#that colour is amazing for his skin i fear

[persephoneflouwers]

No, yeah. Yes. Absolutely. 100 times yes.

[pizzaapeteer]

FU in my head part 2

Part 1 here Pairing Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary Unable to forget Mattheo's longing gaze after potions, your mind lingers on the meaning behind it. When he approaches you later that night, you're left unaware of his intentions and how this would play them out.

Warnings Oral (male receiving), female orgasm, semi-public sex, facefucking, swearing, slight degrading, sadistic thoughts, hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics.

Word count 2400

a/n: I was inspired by this lovely fic written by @mrsriddlenott

And big thank you to @finalgirllx for the amazing edit of Mattheo 💜

Darkness lurks near, flames flickering in the wind, their shadows illuminating on the old stone walls. The disappearance of time was visible with the passing of chattering students on their way to dinner. Making your way across the courtyard, your skin pricked with a frantic charge, your frustration growing in need of a release. 

The combination of your brimming timetable and interactions with friends had left you without a moment to yourself. Despite your aching core, you sigh in relief that you hadn't seen Mattheo since potions. You weren't sure your body could handle witnessing the attractive boy again. Just the recollection of Mattheo's amused smirk had your cheeks tinting. 

Troubling thoughts formed within that perhaps you had imagined it all. Worry pulled in your chest, fear that your fantasies were becoming more visual. Overwhelmed, you quicken your pace hoping to retreat to your dorm, but Mattheo's figure emerging halts you. You jump to conceal yourself behind a nearby pillar, impatiently waiting for him to depart. Unable to resist, you peak from behind the pillar, stalking his every move fervidly. Your eyes are drawn to him as he strides confidently down the corridor. Mentally groaning, you bite your lip. How can someone walking be so enticing? Curiously you watch, pulling back hastily as Mattheo's eyes narrow in your direction. 

You hold your breath in anticipation, hoping he hadn't noticed you. The air thickens at the sound of approaching footsteps. Mattheo's tall form surfaces in front of you, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he studies your expression. The scent of cigarettes and mint intoxicates your senses. You stare meekly, frozen in place, your core clenching at his intense gaze. A dark chuckle leaves his lips, his voice low, as if speaking to himself, "Finding you was quite the challenge."  Your heart quickens to an unrelenting pace, a surge of heat swells in your chest. You scrunch your brows, scanning his face for an explanation. Instinctively, you step back into the warmth of the light, his body closing the space between one another. The intimacy of your bodies allowed you to admire the sharpness of his features. Glints of intrigue flash in his mahogany eyes, his lips twitching into a mischievous grin. It left you swallowing as your lips parted, your cheeks heating, head screaming. "Why were you looking for me? Did I leave something in potions?" You ramble, unable to fathom him talking, even acknowledging your presence out of class. He doesn't answer your question, meandering his gaze between your eyes and lips. His tongue glides across his bottom lip, sliding in as he bites it. "You know, Theo's always telling me, it's the quiet ones... who are the dirtiest. Is that true?", glamour soaks his voice. 

Your eyes widen in alarm, jaw dropping, breath caught in your throat. Your neck prickles, a shiver running up it. Your core palpitates at his words, clear embarrassment and arousal paints your face. You'd never been so red before, the scarlet colour apparent to him as he smirks. He crowed at your reaction, watching you struggle to speak. "God, look at you, a flustered little thing." He rests a hand against the stone, flicking your ear with his finger tauntingly. 

Cocking an eyebrow, his eyes intensify, longing for an answer to his previous question. When you couldn't give one, except a small, unexpected whimper. An amused grunt withdrew from his lips, smirking he responds, "So it's true, you're fucking filthy, aren't you?". Mattheo revels in your desperation, his cock twitches as he watches you struggle to conceal your arousal. Feeling flustered as being called out, your eyes fall, avoiding his gaze. A cold hand grips your chin, jerking your head to look up to him. Towering over you, he leans his body down to meet your gaze, his eyes revealing the hunger inwardly. Your mind attempts to regard what was happening. Were you having another daydream?

In a rapid movement, Mattheo's lips embrace yours hungrily. The unforeseen action startles you before your hands instinctively clasp, reaching for him. Raising your hands, your fingers snake through his curls, pulling him closer. You had only kissed one other before, and it couldn't compare to the experience of kissing Mattheo. 

Mattheo's lips captured yours in a ravenous fire of passion, his hand veering down from your chin, shoving through your hair. His hand clamps the back of your neck, a sharp tug pulling your head against the hard brick. The harsh force sends sharp pains up your scalp, your mouth falling open in an ache. Mattheo, unphased by your pain, uses the clearly intended action to delve further. His tongue manoeuvres forth, colliding with yours, capturing your breath. Your head spins, your lips struggling to keep up with his expertise.

Relief consumes you, as oxygen replenishes your lungs, your heart palpitating. The moment is stolen by Mattheo's lips ravaging your neck. His hand still clasps you, his fingers squeezing your neck. His lips soft and warm attack your skin, small nips pinching at your nape. Your skin burns, body reacting as whimpers and moans leave your lips. Your eyes shut tightly as your fantasy is recreated. Unable to think clearly, your mind is blurred with desire and desperation. 

His hands roam downwards, the trace of his fingertips felt through your clothes, your legs convulsing in pleasure. Your skin pricks between his grasp, his hands halting their travels on your hips. A yelp leaves your lips as your hips slamming roughly into his noticeably protruding dick.  A cocky smug highlighted on his face at the marks displayed on your neck.  You used this moment to rest, your eyes never leaving his. Their usual shade of brown revealed a now darkened tint, consuming a predator's stare. He thrives off the power imbalance between him and you. Your obvious craving for him fuelling his ego and his mind races with possibilities of what to do next. "Get down on your knees," he commands. 

You stare at him aghast, "What?!" you hiss flustered but surprised by your own harsh tone. Blood rushes to your cheeks, taken aback by his vulgar demand. 

He quirks a taunting grin, tilting his head as he clicks his tongue "Oh come on sweetheart, I know how desperate you are to please me?" His hands drift to your face, caressing it, making you feel small. His words sent a rush of adrenaline down your core, your mind drifting into a state of glazed bliss at the idea of his cock between your lips. His grins widen as studies you, watching the wheels in your head turning, contemplating. 

Yet, the anxiety of being caught in a compromising position halts you as you scour the empty hallway behind him. A hint of irritation picks at his face at the slow lack of your response. He rolls his eyes before clutching your wrist harshly and pulling you into a near crevice, covering the both of you from any prying eyes. Now hidden, the clear desire of his request shone in your eyes, your cunt throbbing. The clang of his belt draws your eyes down as he undoes it, your heart pounding in your chest. In a swift motion, he tugs his pants down to his feet, following next with his briefs. 

The sight of his protruding cock leaning against his abdominals makes your insides squirm. He wraps a hand around his shaft, releasing a sharp breath as he gives it a quick pump. You bite your lip as you ogle at the size of it; the tip swollen red, glistening with pre-cum.  He places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you down in your dazed state. Your knees burn on the cold pavement, the outlines of the cobblestones moulding into your skin. "Come on now, don't be shy, open up slut," he directs with a sadistic smile on his face. He taps the tip of his cock against your mouth, dragging it over your bottom lip. Your jaw drops as he guides the edge of his cock into your awaiting mouth. 

His hand slides through your hair, taking a fistful to tilt your head back slightly. Eagerness reeks off you as you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. You were nervous, trying to channel your anxiety into adrenaline. Your mind is still in a state of awe at the reality of what was happening. Only earlier were you daydreaming about this. You wanted to leave a lasting impression; prove to him you were a good girl, ready to be obedient for him. 

You wrap your lips around his cock, the sounds of his grunts flowing directly to your core. Your legs squeeze together, easing your ache only slightly. You allowed your jaw to relax, as you continued to let him fill you up. His cock was the biggest you had ever taken, making you blink back tears. Mattheo groans as your warm mouth devours his cock. He stares down at you, admiring the pretty sight. He would never get enough of seeing desperate girls with their mouths full of him. He loved seeing tears brim at your eyes, smirking as he watched you struggle to take his size. 

His hold on your hair tightens, his hips shifting forward slightly. You get the idea pretty quickly and move, placing your hands on his thighs for stability. "Such a good girl. Aren't you taking me so well? " He praises in a sadistic tone. You moan around his cock; the sound being silenced as he hastens his movements. Resting his free hand flat against the brick behind you, his hips settle into an unceasing rhythm.  

Mattheo's cock thrusts vigorously, scratching the back of your throat, making your core pulsing restlessly as it clenches around nothing. The intensity of his strenuous thrusts, have your eyes fluttering closed. Drool trickles down the side of your mouth as you gag, choking around his dick. "Look at me, I want to see those cock drunk eyes," he mutters, pulling on your locks jerking your head, jolting your eyes open. Gazing up, your eyes meet his lust blown orbs, a satisfied smirk coating his face. 

Maintaining eye contact, your body trembles at the feel of your approaching orgasm. Never having to withstand an orgasm so long before, your body submerges in pleasure, knocking the breath out of you. Your nails dig into Mattheo's thighs, your orgasm courses through you, your legs tremble, pressing together, to repress the movement. Unable to remain quiet, a whimper escapes you, vibrating around Mattheo's cock. 

Worry sets on you as a deep groan falls from his lips, your tremors edging him on. Praying your orgasm went undetected, you sigh contently at the sight of him caught in his own pleasure, for him to notice. "Fuck you like that, don't you? Like your mouth getting used like a little slut," he mutters, his hold on your head tightening. His thrusts become sloppier, his own climax hitting. You watch enticingly as his brows scrunch, flushes of pink, warm his face, small pants leaving his mouth. A stream of incoherent words spills from his lips as he shoots spurts of cum down your throat. Unable to swallow quick enough, the excess spills, leaking, down the sides of your mouth. Swallowing, you revel at the feeling of your jaw loosening as he removes his cock from your mouth. Mattheo regains his breath, readjusting his pants, tucking himself back in. 

He peers down at you, still on your knees. As you catch your breath, he reaches out, swiping his thumb to collect the excess of cum dripping down your chin. He nudges your lips open, insisting for you to lick it off. His eyes watch zealously, as you submit to his request, your lips clasping around his thumb, your tongue swiping, gathering the salty fluid. He withdraws his thumb with a satisfying pop. 

Traces of lust are still clear in his eyes as he trails them over your chest. He studies how your chest rises, your hardened nipples pressing against your school shirt, the evidence of no bra worn. The sign of your immodesty takes him by surprise. How had he not noticed earlier in class?  Your face flushed a crimson red, tear stains left down your face. He had never seen something so beautiful. God, your desperation to please him left his arousal at an all-time high. It was almost unprecedented, seeing you so wrecked by just sucking his dick before, unaware of your own climax. 

As you stand, he notices your weak knees, his eyes narrowing in on your thighs, as a drip of cum runs down. "Did you fucking cum?" He asks, his voice sounding almost reprimanding, had it not been for the curve of his mouth lifting into a taunting smirk. 

Shame washes over you at his confrontation, all traces of your confidence diminishing instantly. "Fuck, I didn't know you were this pathetic," a deep chuckle leaves his throat, his face wearing a sadistic grin. "Well, that's not true. I already knew that."

Your face pulls, frowning at his words. Your mind turns like a clock, ruminating on his words. You scan his face as you connect the dots, your expression changing into shock. "You're a legilimens?!" you splutter out. Your mind ponders endeavouring to recall any knowledge you learnt about legilimens. The art which involved delving into the layers of one's mind to extract their thoughts. Only known to be performed by an extremely powerful wizard or witch. You stare at him awaiting his answer, astonishment resting on your face. 

He leans back against the wall, allowing some space between you two. He lights a cigarette. "Knew you'd figure it out, smart girl." It made sense to you; Mattheo was son to a powerful wizard, one known for infiltrating the minds of his victims. He eyes you intriguingly, waiting eagerly for your reaction.

At his acknowledgement, heat blazes your cheeks, the realisation sinking in. "You read my mind!" anger courses through you. 

His eyes glimmer with amusement at your outburst, a cloud of smoke exhaling from his lips. He shrugs his shoulders, speaking nonchalantly. "Your thoughts were too obscene not to keep infiltrating." Not giving you time to interject, he adds more to the fire. "Plus, you should thank me." 

You cough on your spit "thank you?!"  "You're welcome." He grins at your response.  You give him as threatening of a glare as you can muster. "You're insufferable, you literally still read my mind without permission." You mutter.  Mattheo raises a brow, "Sweetheart, you were the one having erotic thoughts about me in class," he tuts. "I did you a favour."  "Besides," he gives an arrogant laugh, "Thought you wanted to be obedient. Huh?  Maybe it's time to punish you for being so ill-behaved. See how good of a girl you can be." He gives you a mischievous grin, knowing he got the last word in.  

[ghcstao3]

part 3 of siren/sailor ghoap hehehehe (part 2 🧜‍♂️)

-

Despite his gripes and discomfort, Soap does eventually drift to sleep before his chest begins to feel too tight, his breaths too short.

Then he’s rudely awoken by a large splash, drenching him even more so than he already was. He sits up in a flash, already glaring daggers at the water before he can make out the silhouette of Ghost’s head.

Soap curses under his breath, wiping excess water from his face and slicking his hair back from where it sticks to his forehead.

“I found somewhere,” Ghost announces.

At least Soap could appreciate his bluntness.

“Did you?” Soap grumbles. He’s found his fear of Ghost has diminished significantly, instead replaced with irritation. He figures it’s the cold and wet having finally seeped past his skin and into his bones. “And how do you suppose I’m getting there?”

“I’ll take you,” Ghost says, as if it weren’t obvious. “Come closer.”

Soap’s heartbeat ticks up in pace. He slowly tucks his outstretched legs closer to his body, though he’s still too far for Ghost to reach. Soap shakes his head. “You are going to eat me, aren’t you?”

“No.”

Soap sniffles. “I don’t believe you.”

Ghost huffs. Soap can sense the eye roll, whether or not the siren actually does so.

“Come on,” Ghost coaxes. There’s a slightly singsong, melodic quality, even for such two little words, but it’s enough to give a single tug on Soap’s heart the same way Ghost’s singing had in the rowboat.

“Cheater,” Soap scoffs, yet he still finds himself slowly unfurling his limbs.

Ghost hums to the same effect, even so daring as to swim right up to where the stone meets the water, folding his arms over the edge—all a mirror for the way he lured Soap in the first time.

But this time—this time, though still menacing in the way that it’s all his nature allows, Ghost is… teasing.

So, with a sigh and nothing better to do, nowhere to go, and already waiting for death, Soap relents. He crawls forward toward the water, mindful of the sharp angles of the cave’s formation, his palms surely to be scraped up anyway, if only from the commotion that had led him up until this point.

He creeps forward until he’s about a foot away from the siren. Squinting into the dark, Soap can almost make out those damp, blond curls. He doesn’t much like the glint in Ghost’s dark eyes, however.

“I said come closer,” Ghost insists.

“I am closer,” Soap argues.

Ghost beckons him even still. It isn’t until Soap is reluctantly face-to-face with the siren that Ghost appears satisfied.

Then Ghost is pushing himself out of the water, inching impossibly closer and closer, until—

Until he’s kissing Soap?

Soap gives a startled yelp, unable to pull away before webbed hands have latched onto the sides of his face. The siren persists even when Soap isn’t really kissing back—though Soap doesn’t realize he’s being pulled into the water until he feels a shock of cold on his face.

But again Ghost won’t let go, his lips still firmly pressed to Soap’s. Soap panics, trying to pull back but finding it impossible once he’s been dragged completely into the depths. He thrashes in the water, but Ghost remains entirely undeterred, his hold on Soap ironclad.

Then… then Soap realizes—his chest never constricts, his lungs never fill with water. Despite the rapid pace of his heart beating in his ears, it’s almost like… it’s almost like he can breathe.

His realization must be evident, as that’s when Ghost finally pulls away, that sharp grin appearing on his face. He lets go of Soap’s face and instead seizes his wrist before he’s propelling them through the water with his powerful tail.

It’s much different, being towed along while conscious. When light finally streams back into Soap’s vision, he finds himself entranced by the colourful fish they pass, the seaweed and the reefs, almost entirely forgetting the creature attached to him in his passing amazement.

Almost.

Every so often the scales or fins of Ghost’s tail will brush against Soap, and every so often he’ll be snapped back to his reality—abandoned by civilization, held captive by a sea creature who insists Soap isn’t food, but does so with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Eventually, though, when Soap finally catches a glimpse of the sun, relief floods him. He gets to see daylight again, feel the warmth on his skin, and that thought alone is enough to calm him if only for a moment.

When they arrive to shallow water, Ghost suddenly stops swimming. Soap looks to him, confused, then glances down and realizes he could touch sand from where they float—it’d be too difficult for Ghost to continue.

The siren’s hold releases and Soap finally breaks the ocean’s surface, drinking in a mouthful of fresh air as if he hadn’t been able to within the water with whatever magic that kiss had held. He climbs to his feet, the water still up to his chest, and begins to wade onward to where Ghost has brought him—a small island, lush with trees but with a beach where Soap could dry in the sun, abandoned and isolated from everything.

While it may be far from any other person, at least here Soap wouldn’t have to worry about suffocating or starving for at least a little while longer as he perhaps devised a plan for his rescue.

He glances back at Ghost as he makes his way to the island, the siren never moving from where he peers out of the water, watching Soap. Every time Soap glances back, he never shifts.

