second-in-command, able to independently run things about the ship with the confidence of their ruler behind his actions. But the constant hovering shortly after Kylo had seized power, or the changing of an order Hux just gave-- undermining his own authority on the bridge- was deeply insulting; like he was untrusted in ability or skill.

They’d had quite a few delicious, angry fucks resulting from that argument, but just as many fights in private. Hux wanted autonomy, but Ren didn’t trust the alphas on the ship. Things had indeed changed-- they were fucking now, for one, and Ren was Supreme Leader- and yet things had stayed exactly the same. Their arguments always came down to the same thing: Ren not giving him his space, and Hux not understanding the need of an alpha guard.

Hux belonged to him. To Kylo. He might not have bonded Hux yet (he hadn’t worked up the proper courage to ask, and Hux would never forgive him if he took him by force), but Hux was still his. Amidst the power-struggles and regime-change, his presence-- or that of his knights- served as a reminder that Hux was not to be touched. He was his to protect, his to command, his to touch and fuck and kiss and make cry with pleasure.

And if Ren couldn’t be there, then one of his knights was assigned to the general to enforce his will. Smelling them on Hux wasn’t odd, but the frequency of the strength of the scent-- coupled with Ren’s own absences on the ship- made him paranoid with alpha territorialism. Hux was his, and the only scent he wanted covering the omega was his own. That he couldn’t prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that the scent on Hux was innocent in nature-- part of his will being carried out- was the real problem.

The idea of Hux in another alpha’s arms made him want to spurn the man as much as to wrap him tightly in his arms and never leave his bed. Hux was his. The idea that Hux might not want him back in the same way left Kylo conflicted, suspicious, and hating the man as much as he might sometimes love him.

Hux was reclined on his chest now, the both of them cooled down from a nice hard fuck. Kylo’s knot was already down and out of the other man, his release lovingly cleaned from the omega while Hux had lazed there with a relaxed smirk and casual touches to his person. There was something calm in these moments, the urge to simply be together driving out any and all paranoid, jealous thoughts as Hux practically purred in his arms.

Kylo was nosing about in Hux’s fluffy post-sex-hair, drawing in pulls of the omega’s satisfied scent through his nostrils. It made something possessive inside him want to hold tightly to the other man; to bite down on that pale neck and assert his claim. To let everyone know he belonged to Kylo (and Kylo, him).

He was enjoying the feel of Hux in his arms; the closeness, the warmth, his scent. He wanted to stay wrapped around the other man for hours yet, but the time for the shift change was nearly there.

Time Hux would spend shadowed by one of his knights while Kylo was busy elsewhere.

“Haven’t you got to be on the bridge?” Kylo asked, the jealousy creeping back in despite the lazy satisfaction that had still been thrumming through his veins minutes before.

Hux smirked indulgently as he rubbed at the alpha’s broad chest. His thumb playfully brushed over the alpha’s nipple. “I think I can spare a few moments to lay with you a bit longer.”

The way Hux purred the words-- a soft, satisfied smile on his face as he lightly stroked the alpha’s chest- made something hateful born from jealousy rise up in Kylo. Like Hux was making fun of him, here in bed with him somehow. Making a show of shirking his duty for the alpha-- a pretty large concession from Hux- when the man was fucking one-- more than one? All?- of his knights behind his very back.

The accusation simmered low inside him, not yet ready to come out, but he was already feeling the burn in its wake. He wanted to drive the other man from his bed; to tell him to ‘go back to your substitutes like I know you wish to’. If Hux had others to fuck, then Ren wouldn’t waste his time lingering in his bed.

Unfounded accusations born of suspicion-by-scent and Hux’s own sometime-abrasiveness, but strong enough to cast his doubts in deep shadow.

Hux was with him right now, enjoying him right now, but Kylo had no doubt the general would go on to smell like his knights again far sooner than he wanted to entertain.

As much as everything in him wanted to continue to hold the omega, Ren chose to give in to the doubt, sitting up and dragging his hand down Hux’s side to give his bare ass a soft smack. “Didn’t you say that was unprofessional before? I won’t have you accusing me of making you late for your shift.”

His words got a sharp frown and what almost looked like hurt crossed Hux’s face, but the general dutifully rolled over and began to gather his clothes from Kylo’s floor.

“You’re right, of course, Supreme Leader. It’s important I don’t slip in my duties lest anyone think you’re giving me preferential treatment.”

Kylo turned to watch him pull on his jodhpurs, a frown at the implication there, and for the formality of his title being used. “You’re my omega,” he said matter-of-factly, tone possessive. As if being the Supreme Leader’s omega was itself a license for preferential treatment; one Hux should indulge in.

Hux gave him a sharp look at that, pulling on his undershirt and only turning away to do up his jacket. He refused to look at the other man again. “I’m your second-in-command, and the highest-ranking officer in this fleet. I got there by my own merits and dedication, and I’ll continue to lead by example.”

Kylo didn’t have anything to add to that, the spiteful thing in him simmering away and enjoying that Hux was clearly hurt by his insistence to his duty, even as he hated that the omega didn’t fight him on staying.

He watched as Hux put on his boots, and almost called him back to bed. He wanted to press the damn man back into the mattress beneath him despite it all, and scent and kiss him for hours until Hux was so boneless from pleasure he couldn’t leave, let alone want to.

But he didn’t. Ren watched as Hux left his quarters with an angry sort of somber look on his face, and laid back moodily in the sheets to wonder what the hell he was doing.

He stuck his face in the pillow only for Hux’s scent to taunt him.

--

Ren couldn’t be everywhere at once. He was a far busier man than he’d ever expected, what with the resources and the power to carry out multiple missions at once now. His presence could be supplemented by his own knights, at least, and that helped to remind everyone who was pulling the strings in the First Order.

It also meant he spent more time away from Hux than he preferred, but it was necessary in chasing down leads only he could go after.

It did worry him to leave the omega, though, but not because of the assassination-attempts.

Hux was well-liked by members of his staff that he’d hand-picked. There were no thoughts of mutiny towards the omega; only loyalty, admiration, and respect. But that wasn’t why he worried about the general when he took his leave.

More than one officer liked the omega for simple reasons of attraction. Hux was tall, lean, and passionate in pursuit of his duty. He was also un-bonded. Un-mated. Anyone who could have him for their omega stood a lot to gain in both terms of social status as well as pride if they forcibly bonded him (if Hux didn’t gut the first person to attempt it without his consent, anyways).

His own presence on the ship was a great deterrent for actions against the omega general, but he wasn’t always on the ship, or even with the fleet itself. All it took was someone patient enough to either bite or snap Hux’s neck when he was gone in an attempt to usurp power. It was a risk Kylo found unacceptable.

That was yet another function of Ren’s knights-- when he was off-ship, their presence kept any start-ups from getting ideas about seizing power from his omega while he was gone. There were still plenty of power struggles happening internally amongst the fleet-- enough to worry Ren about another alpha seizing Hux’s un-bonded neck in an attempt to push their own agendas (or murder him and command the First Order in his place while Ren was gone). His knights would see that that didn’t happen (not that Hux wasn’t perfectly capable of defending himself, as he sourly pointed out again and again, but this wasn’t something the alpha would let the omega talk him out of).

The reunions after he’d been off-ship awhile were the best, and his welcome reception by Hux only fueled more of these off-ship treks for the sole purpose of enjoying the return. It worked to pull back some of the spite he felt for the other man, doubting all previous suspicions and blaming jealous paranoia for doubting Hux’s interest. Hux’s actions towards him spoke of want, and he was nothing if not enthusiastic i seeking out Kylo’s bed.

But the alpha was smelling his knights on the omega more and more lately, no matter how often they fucked. And while there was no evidence of infidelity-- Hux was always eager to welcome him into his arms and ride him like a man possessed- Ren couldn’t stop the jealous suspicions plaguing his mind.

He’d been back with the fleet for a month now after the last mission, and it had been weeks since he’d set foot in Hux’s personal quarters, preferring his own. His suspicions were driving him to be distant, even when he wanted to fully ignore them in favor of wrapping the omega in his arms and lavishing affection on him.

Not that they weren’t still fucking. But he preferred to do it in his own bed in his own quarters, where Hux’s scent mingled with his own; where only his scent covered the omega general. Ren could enjoy their mingled scents alone when jealousy got the better of him and he isolated himself.

The omega’s own quarters were spacious and comfortable, but nothing compared to his own luxurious allotment now. Kylo liked smelling Hux amongst his sheets. It was soothing. It was reassuring. The way their scents blended together into something warm was comforting, even when paranoia got the best of him and he either did or said something to make Hux snarl at him and leave.

It didn’t occur to him that this whole arrangement could have a serious, detrimental effect on the omega beyond their old rivalry and spats. To make matters worse, he’d been off the Supremacy for some days now, and even the prospect of returning to Hux’s arms in the privacy of his own den-- to potentially smell one of his alphas on the omega again- made his homecoming one of bittersweet anxiety.

Paranoia was finally impossible to ignore, strong enough to drive him. And the tipping point was that Hux wasn’t where he was supposed to be, and neither were Ren’s knights.

He was earlier than expected-- his mission cut short a day as he wanted that homecoming feeling too badly to ignore- but his unexpected return wasn’t met with the proper fanfare as it should’ve been.

Hux wasn’t on the bridge even though it was the middle of the rotation, and there were far more eyes on Kylo than when he normally took the bridge himself. Like they all knew something was off-- knew something he didn’t- and he felt heat rise up his neck at the attention, lack of his omega where he should’ve been.

“Where is General Hux?” he asked the lieutenant in charge, the small beta looking up into his face with slightly-widened eyes.

“Ah, he’s taken ill, Supreme Leader. He’s been resting these past few shifts. I can summon him if--”

Kylo didn’t wait for the man to finish his sentiments or offers, instead choosing to leave and head to Hux’s own quarters. He didn’t need to probe the lieutenant’s mind to know Hux wouldn’t be in medical. The man had a phobia of the entire section of the ship, and would subject himself to nothing more than was required of him in his duty. No, Hux would be in his quarters if he were truly ill enough to take him from the bridge.

Hux never seemed to need sleep, but the alpha knew just how soundly Hux did sleep all curled up next to him after a particularly-trying shift. He drank far too much caf and got too-little rest more often than not, but even he couldn’t keep that up forever. Hux was just as prone to being ill as anyone else, but for the life of him, Ren couldn’t remember anything aside from a full-blown heat to keep Hux from his duty (and his heat wasn’t due anytime soon to his knowledge).

The alpha’s concern that Hux must be truly sick drove his feet to move faster.

...Paranoia that something else might be going on fueled his stride.

The absence on the bridge of any one of the knights he’d left behind hadn’t escaped his notice. He’d commanded them to keep an eye on the general; his omega. To guard Hux in Kylo’s stead. Protect him with their life. His mind wove many scenarios that sparked anger within him, and as he advanced on the door to Hux’s personal quarters, the lack of a knight posted outside the door made him grit his teeth.

Kylo let himself into Hux’s quarters silently, expecting the darkness and silence that greeted him as he entered the space. It should be dark and quiet if Hux was recuperating from something. That made perfect sense. He expected it even as he could feel Hux’s presence in the man’s own quarters.

What Ren did not expect was the pervading scent of familiar alpha-- no, alphas- mingled with Hux’s scent in a way that betrayed occupancy of many days together.

Hux’s scent was thick even in the recycled air, but the welcoming addition of Kylo’s own musk was completely absent. The implication made his heart beat faster, fingers twitching. This was a space that, instinctively, should smell like him. It was wrong not to smell his own scent in the general’s own quarters, and worse as he detected the slight tinge to the omega’s scent; despair tanging the air with something else.

He could feel familiar signatures in the force at the same time he picked out individual scent, and the concern for Hux’s health gave way to the gaping maw of jealous, possessive anger. He didn’t need to see to know that Vicrul Ren and Ap’lek Ren were in bed with his omega, but as his hand blindly found the manual control for the lights, he still wasn’t ready to see the truth of matters with his own eyes.

Hux was curled into Vicrul Ren’s chest, one of his delicate, bare hands resting about the top of the alpha’s training shirt in sleep. Ap’lek Ren spooned the omega, an arm thrown over Hux’s waist in a way that made a surge of something possessive and wild break free in Kylo.

Both his knights were dressed down from their armor, masks off and faces far too close to Hux’s own for comfort. It didn’t escape him that all three men were still dressed-- Hux’s own black sleep-pants and shirt covering skin only Kylo should see- but that did little to quell the feelings rising up in him. The three were blissfully asleep, faces unguarded to the wrath quickly building on Kylo’s face.

He hated that he was right to have suspected something, and seeing his omega and two of his knights in this obvious display of casual intimacy filled Kylo with such a grief-filled rage that the very echoes of it in the force woke Vicrul Ren from his slumber.

The knight didn’t even look at him before he was launching Ap’lek Ren’s ax in the direction of Kylo, and it was only as Kylo froze it mid-throw that the other alpha seemed to realize who he was, and what he’d done. The look on Kylo’s face drove every last scrap of sleepy-incoherency from the other alpha as he became alert to the imminent danger of his master and Kylo’s own rage filling the room.

Vicrul Ren rolled to a knee on the floor of Hux’s quarters as the omega and the other knight stirred from the jostling. His head was bowed in immediate supplication, and Ap’lek Ren, too, saw his own weapon frozen in midair, and rolled to the cold floor to instinctively take a knee upon seeing his master. Kylo’s overwhelming presence kept them both force-pinned there, but his eyes were locked on Hux.