When Soap is finally clambering onto dry sand, however, Ghost is gone.

Soap doesn’t suppose that the distant pang in his heart, his soul is disappointment. Why would it be? Why should it be?

Yet as his skin and hair and clothes slowly dry, Soap finds himself constantly looking back out at the ocean, at that spot, wondering if he’d ever catch another glimpse of the siren who ultimately had, as promised, not eaten him.

[neonovember]

Golden Boy

part three of three

warnings; filth, angst, lover boy, self deprecation, anxiety, mentions of death, smut, heartbreak, fluff, face fucking, oral (m recieving), piv (wrap it yall), 18+, explicit language, Richie, carmen being in love, the nickname bear, some very not so slef inserted heartbreak and love confessions

w/c: 6k

a/n: this request really changed from a drabble to a 3 part series holy fuck i need a job, but really this is actually so self fulfilling to be able to deliver your requests about a character i love we all love so much! it’s like we’ve created this aesome little community here :) i love this universe sooo much so be sure there will be drabbles connected to this series

BEAR COMES OUT IN LESS THAN A DAY! LET’S START AMPING IT UP

also if anyone was wondering how i’d imagine high school!carmen it would honestly be this one edit i saw of lip ages ago lmaoo

The dull rain of the shower resounded through your bathroom, the rest of your things had been delivered in the early Friday morning, and you rushed to enjoy the high water pressure Mae had boasted about before you moved in.

The steam has begun to fog up your mirror, and you wipe a hand across it, your reflection distorted between the streaks of your fingertips. Today was the day. You would finally see Carmen again and your body was racked with fear like it was the day you left him.

After you had come back from the Farmers Market, you had received a text from Sugar, and you spent the afternoon unloading everything to her about work, your move back and most importantly Carmen. 

You and Sugar had grown close after you and Carmen had become friends, in fact, you had grown close to the entire family before you left for New York. And all it took was a phone call for you and Sugar to fall back into that familiarity once again, all you hoped was that it would be the same for you and Carmen.

Once Mae had finished up with work, the both of you, as promised shared a bottle of a wine and a blunt where she had squealed at your news of the dinner, and, despite your protests on the phone brought a rosy hued summer dress that she had begged you to keep. 

It was left on a hanger on the door hook, and you stare at the gorgeous wave of the hem, and dip of the neckline that you had got you looking at Mae in doubt. She had screamed when you had tried it now, boasting about her amazing fashion sense and how utterly ruined Carmen would be.

You steered clear from feeding into her delusions, Carmen could be married for god's sake, whilst you were thinking if he would like the colour of your dress. He was not though, you had practically burned the entire timeline of his socials into your retina and there had not been a single indication of Carmen having a partner. But he had always been sort of secretive, and you couldn't hold onto the hope that Carmen hadn’t taken a liken to any one of the hundred girls that threw themselves at him.

I mean, it wasn't like he was waiting for you, right?

The heat of the shower spread through your body and you sighed in relief as the water loosened the soreness of your muscles that had begun to ache. You had a couple hours until the time Sugar and Richie had told you to come in, and you spent it leisurely, washing your hair carefully, and scrubbing your skin clean with the multitude of products you had accumulated the second you had more money to spend on just food, rent and utilities. 

You forget to put a bath mat near the shower, and the cool stone is stained with your wet footsteps. You make quick work of drying yourself off before reaching for the same old bottle of shea butter you hadn't stopped using since high school. It was on its last leg, the worn label tearing apart, and soon enough you would have to cut it open to get to the last droplets. Old habits die hard and you had been a broke college student for a long fucking time.

After you've finished with your makeup and curling your hair so that it lay in soft blown out curls, you carefully and not so gracefully step into the dress. You don't own a lot of nice pieces like this, and you were forever grateful to Mae for coming in the way she did even despite your protests. 

Because as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realise you look pretty fucking hot. You put on the last of your jewellery, spritz yourself with some perfume, before sliding your feet into flats that wouldn't destroy your feet. You reach for your phone, the time flashing 6:30 and later than you had anticipated.

Stress fills you at the thought of coming late, especially since you really only knew three people there, but you force yourself to calm down with a breath, realising the beef was only a 5 minute drive from your place anyway.

The drive to the Beef was one that was filled with anxiety and glee, you couldn't help keeping the smile off your face as you passed through the familiar roads leading up to the family restaurant. Despite the familiarity of the streets, your mind always finds its way back to the most familiar place of all, Carmen. You wonder what he might look like all grown into himself, you've followed his many strides in the culinary world, even if you didn't understand a bit of the kitchen itself, but you were unbelievably proud of every award he had and numerous received. But that had been all online, to see Carmen in person was a whole different thing entirely.

It was an experience, to see the way he’d body moved, from the light touches of his fingers helping you play guitar to the way he glided through the kitchen concentrating on cooking you up new recipes he’d made.

He’d take criticism from only you, even if Mickey's loud booming voice intercepted your comments from across the kitchen island. You had to sniffle back tears at the memory of it, Mickey and Carmen were so incredibly close, you feel like a fraud having not been there for him when he died, how could you even call yourself his friend? 

The truth was, you and Carmen had a horrible way of dealing with grief, you were battling with your own loss at the time, getting news of Micheal’s death only months after your own Father had died from a drunk driver. You had come back to Chicago for the funeral before running back to New York and stuffing yourself with your work. The pain had been too great then and the regret of leaving your brother and mother to clean up the mess had eaten you alive for years. 

You and Carmen had a habit of stuffing your emotions into tight spaces. Your father, Mickey, the both of your absence in each other's lives, it was a grief you wore well.

In the knots in your shoulder, in the bags underneath your eyes, in the aching hearth of your heart, in the emptiness of your suppressed stomach. As well as you could anyway.

But the world keeps turning, and the view of the renovated Beef catches your eye as you shakily turn into the car park adjacent. You can’t run now, there isn’t a back door you can slip through and a plane you can catch to escape the reality of your past. 

This was it, had this been what you had waited for? 

You can feel your heart in your throat as you walk through the car park, the soft lantern lights hanging across the top of the restaurant in ribbons. The place had changed from the last time you'd seen it, the rotting wood replaced with pristine painted planks and the cloudy windows now crystal clear. It even had a name change, replaced instead with the unmistakable nickname of Carmen,

Bear

Sugar had texted you to meet at the front, and as you bite your lip in anticipation, you see a blonde haired woman shout back a swear before walking towards the front of the Beef, her eyes catching you through the front windows, shooting up in surprise and glee, before rushing through the doors.

“Holy fucking shit! You were always hot Bug but goddamn, you outdid yourself! How are you my love?” Sugar replies, reaching to gather you in her arms. 

You press your face into the familiar scent of her, and you sigh in relief as your fears begin to dissolve, you weren't utterly alone here.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Carm is going to fucking implode when he see’s you” Sugar whispers with a grin, in which u shake yout head with a chuckle.

“Uh I don’t know about that, we haven’t really talked in, well, since High school” You reply honestly, you may have lied to Richie, but you couldn't escape Sugar’s bull-shit- detector gaze.

“You both were always so scared to make the first move, Mikey had to hold me back a couple times from just locking you both in a room and forcing you both to confess” Sugar replies with a grin

“Confess? What do you mean” You reply, and Sugar shakes her head with a chuckle,

“Don’t bullshit me Bug, it’s as clear as day. You both were inseparable then, and you will be inseparable now, everyone has their own timeline.”

You nod with a sigh, rubbing your eyes as you thought back to the call you had received asking you to join the design group in charge of revamping Madison Avenue. So much had changed since then, and it was about time that you faced what you couldn't 8 years ago.

“You changed him, ya know?” Sugar says, all of a sudden into the comfortable silence between you.

“Hm?” You reply

“I don’t know. Carm, he’s just, he’s distant, always has been. And then somehow, you became friends and there was this just change in him. He started to smile and laugh more, started opening up to us, because of you. Whether or not you realise it, you marked him in a way that was permanent you know? And when you left- well, it all went to shit, he was fucking destroyed and the only person that could help him was Mikey, and you, you get the rest of it” Sugar sighs, shaking her head as you stare at her.

“Sometimes, I’d bring you up, or-or we’d be talking about a new building, architecture or whatever, anything that related to you, and you'd just see him shutdown. He needs you hun, he doesn’t realise it but its like he’s fucking decaying without you.”

Anyone else and you would have shaken your head, but it was Sugar, and all the years you've known her she hadn't once sugar coated anything. 

“It was always going to be Carm, Sugar. A million times over and it would always be him” You reply, a tight smile on your face as you try and blink back tears, and she nods with a frown. 

“No crying, god I told myself I wouldn't cry” Sugar says, shaking her body as you laugh, sliding a hand in hers before walking into the Bear.

You aren't given enough time to investigate the changes to the restaurant, eyes glancing at pictures frames and stainless kitchen benches before stepping into a decorated back dining space, fixed with a long table covered with steaming plates of food and entrees. 

The sound of your footsteps has the entire room coming to a halt, and you scan the many people seated at the long table, their eyes watching you with a look of surprise before recognition floods across them. 

You can't recognise a single face, all unfamiliar to you but you get the strange feeling they know who you are, as they await for you to speak.

“Uh, Hello, um, you all probably have no idea who I am and this is kind of weird so-” You ramble nervously, trying and failing to introduce yourself to the many people watching your every move.

“Oh carino, you are gorgeous! You must be Carmen’s friend?” A short hispanic woman grins, making her way over to pull you into a hug, and the move causes the entire table of people to come over and introduce themselves. 

You can’t stop keeping the smile off your face, as you learn about each of the amazing people around you who have kept your sweet boy company. They were incredible, and you don’t doubt they shared a bond you only ever built working together, piecing together where Carmen had spent his time, and recognising the glimpses of faces you had seen on the walls you had walked by.

You converse easily with Sydney, a young aspiring chef who had kept Carmen on his toes, but your mind isn’t exactly present. Your eyes are glancing every second at the door, waiting for the man you've been dreaming of since you were 18 to walk through those doors.

You hear a tumble coming from the back door leading to the alleyway behind the Bear, before the familiar voice of Richie yells out incoherent curse words. You aren't able to prepare yourself for the footsteps coming up the steps and into the entrance of the dining room before Carmen cerulean blues catch you immediately. 

His eyes take their time with you, indulging in the peek of skin from the slit in the dress, before they trail up to your hips, snaking around your waist and blinking back at the dip of your cleavage. Carmen is undone, entranced by the way you hug and fill out the dress so perfectly, it does something to him he feels guilty about. Like the moments he would thrust up into the column of his fists after that one party where you leaned against him, or when he remembered the taste of your body wash.

Carmen is scared to move his eyes up to your face, fearing that he will be irrevocably gone if he does, but he does it anyway, because he's wasted enough time without you, and he can’t bear the seconds past him by without seeing the face he's dreamt of since forever

Carmen has to reach for the table near him, gripping the wood in his fists as he steadies himself when he sees you for the first time. He has to bite back his immediate response to let out a swear, his eyes trailing along every curve and line of your features he has begun to forget. The rush of memories, and feelings of you unleash within him like an unyielding current, breaking down every wall and shield he’s put up to stop it. It was fruitless, Carmen knew one day it would all come crashing down, because it was always going to be you, a thousand times over.

You let out a shaky breath as you catch his eyes fluttering over every single feature, you should feel self conscious but you don’t, you bare your entire self to him. You furrow your brow as you take in the honey caramel wisps of his hair pushed behind his ears. Your eyes catch the numerous inked sketches running along his arms and hands, you yearn to run your fingers along them, feel his veins jut out, they trail up his arm, like a stream and you have to swallow back the desire that had begun to unfurl at the vision in front of you.

He was utterly beautiful, his clean shirt contorted and stretched from the sheer size of him, the muscle and girth of his biceps and shoulders were so different to the lanky teenager you fell in love with. You feel a sadness at the thought of not seeing him since then, it had truly been too long. 

He still wore his chef apron, though it lay untied and around his neck like he had quickly run into the kitchen to fix something.

You don’t know how you’re able to form the words, but you can hear yourself calling his name like a plead

“Hey Bear” You whisper, the tears at your waterline one whisper away from falling

And it’s the simple sound of your voice that has Carmen crashing and falling, swallowing back tightly.

“Hey” 

You can make out Sugar calling everyone out to the front of the house, mumbling about flying pigs or whatever conjured up lie to leave you both alone. But it’s practically white noise around you, as your eyes remain forever on Carmen, like they always wore.

There's a silence that stretches between you two, and you feel the distance between you both from your fingertips.

“Thought I told you I’d punch your stomach if you cried” You say with a smile, tears falling down your cheeks and Carmen crumbles at your words, it's like his been hit by a freight truck, when you reminder of that day, but he still lets out chuckle, looking up at you with a grin.

“So I hear you're redesigning our very own Madison Avenue?” Carmen says, and it's like he’s been practising and rehearing the sentence over and over in his mind, it sounds more like a script than something he truly wants to say.

And you see through his bullshit, turning your head to the side as you look at him like he's translucent, and Carmen gives up before he is even able to start, what’s the point of faking it now when you could both see through each other.

“God, you're beautiful” Carmen says after a beat, the blues of his iris crashing and falling into a deeper depth as he looks at you. You blush, you never blush, you only ever blush for Bear.

“Carmen..” You whisper, the tears continuing to fall and roll down your neck

“Why didn't I tell you? God why didn't I?” Carmen says in a tight voice, like he's holding himself back, like he's holding himself from breaking, and you want to reach out and hold him instead.

You feel your heart drop, as you look up at him in anticipation, no no no??. You didn’t run half way across the state, you didn't spend years searching for Carmen in relationships and first dates, no- how? All this time. All this fucking time you could have spent with him, whether long distance, in New York, whatever, you would’ve made it work, hell you would have travelled endlessly for him.

“Why didn't you?” You breathe out. letting every tear and cry loose. And Carmen lets out a breath, your eyes communicating what your mouth could not for 10 years, letting your body shake with grief at the truth of it all.

Carmen feels his entire world breaking, he can feel the ground beneath him shake, he is consumed with you, you you you, and always and forever you.

“All this time..” Carm replies, shaking his head, laughing a little to himself as he stares at you in grief and love

“Yeah” You chuckle, before tears spill down your cheeks, and Carmen kind of breaks too, all the worries and missed time and love you would have shared out in the open between you. You both had been so foolish, so wrapped up in the fear of rejection/ruining your friendship you had ruined it all instead.

“I love you, I have loved you the moment I walked you home. I have loved you desperately, I loved you from afar, I have loved even when you didn’t know it”

“God Carmy, my sweet golden boy, I always knew it” You sniffle, and Carmen scrunches his eyebrows, grinding his teeth against his jaw as he shakes his head, undoing his apron so that he doesn’t get your gorgeous dress dirty, pulling you close to him. You reach for his hand, its size massive in yours, as you bring it to your chest

“You feel that? My heart beats for you Carmen, only you, forever you” You whisper, as you hold onto his hand tight

“I was just- I was so scared, so scared that I would ruin everything, our friendship, it was the one thing going for me and I couldn’t ask you, I couldn’t ask you to love me?” Carmen says, shaking his head like even saying the words felt stupid

“Carmen you are worth loving, I loved you then and I love you now. Sugar was telling me about how I changed you and you know what I was thinking the entire time? How everytime I think back to those years before my heart just aches. It aches because I have always been searching for you, Carm, my body yearns and reaches for you every day, you were the one thing that made me feel like I could make it out of here. That if I tried hard enough, if I had you believing in me too, I could really do it.

“And you know what Carmen? I did do it, I’m back in Chicago designing something that I believe in and I still feel so out of place. I feel scattered, like half of my body and mind is missing, and I’ve always known, even when I didn’t, that you kept that part of me. You held it safe, and I want it back, I want you back Carmen. I want my boy back.” 

“It was always going to be you Carm, that’s the truth, I love I love I love love love you” You breathe out, your heart hammering against your chest as you let all the chips fall where they may, you each Carmens face, trying to decipher the look on his face.

You want to know what he's thinking, have you scared him? Does he not love you anymore? And it's like Carmen can tell the thoughts are consuming you because you can't think of them anymore, in fact you can't think at all except the feel of Carmen lips pushed up against your own.

They’re pillowy and soft, and it takes you a second before you kiss him back with such reverence that you swallow back each other’s groans. You don’t come up for air, you won't, you can't let him slip through your fingers again, Carmen can’t let himself lose you now, with the taste of you on his tongue, so sweet like he imagined you to be.

Carmen fears he might combust, that he might dissolve into a puddle right in front of you because you taste so good, he slides a hand up your neck pressing you closer to his chest as you grip his shirt in tight fists.

Carmen can feel himself smiling into your lips, and it causes you to let out a chuckle, allowing Carmen to press his canines into your lip, just a little, a nibble that has you moaning out loudly in a way that shocks you both.

You press your body impossibly closer to Carmen’s, until you can feel him nudge against the curve of your stomach, grinding down against him until he grip’s your waist tight, pushing you deeper until you both have to let go with a breath.

“You don’t know how long I have waited to do that” Carmen says, his eyes still shut, like he was savouring the taste of you that was on his tongue, on his lips, his skin, everywhere. Carmen wanted you everywhere.

“And how long I have waited to do this” You trail your nails across his chest, his eyes watching the mischievous grin on your face grow as you trail your fingers down his chest, resting on his belt before the sound of a yelp and a clap breaks out, causing you to retract your hand and causing Carmen to let out a whine.

The rest of the crew and Sugar come tumbling into the room, hootting with cheers and laughter like they had been pressing an ear to the door the entire time, which they probably had. Sugar makes her way over, hugging you both, and pressing a kiss to your cheek before punching Carmen lightly.

“You didn’t think I knew? God what kind of sister do you take me for??” 

It’s all a blur of laughter and smiles and light shooting colours, Carmen keeps his eyes on you the entire time, and you don’t leave his side, holding onto him like he might fly away. And in all the commotion, in all the light and laughter and love Carmen sees Mikey. Sees him in flashes, the nape of his neck, the corner of his mouth pulling back in a smile and he swears, Carmen swears he sees him nod towards him.

You let it rip, bear, you did it, you did it. 

And Carmen did, and he looks down at you in his arms surrounded by people he loved and his heart for the first time feels full. Carmen had written himself off to a life of fulfilment through his work, and whilst that was purposeful and important to him, he always felt like a piece of his life was missing, a piece of his heart, it was taken by you just as he had taken yours. 

And now he can’t mask himself from his feelings, he can't watch you from afar anymore, he wants you beneath him, wants to bottle your laugh and drink in to cure him. He's broken and he doesn’t deserve you but god with the way you look up at him? It makes him question everything, makes him think he's enough, that there might be a chance he's more than the vile words he calls himself.

He want to get better for you, for the both of you, and its overwhelming, all these feelings he feels all of a sudden, it's like a switch has turned on and he can’t stop it, it washes over him, those memories from before, and you grip his arm with a squeeze, looking up as him before walking him out, guiding him with a hand until he follows you out into the alleyway.

“Sorry, it just was a whole lot at once, I haven’t even properly asked about you and now the entire kitchen knows you and” Carmen rushes out, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously

“You forget how well I know you bear?” Is all you say, and you can see the way he relaxes into himself, looking up at you with a nod. And it’s true, you know him completely and utterly, and it’s almost a relief, it almost makes Carmen cry because for the first time he doesn't feel like he needs to explain himself. Carmen feels like he has someone who knows him deep down, knows all his flaws, and problems and issues, and still wants him. 

The thought is so foreign and strange but he stomach bubbles with the elated glee of the start of something, something you both know, deep down, was meant to happen whether it was now or in 30 years. You would always, always find each other, how could you not? When it felt like half of you had disappeared without them?

Carmen can’t help but a press another kiss to your lips, snaking his arm so that it rested on your hip, squeezing a little before you break from him

“The food in there looks lovely, but considering what has just occurred, do you want to go somewhere more..” You start

“Intimate? Fucking yes. I don’t need Richie watching me and Sugar breathing down my neck. There is so much..” Carmen replies, eyes having a bit of a faraway look as he thinks back to all the times he had wished he could confide in you but couldn't.

“Let’s make up for lost time, shall we?” You grin, holding out a hand that Carmen eagerly grasps, before practically running into whichever car is closest. 

You and Carmen end up in a dimly lit jazz bar that sells signature shirley temples and tampalas that make your heart sing. You spend the entire night talking about everything, you both spill the entire contents of your guts to each other and you couldn't be happier, wiping each other's tears when the love got too much and your chest filled with gratitude at finding each other again.

You tell him you're only here for 6 months, and you leave the bar calling Mae to extend your lease. It doesn't take long for you both to slide into the familairy of your friendship again, spending every waking moment with each other, fulfilling every desire, checking off every firsts, exploring Chicago again with the one man who's been waiting for you for eternity. 

It would have been cute if you werent fucking like rabbits as well, you were addicted to each other, chasing orgasm after orgasm like it was a high. You should have been thrown in jail with the amount of times you had nearly been caught, and Carmen’s office was practically a health code violation.

But the truth was, Carmen finally had something to come home to in the late evenings and you had something to say goodbye to in the early mornings.

*

The early morning sun drags along the horizon, it cuts through the shapes and cuts of the intricate frost that had begun to develop over the window, showering the room in its dull yellow through the linen curtains of your shared bedroom.

It had snowed during the night, and the city council had closed the roads, advising as many people to stay indoors if possible, causing you and Carmen to finally have an excuse to stay indoors and pressed against each other the entire day.

The only sounds you can hear in the early cold July morning are the shutters of shop doors opening and the simmering wave of traffic that would soon begin to spill into the city streets below.

That and the strangled sound of Carmens moans as you slide your hand across the slick length of him, heavy in your palm.

He watches you carefully, eyelids heavy as you blow on the tip of him, causing him to wince in desire. Your motions are slobby and wet, and Carmen is still half asleep from your sleeping position not moments before.

“Please…”

You bite back a giggle, looking up at him from your knelt position between his legs. You’ve pulled him to the edge of the bed, and he grips the white sheets in his fists as he tries to restrain himself from coming undone by the way you smile up at him.

“You want me to suck you off him? You wanna feel good baby, you gotta tell me you wanna feel good cause I can't hold back any longer

“Fuck..please make me feel good, you know how to do it, please h-honey” Carmen replies before knocking his head back with a groan when you take the tip of him in your mouth.

You and Carmen weren't exactly experienced at first, you both had never truly held a relationship long enough to progress to that stage, but it had only taken a month before you knew how to have him stuttering thrusting up into you with need and it had taken him 3 weeks to know how to make you cum 9 times a day. What could you say? You had waited long enough.

You don’t waste time as you circle your tongue around the red tip, licking the precum clean from the slit, groaning around him at the sound of his throat letting out strangled moans. You want to take him in entirely, but he was so thick and long you couldn't possibly without getting used to him again.

Carmen loved giving, he could spend hours with your thighs around his shoulders, but there was something special with getting your broody chef to come undone, to be reduced to a puddle at every lick and kiss from you.

You push him deeper, circling your tongue so that it drags flat against his length as you pump the rest of him that you couldn’t yet reach.

“Holy-sh-fuck babygirl, easy, easy” Carmen groans out, and as you flicker your eyes up at him, the vision causes you to sneak a hand down between your thighs. 

Carmen looks down at you with furrowed brows, struggling to sit, grinding and jutting up into your mouth as his blonde hair lays across his forehead sweaty. His cheeks are a rosy crimson, and his tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth biting down when you catch his blown out almost-black eyes.

You ignore his protests, pushing him further down until you feel him in your throat, constricting the space until it has him groaning out in pleasure. Carmen can’t help thrusting up into your throat, quickly apologising before you shake your head, reaching for his hand to grip your hair, begging him to use you however he wan’t. It’s too much for Carm, he feels like your puffed out cheeks, the tears eager to drip down your cheeks, the rut of your hips trying to find any friction causes the very tight bind to nearly snap in him.

“Fuck, don’t- not gonna last long” Carmen heaves out, gripping your hair until the veins in his arms and neck begin to juttt out.

You continue bopping your head down onto him, gathering the spit and cum and hollowing out your cheeks before taking him out and then in again. Carmen can’t take his eyes off of you, his chest heaving up and down as he watches you entranced.

“You don’t want to cum huh? Am I not making you feel good? Fuck my throat Carm, show me how you want it and i’ll show you how I do” You groan out, looking up at him from under your lashes and it causes Carmen to groan out, before gripping your jaw in his hand, and dragging your tongue back down his length.

Carmen is careful with how he fucks into you, but it’s reverent and heady and full of need, and he finds himself gripping your hair, watching you bop down on his cock until it bumps against your throat, and he feels that tight warmth that surround his sensitive tip.

He’s a mess, a jumble of incoherent swears and half moans of your name as the slick heaviness against your tongue shealths up and down, the mess of cum and saliva dripping from between your lips. 

“S-so fucking, so good, all mine babygirl, you’re all fucking mine” Carmen replies with a growl, as hes thrusts into you grow sloppy, and you press your nails into his thigh, breathing through your nose as Carmen loses himself in the warmth and feel of you, chasing his release without a break.

The tight band deep in him snaps when you constrict around him, and catch his heavy gaze, he screams out your name, jutting up into your throat, slick shooting down as he holds you head against him, and you milk him dry eagerly, taking every last drop he gives you.

You swirl your tongue around him, gently taking him out of your mouth as he winces at the over stimulation, you look up at him, opening your mouth and poking your tongue out, and you don’t miss the low fuck he whispers at the image of you swallowing every last bit of his mess.

You aren’t able to get up yourself before Carmen is dragging you up to him, wiping and kissing away every tear before swallowing you with a heated kiss. Carmen can taste himself on your tongue, manoeuvring your bodies so that he lay against the headboard, with you grinding up against his lap.

“Need to feel you fill me up Carm, I need it so bad” You groan out between your heated kiss, and Carmen grips you against him, his cock hardening again at your words, he always wanted to please you, it was his dying quest, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you like it was nothing.

You line yourself up with him, before sinking onto his length, the both of you breaking apart from your heated kiss to suck in a breath, Carmen leans into the croon of your neck, biting the skin there lightly as the feel of you tight around him gets too much.

You have to grip him, pressing half moons into the contorting muscle of his shoulders and back as you get used to him, before sinking further down with a groan. You felt impossibly tight, walls velvet and soft like caramel as they glided up against him with its slickness.

“You sure you can take it all? Hm darling?” Carmen whispers as he leans over in your ear, so that you slide further down his length, and it glides across a sensitive spot in this new position that causes you to rock your head back with a groan.

“Oh no baby, no no no, eyes on me hm?” Carmen reprimands you, sliding a hand so that he can see the dazed look in your eyes.

“We have the entire day, locked in this house from the snow, and I’m going to fuck you stupid doll” Carmen replies with a grin, before easing out of you and thrusting back into you hard, causing stars to appear in your vision, the white hot pleasure of the beginnings of your orgasm gripping you.

[kowaiitenshii]

[Sunkiller Lullaby Part Two]

Pairing: Darth Vader X Reader

Plot Summary: Accepting your role as Lord Vader’s personal attendant, you take the first steps in learning your new duties, and proving your loyalty to your new master. 

Warnings: Canon-level violence. Mentions of death/murder. Descriptions of fear. Corruption. Canon-divergent. Unburnt!Vader. Reader is a former slave. Improper use of the force. Vader is his own warning. Descriptions of mistreatment. AFAB reader, feminine pronouns and descriptions used. 18+ content to come in later chapters.

Words: 4.2k

A/N: First off, thank you so much everyone for all the love on part one! I truly did not think so many people would enjoy it! I appreciate everyone who reblogged and liked, and I cannot wait to continue sharing this story with you. If people continue to enjoy my writing, I will most likely open up for requests/prompts!

Part One HERE

Part II:

To your dismay, you awaken to bright beams of starlight peeking through the sheer inner curtains of your suite. 

You blink in confusion as you mull over the contents of the past night’s dream, and lament the fact that it was only that; a dream. 

Sighing deeply in disappointment, you slowly rise from bed and dress yourself for the day, deciding on a deep ruby red set of robes. They’re thick and soft as you slide them on, and you decide that red really compliments you. 

You are again presented with a decadent breakfast, this time dining on exotic ripened fruits, cured strips of thinly sliced meat, and toasted breads.

When you finish, the friendly droid again kindly leads you to Lord Vader’s private chambers. 

As the doors slide open, you nearly jump out of your skin when you find your master awaiting you, staring at the door expectantly as he anticipates your arrival.

 Forcing yourself to hold your head high, you saunter into the room as nonchalantly as you can muster. Your hands shake as you approach, and you clench them tightly in an attempt to push down your building nerves. 

“Morning, young one.” he greets you coolly, his deep voice resonating through the silence. 

“Good morning, My Lord.” you reply calmly, bowing to the Sith Lord. 

He gives you an approving nod as you rise, before turning to the large window behind himself, commanding you to join him. 

“Come.” he booms simply, and you oblige him. Standing next to him only highlights the size difference between the two of you, seeing as you only reach his shoulder at the highest. 

All the lights of the room both overhead and from electric controls shine off of Vader’s helmet and armor, creating almost an aura of light which glints off of him. Your eyes are drawn to the heavy slant of his shoulders with his cape draped over, and the curve of his very evident biceps beneath his thick suit. Your face reddens slightly before you turn to face the window, feeling a measure of shame for looking at a Sith Lord in such a way. 

The two of you gaze out at the expanse of stars before you, and you can’t help but marvel at the sight. Being from a small planet and having been enslaved since you were just a young girl, you had never any chance to explore or travel, no matter how badly you may have wanted to. 

One of the things that amazes you the most as you stare out into space is the realisation that the stars are colourful.

There are stars of every colour you can imagine, and most of them are planets. Each star glittering across the sky in endless hues, they remind you of the fields of wildflowers that were common on your home-planet. 

For a fleeting moment, you imagine lying amongst the stars and wrapping yourself in a blanket made of space itself, before Vader speaks again. 

“I have arranged a test for you today.” he asserts, his tone unreadable. 

Cocking your head, you glance up at your master, questioning exactly what sort of test he had in mind. 

“We need to have the understanding that we can trust in one another if I am to take you on in personal servitude.” He explains, sensing your curiosity. 

You can feel yourself go cold as the words sink in. It could be any kind of test, and ice cold pangs of fear grip your heart as you pray you do not fail. 

Failure is simply not an option. 

The trembling in your fingers only worsens, and to your horror, Vader notices. 

He takes one of your quivering hands tightly within his own before placing the other heavy, leather-clad hand over top of yours. His touch is like holding a livewire, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it makes you jolt in your skin. 

His gaze albeit masked is fixed upon you as he speaks, the air catching in your throat. 

“I can sense your fear, your hurt. Your rage.” he says, a reassuring tone hidden in his distorted voice. “Use them. Do not fear me.” he commands, before dropping your hand like he had never touched it in the first place. 

Not fearing him was a hefty task indeed. 

You say nothing in response, swallowing thickly and flexing your fingers to rid them of the lingering sensation of his touch. 

Just then, the ship begins to descend on a barren planet. The land is desolate, clouds of smoky-coloured dust covering the rough, rocky terrain. 

You take deep breaths to steady yourself as the ship lands, still reeling from the touch along with your nerves and their gnashing teeth gnawing at the back of your mind. 

As you disembark, you can feel how tightly wound your body is with anticipation. Despite this, you diligently follow your master as he treks along the barren, grey landscape, leading you to a wide clearing in the rocky wasteland. 

All around you are boulders and crystals of enormous size, and you figure this must be an Empire-controlled resource planet. 

Looking up to the violet sky, you pray to the maker that you make it out of this in one piece. 

Vader stops at once, turning to regard you once more as you come to stand before him. 

“Before we begin,” he starts “What is your name?” he asks, striking you with the realisation that you had not yet told him, and that he almost certainly already knew it. Truthfully, you had nearly forgotten that you had a name, as more derogatory terms were commonly used to refer to slaves. It is a strange thought that Lord Vader would even care to know it. 

“(Y/N).” you answer dutifully. 

“(Y/N).” he confirms before speaking again. “As I previously stated, we must be without a shadow of a doubt that we trust in one another. I have brought you here to assess that fact.” he explains, his droning voice reverberating off of the jagged walls of the terrain surrounding you. 

Doing your best to maintain your shaken composure, you watch as the Sith Lord strides a few paces away before speaking again once more. 

“I will test you, as you will test me.” He iterates, now turning towards you and watching you for a moment. 

Rooted to the spot, you clench your shaking hands and swallow the lump in your throat, fixing your gaze upon Lord Vader.

 You will test him? What could he possibly mean by that? 

You watch in thinly veiled terror as he raises his right hand and the ashen earth around you begins to tremble. A large mass of sparkling crystal sizable enough to crush a freighter breaks away from the earth, beginning to levitate.

Stomach in knots and your mind racing, you watch in horror as it rises impossibly high and comes to a stop directly over your head. 

In your youth you had heard tales of the Jedi and the Sith, but you had always taken them with a grain of salt. It is then that you come to understand that the stories were true, and the force is more powerful than you could ever have imagined. 

Vader’s voice cuts through your frenzied train of thought, snapping you back into the moment. 

“Focus on me.” he instructs you, holding the spiked mass of crystals steady above you, pulling it higher. 

Although every atom in your body screams at you to run, you know there is no point. Wiping away the fine sweat forming on your brow, you obey your master, fixing your widened eyes upon him. 

“Feel your fear.” he commands in a guiding tone. “Feel it, and understand that I will never harm you.” 

Dread cuts into your chest like knives, and still you obey. You feel the goosebumps on every inch of your skin, your muscles poised to flee, and the fine tremble running through you in waves. 

You look upon Lord Vader who holds your life in his hands so effortlessly. Focusing on the expressionless countenance of his helmet, you envision looking into his eyes and finding unwavering certainty there. 

You stand as a statue as the massive crystal drops, time itself seeming to slow, and you don’t so much as blink when Vader catches it just before it hits.

“Very good.” Darth Vader affirms, before reeling back and launching the crystals far off into the distance; the sound of impact only coming as a murmured echo. 

Sighing a huge breath of relief, your shoulders and head droop as the tension washes away in waves. When you lift your head, the Sith Lord is in front of you again, this time holding a cylindrical silver and black object in his outstretched right hand, motioning for you to take it. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asks as you carefully take it from him, examining the activation switch on the side. 

“Yes,” you affirm as you inspect the object with great curiosity. “It is a lightsaber.” 

You had seen them in use only once when your planet was under siege, but you had also seen them traded by smugglers a handful of times.

 However, you had never held one. The metal is cool to the touch, and it is deceptively heavy in your hands as you marvel at it, turning it over and over in your hands. 