The look of red-faced alarm that had initially taken Hux’s face turned instead to one of fearful pallor. Hux looked exhausted-- indeed, sickly- bags under his eyes and that fiery hair dull and unwashed. His lips weren’t pressed together in defiant sneer, instead, mouth slightly ajar to breathe easier as he stared back silently at Kylo. He remained where he was, legs slightly curled under himself as he sat against the head of the bed not without effort. Hux was clearly ashamed at being found the way he was, but couldn’t yet pull his gaze away from the alpha.

And still the words wouldn’t come from Ren’s throat.

The accusation that had been ready to spew forth from Kylo’s mouth now stuck in his throat behind the crushing hurt. Here Hux was in bed with two of Kylo’s knights-- two, of course he would need two, Kylo was worth far more alphas than that- and he still couldn’t make the words form on his tongue, wanting the other man blindly still.

“Master--”

“You dare speak to me?” Kylo’s voice was a harsh growl of threat from above, and Vicrul Ren found himself effectively silenced, the force prickling at his body in warning of just what Kylo was holding back.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux’s even-voice came carefully, drawing Kylo’s gaze from his knights back to him.

The angry thing inside of Kylo expanded at the use of the formal title, the alpha’s voice just as much of a growl for the omega as it was for his knights. “Hux.” The name on his tongue was accusation, threat, hurt, and consequence all rolled into one. Hux visibly pushed himself back further to the wall in obvious distress.

Kylo could feel a disturbance against his hold as both of his knights started in some easily-aborted attempt to jump up to the general’s aid. They stayed where he kept them on Hux’s bedroom floor, impotent against the power of his anger. Kylo was outraged at the idea they would turn against him, try to stop whatever they thought was about to happen, and yet he was not surprised at all, as his eyes raked over and over the general. Hux was an omega worth killing for.

He forced them even harder to their knees.

Vicrul Ren grunted at the power weighing down on them, still silenced by their master. Ap’lek Ren spoke in his stead against the power holding them. “We’ve done only as you’ve asked, Kylo Ren. And no more. To protect his life.”

Kylo took his attention from Hux back to the knights he’d incapacitated, red-hot anger burning brightly. Their lack of shame was boldly crass. “You think I would allow you to manipulate me with your stories, Ap’lek Ren?”

“You tasked us to safeguard his life against all-threats,” Ap’lek Ren quickly got out while he could, noticeably not using his powers of persuasion against Kylo. “This was life-threatening, Master. We did as asked.”

It wasn’t what it looked like, basically. That’s what he was saying. That the pair of them were in bed with his omega, somehow protecting his life by cuddling with him. Did they really think him that big a fool?

Kylo felt the anger rise in him again, and he tore his focus into his knights to get the fuel for the rage he’d use to tear them apart. He forced his way into their minds without warning. While there was a shock of initial pushback at the intrusion, the knights submitted in this way to him as well. They let their master peruse their open minds, see what lead them to this moment-- that both alphas understood the general to be suffering from severe omega-drop necessitating alpha-scent and pack-reassurance- and that nothing otherwise untoward had happened between them.

Kylo frowned. Omega-drop?

Ap’lek Ren opened his mind further as Kylo reached after the term for understanding, the other alpha’s thoughts and experiences coming to the surface. Denial from their alpha. Rejection. Pining. Endocrineal shutdown. Substitutes as a last-resort. Far too long. Far too long. Coma. Death. Pain. Sadness. Long-dead younglings and mate. Pain. Pain. Longing--

Kylo pulled his focus sharply away from Ap’lek Ren to Vicrul Ren’s mind. Hux looking worse and worse between Vicrul’s rotations in the fleet. The way Hux watched Kylo’s shuttles take him from the Supremacy with obvious longing. The scent of despondency under false nonchalance. The way that scent grew stronger when the Supreme Leader checked-in with an ensign, not even Hux, to announce he’d be away even longer. A feeling in the force of such unrequited want from Hux that he’d have to be completely force-null not to have sensed it.

An accusation the knight wasn’t able to keep from his mind: You didn’t notice?

Kylo frowned to himself and settled his attention back on Hux. The omega watched him passively, waiting for whatever was about to happen, to happen. Hux wasn’t privy to the content of the wordless exchange going on about him, but he also wasn’t stupid. Being caught in bed between two alphas not Kylo did not look good for him, even if it had been necessary. He wouldn’t waste his voice on excuses, instead watching the alpha who denied him further anger at attempts to counteract such effects.

Ren felt less like a Supreme Leader and more like a supreme asshole. He’d done this; he’d caused this thing to happen to Hux. The pull he felt towards the other man was completely unignorable now that he realized what it was. How he’d never realized the instinct to cuddle Hux was a… a thing… he didn’t even know. He always felt things strongly, and so this had escaped his notice and instead fed his paranoia.

He’d ignored Hux. Sent him away for entirely stupid assumptions. He’d pushed against his instincts, and it had hurt the other man; damaged the relationship he badly wanted between them. Hux wasn’t fucking his knights behind his back. He didn’t want to fuck his knights behind his back.

Even now, distressed and heart-racing, Ren could feel that Hux wanted him. The look on his face, his body-language, his scent, his presence in the force all called out to the alpha to be held and kept and needed. Even as debilitating shame over being found this way kept him from reaching out to the alpha, Hux wanted him desperately. He was hurting because of Kylo, and yet, Kylo was the cure.

It was disgusting in its irony, yet it was also undeniably true.

Kylo felt like an ass for all the jealous anger he’d felt. All the times he’d stubbornly drove Hux from his bed despite wanting to do the opposite… All the times he’d made the conscious choice not to visit Hux’s own quarters, instead making the general come to him… If he did.

He’d caused this. The pallor to the omega’s skin, the exhaustion, the simple, tacit shame Hux felt of betraying his alpha by having other alphas in his bed. Kylo was a damned mind-reader, but he hadn’t known this.

Hux’s mind wasn’t exactly in a state to keep him out, but Kylo barely brushed against it for what he already knew: that Hux thought Kylo didn’t want him. That he thought he was useful perhaps, and maybe a good lay, but not mate material since they hadn’t bonded. Kylo kept giving him mixed signals; that he was Supreme Leader as well certainly complicated things. And even as Hux’s body rebelled against being knotted and used by an alpha who sent him away after fucking, Hux simply wanted the damned man too badly to stay away for his own good.

And it was killing him.

It apparently was not the first time Hux had taken to bed with a pair of his knights-- always a pair, Kylo understood; something less-intimate with the addition of a third person- and it also had not been Hux’s idea. Oh, they had Hux’s consent and compliance if and when he ‘allowed’ himself to enter that kind of state. But he refused to needing help until clinging to the arm of one or another, allowing them to put him to bed out of desperation for reassurance and comfort. It kept the drop at bay; allowed him to manage it.