“Turn it on.” Vader demands, cutting your observation short. You swallow your nerves, holding the lightsaber in your right hand and placing your thumb over the switch. You jump as you press it, the glowing crimson plasma blade instantly shooting out with a sharp sound.

The glowing saber incandesces between the two of you, red light illuminating Vader’s ominous visage. 

“Good. Now off.” he directs, and you obey immediately. 

“Now, we test my faith in you.” he states intently, stepping closer and closer until he is merely an arm’s length away, looming expectantly over you. 

Stomach tingling and your mind blank, you watch as he harshly grips the wrist of your right hand and presses the unarmed lightsaber against the blinking control panel on his chestplate, the shocking sensation of his touch feeling a million miles away. 

Staring at where the hilt of the blade rests against his armor, you have the cold understanding that you could kill him right now. 

You could kill him, and yet it would do nothing to change your fate. 

It takes a moment to realise he’s staring at you before you look up to meet the blank gaze of his mask. Somehow you can feel it in him, the faith he has in you and the understanding that killing him would not save you. 

You’re like that for a moment, staring at each other and listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing before he steps away, and you hand the lightsaber back to him. 

“Well done.” he praises as he beckons you to follow. “Come. We are done here.” 

You both board Lord Vader’s ship once again, your mind and emotions still reeling from the stress of the situation you just managed to live through as he calmly leads you to his chambers.

“Make yourself comfortable.” he orders as you enter the room, and you waste no time in shrugging off your outermost robe, leaving on your cowl and belted underdress. Plopping wearily onto one of the long couches in the room, you notice that it’s notably firmer than the plush furnishings of your suite, though you were in no place to complain. 

Lord Vader stares at you for a moment, and you become bashful at the idea of him looking upon your uncovered skin, before he turns to his place at the large window to watch as the ship takes off. 

You wonder if he does anything other than stare out the window in contemplation. 

Straightening yourself up, you watch the grey planet fade away as the ship flies, bidding the site of your near-grave a goodbye before looking around the room in which you sit. 

Now that you have the chance to really look, you take in your surroundings. To your right, the wall with the door is covered in blinking controls which you can only assume are either used to manipulate aspects of the room or call droids and Imperial personnel. On the far wall opposite where you sit, there is a large open doorway into an illuminated room housing an enormous tank filled with a mysterious blueish liquid, and you wonder what the purpose for it could possibly be. 

You don’t see a bed in the room, so you assume that Vader sleeps elsewhere. That is, if he indeed sleeps. 

In the left hand corner of the opposite wall, you can see a long white table littered with various parts, mechanisms and tools laid out upon it, and you find it mildly interesting that Darth Vader likes to tinker. 

The Sith Lord’s voice cuts through your curious observations like a razor.

“What do you know of the force?” He asks, peering over his shoulder at you. 

You’re stunned for a moment before you answer. 

“I must admit, Lord Vader, I know very little, as it was forbidden to be taught on my homeworld.” you reply truthfully, caught off guard by the seemingly random question. It was true, the ways of the force were not formally taught as a form of trying to shield the people of your home-planet from the Empire; all you know are the legends and the myths that were told as stories. 

Lord Vader nods in acceptance. 

“This ship is equipped with an entire library full of knowledge of the force, both light and dark; Jedi and Sith. You are free to utilise it if you so wish.” He offers, but it sounds more like an order.

Feeling as though there’s something he’s not saying, you simply nod.

“Thank you master.” you accept graciously with a soft smile. 

He only nods in reply, gaze lingering heavily upon you before he turns away from the window, pacing over to his work bench in the opposite corner from where you sit and taking a seat. 

You do not know how long he toils over his machines, nor how long you accompany him in doing so. 

The last thing you remember before waking up in your own bed is dozing off on Lord Vader’s couch. 

Confused and unaware of how you got back to your suite, you rub the sleep out of your eyes and sit up. As you rise, a gentle knock sounds behind the door. 

“Come in!” you call out, clearing your throat and wetting your lips. 

The friendly droid enters, bowing to you and chirping its greetings. 

“Good evening, Madam! I’m assured you’re ready for your meal?” it asks politely. Smiling softly at the kind droid, you nod. 

“Yes, please.”

After all, the stress of the day's activities has left you quite hungry, your stomach growling at the thought of the decadent spreads you’ve been spoiled with. 

The droid steps out for a moment, promptly returning with a spread no less extravagant than the others you’ve been lucky enough to enjoy. Tonight, your meal consists of a striking plum-coloured stew, accompanied by an herbed mash of root vegetables, and crusty baked breads still warm from the oven. 

As you eat, a curious and humorous thought crosses your mind, and you set down your spoon to ask the droid a question. 

“Was it you that carried me all the way back here?” you giggle playfully, finding amusement in the idea of the spindly droid hauling you through the corridors.

“No milady, Lord Vader saw to that himself.” the droid answers dutifully. 

Knowing it is incapable of lying, the idea hits you like a train, and you’re struck by it for a moment. 

Carrying you to your room seemed like a task that would be uncharacteristically tender, too gentle for Vader to carry out. You can feel the flush that spreads across your cheeks as you come to the understanding that there is still much you do not know about your master. 

“Oh, um. Give him my thanks.” you reply quietly, leaving it at that.

“As you wish, Milady.” the droid affirms. 

Spending the rest of your meal in contemplative silence, it does you well, nourishing and soothing your tired body. 

Before the droid leaves you for the night, you request the books that Lord Vader had mentioned, thinking some studying may help you to understand your master, even if just a small bit more. 

It happily delivers them to you, leaving you with a stack of thick and heavy books with weathered bindings. 

Elsewhere, Darth Vader paces in his chamber, heavy footsteps echoing around him. 

He is quite satisfied with the recent turn of events, knowing surely now that your spirit had not been broken by your life of torment, but that it was bendable.

It was true that you had great fear within you, but your lust for power and your anger was greater.  Your suffering had made you fierce, it made you courageous. 

The Emperor will be pleased. 

Remembering the strength in your expression as you had connected with him while your very life hung in the balance, the absolute, steady faith you had in him; And then the dichotomy of holding your serenely peaceful sleeping body in his arms, your angelic calmness, he feels an unfamiliar flutter in his chest before shaking it off. 

Spending the rest of the night flipping through an ancient tome, you are thoroughly intrigued by the stories contained within. They read like fairy tales; tales of heroic bravery, of villainous contempt, of epic battles and galactic love. 

They’re enchanting, reminding you of those cherished times as a child when your parents would read to you before putting you to bed. 

Well into the late hours of the night, you finally ready yourself for sleep, yawning and stretching as you shrug off your garments. 

As you lay out an outfit for the next day, you catch a glimpse of a passing moon. It’s beautiful, a light yellow hue to the pallid monolith as it glows. Moons always reminded you of solitude, your only companion in those quiet hours of the night. As you watch it pass, you silently hope that you dream of your mysterious suitor again. 

Your prayers are answered. 

Becoming aware of your surroundings, your eyes scan the room around you. It’s a more intimate setting this time, a quaint stone cottage within a verdant forest. There are strange herbs and flowers hung to dry all about the room, leaving it with a floral, green aroma. 

Sitting on the floor in front of a warm, crackling fire, your vision finally adjusts to your dimly lit setting, and you spot the one you had wished for standing just within the doorway. 

He smiles warmly as your eyes land on him, exposing a row of perfect teeth. You can’t help but to smile back. 

Striding out of the shadows, he joins you by the fire, nestling you against his side. His energy is the same and you can feel it just as strongly as before, entrancing and sultry as the fire before you. 

You spend a long moment just looking at him, committing every aspect of his features to memory in case you never get the pleasure of seeing him again. 

He’s still got that warm smile on his face as he gazes back at you, making your stomach flutter. His hair falls in perfect golden waves on his shoulders, framing his outstandingly handsome features. His eyes are half-lidded, his pupils blown wide as he looks upon you; his full, pink lips parted. 

Feeling the heat in your body rising, spreading across your face and tinging the tips of your ears, you look away shyly. 

The connection you feel with this man still baffles you, it doesn't make any sense, leaving you confused and questioning whether you can even trust your own emotions. 

Though, you suppose dreams don’t have to make any sense. 

Reaching over to you, he brushes a tress of hair away from your face to read your expression, pulling your attention back to him. 

You blink sheepishly at him through long lashes as he hooks a finger under your chin, turning you to face him fully. Goosebumps form instantly at the contact, your hairs standing on end as a wistful sigh leaves your lips. 

He brings your face so close to his own that you can feel his gentle breaths tickling your lips. The air, the energy between you is like a thunderstorm; intense, restless, and exhilarating. 

You revel in the way he touches you like something that threatens to break. 

The realisation then hits you that this is your first time seeing him unhidden by his cloak. You take your time in taking in all the new details you had missed, noticing a lengthy scar on the right side of his face, running nearly all the way from his hairline to just below his eye. 

He slowly curls a strong arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, never breaking eye contact while doing so. Following his movements obediently, you shift your legs to wrap around his waist as you perch on him; the tips of your noses tickling each other as you adjust yourself.

 You want, you crave nothing more than this closeness and contact with him.

After being denied pleasant, consensual human contact for so long, the feeling is intoxicating. It makes your head swim, and your heartbeat race. 

Still face to face, you delicately raise your right hand, ghosting the tips of your fingers down the length of his scar, taking great care in case it’s still painful for him. Your fingers buzz and tingle, like nerve endings coming back to life after having fallen asleep. 

Lips parting and eyes falling shut at your touch, he presses his forehead against yours. 

Your whole body lights up and hums at the sensation, like a static charge. His intense and all-consuming energy surrounds you, threatening to swallow you whole. 

And you let it. You let him in. 

Holding the doors to your mind open, you begin receiving visions. 

Visions of a small boy with tawny hair and bright blue eyes. Visions of the familiar sandy, dual-sunned landscape of Tatooine. Visions of that small boy toiling away in the shop of a cruel junk dealer. 

Your eyes fly back open with the newfound understanding that the child was him, that he truly had lived a life like yours. 

In this moment, as your heart races and your eyes flit between his, he feels like the person closest to you in the entire world. 

He looks back at you with soft eyes. The expression on his face is one that says: 

This is me. Do you see it? This is me. 

Overwhelmed by the connection, by the painful swelling of your heart in your chest, you let instinct lead rather than logic.

Leaning into him further, you brush your lips just barely over the full curve of his, inviting him to close the distance.

Instantly he relents, capturing your own lips with his, pure passion and intense longing radiating off of him in waves. 

As he tangles a large hand in your soft hair, you can feel your heart thumping against your ribcage, your blood rushing through your veins. Draping your arms over his sturdy shoulders, the very air around the two of you feels electric, tingling and crackling with released tension. Lips locking over and over, hands everywhere, tongues tasting each other in the heat of your fiery desire, you send a message through your ministrations. 

I see you. You say with every touch of the lips, every tease of his tongue, every rake of your nails across the soft skin of his abdomen. I see you. 

When you finally break the session to suck in greedy gasps of much needed air, he bites onto your bottom lip, prolonging the contact for as long as possible. He clutches you tightly, possessively to his strong body, as if you could be ripped from his arms at any moment; his own chest heaving as he breathes. 

He slides a large, rough hand up the small of your back, steadying you as you rest your head on his shoulder for a moment. Pressing a feather light kiss to the petal-soft skin of his throat, your eyes slide shut with great satisfaction. 

Credz: 

Lightsaber graphic creds: @saradika  

Taglist: 

@heyitsaloy

@poisonedsultana

@cryptidsrcool 

@mayhemories 

[jammyambition]

Hello!!! Unfortunately for everyone who might see this, I have now attempted to write Baby’s First Smut™️. You heard it here first, I’m not just hoarding fics on this blog anymore (unless this crashes and burns then I will delete it and hide in shame forever ofc) I have been inspired by so many amazing fic writers on here, and I’ll tag a couple just so I can share the love, I hope that’s okay! @pascalisbaby , @tinycozycomfort, @cupofjoel, @joelscruff thank you for your amazing and inspiring work!! Lots of love!!❤️

If people like this I could always write a continuation!! I have lots of ideas in my brain 💡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old Man.

Jackson!Joel x Reader

MINORS DNI/NSFW

Warnings: No description of size/appearance/skin colour. Reader is in early to mid 20’s, has a vagina/vulva, has hair long enough to pull, Joel uses terms of endearment such as honey/sweetheart/darlin’/baby/little girl, contains fingering, finger sucking, hair pulling, face grabbing, light/moderate spanking, slightly Mean!Joel, Joel is 56 so I cannot stress this enough, there is a big age gap! 1 single use of the word Daddy, slight humiliation and finally the use of the word Sir about 2 or 3 times. I imagined game!Joel for this fic, but ofc imagine whatever iteration you like!! I am done.

word count: 3,835

You and Joel have been patrol partners for a while now, and you have taking quite a liking to him. A cocky mistake nearly costs you your life, and Joel takes drastic measures to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

The air is crisp and cool as you walk slowly up the snowy path to Joel’s front door. Your mind racing as you think back to the events of your most recent patrol with him; you, a bunch of clickers and your near devastating misplaced confidence in yourself.

You thought you could take on a group by yourself from the safety of your horse. You’d managed to get a few headshots, reaching back to get another arrow from your quiver and nicking yourself on your knife, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the feeling of your skin being sliced open. At the sound of your gasp, the clickers whipped their heads around, causing a whimper of fear to bubble out from your lips. You urge your horse forward as quickly as possible, desperate to escape the clawing hands and gnashing teeth of the monsters, but you’re not quick enough, they’re gaining on you with alarming speed. Your heart pounds in your chest like a frightened rabbit, your breath coming in quick, wet pants as you panic. The situation seems dire, and you do the only thing you can think of that might save you from certain death.

“JOEL!!”

The clickers seem to gain even more speed at the sound of your scream, and you begin to worry that they might drag you off your horse, those gnarled claws and gaping mouths inching ever closer by the second. At the last second, just as you feel the tips of a set of claws scratching at your calf through your thick trousers, one of the clickers is thrown back by a direct shot to it’s head, a halo of gore and fungal brain matter splattering onto the ground and landing in patches on your clothes and face. Another deafening bang and another clicker thumps to the ground at the feet of your panicked horse, and after another 3 lethally calculated shots, you’re finally, blissfully safe. You feel colour and heat returning to your sweaty face, heart racing with adrenaline and relief. You look up, and he’s there. Your saviour. Of course it’s Joel, who else would it be? No one else would be that efficient, that calm under pressure, and also, you note with trembling breath, no one else would look quite that angry.

You can see the rifle clenched in his trembling fist, his nostrils flaring as he catches his breath, coming down from the panic of the last few minutes. He sets the rifle down and motions for you to ride over to join him.

Fuck.

The ride over to Joel feels somewhat like the ride to your own grave, the anger and frustration is radiating off him in palpable waves, his thick fingers twisting around the reins of his horse in a way that both frightens you and makes your mouth feel a little dry. You can’t deny that Joel is a treat to be on patrol with, between his hunting and shooting skills, his good looks and gruff, deep voice, usually you would jump at the chance to spend any amount of time with him, but right now you’d rather be on the receiving end of literally anybody else’s anger.

You turn to Joel, taking in the heavy, thunderous set of his dark brows, his usually kind brown eyes now steely with the promise of you being in for a real dressing down.

“So, you wanna tell me exactly what you were thinking back there?” Joel says, low and vaguely threatening, but tinged with genuine concern.

You swallow dryly.

“I-…I thought I could handle it Joel, I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

Your mouth feels dry and sandpapery, a fierce blush burning in your cheeks as your embarrassment grows.

He breathes in slowly, measuredly before exploding.

“You’re goddamn right it’s your fault, you couldn’t handle shit back there! What would have happened if I wasn’t there, if I hadn’t heard you call for me? I told you, I told you to stick with me and to let me handle packs of infected, and you ignored me and went off alone to try and what? Prove yourself to me? Well, I hate to tell you honey, but the only thing you’ve proven today is that I cannot trust you to follow my orders! I can’t believe you’d be so childish, so goddamn stubborn!”

He takes in another breath, this one sharp and gasping after this outburst.

You blanch, reaching another level of embarrassment you previously thought didn’t exist. He was right, you did want to prove yourself to him, you wanted to impress him, but it didn’t work, you just nearly got yourself killed. Your pride wounded and anger growing, you spit back at him in turn.

“Y-you think I want to impress you, old man? I only took on that pack of clickers because I thought YOU wouldn’t be able to handle it!”

You lie through your teeth, hating yourself even more the moment the words tumble from your freezing lips.

He looks straight ahead, over at the gates of Jackson which loom ahead of you.

“That right, sweetheart?”

He sounds as if he’s speaking through gritted teeth, and you feel your insides chill a little at the cold sound of his voice. You fucked up, bad.

You hitch your horses back at the stables, and as you walk away, desperate to go home, away from Joel and wash your day of adrenaline and crippling embarrassment off you with a hot shower, you feel his firm grasp on your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks.

He leans in close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your cold skin and making you shiver.

“I think you and I need to have a little talk about what happened today. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll have the decency to to show your face tomorrow. I expect an apology.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll see you tomorrow, Joel.” You stutter, your cheeks heating up even more.

He steps back from you, completely unaffected and calm.

“Good. I’ll catch you later, honey.”

He turns and walks away, over to where Tommy and Maria are beckoning him to come for a nightcap, greeting them with a familiar smile.

You rub your face with your gloved hands, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your palms to your eyes.

“Shit!” You mutter under your breath. “Shit.”