Further pressing into Ap’lek’s mind, Kylo found that all of his knights knew what Hux had been ailing from, and further, information and strategy had been planned amongst them for how to deal with it, respectfully, when it occurred. Two instances of fainting, along with the shift Hux had missed days prior, lead them to following through with established protocol once again; crawling into bed with him.

Omega-drop could be improved by comforting an omega in their nest, if they had one. To scent and reassure them against repeat rejection from a potential mate, essentially tricking the body into thinking it was getting what it wanted; alpha scent, touches, feelings of safety and security. To let the omega know they weren’t rejected by their assumed social group in the manner as they were rejected by a mate.

Hux wanted Kylo, but for whatever reason, their master had continued to send him from his quarters, and not see him fit to bond and further secure his rule. So far the knights had managed to balance the general out, but the temporary-coma Hux’s body had gone into had taken considerable days to right this time. They’d remained with the general right up until Kylo had returned early. That had been an unexpected complication to the protocol they’d established to follow their master’s orders, usually leaving Hux’s side at his own behest well-before Kylo would return.

Who their master fucked was none of their business, but it was understood that Hux belonged to him. Whatever his reasons for not heading-off omega-drop, their task was always clear: protect the general from any threats within or without the fleet while Kylo was away.

The reality of the situation was somehow so much worse than if Hux had secretly been fucking his knights on the side. All Kylo wanted to do was wrap Hux up in his arms and somehow make this right if the omega only let him. Apologize-- genuinely apologize for simply not knowing. To ask him to bond with him, officially. To be his. He could still make it right. He’d had it so so wrong.

Ap’lek’s ax finally fell to the floor with a clatter as Ren let it go, releasing his force-hold on the alphas as well. The sound made the omega twitch where he still held himself against the headboard, watching as Kylo met his eyes before looking back to his kneeling knights. Any anger he’d previously had turned to self-disgust and annoyance.

He wanted to be alone with Hux-- to clear everything between them- and furthermore, wanted the scents of his knights gone from these quarters.

Ap’lek and Vicrul got to their feet with careful movements, already knowing they would be dismissed. It made Kylo’s voice that much more agreeable. “Out.”

“Master--”

Hux sat his place unmoving, watching as Vicrul Ren retrieved Ap’lek’s ax from the floor. Kylo and Ap’lek stared at one another, some silent exchange happening between them. Both knights inclined their heads in submission to Kylo before removing themselves from Hux’s bedroom, gathering their things which were neatly-piled in the main living-space. They shut the door behind them, and Kylo and Hux were left alone to gaze at one-another a bit uncertainly.

“...How long have you been sick?” Kylo asked bluntly, though his voice was soft and not without culpability.

Hux gave him a distrustful look. “I’m not sick, Ren,” he simply stated.

“You’ve been suffering from omega-drop, Hux,” Ren stated back.

“It’s not something you can catch,” Hux clarified. “Therefore, it is not a sickness.”

Ren snorted humorlessly before slowly moving towards the other man, broadcasting his intent as he could feel the anxiety and uncertainty coming off Hux in waves. He sat near the omega, wrinkling his nose at the strength of Vicrul’s scent left in the sheets. Hux smelled like both of them, and not at all like him. That in itself should have told him enough about how poorly he’d fucked things up in Hux getting to this state. He was a shitty alpha, for all he liked to call Hux his omega.

Kylo’s voice was soft, beseeching. “...How long?” he asked again.

Hux’s eyes danced over his face, checking his intention and only extrapolating from contextual clues how much the other man might know. “Six months perhaps since the onset. Longer, maybe. I’m not entirely sure, but I could look into it for you.”

Not too long after he’d assumed power, then. When everything was far more uncertain, and Hux had probably needed him when he’d been too busy playing at war. Hux himself was still uncertain as he reported what he knew in the same tone as disseminating facts.

Kylo wasn’t doing a lot to inspire confidence.

“Hux, I’m sorry. I didn’t--” Kylo pursed his lips, unable to meet Hux’s eyes a moment. He took a breath and gathered himself, feeling like a foolish knothead of an alpha. “I didn’t know about omega-drop. That it-- I didn’t know I was causing this. To you. I’m just-- I’m sorry, Hux. I am.”

Hux was quiet next to him for a long moment. Anxiety gave way to confusion and then hopeful curiosity. “You didn’t know about omega-drop, or you didn’t know you were causing mine?”

“That one,” Kylo admitted, looking down at his hand on the bed with guilt, “Or, both, I guess.”

Hux seemed to accept that answer. “So you were unaware this was happening.”

A lance of hurt he knew he didn’t deserve to feel went through Kylo, and made him even more profoundly ashamed of his behavior as he looked at Hux. “...You thought I knew what was happening to you and just ignored it?”

Hux averted his eyes, unable to handle the intense look in Ren’s own. “Well how am I supposed to know you’re utterly clueless, Ren?!” He glanced sidelong at the alpha, meeting his stupid big lovely dark eyes before looking away hopelessly. He wanted him so bad, and it hurt. “It’s not like we’ve ever sat down and talked about… this… Whatever it is between us. I honestly did not think you cared beyond a convenient fuck, no. I can’t pretend to know your mind. Not the way a mind-reader can,” he added sourly.

Kylo let himself slide off the bed to his knees, reaching a hand tentatively towards one of Hux’s own. Hux watched him, bitter expression still on his face, but he opened his hand and allowed Kylo to take it. “I care. I care beyond a convenient fuck,” he stated. “I’m just-- Fuck, I’m sorry Hux. I need you. I want you. In any way you’ll have me. I want to bond with you. I want to rule with you,” Kylo spoke to the thing in Hux that hated that they’d never be equals. The look that took the general’s face was clear surprise tinged with jaded bitterness. Kylo stroked his thumb over the back of Hux’s hand. “I want only your advice, I want to tear anyone apart that stands in your way. I want to be your mate. Your only alpha. Bond with me, after you’ve-- after I’ve proven myself. Please.” He squeezed Hux’s hand, feeling the omega squeeze back. “I’ll give you the title of Emperor. We’ll be equals. Just, be mine, please.”

Hux gasped, gaping at the other man in open shock. Surely he wasn’t serious. Not the alpha who kicked him warm from his bed without so much as a kiss goodbye. Emperor? Really? It wasn’t enough that Kylo was a larger man than him, but an alpha to boot, and with command over the force? It put the other man at significant advantage to Hux. Kylo was the one man no one would be equal to, the most powerful force user in the galaxy. And yet, he was trying to offer that to Hux; to show his sincerity, his willingness to submit to the general if it meant having him as his mate. “I’d be an emperor?”