And that is exactly why you’re hauling your sorry ass up Joel’s path, apologies and excuses dancing around your head, trying to work out just how you can get yourself out of this mess. You imagine Joel telling you that you can’t be on patrol anymore, you’re too irresponsible, too impulsive. Your stomach clenches with nerves.

Finally, you reach his front door and knock lightly a few times, willing him not to be in the house. You can come back tomorrow. You begin to turn away, making your way back down the path as you hear the latch of his front door opening.

You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden porch and your heart sinks a little as you hear him speak.

“Don’t think you’ll get away that easy, darlin’. Get in here. Now.”

He steps aside to allow you to get past him, and you squeeze through into the living room, your shoulders brushing his lightly as you pass.

He steps back into the house and shuts the door firmly, your stomach jolting nervously at the finality of the sound. You’re trapped.

Joel moves through the living room, taking a seat on one of the large, comfortable chairs. He gets himself settled, leaning back with his arms draped casually across the back of the chair and his legs spread apart slightly. You can’t help it when your gaze flits between the exposed muscle of his bicep as the arms of his t-shirt rides up slightly, and the bulge in his blue jeans when he leans back. He adjusts himself again, pushing his hips forward. His t-shirt rides up just a little, exposing a sliver of soft, tanned stomach. You feel like you’re about to pass out as you take in the sight in front of you.

“Stop staring at him, for fucks sake!” You think, as you feel your face heat up even more.

“Come here.” Joel says sternly, pointing at a spot in front of him, about a foot away from where he’s sitting.

You walk tentatively over to where he points, coming to a halt just in front of his boots.

“That’s good, darlin’. So you can take orders, huh?” he rumbles, and you swear you hear a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

“I can take orders, old man.” You reply, tartly.

He grunts quietly, unamused.

“Now tell me, what’s with this attitude huh? You’re so polite with everyone else, so nice and sweet. Why do I get this bratty little attitude of yours?” He says, sternly, locking you in his steely gaze.

You don’t answer as you struggle to think of a reply, your mouth opening and closing over and over.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to say, sweetheart? You think I deserve this attitude of yours after I saved your life? Saved you from that cocky little stunt you pulled?” He goes on, filling the silence for you.

You feel hot and guilty as he lectures you, but your stomach twists pleasurably at the sight of him in front of you, and the deep, stern tone of his voice is making you feel hot and even a little damp in your underwear.

“J-Joel, this is…this is humiliating. I don’t need to be lectured like this, I’m not a child.” You find your voice, desperate to prove that you’re not as pathetic and bratty as he’s making you out to be.

“No? Then why do you act like such a child, out on patrol with me? Always with your bratty little comments, disobeying my direct orders, going off on your own when you think you know better!” He sounds more annoyed now, his voice taking on a sharper edge, you can tell you’re getting to him and a small part of you want to push further.

“Jesus Joel, you’re speaking to me like I’m not a grown woman, I’m in my 20’s for fucks sake! I don’t have to answer to you! I can take care of myself, I have more experience than you’ve ever given me credit for, old man.” You spit back, angry at the implications of his words and desperate to hold your own in this battle that you’re acutely aware you’re losing.

A dark look flits across his face, and he looks almost feral when he raises his eyes back to you. You a nervous tingling across the back of your neck as you realise you may have pushed it just a little too far this time.

His hand shoots out and grabs your collar tightly, pulling you down to his level, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes bore into yours from below.

“Do you have any idea how much older I am than you, little girl? How much more experience I have than you? What I could do to a little brat like you?” He seethes, his voice low and threatening.

You feel a spike of arousal in your stomach as he grits his words out at you, his breath flickering over your face as his dark eyes search yours.

You swallow, steeling yourself against his intense gaze.

“Oh, I’d love to see what you’d do a little brat like me, old man.” You retort, smirking.

Another half-crazed look passes across his face and then suddenly he pulls you sharply by your wrist, unbalancing you and having you land directly across his knees, your ass sticking up slightly.

You’re in shock, feeling vulnerable and exposed despite the two layers of clothing protecting your modesty.

“Joel?! What the fuck?” You protest, trying to stand up, but his arm is solid and vice like around your waist.

He chuckles, clinging to your waist even tighter to ensure you can’t escape.

“Showin’ you what I do to little brats like you, sweetheart.”

Suddenly his hand comes down on your ass, taking you by surprise and making you yelp. Another sudden burst of arousal spikes through your core and you squirm in his lap slightly.

“You’re gonna spank me!? Really, Joel!?” You say, embarrassed.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, honey. I can see you squirmin’ from here.” He chides, bringing his hand down again, making you let out a strangled half yelp, half moan.

“F-fuck! That hurts, Joel!” You whimper.

“It’s meant to hurt sweetheart, how else is it gonna fix your little attitude problem?” He says, laughing slightly at your predicament.

You feel wetness pooling in your underwear as he strikes your ass again, and you squirm slightly again in his lap, feeling an unexpected hardness digging into your stomach.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, honey. I can practically feel you making a mess of your underwear, little girl.” He says coolly.

You whimper again, feeling hot and flustered from his ministrations and words. You can feel your pussy dripping with need and you worry it’s about to start making a stain on his jeans.

Joel runs a soothing, warm hand through your hair, coaxing you to look up at him.

“Cmon, darlin’. If you tell me the truth, I’ll give you what you want.” He looks searchingly into your face, big brown eyes kind and gentle.

You swallow, your throat dry with shame and your tongue thick with arousal, willing yourself to come up with a response that isn’t just incomprehensible whines and whimpers betraying your desperation for him.

“I..I…I don’t want anything, Joel. I swear!”

Your voice shakes as you lie through your teeth.

You hear Joel make a half grunt, half chuckle above you, and he draws breath before he speaks.

“You little liar.”

He sounds almost amused as he brings his hand down on your ass again, harder than before, and you accidentally let a strangled moan fall from your lips.

Your hand flies to your lips, as if you’re trying to push the sound back down your throat and your face feels impossibly hot. You can feel yourself leaking into your underwear, almost certainly soaking the fabric through entirely and you’re worried that it might start to leak out and stain his rough denim jeans.

“Oh, honey…” he says, sickly sweet and tender, and then winds a broad hand in the hair at the soft nape of your neck and pulls your head back sharply, slotting his face next to yours and pressing his lips up against your ear.

“I think you want me to fuck that little hole of yours until you remember who’s in charge here, little girl.”

You feel a gush of wetness in your underwear at his words, and an unrestrained moan leaves you against your will.

You nod your head as he begins to gently kiss and nibble at your ear slightly, making you shiver.

He leans back slightly and speaks again, his voice husky and laced with something like desire.

“Need words from you, darlin’. I ain’t doin’ shit until I know you want it. Come on, tell me what you want, honey.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes wide and probably slightly dazed looking from all the blood rushing away from your brain. You lick your dry lips and open your mouth to speak.

“N-need you to touch me Joel, please.”

He looks deep into your eyes.

“That right, baby? Need me to touch you, make you behave? Make you good for me?”

As he says this, you feel his large, warm hand sliding slowly up your thigh, stopping at your inner thigh and tracing small, teasing circles on the sensitive skin.

You can feel yourself get even wetter, and you squirm a little in his lap as his fingers move a little higher, tracing the large wet patch on your underwear.

He smirks slightly, almost condescendingly before speaking.

“All this from a little punishment, darlin’? You really this wet for me?”

He moves his fingers up to the waistband of your underwear and hooks his fingers under the elastic.

“Can I take these off, baby? You want this?”

You’re practically grinding on his thigh with frustration and your voice is small and desperate as you answer.

“Please Joel, take ‘em off, need you so bad.”

He chuckles, deep and warm as he slides your underwear down your thighs, tutting sympathetically as he sees the marks his hand left behind on your ass.

“Poor lil’ thing. Maybe I went too hard on you. Still, you look so damn good like this, honey. Is this how I should get you to mind me from now on? Put you over my knee and spank this pretty lil ass till ya’ listen?”

You moan quietly at his words, not at all opposed to the idea, which of course, Joel notices.

“I see I got a lil masochist on my hands here, ain’t that right, darlin’? You like a lil pain?”

You whimper out a response.

“Yeah, I-I like it, Joel. Now p-please, you’ve teased me enough, need you to touch me.”

He seems to take pity on you as he slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, urging your hips up to give himself room. As you lay back down in his lap you feel his hardness digging into your stomach and you whine out.

“Please Joel, I want your cock so bad, I’ll be good I promise.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes, and he brings his large hand up to your face, smushing your cheeks together so your lips push out in a pout.

“As cute as you are, darlin’, you’re not getting my cock until you can prove you can listen to me, take orders from me like a good girl. Got it, honey?”

You start to pitch up a whine, complaining slightly.

“B-but, Joel, I-I-….”

His grip on your cheeks goes tighter, and he nods your head up and down slightly, his mouth curved into a condescending grin.

“There we go, good girl. Say “Yes, Sir.” That’s it…”

He chuckles, dropping his grip on your cheeks and stroking your hair again in a soothing motion, then moving his hands back to your dripping wet core.

“Listen to me, little girl. You’re gonna lay nice and still over my knee and you’re gonna take what I have to give you, got it? Gonna show you who’s in charge around here, honey; you’re gonna mind me when we’re done.”

As he says this, he slides a thick finger into your dripping hole, and you feel yourself clench around his digit.

“O-oh, fuck!”

You whine as he starts up an unforgiving pace, and you can hear the sticky, wet noises of your own arousal echoing through the room.

“You like that honey? Huh?”

He says, as he slips another finger in, the slight stretch making you cry out in pleasure again.

“Where’s that bratty attitude now, little girl? You gonna talk back to me now you’re getting fucked over my knee? Fucked good by this old man?”

You feel yourself somehow get even wetter at his words, whines tumbling from your lips.

“N-no, Joel, I promise! I’ll b-be good, I swear! Just please don’t stop!”

He makes a thinking noise, his fingers not slowing as he moves his other hand to your lower back, holding you down.

“I don’t know honey, I’m not convinced that you’ll be a good girl for me. Show me some proper respect, and maybe I’ll think about it. Go on.”

You let out a frustrated whine, not believing that he can possibly make this situation anymore humiliating, but you think you know what he wants.

Finally you give in.

“Please, Sir! Please, don’t stop!”

You think you can feel his cock twitch slightly as it digs into your stomach from below, and you feel a slight sense of satisfaction as he speaks.

“Yeah honey, that’s a good girl. Showing me some proper respect now, huh?”

He seems pleased, and as if rewarding you for your efforts he scoops you up and sits you in his lap properly, draping your legs either side of his broad thighs.

You feel your wetness drip out of you as your core is entirely exposed to the cool air of the room.

“I think my good girl deserves a little reward now, show her I’m not all bad, right baby?”

His fingers go straight for your clit and begin to rub it in tight, calculated circles as the fingers of his other hand plunge back into your tight hole.

You moan loudly he does this, feeling yourself close to cumming already after his relentless teasing. You feel as if you can’t control the loud, desperate whines and moans leaving your lips as he continues to work your body expertly.

You hear him tut again as your moans reach a particularly loud crescendo.

“Shh, honey…damn, you really are desperate to cum, huh? You better quieten down, you wouldn’t want your lil’ friends to know you’re getting fucked so good by a man old enough to be your daddy. Ain’t that right little girl?”

As he says this, he takes his fingers out from your pussy and shoves them in your open mouth, silencing your moans.

“Yeah, that’s better. Give you something to keep you quiet while you cum, darlin’.”

You feel yourself tightening around nothing, your legs clenching and shaking as you begin to cum, Joel’s fingers in your mouth keeping you quiet.

He continues to rub your clit slowly as you come down from your high, the feeling making you shiver and spasm in his arms.

You relax back into his chest, feeling slightly dizzy from your intense orgasm, your muscles feeling jelly-like and utterly relaxed.

Joel wraps his arms around your shaking form, reclining further into the chair and allowing you to nestle into his arms.

“You okay, honey? Need anything, some water or something?”

You look up at him, his brown eyes kind and gentle again.

You giggle slightly,

“Maybe my pants back, old man…”

He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Oh, back to our old ways already are we, sweetheart?”

He says, playfully.

You laugh quietly again, resting your head on his chest.

“Yeah, something like that.”

You two stay like that for a while, until finally your legs begin to go numb due to the uncomfortable position. Joel sends you off with a kiss on the forehead and a pat on your (still slightly sore) ass, as well as a warning that you’d better listen to him next time you’re on patrol together.

You find yourself making a promise to yourself to show Joel just how much of a good girl you can be the next time you’re on patrol together.

[user-rui]

Dominant!Seme!Male!Reader x Submissive!Uke!Male!Insert - Part 2

(U/n) = Uke name

(Y/n) = Your name

Here's the second part to this story.

A simple, smutty short story. Will contain BDSM. I did the opposite earlier in the book, but I think it's time to do it the other way around. The scenario I'm imagining is like the uke is a 'pet', and the seme is a master, just so that you can better understand the story. They're still in a romantic relationship, but they enjoy sex this way.

-Narrator's Pov-

"Inside you? But there's already two toys inside you, I won't fit," You stated as you began to strip, letting your own monster of a cock free from the confinements of your pants. "You want me to put it in with everything else right?" You said, your voice sounding very sarcastic.

"N-no~! I-I'll break if.. If you dooo~!" He cried, looking back to see your erect member. He squealed and looked back at the bed, both excited and scared. "Maybe if you push the tail out, I can put mine in. I'll give you three minutes, just using your ass, see if you can push the tail out. And if you don't..." You trailed, brushing your tip against the entrance, making the other whimper in fear at what you would do. (U/n) began to push the toy out, making distressed and pleasured noises as he squeezed his ass, trying to get the toy out.

"You have a minute."

The smaller male cried out and tried harder, more tears forming in the corners of his eyes as managed to get it out just in time. "Well done," You chuckled, getting onto the bed and behind the other, rubbing your member a little and applying some lube. "(Y-y/n)... V-vibrator..." (U/n) panted, whining a little as he felt the smaller toy still deep inside. "W-wait..! Vibrator!"

"Why wait? I'm sure you can handle a vibrator along with my cock," You seductively said as you trailed a finger over his back, making him shiver at the touch. Without further warning, you shoved your member inside of the other, until you were balls deep.

You let out a pleasured sigh as the vibrator came into contact with your sensitive organ, and you grabbed the remote to turn the toy onto the highest setting, making (U/n) arch his back and let out loud and lewd moan. You had began to pound from the near beginning of inserting your member into the other's wet core, pounding mercilessly as he cried and groaned, making music to your ears.

It fueled you to go faster, harder, until the smaller male lost his voice. "I told you, Ngh.. You can handle it~" You said, panting heavily from the amount of force being used. You held onto his waist, slightly digging your nails into the other's soft skin as you pulled him towards you with every thrust, harshly pushing the toy against (U/n)'s prostate.

"AHHHHH~!!" He screeched, his voice breaking at several points as you felt him tighten and shudder violently. "Dry orgasm, hm~?" You groan, not stopping your movements, even though the smaller male was practically a corpse underneath you. (U/n) was a moaning mess, and a mess in general.

His (uke hair colour) locks were messily scattered, and even a bit wet from all the tears and saliva that was overflowing out of him. He shook whenever you pushed into him, and he didn't have the energy to even grip the sheets anymore.

"P-pwease... N-n-need... C-cum..." He mumbled, his eyes were lidded and his tongue was sticking out. He mumbled some more, weakly shaking his head in protest as you felt your orgasm draw near. You were grunting as you sped up, closing your eyes in pure bliss, feeling your orgasm come.

You let a satisfied moan escape your mouth as you let your semen flow into the smaller male, making his eyes widen at the sudden feeling of warm liquid invading his ass. 

You reached down to remove the metal ring, which was covered in pre cum, and almost immediately, you could feel (U/n) member twitching violently as his seed spilled all over the blankets. The smaller male arched his back and let out a lewd moan as he rode out his orgasm.

"That was amazing," You huffed out, catching your breath from the intensity of the release. "Don't you agree?" You looked at the other male with a puzzled expression when you didn't get a response.

Even though he was still twitching and jerking at times, (U/n) was beyond exhausted and was definitely not going to wake up any time soon. You chuckled and turned off the vibrator, removing it from the other's ass.

You took off the cuffs and got up to go to the washroom to get something to quickly wash the other off. After changing the bed sheets for the back up one's you keep in the closet, you slipped into bed, holding the other close to you. "Good night, (U/n). I love you," You mumbled, feeling the tiredness of the previous activity kick in. Best sex ever... You thought as a tired smile appeared on your face before you drifted off to sleep, feeling your lover's warmth next to you.

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

heyyyy i love your series so much. I’ve read it so many times and its always amazing. Can you pleaseeee write an AU blurb to daemon’s reaction of babey dying.

Someone wanted to suffer so OMG I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS! (Also sorry it took a while to get out, I wanted to finish off 'Worship' before getting to this little blurb, but I hope it feeds your need for pain!) THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE BLURB, DO NOT PANIC!!!

the stranger ('terms of endearment' au)

On the night of your child's birth, Daemon's world implodes.

Triggers: death in childbirth.

When had the world gone cold?

His was a body formed from fire and blood, a raging inferno that sweeps away all who dare to cross him in a maelstrom of heat and passion and fury. He burned bright, deep, dark, and all who knew his tempestuous nature feared it. Feared him.

But he is frozen and hollow now, a carcass left abandoned in the dying light for the vultures to pick upon. The emptiness swallows him whole.

He barely registers Rhaenyra’s sobs, or Viserys’s remaining hand upon his shoulder, or the Hightower bitch’s snivelling murmurs. When the attendants seek to move you, he thinks he snaps at them, but he cannot be certain. The noise is insensate, like trying to hear words under the waves of the ocean. His pulse fills his ears with useless sound, every beat a reminder that your own heart toils no longer.

Your hair – moonlight spilling over the pillows in luminescent shine – is as bright as ever, as soft and perfect and you as it had always been. He takes your jaw in hand, thumb tracing the bow of your petal lips, fingers across your cheek. You are so, so beautiful; it is a tragic beauty, the bloom of colour gone from pallid skin, pigment leached from stone. You were warm once, he recalls, but it is fading, oozing black and red across the mattress. It soaks through his breeches, wetting it with the life essence that ought to have remained within you, kept you vivid and buoyant and everything that is real and necessary. One of your small palms is clasped in his own, and they have always been cold, he has always warmed them for you. Why is it not working now?

“… the boy… his name?”

Ah, yes, he recalls. The babe.

His brave, brave girl. You had rocked and moaned and pushed and wailed as the child tore his way through you, retreating to that instinctive bestiality of ancient womanhood. He cannot recall the last words he had ever spoken to you, if there even were any, so lost in the haze of pain and torment as you had been. It was overwhelming, alarming, utterly destroying to do nothing but watch as new life had made you undone, had ripped itself from you and left you fractured beyond repair. He barely remembers it; hopes he never will. Those flashes of tears and screams and the lingering scent of doom will haunt him forevermore.

Dimly, he senses someone shifting your arm, something wiggly and squalling being deposited into the crook of it. Silver braid, black sleeve. A woman. He looks down at it, at that small, small lifeform, rosy flush and bow lips and pale hair so like yours. The child’s cries abate at the feel of his mother around him, a bond that will never break, not even when you are ash upon the wind.

The boy looks like you. Perhaps that’s impossible for a babe so new, but he does. His rosebud mouth is suckling, rooting for the milk that will never come from you, his little brows scrunching in frustration. He smiles. It is a broken, desperate thing.

Well done, my darling.

“Good girl,” he whispers, caressing your face. “My clever sweetling.”

Here, in this bed of blood, a part of him dies.

Don't worry, this WILL NOT HAPPEN in the main series - but I am happy to add these little blurbs to the Alternate Universe train! Thanks for reading!

[meabh-mcinness]

Hello there! I just wanted to say that ive been a fan of yours for a bit and I really really love your work. I hope you keep up the amazing feels and are doing good in general!

I would like to ask for iruma with mom!reader.

WITH RECENT EVENTS! in the manga our boy needs some proper comfort.

I want the reader to hold iruma and tell him that everyone started caring about him because of him, I wanna see along the lies of the reader telling him " they will see the human in you and they will love you for it just like you love them as the demons they are"

( i also want mama reader just going full on quiet rage on kalegos brother to the point her aura consumes the ball room and he feels like his chest to going to cave in)

IRUMA IS SAD BUT ALL HIS ADOPTIVE PARENTS ARE WILLING TO HELP!

But thank you for taking the time to reade this i hope that this isn't too hard for you to do and please keep being awesome!

Thank you very much! I've been doing good, though I'm tired what with starting a new job and all, and I hope you are as well!

Sorry this took so long to get out, but it's finally here! Hopefully you're OK with it, since I did take a little bit of liberties with it.

Boss B*tch

When Narnia tries to put Iruma in his place, it ends up being him who is shot down instead. By you, Iruma's parent, who is none too pleased that an overconfident mutt hurt their baby's feelings. Luckily, if there is one thing humans are good at, it's mimicking that they are much more fearsome predators than they actually are.

TW! The only thing I can think of is the reader does draw a bit of blood and grabs Narnia's hair and threatens him. I don't think there's anything else?

One minute.

You had looked away for one minute, distracted by Alice and Razzbery fighting over Amaryllis, and when you looked back your son was no longer by your side. A frown flitted over your face as you swept your eyes over the ballroom. With so many colourful outfits, it was rather easy to find the blue-haired boy in his near black suit. He was still back where you had been originally, standing by Fenrir, or Fen-chan as he insisted on being called.

Iruma appeared to be sparkling as he chattered on about something. A fond smile appeared on your face as you excused yourself from the group to wander back over to him. Logically, you knew that you had to let him go off on his own, and yet you were incredibly anxious to leave him be when surrounded by so many high-ranking demons. And evidently, as you watched Iruma's face scrunch into confusion before falling into fear as Fenrir said something in return, you had been right to feel so.

Your eyes narrowed, your smile falling as Fenrir started to crowd in Iruma's space. You were close enough now that you could hear what it was that Fenrir was saying. He seemed to be going on a rant about the possibility of humans invading the Netherworld and, from the way he phrased it, made it obvious to you that he was more than aware of their existence and seemed to have a personal vendetta against them.  And more than likely he knew about you and Iruma being humans. As much as you had liked his quips, it was obvious.

Fenrir was a danger.

And you wouldn't allow danger near your son. Not after coming so close to losing him in the heartbreaker exam. Your nerves, which had been slowly loosening since then, tightened once more and your teeth were bared before you had even thought about it. Eyes narrowed, you watched as Amaryllis pounced on Iruma from behind out of nowhere, and vaguely wondered how she had got there first, before pushing the thought away. It was obvious from the way her body was tensed, one hand raised, that she was about to attack Fenrir too, but you had got there first.

Before she could strike out, you were there, palm hitting his face, nails digging into his skin as your hand flew out. You watched as he fell to the ground, his eyes widened in shock at the force and his blood splattering out against the ground next to him. You were suddenly very happy that you had grown your nails out to try and blend in with the demons here, as he tentatively raised one of his hands to the shallow claw marks on his cheek, blood still rising to the surface.

It was rather obvious from his dropped mouth and empty eyes that he was in a state of shock, as if he really couldn't comprehend that someone, much less you, had actually struck him. From the corner of your eyes, you could also see everyone else staring at the two of you as well. Amaryllis seemed to be stuck somewhere between surprise and pride, and Iruma had forgone all composure as he stared with eyes wide and mouth open, and all the varying demons around seemed to be imitating him.

To be fair, you could kind of understand why. This was a ball where they were supposed to be celebrating the future, and now there appeared to be two individuals fighting.  One of which was a self-proclaimed third most important member of the Border Patrol, a force that most did their best not to make an enemy of. And you had sent one sprawling to the floor with one hit.

There would most likely be consequences, you knew, as more of your anger seeped out of you. Amaryllis could have got away with it easily, being a member of the 13 Crowns. But you? You were just an unknown, unranked, being. Even if you are a child of one of the three greats, you, yourself, held no real power. And you had picked a fight with a demon who was leaps and bounds more powerful than you.

A fight you were determined to win through sheer willpower alone if necessary. Losing was not an option when Iruma was involved as collateral.

"You talk of beings that don't belong so well, and yet don't seem to recognize that the only one here who is out of place is you. You are nothing more than an overconfident mutt at my feet who needs to be retaught manners," He stared up at you, eyes wide at the seeping aura of anger and danger that poured out of your every cell.

Suddenly a giant black wolf materialized above him, with three eyes, and multiple tails raised in anger. All snarling fangs and posture, and while you felt fear tear through your body, you stared up at it as if you were unimpressed, before pulling your lips back and giving a loud snarl of your own at it. You watched it pause for a second, ears flickering in its hesitancy at this tiny being in front of it, before the canine abruptly vanished again. Leaving behind Fenrir, still at your feet.

He appeared to be out of his shock and was kneeling now, likely trying to stand up while you were distracted. Well, you couldn't have that just yet. You quickly grabbed a fistful of his hair and leaned down while dragging him up so your faces were inches apart. A hiss left his mouth at the abrupt action, but he quickly shuts his mouth again at the look on your face.

His mind was racing as he tried to comprehend what exactly was happening. He knew you were a human, and humans were supposed to be weak little creatures. Easy prey that even an infant could catch, so logically you were supposed to be as well. And yet here you stood with all power reeking off of you like you were the Demon King himself. In the face of your fury, he felt a lot like some pup before the raging alpha of an enemy pack.

He could practically see it, instead of your human form, a large wolf with long flowing fur the colour of your hair, that would put his Cerberia to shame. Felt the large clawed paw on his chest with the way he struggled to breathe under the pressure, could hear the low furious growl that rumbled out of your chest, past the large fangs poised to rip him to shreds.

He felt more like he was looking at a deity of wrath than a human. He was as awed at your presence as he was fearful, as he stared up at you. 

"If I ever find you talking such drivel to my child again, I will skin you alive before ripping out your eyes, shoving them down your throat, so you can see my claws rip your carcass open while wearing your skin as a dress. Do you understand me?" you growled out at him. He nodded as best he could with your hand still clutching his hair. You leaned in more till you were right next to his ear, and whispered, "I know you know what I am, but you will cease and desist any attempts against me and mine before I show why our two worlds were really separated. After all, it was never for the benefit of human lives that demons vanished off to someplace new," before you abruptly let him go while standing up straight. He collapsed slightly, almost falling to the floor again before he caught himself with his knees. His head stayed bowed, showing his back, suitably cowed before you.

"Good boy, now go on, apologize."

Fenrir staggered to his feet before you, head still bowed. "Please forgive my rudeness, my lady. It will never happen again." He slowly turned towards where Iruma was standing, still flabbergasted at your display, before straightening up when he noticed the demon's gaze on him.  Fenrir bowed again at Iruma, "And to you too, milord. I got too carried away, and it was wrong of me. I am sorry for scaring you."

Iruma started to move his hands slightly, to wave away the apology, but one quick shake of your head had him lowering them again. "It's - It's alright..." Iruma said, still startled and somewhat lost at what was going on. 

Fenrir raised up from his bow to Iruma, and turned back towards you, lowering his head towards you once again, "If you'll excuse me, my lady, I think I'll go wash my face." He stayed still until you nodded your head, before he turned away and walked off, presumably towards where the washrooms were. Your eyes stayed narrowed on his form until he disappeared from your view by the surrounding crowd. And really, when had it gotten that big? 

Shaking your head mentally, you did your best to ignore the crowd as you turned your attention to Iruma. He still looked as shocked as before as you made your way over to him. He straightened once more, though he fidgeted a little bit under the intensity of your look. Likely misreading your determination as anger at him. 

Squishing his cheeks in between your hands as you finally made your way to him, you turned his head this way and that, before looking him up and down. Satisfied with your inspection but not still high on nerves, you asked him if he was OK. He gave the best nod he could with his head still stuck in your hands, and you quickly let him go. Seeing a look in his eyes though kept you from fully believing him. 

Had you scared him? You generally presented a very calm parental relationship with him. Trying your hardest to never give in to a temper and always think things through calmly when dealing with anything with or near him. You would hate to find out that the one time you let anger consume you had changed his perception of you. 

Hearing two shouts of Iruma’s name, you turned towards where two individuals were forcing their way through the dispersing crowd, dragging you out of your thoughts. Now that the show was clearly over, the other occupants were going back to their original groupings, still chattering about what had happened but no longer as interested in watching you. 

Focusing back in, you found the two individuals were Amerie and Alice. Both talked over the other as they tried to find out what happened and if everyone was OK. Waving off their concerns, you simply commented that a dog had to be retrained and that it had been handled before grinning at their flabbergasted looks. 

Glancing over towards Iruma you noticed he seemed to slowly withdraw into himself. His eyes clouded over as whatever he was thinking slowly consumed his mind. Thinking quickly, you gestured over to where a few tables were and suggested that you took a quick break after all the excitement. Amerie and Alice had clearly come to the same conclusion as you, as they quickly nodded and surrounded Iruma as if trying to hide him from view as you led the small group over. Amaryllis declined the offer, saying she still had some socializing of her own to do, before veering off away from. Judging from her determined walk, she was likely on her way to visit the misbehaving dog from earlier.

With Iruma and you settled at a table hidden to the sidelines, you couldn't help the fond smile that crosses your face as both Amerie and Alice fawned over Iruma. Both clearly expressed worry over how he felt about what had just happened, but were not certain about what to do to make it better. When Iruma shooed them away to have fun and that he simply wanted to have a moment alone, your smile dipped into a frown. Due to the way he was raised, Iruma always jumped at the chance to have others around him. Constantly craving their affection and company. To push others away after something like that clearly said something was wrong. And you had a good feeling what it was.

You were going to kill Fenrir the next chance you got.

You gave the two demons across from you a nod and put a hand on Iruma's shoulder gently. "Don't worry, I have him. Go have fun and make connections. We'll join in again later."

They both hesitated, clearly still uncertain about leaving him, before nodding in acquisition. With a few last words, they left to socialize with the others, and you watched them go before turning back to Iruma.

"How about we get out of here briefly," you suggested with a wink at him.

His eyes widened at your words, staring at you with a dropped jaw, "But we promised Opera-"

"We promised not to leave the Deviculum, and we're not." You nodded to the large curtains strewn along the walls. "I noticed them earlier, but didn't think we would need them. Every one of the curtains leads to a balcony. We'll be out of prying eyes, and you get a space to breathe, while still technically staying within bounds."

He blinked owlishly at you before tilting his head in thought. It was quite obvious there were two sides warring in him, but yours must have won out when he nodded and moved to get up. He followed obediently behind you as you led him to the closest window. Giving a quick look around to make sure no one was looking your way, you lifted the curtain a bit and gestured to him to go through. Technically speaking, you didn't actually know if you were allowed out here.

Iruma didn't need to know that. 

Moving to go behind the curtain yourself, you gave one more cursory glance before following him outside. The second you were outside, you couldn't help but take a deep breath of the cool air. You hadn't even realized how stuffy the room was until you made it out into an open area and were enjoying the light breeze blowing through. Opening the eyes you hadn't even realized you had closed, you made your way to where Iruma was leaning against the railing, still looking as downcast as before.

"Will you tell me what's on your mind?"

"I'm just thinking. About what Fenrir-san said. That humans didn't belong here. It made me wonder if I don't belong and-"

At Iruma's clearly lost face, as he suddenly stopped talking, you amended what you thought earlier. You weren't going to kill Fenrir. You were going to absolutely slaughter him.

"Iruma, honey, you, if anyone, belong here the most." He gave you a look, which you returned, before breaking into a small smile. "I'm being serious here. Yes, we're humans, but so what? We might be an invasive species by many people's standards, and it's true they can do a lot of harm."

You gave him an encouraging smile before continuing, "Sometimes those invasive species can do a lot of good too. You've already taken Babyls by storm. Done things that others thought were impossible, and they were good things. You brought together the misfit class, took back the Royal One classroom, and created things no one else has seen here. It was all you that did that." Seeing him open his mouth, likely in protest, you ploughed right on. "And before you argue, yes, I know you had help. But do you think Rome was built by a single person? Or that it was the Emperor alone who ruled Japan? They all had help, and they did great things with that help, as you will do too." You paused for a moment to take a breath before you went on a rant. "Look, what I'm getting at is that both here, and in the human world, there will always be people who hate you for things out of your control. You know what we do to those people, though?"

He shook his head, confusion clearly written on his face. You gave him a sharp tooth grin in response to his look, "We steam roll right over them and prove them wrong. Fenrir said humans don't belong. Prove him wrong by not just surviving, but thriving here. Keep working your way through those ranks until you feel good enough to look him in his face, smile and say 'You're wrong, I do belong here' before walking away from him. Some call it spite, I call it a purpose. Either way, it works." You carefully grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eyes through his mask, "I know it's harder to do than say, but always remember that I along with Sullivan, Opera and all the others will always be here for you. Whenever you stumble or fall, we will pick you back up till you can walk on your own again. OK?"

He gave you a bright but watery smile and nodded.

"OK. Now let's get back in there and show them just how much we belong here." Iruma nodded again before rushing to give you a tight hug, burrowing his face into your chest. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tightly before letting him go and gently ushering him towards the door again.

"Alright, let's do this."

Unbeknown to you, there was a new faction formed that day. Demons naturally flocked to those that held power, and someone who could take down another demon so effortlessly and without magic meant they were extremely powerful.

‘If Sullivan was still insistent on not taking the throne, then perhaps his child could take it in his place,’ they thought.

You had quite a few words for them when you found out. Especially when you found out it was Fenrir who was spearheading it. 

[we-love-the-murder-bois]

Warrior

Yautja Male x reader

(Rewatching all the movies in preparation for Prey! I will happily take any yautja requests.)

———

The yautja watched in reined awe as their human stepped onto the home world with confidence. The ship’s hatch hissed, air misting as the temperature controlled air mixed with the humid jungle. Y/n had always had the heart of a warrior, he’d known that the moment he first met them and they’d faced him with clenched fists and a snarl. He’d first assumed they weren’t a threat, and then that tiny human ‘kicked his ass’. They apparently utilized the teachings of Kevin McCallister, surely a warrior of their home planet. They set traps and laid in wait, but also had the bravery to stand and fight when traps failed.

Now, a year passed and finally home again, they faced the unfamiliar world with the same courage.

Y/n, with their silly need for coverage and strange earth customs. Y/n, who taught themselves the yautja language of silent hand and some of their verbal communications and met every world they found with the same wonder in their eyes.

Y/n, who he vowed to stand by until his last breath.

‘Stay by me.’ It wasn’t an order, y/n was not a creature to take order, but a plea. His little human was a capable beast, but they were outnumbered and unknown. The human kind was a mystery to their people, a seemingly weak and underdeveloped planet, but full of capable warriors. Several yautja had fallen to their kind, they were not to be underestimated. He was late for his return on his quest for valor, he’d put this off for long enough. Any longer and they’d presume him dead.