“The Emperor,” Kylo corrected, pressing a kiss to Hux’s hand. “It’s-- I know you can’t know my mind the way I could look into yours,” he repeated Hux’s own words, “but I want a mate who isn’t afraid to tell me when I’m seriously kriffing up, Hux.”

A beat passed before Hux spoke up. “I’m not afraid of you, Ren.”

He thought that was arguable, but didn’t press it. He had more making-up to do to his sometime co-commander than not. “I have significant power over you.”

“That’s been true of a great many people in my life.”

Kylo frowned. “I would give you that same power.” Hux watched him with cautious hope, and Kylo wanted to embrace him; to drive the point home that he’d simply been a total idiot, and that Hux was his better half. He held himself back, not wanting to spook the other man more than he already was. “It’s not a- a rank, but it’s the clearest title I can think of to match my own.”

Hux snorted lightly, a small smile he couldn’t keep from his face. “I believe an Emperor outranks a Supreme Leader…”

“I think so, too.”

Hux regarded him with something open in his expression. He raised the hand Ren wasn’t holding to cup the alpha’s face. “You really mean all of it.”

“I do.”

He was on his knees to an omega-- to Hux at his bedside- offering him the one position with any kind of authority to rule as an equal at Kylo’s side. That struck something inside of Hux as he realized Ren did mean it. If he didn’t believe him before, he certainly did now. Those words were not spoken lightly. The offer to rule… He’d be untouchable. He’d be safe.

“All because you didn’t know you were supposed to cuddle with me…”

Kylo snorted. “I am sorry. You’re the only-- I’ll prove myself, Hux. I will.”

“That you may,” he said with a sort of smile that looked tired on his pale face. “...for now will you… hold me?”

Kylo scrambled onto the bed to wrap the other man in his arms. He felt slighter without his uniform on, but it definitely felt like he’d lost some weight. An image he’d taken from Ap’lek Ren’s mind of wasting away hit him, and he held the other man even tighter, scenting his neck and petting his hair. He could still smell his knights on the omega, but it was something he could reconcile himself to at the moment. “I’m sorry, Hux. I wasn’t taught how to-- Caring for omegas isn’t something that was ever included in my training, but I’ll train in this manner, too.”

Hux snorted, the warm breath puffing past Ren’s ear as Hux pushed his smiling face into Ren’s neck. “Training.”

Ren nodded, moving his arms to hug more of the other man. “I don’t want to do something like this to you again.” It was a horrible, stupid mistake from his own negligence that could’ve been avoided if there was more trust between them. And if he bothered to understand more about Hux’s own endotype further than enjoying the general’s heat.

“We’ve-- It’s not always been easy between us,” Hux spoke, and Ren pulled back to look at him, but still kept his hold tight, “but I shall strive to inform you of any care you may be lacking in giving me.”

The slow smile that spread over Ren’s face was echoed in Hux’s own, and the general returned the kiss the alpha tentatively pressed to his lips. Ren pressed another to his jaw and then his cheek before fully hugging him again and burying his face in Hux’s neck. He could still scent old despair from his neglect on the omega’s skin. He licked a stripe up Hux’s neck to remove the smell; to cover it. A pleased little sound left Hux’s lips at the movement. He’d do it to Hux’s whole body if the man let him, but it was probably more efficient to hop into the ‘fresher. “I’ll make this better,” Kylo promised. “We’ll start over. We’ll fix this. I’m sorry, Hux.”

“You must be,” Hux lightly teased, a hand in the alpha’s long hair, enjoying the feel of it through his fingers as he nuzzled Kylo back. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words cross your lips in such quantity in all the years we’ve known each other.”

“I’ve been a fool, and I would learn from my mistakes.”

“That’s probably the best thing you could have said.”

Kylo smirked. “That I’m foolish?”

“That you would learn from your mistakes, Ren,” Hux spoke candidly, though not without fondness. “It makes me believe there’s a good alpha in you, yet.”

“...not just some knothead who doesn’t take care of his omega?”

Hux smirked at that disparaging epithet, but didn’t contest it. “I’m not yours yet.”

“Not officially,” Ren said with a knowing smile. Hux needed him as badly as he needed Hux. To think he didn’t already belong to him, and vice versa, was willful at best. “You will be. After I’ve proven myself.”

Hux made a soft sound at the kiss Ren placed on his nose. “Are you really going to make me Emperor? Truly?”

“Yes,” he promised. “Tomorrow. Today. Whenever suits you.”

Hux raised a brow in disbelief at his claim. “Really? Without offering you my neck first?”

Kylo touched their foreheads together, a hand gently cupping Hux’s throat in caress. “Yes. Before that.” A frown like he was afraid to believe it took Hux’s face, and Kylo touched their noses together before pulling back. “I meant every word I said, Hux.”

Hux’s gaze drifted from his face to somewhere on Kylo’s chest between them. “Well then,” he began, the contentment in his voice hard to ignore, “you can begin to make it up to me by having a shower with me.”

Kylo raised a brow. “Oh?”

Hux dragged his hands up the other man’s chest to rest his palms at the base of Kylo’s throat. His thumbs stroked along the alpha’s jawline, and an indulgent smile took his face. “Not for the reasons you think, but I could be convinced,” he lightly teased before meeting his gaze head-on. “I don’t like smelling like other alphas if it's not necessary.”

Kylo kissed him again, heart beating fast at the statement and subsequent implication; that he wanted to smell like Kylo, and no one else. “They… helped it, then. The drop.”

“Their scents helped. It was a necessary survival-tactic, Ren.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Maybe,” Hux agreed, though it was still fresh enough to cause him concern. Maybe after the sheets were changed and he showered away the scent to replace it with Kylo’s own, he’d feel better. More secure. “They never touched me inappropriately. I wouldn’t have allowed it,” he added, though Ren’s knights had given their master the distinct impression that it wasn’t for a lack of interest. Their loyalty to the alpha was simply more powerful than other urges.

“And me?”

Hux smiled. “I’ve already allowed you a great many things. What’s a few more?”

Hux let Kylo bowl him over into the pillows, ignoring the pervasive scents of his knights for now in favor of pressing Hux into the mattress. He kissed him, held him, and eventually pulled him up and towards the refresher.

First thing they’d do was get Hux clean, and then they’d incinerate his bedsheets and anything else that smelled of his knights. From there, they would cuddle, and talk, and moreover, plan for installing Hux as the Emperor, and getting their relationship back on track.

Hux had more than a few thoughts about his own coronation, and even more on instructing Ren the best ways to hold him. It was a lesson Ren was eager to learn, and as Hux pressed against him, practically purring into his hold, he was pleased to discover that Ren was a very quick study indeed.