Y/n fell back, squaring their shoulders and affixing their skull mask over their deceptively gentle face. The grey ridges of bone and sharp incisors making them look far from weak. Human faces were strange, but theirs was beautiful, with soft skin and nearly imperceptible dappling. They seemed so squishy, but their hands never faultered-

Well, only once, when they’d reached the end of their battle. They had looked at him, eyes filled with fire and determination and a weariness from a tiring fight. They had bled, a bright colour opposite of his own, and their fingers were slick with their mixed blood as they had removed his mask.

Those slim clawless fingers, for the first time in that long fight, fumbled.

It wasn’t fear in their eyes, they’d only seen that briefly before it had been covered by confidence, but wonder.

A wonder now directed at alien worlds and strange creatures, focused completely on him.

And, with muscles shaking from over exertion and wounds that continued to steadily bleed onto both of them, they showed their teeth and spoke in their soft language.

‘Truce?’ He didn’t know what the word meant, but he repeated it back to them in their voice. They just made a musical little human noise, dropped their spear, and collapsed on the ground beside him.

Later, once they’d come to an understanding, they’d told him that they saw something in his eyes, something that made them see the yautja as an equal. His human didn’t want to kill intelligent life for sport, but that weakness wasn’t much of one. He’d seen the human fight, but they were a trapper at heart. Some yautja would call them cowardly, but he knew their actions came from strength and intelligence.

The tiny human surveyed the city, looked beyond at the towering jungle surrounding them. Even a hunter skilled as they would die in that jungle.

It amazed him how different they were. His human was different in every physical way, but mentally sharp and equal. They had copied his dreads with their hair, short tight coils that lacked any of the nerves or sensitivity his had. He had dressed them in bands and trinkets, a message of status through placement and precious metals.

His human whistled, loud and sharp, disturbing his contemplation. Their hound came barreling from the ship before the doors could close. It was a dumb creature, not the trained weapon most yautja hounds were, instead happy to laze about and cling to the human. It was fiercely protective however, even against him if he and y/n argued.

It took its place at their side, boxing them in. Y/n huffed a laugh, eyes rolling behind their mask in that human expression of exasperation they were so fond of.

“I’ll be fine.” He’d learned their language too, if only to understand their impassioned rants that always devolved into ‘English’.

He paused in his stride, something was off.

He found himself kneeling, tilting up their mask.

For the first time since that night, after countless fights and adventures, he saw doubt in their eyes. His human did not doubt, they were a warrior.

‘What weighs on you?’ He asked them through the guttural growls and clicks of his spoken tongue. He loved watching their eyes as they translated in their brilliant little mind, rarely relying on the translator he’d built into their mask.

Y/n flashed their teeth, something he’d learned wasn’t always a threat like most predatory creatures. A growl rattled in their throat, uncertainty.

‘These years’ They sighed, hands fumbling before they hid them away in the folds of their coverage. “These years have been the best of my life, and I’ve become stronger than ever. Worthy, a warrior. Still, I’m not a yautja, and I don’t want to hurt your reputation by being all…humany.” The English was confusing sometimes, and his translations were sometimes off, but he understood their meaning.

He gripped their shoulders with measured force, leaning to press their foreheads together. They brought up a hand to trace his jaw, blunted claws scraping his skin gently.

“You…were a warrior the day I found you. Any creature capable of defeating yautja in fair combat is worthy of respect, no matter species. Stand tall, show them fire you showed me.” He had first copied their language blindly, but with patience they had eventually taught him the individual words and their meanings in his language.

His human made their musical sound, a laugh, he’d come to learn, and gave him a smile. Their shoulders loosened under his hands, and the doubt was replaced with a look of admiration they called ‘love’. Yautja didn’t love, if their translation was correct, but he found that they could.

‘It isn’t just admiration.’ They had said with their soft little voice. ‘It’s deeper than that, it’s this deep care and need to protect and comfort. It’s hard to describe.’

It had taken him a while, but he knew that he loved this human, and he knew that they knew it too.

When he had decided to court them, a laughable ‘comedy of errors’ as they called it, he was already starting to fall for them. When he had finally made his wishes clear, had taken that strong willed warrior as his mate, he understood love in a way he knew he’d never be able to put into words.

His mate, one he vowed to spend his life with. Something common on their world, less so on his, but not unheard of. They may never bear his children, but he would never leave their side.

His mate pressed a kiss to his teeth, a human mating custom he’d grown to enjoy.

“We’ll then.” They pushed him back with a playful snarl. ‘Let’s give ‘em hell.’ It definitely translated better in their language, but he just gave his version of a chuckle.

Y/n would be fine. They were a warrior of their people, a proxy of their people, and they would prove their worth.

Not every yautja would respect them, but y/n was capable, even more capable than the first time they had nearly killed a yautja. He had taught them customs and social cues best he could, and he trusted in their uncanny way of reading his emotions to work on other yautja.

By the end of the cycle, yautja prime would know of the feirce human warrior.

[megalony]

Bound To Her

This is a Jonah Hauer-King imagine, requested by Nina, I hope you like it lovely, thank you for the amazing request and lovely feedback.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys​ @luna2034 @mystiqueprincess @fangirl-tothemax @musicistheway @wandamaximoffbae

Masterlist

Summary: Jonah is broken when (Y/n) needs to take a break from their relationship and he has to find out why. He can't survive without her. (Little bit of angst and fluff to make up for it in the end)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dear God, how long have you been here?" Something akin to fear shook through Alex's voice when his eyes set upon one of his oldest friends.

Jonah did not look good.

The colour beneath his eyes was a dark shade of purple like wild berries with streaks of red slashing through. He couldn't keep either of his eyes open fully, they were half lidded and drooping down, raged with lack of sleep and too much alcohol. Jonah's complexion wasn't much better, his pale skin was verging on grey and his usually bright crimson lips were a faded shade of pink with white cracks slitting through them that disappeared when enough alcohol coated his lips.

Compared to normal, sitting here at the bar, Jonah didn't look his usual height. He looked like he would barely scrape five foot five with the way his back was arched, his shoulders were hunched and his long legs were hidden beneath the bar.

Both his hands were cradling an empty shot glass and the pad of his fingers were running around the rim, caressing it gently.

"A while,"

"Well I could guess that. Come on, I think you've had more than enough."

He didn't know what he had signed up for when he agreed to pick Jonah up from the bar. He thought he would just be ferrying his tipsy friend home and making sure he actually got through the front door in one piece. Now he could see Jonah, he knew that wasn't going to be the case.

How could Alex take him home and leave him alone like this? what if he tripped going up or down the stairs or fell and hurt himself? What if he passed out or threw up and couldn't look after himself?

"Do you wanna come stay at mine for the night?"

"I want (Y/n)," Her name rolled off the tongue like it was meant to be spoken by his lips only. It was so natural and free and loving and just her name made Jonah's eyes water and turned his world on its axis when he stood up.

He could hear the sigh that Alex let out before he felt his friend wrap an arm around his torso to keep him upright when it looked like he was about to keel over.

"I know, mate."

"No, t-take me to her, now."

"Is that a good idea?" Alex didn't know the ins and outs of what had happened almost a month ago. All he had gathered from two of his closest friends was that they were on some kind of break, and not by Jonah's voice.

Everything had shattered around him when (Y/n) said she needed a break. Jonah didn't know why. He didn't know what he'd done or what he could do to improve it and bring (Y/n) back. She was the only one for him, she was the light at the end of the tunnel, the person who understood him when others overlooked him. (Y/n) was home and Jonah couldn't cope without her. The longer he stayed away from her, the worse he started to feel until alcohol was the only thing that numbed the tears and the throbbing in his head.

He didn't know what he was meant to do anymore. Jonah couldn't operate without (Y/n). He woke up every morning broken and aching when he realised the bed was cold and empty beside him. He could barely contain his anguish when he stared at his phone and realised it was never (Y/n) calling or texting him.

He scrolled through their pictures and begged to rewind time and go back to the moments captured on his phone.

What did he do wrong?

"It's okay, I'll walk there." Jonah started veering to the left when he tried to walk without letting his weight fall on Alex but he stopped when he felt his friend grab his upper arm and pull him back.

He would walk the distance, he would walk all night if he had to so he could see (Y/n) and if she shut the door in his face he would sit on the doorstep and wait. He would wait until the world ended if he had to, but Jonah had to see her.

"Alright, alright. Where is she?"

Alex would never forgive himself if he let Jonah stumble off, intoxicated and confused like this. He would get himself run over or fall in an alley or get mugged. At least if Alex drove him and (Y/n) didn't want to see him, Alex could then take him home and make sure he was alright.

It didn't take long to get to (Y/n)'s sister's house where she had been staying since the break between her and Jonah.

Both men were more than relieved when (Y/n) opened the door, wrapped up in a jumper with bleak, tired eyes that awakened with worry when she realised who was here.

“I'm sorry, he was determined to see you.” There was an apologetic yet worrying look in Alex’s eyes which resonated throughout his posture. He had one of Jonah's arms slung over his shoulders and about half of his weight resting on him. He was the pillar keeping Jonah from collapsing on the doorstep and he knew if he let his friend go, he would fall down and not get up until the sun shone in the sky.

"Come in."

Both of them were surprised when (Y/n) opened the door and beckoned them to follow her inside. Alex had been prepared to take Jonah back to his house for the night and Jonah had been ready to sit and wait here for the rest of the night until he sobered up and (Y/n) decided she wanted to see him.

"He's had quite a lot to drink by the look of him." Alex stuffed his hands into his pockets, silently looking between (Y/n) and Jonah, unsure what he was supposed to do now.

Just one look at Jonah had tears welling up in (Y/n)'s eyes and a sadness brewing in her heart when he slumped down onto the sofa. He folded in on himself like a piece of paper, arching his back and pushing his head down to rest on his knees with his hands knitted into the hair at the back of his head.

He knew he was a mess, but he didn't care. All he cared about was (Y/n).

"Thanks for looking out for him, it's late, you should go home. I'll take care of him."

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) leaned over and indulged in a small hug with Alex before she saw him out. There was no point him staying and babysitting Jonah when (Y/n) could take care of him perfectly fine on her own. He wasn't a handful, he wasn't slurring or shouting or crying, he was a sombre mess and as heartbreaking as it was, (Y/n) could do this.

"Are you okay?" (Y/n) rested her hand on Jonah's back and started to rub soothing circles but she was taken by surprise when he leaned over and shifted his head onto her lap instead. His hands grabbed at her thighs as if to steady and ground himself and his breaths were hot and wet against her bare legs.

"I can't cope without you. I just needed to see you again, hear your voice… touch you again."

"I'm sorry," She could feel Jonah groaning into her skin before he slowly pulled his head up so he could look at her.

His deep green eyes were blown wide, presumably from the alcohol he'd been consuming all night, but there was a gleam in them that always made (Y/n) go weak at the knees. And when she looked down to his pale lips and saw his tongue darting out to wet them, she could feel everything stirring inside her, about to come bubbling up to the surface.

"I don't want you to be sorry, I just want you."

The alcohol was giving him the courage he hadn't had in weeks. It gave him the ability to speak to her when before, all he could do was stare at her picture and wish his thoughts could telepathically register with her. Looking at (Y/n) only broke his heart and she stole his ability to speak without meaning to. With liquid courage Jonah could try and talk to her after weeks of silence that was quickly killing him.

"I know…"

What was she supposed to say? What should she do?

He was drunk, he wasn't going to remember this conversation in the morning and he probably won't remember how he got here or what happened tonight. Having a serious conversation with him wasn't going to work, it wouldn't help either of them when (Y/n) was conflicted and Jonah was intoxicated.

But that still didn't help (Y/n) work out what she should do, right in this very moment. With Jonah looking at her like that and gliding his hand up and down her thigh, he made it very hard to think straight.

"What did I do wrong?" Something snapped inside (Y/n)'s stomach like an elastic band had been stretched too far and broken, shooting right through her heart and lungs.

She never meant for Jonah to think or feel like he had done something wrong, that wasn't her intention and that wasn't what happened. If she'd of known that was what he had been thinking this last month, she would have tried to speak to him. (Y/n) would have visited him and sought him out sooner if she'd of known he thought he had done something wrong.

He could never do anything that would make her leave.

(Y/n)'s hand started to shake when she reached up to cup his face and she could feel the tears starting to fall when he gripped her wrist tightly like it was his lifeline.

"Oh Jonah, honey, it wasn't anything you did, I promise."

The way she said his name had shivers rocketing down his spine and a fire igniting in his stomach.

"Then why did you go? Please tell me. I refuse to believe you don't love me anymore… and if it wasn't something I did, then I don't know what it was." Even though he was still highly drunk and some of his words started to slur and slow, he talked as if he was only the tiniest bit tipsy and not fully sloshed and inhibited with alcohol.

Maybe it was time to talk to him, set things straight between them. After all, (Y/n) wasn't sure she could stay away from Jonah any longer and he didn't seem like he was going to budge, drunk or sober.

Maybe if she told him, he wouldn't recall their conversation in the morning. She might just get away with clearing it all off her chest and having the slate be wiped clean when they woke in the morning. Things could change and move forward and she wouldn't have to torment herself any more or fear about hurting him.

"I didn't want to hurt you, I thought a break would calm me down and let me sort things out, put things right. If I'd of known you felt like this I would never have stayed away but I couldn't hurt you any more."

"Why would you hurt me?"

"Because I was scared… Darren was getting too close and I- when I pushed him away he kept coming back. He had wandering hands that never stopped and he said if I told anyone, everyone would just think I cheated."

The way Jonah slumped back against the sofa looked like (Y/n) had cocked back and slapped him.

She should have told him.

How could he help her if he didn't know what was going on? How could he protect her if she didn't talk to him and instead chose to shut him out because she thought it would help him. (Y/n) didn't have to protect him, she didn't have to save him from any pain because the only pain Jonah couldn't withstand was being away from her. This month had proved that. He could take anything but (Y/n) being torn away from him, that was his cryptonite.

"I broke us off so he couldn't threaten to tell you anything and I could get rid of him."

"Sweetheart, you need to know that I think so highly of you… but you don't have to protect me when you're the one getting hurt."

Jonah moved before (Y/n) could register what was happening.

His hand swiftly glided up her thigh and beneath her shorts until he could grip the soft flesh of her hip. He leaned forward and smashed his lips against hers before the alcohol washed away the little bit of courage he had and his unsteady balance caused him to lean into (Y/n) until she fell back. Her back hit the cushions and Jonah swallowed the surprised squeak she emitted while he steadied himself with his other hand pressed down beside her head so all of his weight didn't collapse onto her.

Part of him knew he should pull back, apologise and leave, but the other part of him, the selfish side told him to keep going. And he was only encouraged further when (Y/n) hooked her legs around his hips and let him lean into her and mould his hips against hers.

How could he turn away when she tasted so good? How could he force himself to leave when (Y/n) was his home and she was letting him get his foot back in the door?

"You've no idea how much I've missed you." He whispered each word against her sugary lips, barely parting enough to speak before he devoured them again. Too afraid to pull back fully and never taste her lips again. There were never going to be enough words in the world for him to describe how broken he felt or how horrible his misery had made him when he let her walk away.

Jonah didn't think he would survive losing (Y/n) a second time.

"I think I do."

(Y/n) kissed the corner of his mouth before she cupped his face between her hands and smoothed her thumbs over his flushed cheeks. She took a moment to commit his face to memory, to see the way his eyes sparkled with haze and lust and how his lips parted, eager to kiss her again and again until he passed out.

"Don't leave me again,"

The tender smile that pulled at her lips made Jonah feel weak and he didn't want to kiss those lips again just yet, he didn't want to risk breaking that smile which sent his heart rocketing in his chest. Instead, he let his chest lean down onto hers and attached his lips to her neck like a vampire starved for centuries.

In that moment, with Jonah's teeth biting to bruise her skin and his hands roaming every inch of her that he could grab at, (Y/n) knew she was done for.

She knew right then that she couldn't push Jonah away anymore, not when it was killing both of them to be apart and now they had collided together, nothing was going to stop him. He wouldn't leave her, couldn't leave her. He loved her too much to let her walk away a second time and (Y/n) couldn't break her own heart and leave him again.

The break between them hadn't been permanent, and now it was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you thirsty?" (Y/n) felt Jonah's arms binding around her waist and his fingers splaying out over the front of her hips like he was about to pull her into a dance. His face tucked into the crook of her neck and her knees all but buckled when he bit down on the spot just behind her ear.

She barely managed to nod in response, feeling a hum vibrate from his lips through her neck before he gently turned her around and started to walk towards the table in the far corner.

His lean chest glued up against (Y/n)'s back and every inch of him pressed into her as they walked in sync, one foot in front of the other as if they were one person. Reaching down, (Y/n) held onto Jonah's arms before she turned her head to nuzzle her face against his curls and breathe in his scent.

They hadn't been here at the party for very long and (Y/n) was sure they wouldn't be here for much longer, either. Not with the way he was clinging to her and the force he kissed her with.