--

kofi | ao3

[cyrusxdukeofmaine]

Aftermath | The Chateau

Parties: Annick Berthou and Cyrus Tanet

Location: The Chateau du Maine

Date: Night of August 22nd

Triggers: References to the shooting, trauma and blood. 

@annickxberthou

Cyrus had never before felt so numb, not even after losing his parents. He held onto Annick’s hand like a lifeline the entirety of the journey back to the Chateau. Tomorrow would be interviews with officials and dealing with the intrusive press. Another scandal in their small kingdom. The entire year it seemed they had ricocheted from one disaster to another. As the door to his private suite closed behind him, he noticed for the first time that his clothing, his hands, were stained with Adelaide’s blood. He had even gotten some on Annick and her beautiful dress. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t even have said precisely what he was apologizing for - embroiling her in his messy life, the blood, taking her to an event where he nearly died. Where he nearly died. Stepping back, he glanced down at his clothing and began to fumble with the buttons. He needed the clothes off but the shock was now wearing off and his limbs felt out of his control.

To her credit, Annick had not completely panicked, though she may have screamed when Adelaide had fallen. And now was not the time to fall apart. “Cyrus, stop,” Annick said calmly, stepping closer again and moving his hands so she could undress him herself. “I won’t accept an apology for something not remotely your fault.” She didn’t regret being there and didn’t regret being here now. Once she managed to get his jacket and shirt off, she held his face between her hands. “I want to be at your side, no matter what. I’m strong enough to withstand the storm, let me help.”

It felt better when she was closer, which was probably a terrible sign but she made him feel things he had never experienced with another. “You could have died.” He whispered gruffly. “If ….” He swallowed the words, unwilling to give voice to them. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closely but over the scent that he had come to associate with this beautiful submissive, he could only smell that heavy coppery metal of drying blood. “I need to get clean. I must ….” He nodded toward the washroom. “Join me, my Annick.”

Annick felt calmer when he wrapped his arms around her. “But I didn’t,” she reminded quietly. She would take the time to examine what all those words meant later. Right now, it was enough to help in any way she could. “Of course,” she nodded, stepping out of his embrace and taking his hand. 

Still the if felt large and uncomfortable. What if she had been on the stage with him, what if she had been the one to step forward, what if … what if … what if … his mind seemed frozen, fixed on this terrible idea of horrible possibilities. The tug of her hand drew him out of this train of thought. He followed her to the washroom. If he had been his ordinary self, he would have been trying to peel off her beautiful dress but the idea of touching her with his blood-stained hands felt wrong. He needed to feel clean and he needed to hold her. And at some point a drink … goddamnit he could use a damn drink.

Nick knew that for the moment at least, she needed to provide direction. In the washroom, she started the shower and then turned to finish removing Cyrus’ clothing. It occurred to her that burning them might be better than trying to clean them. Her dress came next before she took his hand and pulled him into the shower. The warm water helped to wash away the blood though it did little to wash away the trauma. That, she hoped, could be helped by her gentle hands as she washed him.

As the water poured over him, he processed that at some point his girl had undressed him and gotten him into the shower. He reached forward to cup her face, tipping up her head and claimed her lips in a soft kiss. “Thank you, mon amour. I adore you.” He whispered against her full lips. “I think I love you.” He continued and then a small smile flickered over his lips as he realized how silly that sounded, “I love you.” he repeated, removing the careful attempt to protect himself. 

Annick smiled at the whispered adoration about to chide him about being sappy until he whispered again. She stared, quite sure she’d heard him wrong. Cyrus had just been through tremendous trauma and hadn’t he in the recent past not believed her confession. Still, her own stubborn heart refused to be logical. She twined his arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his smiling lips. “I love you, too.” And she did. It was no longer a hidden crush but real and present. “But tell me again tomorrow.”

“Every day…. I promise.” He whispered before pressing another soft kiss to her lips. He knew there were many things he needed to do. Check on the members of his House. Some of them were hard as nails, tougher than he could ever be but others were soft. Lin. Liana. Henri. Even Asa would lose his mind if anything happened to Nate or Liana, the two that had kept that old man’s heart going after losing his own beloved daughters. He couldn’t bear another loss. Still, in this moment, he just wanted to hold the woman he loved and let the hot water wash away the blood of a sweet young woman who had taken a bullet he suspected was meant for him. His arms tightened around her, pulling her to him and he just let the heated water pour over them, entwined together.

Promises were not something Annick took lightly and she was positive that the same was true for Cyrus. Sensing that the time for discussion was over, Annick let herself be held close, taking comfort in Cyrus’ arms. She laid her head on his chest and listened carefully to his heartbeat, whispering a prayer of thanks that he was still alive and here with her for another day. Her own hold tightened as well. Tomorrow, or later, when he was busy dealing with the aftermath, she’d allow herself the tears she knew needed to be shed. For now, he needed her stability and she would gratefully give it to him.

When he finally felt steady, he unwove himself slightly from his beautiful submissive and began to finish washing them both down. He felt himself steady and became calm again, drawing from her calm composure. He flicked off the water with a quick turn of one hand and guided his beauty out of the shower stall. He dried off her damp skin and used the fluffy towel most of the moisture from her hair before tending to himself. “Come...I need you tonight, my woman.” 

Nick could feel the shift in his demeanor as he calmed. Whatever frayed nerves she hid from him, were soothed as he settled. She took his hand as he finished drying himself. “Lead the way. I’m yours…” It was the first time she’d let herself say that and believe it. 

Delicious words. His soul consumed them. She was his - something wonderful happening here between them. Later doubts would cause him pause. If he was a target, having her in his life was dangerous to her. A conversation for another day, another time. Right now, he needed to 

sink into her. He needed her. Folding his hand over hers, he pulled her forward and out of the well-appointed bathing room into the broad expanse of the suite. 

Drawing her forward, he pulled her into a kiss as his hand slid down her back to cup the curve of her bottom. “Remind me to warm you up here later … my wild woman has not been spanked in far too long.” He teased against the submissive’s lips. His kisses trailed down her throat and over the curve of her clavicle until he could press heated caresses to her shoulder. He smoothed her hands to her side and murmured, “Be still …. I’ll let you know when you are permitted to move.”

Despite all they’d been through that evening, a smile formed against his lips at his teasing. Not that he needed any but she was sure to give him reason at some point in the near future. It occurred to her to tease him back but those thoughts were erased by the trail of his lips and the heat of his body against hers. Apparently she needed him too.

There was the briefest of nods in acknowledgement of his words and a murmured, ‘yes, Sir,” as she stilled. Stillness didn’t come naturally. Part of that wildness, she supposed. But her will to obey was stronger, so she stood as still as possible, her only movement the rise and fall of her chest.

Lower and lower his lips trailed, heated flicks against the silken skin, cooling after the shower in the late summer air. He slipped gracefully to his knees before her, his kisses now trailing over the curve of her abdomen and along the line of her hip. His fingertips traced up from her narrow ankles, along the curve of her calves to the silk of her inner thigh. His mouth pressed to her sex, tongue flicking over that heated core, tasting her, lightly at first and then feverishly, possessively, drawing out her heat, wanting her to call his name and beg, even with merely the twist of her hips and the pants of her breath. 

Annick lowered her eyes to watch Cyrus move. Her desire grew as lips and fingers grazed her sensitive skin. His movements were as graceful as they were seductive. It was all she could do to leave her hands at her sides. She longed to thread her fingers through his hair, to tug at those dark strands. God, but he was skilled with that wicked mouth that he used to charm and beguile. No longer was her thoughts on the trauma of the evening. Her world had narrowed to only him. “Cyrus!” she cried, legs trembling as she fought to stay still.

“Be still, my wild woman … show me what a good girl you are.” He teased before placing a few damp kisses along the smooth skin of one inner thigh, his hair tickling the other as he moved. Cyrus continued upward again, reclaiming her pussy. One finger pressed into her, not enough to satisfy, just to tease the woman’s sex. She was wet now, drenching his hand, the flavours of her dancing over his tongue. A delicious distraction from the events of the night.  His possessive hold and her obedience settling and satisfying his Dominant urge to claim the submissive before him, the woman he loved. He broke contact and before his hand fell away, he gave her thigh a sharp pinch. “Hands and knees on the bed, arch your back, no touching yourself.” he demanded gruffly.

And wasn’t that what she had always wanted? To be his good girl and earn that praise. She resolved to stay still as he continued his assault, though the brush of lips and hair made that particularly difficult as she stifled a laugh. She gasped as he slip a finger inside her, a desperate mewling noise following. Fuck, but she wanted to rock against the intrusion. Her eyes fluttered closed as she concentrated on obeying. “Fuck!” The pinch had startled her more than hurt. She colored hotly as she scrambled to obey, moving not nearly so gracefully as she positioned herself on the bed. It was not even a little bit hard not to touch herself. She far preferred being touched by him.

He loved the blush, the fire in her cheeks as she was a good girl and got into position on the bed. With careful hands and gentle caresses, he adjusted her position, her sex spread from the part of her knees. The position one of a supplicant, framed perfectly on his bed. Her wetness decorated her thighs. There wasn’t a mark on her aside from the rapidly fading spot where he had pinched her. Ordinarily he would be seeking to leave his mark on her pale skin, to marr her perfection with his possession. But at this moment he reveled in her beauty, unmarred by anyone, including him. Tracing his fingers over her dripping core, he murmured, “That’s a good girl. You are so beautiful. And mine. All mine. Say it … pledge it … Say I am yours and you are mine.” His instructions were accompanied by the rough press of two fingers into her channel, filling her before pulling almost all the way out before filling her again. “Tell me.”

Annick thrilled to his gentleness as much as when he was far rougher. She was his to command either way. In this position, open and vulnerable, she’d never felt safer. “Yours!” she cried as his fingers drove into her. Her silken walls tightened around him as he thrust into her roughly, long fingers sinful but not what she was desperate for. “Cyrus.” Her voice was cracked with emotion. “I’m yours and you are mine. Always. Please…” She’d never felt such all encompassing need.

Her words were delicious and filled up places with him that ached in ways he could not describe. “That’s a good girl.” He murmured huskily as he smoothed a free hand up and down her slim back, feeling her quiver beneath the gentle touch. His fingers continued to slow fuck the girl, drawing out her heat until it dripped down her thighs. His cock lay hard against his thigh, rising in desire, craving her as she craved him. He wrapped his free hand around his length and stroked. He withdrew his fingers and before she could whimper for their loss, she was filled again by his cock. His hands wrapped around her narrow hips, the grip almost punishingly brutal as he held her still.  

It always astonished her that his simple praise was so effective. It pressed her lower, arched her back more, sent a new flood of wetness to the apex of her thighs. The slow movement of his fingers was beginning to border on torture as he prolonged the inevitable. When Cyrus finally broke down and replaced his fingers with his cock, she cried out his name. Her hands curled into fists, clutching the sheets beneath her. If not for his powerful grip, she wasn’t sure she could have remained still.

Cyrus pressed forward, filling her slowly, torturing even himself at this moment but unconcerned. He wanted her begging for release and he was determined to get it. It was a much needed distraction from the day that proceeded. His hand slid from her hip to trace over her abdomen, a fingertip seeking out her clit. He teased the bundle of nerves, circling gently before pressing more roughly against her. “You belong to me.” He grumbled quietly, more to himself than her really, his breaths becoming soft pants as he fucked into her again and again. His pace increased, fucking her harder and harder.

The moan that escaped Annick as she was filled was nothing short of wanton. She wanted to press back, take more. His quiet rumble of words was met with a not nearly so quiet reply of “Yours!” as his finger pressed against her clit. It was just the right amount of gentle and roughness that sent liquid fire through her veins. Her body tightened in response to his harsher pace, back arching nearly painfully in an effort to get more.

The terror of the night’s events felt distant and forgotten in the heat of this moment and the intensity of the connection. What he felt for Annick was unrivaled in his personal history, although he knew that was likely not the case for her as she had been engaged before.  Regardless, she was his now and he wasn’t planning to part with her. 

Pressing his fingers into her core, he gave her clit a rough pinch. “Cum for me, my little wild woman.” He groaned out as he started to shake just a little, a symptom of the restraint. He wanted to fill her, watch her cum on his cock before he allowed himself the pleasure of release. He put all his effort into teasing her body, in drawing out her heat and pleasure. “Cum.” he demanded again, aching for her and wanting to finish within.

A gasp left her at the pinch, the tell-tale tightening of her stomach as she neared her peak. It was the order more than the physicality of the moment that sent her over the edge, though feeling Cyrus holding back added to the rush. She cried out his name as she came, body shaking with the intensity of the moment. 

Her voice crying out his name provided the rush he needed. His hands tightened on her slim hips and his rhythm faltered as he fucked into the beautiful brunette, claiming her in that primal heat given by her silken body beneath him. Her submission to his will satisfied the Dominant at the core of the man. Weaving his hand into her dark hair, he tugged her upward and claimed her lips in a long, heated kiss before pulling them both down onto the bed in a collapsed heap of limbs and naked, satiated flesh. “My wild woman … my Annick ….” He murmured against her throat before applying a gentle kiss beneath her ear. “I love you.” 

[r6shippingdelivery]

👀 What would Kapkan have to do to reduce Glaz to an incoherent needy mess? Is that even possible?? How loud can Kapkan get him to be?

Well, why don’t we find out? I also updated this to the pertinent ao3 collection, in case you prefer reading it there! And let me say: this is as close as top Kapkan as I’ll ever write, aka, topping from the bottom. Enjoy!

Getting reunited after one of them comes back from a mission is always a moment of euphoria and relief, getting tangled up in hugs and kisses, both passionate and reverent. Doesn’t matter if it was a small scale operation as the one Glaz just came back from, that doesn’t dampen their enthusiasm at being once again together and alone in their home.

Kapkan gets swept into a tight embrace, Glaz kissing him softly at first then deeper, holding onto him as if they’ve been apart for years instead of a couple of weeks. It’s fine, Kapkan has missed him too, and melts into Glaz’s arms, kissing back intensely. They both know this reunions always end with them in bed, and Kapkan planned and prepared everything accordingly. It’s the reason he feels a tiny jolt of pleasure with every movement and step he takes, the plug pressing teasingly against his inner walls.

He lets Glaz lead him to the bedroom, seemingly docile, but he pushes Glaz onto the bed as soon as they reach it. The sniper doesn’t look surprised by Kapkan climbing over him, at least not until he takes out the handcuffs he left under the pillows and smirks down at his prey.

There’s a moment of expectant silence, Glaz studying him intently before nodding and laying down on the bed, surrendering to him. Kapkan handcuffs him to the headboard and starts kissing Glaz again, leaving a trail of wet marks and hickies on his neck. The shirt gets on the way, and Kapkan realises he should have taken it off before handcuffing Glaz, so he simply bunches it up and continues lavishing attention on his lover’s chest, making him gasp when he closes his lips around the sniper’s nipple and uses his tongue to tease until it gets stiff.  Glaz makes a low moan when Kapkan bites into the soft muscle around it.

If he’s honest, Kapkan should admit he’s taking things slower than he would like , the urge to take off Glaz’s pants already needling him from the back of his mind. However, he also wants to make Glaz squirm, as payback for how needy and desperate he’s felt this last week, aching to have his boyfriend in bed with him. So now he’s going to take out his frustration on him. 

Although, to be honest, this can’t really count as punishment, seeing as Glaz hums contentedly  while Kapkan leaves kisses and small bites all over his exposed torso. There are a few scars running over his skin, thankfully not as many as Kapkan himself has, and the hunter knows them all by heart. Hands gliding down Glaz’s stomach, he finally reaches the button of the sniper’s trousers. Kapkan briefly entertains the idea of undoing the zipper with his teeth, but neither of them are the sort to give into teatrics like that, not when it’s more efficient to unbutton them normally.

Glaz helpfully lifts up his hips to allow Kapkan to yank down his trousers and underwear, exposing his already hard cock. The hunter wraps his hand around the hot length, stroking it in the way he knows Glaz likes best.

“I have one rule for you,” Kapkan says, looking at Glaz’s eyes as he swipes his thumb over the head of his lover’s cock. “You aren’t allowed to cum until I say so.”

If Glaz is surprised by having his own game turned against him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a pleased sound and thrusts into Kapkan’s hand. This is going to be fun. Glaz’s cock is thick and red, and Kapkan’s mouth waters at the sight. He dives in without further teasing, licking a wide stripe from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the head before wrapping his lips around it. Making eye contact with Glaz, Kapkan slowly takes more and more of his cock until he’s nearly gagging with it.The hunter knows he’s not the most skilled lover in this particular area, but what he lacks in finesse he makes up with eagerness.

It doesn’t take much time until he has Glaz pushing into his mouth, testing the limits of how much Kapkan can take and asking for more between moans. He warns Kapkan when he’s about to come, and they take a small break, during which Kapkan whispers in his ear about how he can feel the plug shifting inside him every time he moves, and how it’s not nearly enough to provide satisfaction. The sniper’s eyes go dark with lust, and Kapkan knows he’d be flat on his back and with Glaz between his legs if he hadn’t tied him to the headboard. As pleasant as that sounds, Kapkan has no plans to untie him anytime soon.

He goes back to sucking Glaz, drawing those delicious whines from him when he relentlessly tongues the head and the sensitive underside of his cock. The warning that he’s about to cum comes much sooner this time and, to Kapkan’s satisfaction, his voice sounds much rougher than before. While letting Glaz cool down a bit, Kapkan strips bare, intentionally taking it slow and making sure that Glaz doesn’t take his eyes off of him for a second.

Slathering lube on Glaz’s pulsing dick makes him groan, a low sound that goes straight to Kapkan’s own erection. He’s so worked up, so desperate to have some stimulation besides the toy inside him, and Glaz is clearly on the brink of coming undone. Kapkan doesn’t think he can drag this game for much longer. Taking the plug out brings forth a mix of relief and disappointment. He wants to be filled as much as he wants to hear Glaz beg, and he’s done waiting for it.

Kapkan climbs on top of Glaz and sits on his cock, taking it in one smooth movement. The feeling of being stretched further is amazing, and hearing Glaz whimper his name is even better. Hands resting on the sniper’s chest to brace himself, Kapkan starts riding him, chasing his own pleasure at last.

“You cock feels so good,” Kapkan gasps as it hits his prostate repeatedly, his movements getting faster while Glaz’s writhes under him, pushing deeper into him.

“Maxim, please… I need to touch you, love, please.” There’s an ominous creaking sound, and for a second, Kapkan thinks the sniper might actually break the headboard. He doesn’t care about the bed breaking, but the idea of Glaz touching him sounds really good.

He doesn’t get off of Glaz to retrieve the handcuff’s key, which he left on the bedside table, nor to free him from his restraints. And just as he predicted, as soon as he untied Glaz, the sniper rolls them around, still balls deep into him. Glaz sets a frenzied pace, thrusting wildly into him and roughly stroking Kapkan’s cock. It’s almost painful in its intensity, and just what Kapkan needs, pleasure building quickly inside him.

“Maxim,” Glaz moans against his neck, kissing and sucking the skin until Kapkan is sure it will bruise. “I can’t… I can’t hold back. I’m going to fill you up.”

The sniper sounds so wrecked, and Kapkan is so close too, he can barely think. “Yes, yes!”

True to his word, it only takes Glaz a few thrusts until he buries his face on Kapkan’s neck and crashes whimpering his lover’s name, dick twitching deep inside the hunter as Glaz fills him with cum. It’s unbelievably hot, and Glaz’s hand is still wrapped around Kapkan’s cock, his movements sluggish but it’s enough for him. Kapkan closes his eyes, overwhelmed,  and shoots pearly strands of cum over both of them, his moans mixing with Glaz’s. 

When Glaz collapses on top of him, he just wraps his arms around the sniper in a hug, melting under the tender kiss Glaz initiates. This right there is what Kapkan missed so much, not only the admittedly great sex. He still scowls slightly  when Glaz says those three words, even if his heart feels like it will leap out of his chest. One day he’ll be able to say it back, but for now he’ll just kiss Glaz again.