When they reached the table, (Y/n) reached out and grabbed two plastic cups filled with whatever alcohol was in the punch bowl. She could feel Jonah nudging her hair back over her shoulder so he had better access to her neck and it made her shiver. She could barely put one foot in front of the other when he growled quietly against her and the vibrations radiated through her back and shook her lungs in her chest.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

His arms stayed deadlocked around her waist while they walked slowly back towards the other room so they could sit down with Alex and a few other friends they had tagged along with tonight. But (Y/n)'s brain wasn't registering where they were going or what they were doing, she just let Jonah be her guide while she concentrated on walking properly and breathing slowly. If he carried on like this she was going to jump him.

"Wanna sit down?" (Y/n) felt how raspy her voice was and how quietly she spoke but she knew Jonah heard her when she felt him nod into the crook of her neck.

(Y/n) kept tight hold of the cups when Jonah suddenly spun round and flopped down onto the sofa, tugging her with him until she landed with a thud on his lap and some of the alcohol sloshed out of the cup and spilt onto her hand and his jeans.

He knew she was part-way drunk when she laughed instead of cursed at the spillage.

Slouching down, Jonah shimmied a little on the sofa until his back was arched down and he could spread his legs out, easily fitting (Y/n) on his lap with her legs dangling between his. His arms stayed bound to her waist and he perched his chin on (Y/n)'s shoulder so he could take a large swig of his drink before he let (Y/n) put it on the coffee table in front of them that his knees were bumping into.

Neither of them could concentrate on whatever it was Alex was ranting happily about. He could have been talking about the end of the Earth and they would have just smiled and nodded along. They were too amused by each other to bother taking a big interest in his drunk ramblings.

Biting her lip, (Y/n) tilted her head down a little when Jonah gently swept her hair over her shoulder before he attached his lips to the top of her neck just below her hairline.

He made a slow, wet trail down her neck, kissing over each column of her spine before a finger hooked in the top hem of her dress so he could pull it down and continue his trail.

(Y/n) sipped her drink, doing her best to concentrate on each gulp she downed and control herself so she didn't end up choking in front of everyone when Jonah decided to graze his teeth against her spine to wind her up. But when she felt his free hand suddenly pull up the hem of her dress, (Y/n) held her plastic cup against her lips to hide her grin from prying eyes and disguise her bush from her friends sitting around her.

She tried to stay still and act unaware, she really did, just to see what Jonah would do and how far he would go. And he kept going. His fingers dug tighter into her dress until he was about to put holes through the thin material and he raked it up her leg agonisingly slowly. He pulled it until her dress was bunched around her waist and he was about to keep going before (Y/n) realised her underwear was about to be on display.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) put her cup down before she turned herself around on his lap. Her knees dug into his hips, creating a hissing burn in his sides that only made him grin and her arms looped around his neck so she could tug his hair and tilt his head back to make him look up at her.

"You're insatiable, you know that?"

"Only when it comes to you," His hands found her waist again and he scrunched up her dress in his tight fists when (Y/n) barely let her lips touch his before she took his lower lip between her teeth.

"Get a room! You can't do it down here in front of everyone, you know." Alex nudged Jonah's shoulder but he barely felt the light impact. His eyes were enraptured by the girl sitting on his lap.

"Good idea," Jonah mumbled against (Y/n)'s lips, letting go of her dress so his hands could hold her bum while he shuffled to the edge of the sofa and sat upright.

He was bored by this party already, and he knew (Y/n) felt the same. It was time to find a vacant room upstairs or get a taxi home and continue this in private.

He had her back, and he wasn't letting her go. Not for anything in the world.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

[fallingdownhell]

Bonjour!

Could I request Vanitas with a female reader who's a flower dragon s/o?

She smells really nice, makes it rain flower petals when he does something amazing, she can revive dead plants, and depending on the place (e.g. a desert) she can create different plants that match that environment.

I hope I could make you happy with this, I honestly have never written something like this. Made it with a bit of shapeshifting, hope that is fine.

Content: female reader; shapeshifting; getting together

Word count: 880 words

Hope you still enjoy reading!

Vanitas would have a sneaking suspicion that you're not entirely human, but he can't pinpoint anything either

You're not a vampire, that much he is certain of, but what else could it be...

He takes his time to study you, trying to figure out what it is about you that he finds so... unusual

because if you were to ask anyone else, they would all say that you are a normal human being. You acted like one, talked like one... nothing odd or strange about you

except for Vanitas. He thought it very strange. Because you were just... too normal

You try your best to keep your more.. draconic features at bay when around other species, but it was hard..

Traveling and talking to all kinds of people throughout the day was already exhausting enough, but when you noticed Vanitas watching you with intent.. you became even more careful

It wasn't like you were deliberately trying to hide it from him

It's just that you have made very bad experiences in the past with people you thought to be trusted friends. Each and every one abandoned or betrayed you once they found out who and what you really are, so you just decided to not reveal it to anyone else ever again

Vanitas however, was intent on finding out your secret. He thought he was being discret about it, but you had noticed it almost immediately. He wasn't particularly subtle with his staring..

He would observe you for a few weeks, trying to find... anything really. But when you didn't seem to reveal anything, he got fed up and straight up went to you to ask you

He openly told you all about his suspicions and demanded you tell him what was up with you already

at first, you tried to brush it off, telling him that he was just imagining things, but he didn't give up. He held you in the discussion, pressuring you. He knew that this wasn't the right approach to this, but he could apologize for this later. Right now, he needed answers to his questions more than anything else.

And he was so close to them. He could see it. See, how you were starting to cave under the pressure

"Just tell me! Please!"

And you caved. You didn't want to tell him your secret, but you also feared that you might loose him as a friend should you continue to refuse. So, with a sigh, you faced him and told him about the truth of your being

He stood there in silence for a few seconds, looking at you like you were just telling him a joke or making fun of him. You could tell that he didn't believe you

So, with another sigh, you let go of the restraints you put on yourself whenever you go out into town. You could feel your body tremble with a familiar feeling as your horns grew back on your head, your tail appearing behind you

Vanitas watched this happen in awe, thinking that he had never seen something quite so beautiful before. The horns turned towards the back of your head, pinkish-white in colour and decorated with all sorts of flowers. Your tail held the same colour, as well as some of the scales that appreared on the skin of your neck and lower parts of your face

He was fascinated by it, but you were scared. You held your eyes closed, not wanting to see his reaction, fearing the rejection from him that was sure to follow this reveal

It was quiet for a few seconds and when you were about to open your eyes, you suddenly felt a soft, hesitant touch to one of your horns.

Your eyes shot open, watching as Vanitas was completely focused on his hand, feeling it against his hand. You could clearly see the fascination in his eyes, which confused you. Why wasn't he running away from you, calling you a moster like all your other "friends" had done before?

After a few more seconds, he looked at you in the eyes, excitement clearly visible in them.

"What else can you do?"

You were caught off guard, but you decided to tell him anyways. You already came this far, so why not play with open cards?

He hung onto any word that left your lips, taking it all in

after that, his fascination with you grows even more. You are relieved that he still talks with you, and it feels like nothing has changed much, except for the fact that he now knows the truth about you

It will take some time until he notices that his intense feelings for you not only come from fascination, but also from a place of genuine care and love

He was in love with you and once he realized that, he confronted you again, laying it open so you could either refuse or accept his feelings

when you accept him, he is over the moon, excited that his girlfriend was such a powerful being

The two of you grew even closer over time, you trusting him with any of your secrets and he swore to protect them and you with his life. As long as he was with you, no more harm would come over you again...

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Lost on Ryloth

Captain Keeli x Reader

Summary: Are you sure Captain Keeli died on Ryloth? Because I heard...when they went to collect the bodies of General Di and his fallen men, the captain was no where to be found...

No Minors Allowed

Word Count: 2, 300 (on the button and I love it)

POV: 2nd. No use of (name), (y/n), or blank spaces

Warnings: Reader is Twi'lek as I'm pretty sure there's no humans natively living on Ryloth, mentions canon deaths, mentions battle and healing, reader has a sassy grandmother, kinda a fix-it story.

"ma sareen" means "my sweet" and is a term of endearment

For the lovely @dystopicjumpsuit ! I tried my best to create something awesome for you, it might be a bit wonky and I apologize if it reads as such. (p.s. I hightlighted the thingys in red as it was the closest to Keeli's armour colour available)

You weren't supposed to be out here... and as blaster fire rained down in the valley before you, you became blindingly aware of the fact.

You should have been with the others of your kind...but instead of being holled up within one of the controlled settlements, you had somehow managed to slip by all of the seperatist sentries to hide in the caves nearby. It was just you and your grandmother.

You covered your ears as the battle went on. Blaster fire being tossed back and forth, a bright blue beam of light slashing about and grenades exploding, not only sending dirt everywhere - but men with it.

The Republic troopers were losing, you could see that clear as day, as the Jedi was quickly becoming the only one still standing. You watched, waiting on baited breath in fear.

The jedi, was all alone now...you watched in horror as the droids just kept coming.

This was it for him, you supposed...

Just as you thought the sentiment, your peripheral caught movement. Your eyes darted to the side to witness one solider stand back up, you gaze taking in his beaten form.

How in the stars could he even move after all that...?!

You instantly were in awe with the man, but your amazement lasted only a short time as you watched the two desperately fighting on with all their might.

The droids began to surround them in earnest, and you couldn't bear to watch on... There had to be something you could do...!

Your eyes caught sight of some rocks on the ledge, they looked precariously settled. Maybe you could...

You ears pricked as you heard the jedi call out, the trooper must have fallen, at least that is what you suspected. If you were quick...just maybe you could save them.

Summoning not only your courage, but your strength...you pushed against the rocks with all your might!!!

Until!!!

You caught yourself just in time, as the cliff came apart and tumbled down toward the droids and republic men - only to watch the other ledge get...taller...?

Your heart fell to your stomach as you screamed, scrambling for a foot or hand hold onto SOMETHING.

Your eyes darted to your destination, watching the droids shoot down the jedi. You were too late, and your attempt of rescue was going to end you as well - what a way to go.

If only you'd been smarter.

If only you hadn't tried to help.

But as the rocks tumbled down and smashed into droids, they somehow managed to narrowly avoid the bodies of the two men. And just as you thought all was lost for you...your heels caught onto a lower ledge. Mere feet from the ground, but it was something.

Panic coursed through your veins, you panted for a moment to catch your breath, but found yourself hurriedly climbing down. Your feet and fingers already lowering you down the cliffside until your feet touched the ground. Without so much of a thought, you ran to the bodies, first dropping to your knees beside the jedi.

Your fingers frantically moved about the exposed flesh of his neck - but no pulse was to be found. You swallowed thickly and maneuvered to the trooper and ducking down to him. Your trembling fingers fumbled around his armour to access his skin, and-

You gasped, quickly leaning your face to his own. Barely. Just barely, you could feel his breath. Hardly a whisp of life remained in him.

You started ripping at the plastoid, it was beat up anyways and it was stopping you from getting to his body. You had a chance - and you were taking it.

No matter the consequence.

Brown eyes stared up at the rock-ceiling but hadn't bothered to move. Keeli's eyes darted about as he tried to make sense of everything.

Hadn't he been shot down? Wasn't he dead...?

The very next question bubbled from his hoarse throat and through his chapped lips

"W-where am I...?!"

He gasped as he tried to sit up, pain blooming across his body, and was met with a gentle hand. His eyes darted to the assertive yet gentle touch, gaze following it to meet your concerned eyes.

His mind raced. So not dead. On Ryloth still - or at least he had a Twi'lek caring for him.

"Don't move so fast" you urged in a hush voice "you'll open all your wounds. Grandma spent a long time putting you back together"

Already, his brow was caked in sweat from exertion. And despite his mind urging him to hurry and get up and back to his men - to his general, he allowed you to push him back into the mattress.

Brown eyes locked onto your form, watching you with the close study of a trapped and wounded animal.

You smiled kindly and reached to the side, settling the cool cloth against his forehead then gliding it gingerly along his face.

"I'm sorry about your troops..." you began softly as you swept the cloth across his jaw.

You then took it away to dip it back in the bowl and wring it out. You glanced back to him, eyes flickering to his bare collar then back to his eyes in a silent plea for his permission. You had to forgo before due to him being unconscious...but you'd hate to impose your wants now - even if they were in his best interest.

The man let out a huff but relented, eyes closing and gifting you the tiniest of nods.

You brought the cloth back, wiping at his neck and his collar and shoulders silently, then set the cloth back.

You turned to leave, but your body lingered. Turning back to the man, you patted his hand with the gentility of touching thin and cracked glass.

"I was too late to save your jedi companion...but I was able to get you out. I wish I had been braver and stronger, if I had...perhaps things could have been different." you confessed quietly "But I am neither. So you will have to forgive me for that."

The clone only glanced his eyes towards you, not bothering to move his face to fully give his attention.

"Grandma said you would hopefully recover soon." you offered as you slowly stood "Until then, you'll be stuck with us. If you need anything, just call."

You then gave him your name and excused yourself from the room

Captain Keeli, as he'd later introduced himself as, had been cautious and unsure of you and your grandmother at first. It must've seemed weird, two Twi'leks living out in the middle of nowhere on their own...but he never stopped either of you from helping him in the healing process.

As the days wore on, he slowly relaxed and was willing to chat with you - until you seemed to spend more time chatting at his bedside than you did anything else. Keeli spent his time within your bed fiddling with his equipment or trying to barter you for small chores. The aimlessness of bedrest was not something that sat well with him, so it seemed, as he was more than happy to peel root vegetables while sitting in bed.

"Keeli, dear..." Your grandma began slowly with a smile "these wounds are healing nicely...soon you won't be stuck in this bed" she patted his arm affectionately

"Thank you ma'a-"

"Ah?"

"G-Grandma" he fumbled

"Much better" she beamed proudly to herself as she pulled her body to its feet "Now...if I could just get that grandchild of mine to listen as well as you do..."

Keeli chuckled softly as he pulled the robe-like top closed. You and your grandmother were quite the pair, and a duo he had grown not only accustomed to, but attached to.

It had been weeks since he and General Di had made that stand for Cham and his soliders. Weeks since he'd most likely been presumed dead. The captain wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself.

His commlink had been dammaged heavily during the battle, although you probably left some further damage to it when you had frantically been ripping his armour from him back then... so he'd been unable to get word to the Republic. And despite your ventures out and about...you'd yet to find a way to get a hold of Cham or his people.

"You know...one of these days..." your grandmother mused as she returned with a sweet roll for the captain "I won't be here"

"You shouldn't talk like that ma- ...uh... Grandma" Keeli urged softly, taking the delightful pastry

Your grandmother waved her magenta hand with a dramatic flair

"Nonsense, I am far too old to be told what to do-" she argued humoursly "but that's not the point. What is, is that my dear sweet grandchild will be left all on their own. I worry...that sweet little one has been tottling after me since their first breath. " she sighed as she rested back into the chair

"They love you a great deal m...Grandma" he pointed out in a gentle tone, his eyes watching the elderly Twi'lek as she seemed to drift away into her memories

"There's nobody here for them...and they will not leave this old bat behind" she frowned "If...if you decide you are unable to return to the fight, I would like for you to entertain the idea of staying."

"Ah..." his eyes darted about as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed

"I understand it's a touchy topic, and I am not telling you to give up on your life. I only ask that you think it over. That is all that I wish." she hummed as she began to stand "That is all that thanks I need for bringing you back to health. Though, if you do leave...I would hope you remember us fondly"

With that, Keeli was left to his thoughts and his feelings.

The weeks bled into months, now it had been 4 months' time since you'd rescued the clone. Keeli has long since been up and about, helping you and your grandmother around your home, yet...the captain never left. Never ventured out to find his brethern like he probably should've. Instead...he stayed close to you.

Over the time you'd spent with the captain, the two of you had developed into quite the team. And it soon became apparent, to you, that your feelings were not just infatuation or awe. You cared deeply for the once Captain and it pained you anytime you thought of him walking out of your life forever.

You turned at the sound of your name, your gaze finding those warm chocolate hues you adored.

"It's getting late, we better head in" he nodded towards the entrance of your home, holding a hand out to you "Don't want to worry Grandma"

You smiled, gratefully grasped his hand and let him lead you back to the home.

His hand was warm, as it enveloped your own...snugly...safely.

Your cheeks warmed at the cozy feeling settled deep inside your breast.

"You're awfully spacey...something bothering you?" he paused to watch your expressions

"...Keeli...? Are you happy?" you asked hesitantly, your gaze turning away from him and to the land beyond you both

"I think I'm as happy as one can expect to be" he mused, squeezing your hand "Don't tell me you're all upset over my happiness or lack thereof"

You didn't reply right away, instead your gaze shifted to the holster he kept on his hips. One of the few pieces of his armour he continued to wear.

"Hey...I'm not going anywhere" he spoke softly, pulling you to him and gently taking your other hand "Unless, of course, you want me to leave."

"N-no, I-"

"Good, because if I'm being honest...I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back" he confessed with a smile "Actually, I...I'm not sure how to put this..."

"Put...what...?"

"I've never really felt like this before, this calm and just...content. And you. You- well, I feel a lot for you too" he smiled bashfully his gaze searching for any sort of tell to give way to your feelings on the subject

You stared at him with surprise then pleased embaressment

"I care for you as well" you smiled back

Enboldened by your words, he crept closer to you. The two of you sharing the same space as his hand glided up to cup your cheek

"Then..." his gaze shifted from holding your own to your lips "would it be acceptable for me to stay? With you...?"

Your breath hitched as his face neared, his breath ghosting across your face

"Ma Sareen, there is nowhere else I'd rather be" he whispered

You gasped softly at the phrase in your native tongue

"Grandma may have taught me how to say it properly"

"Just tell him you love him back!" Your grandma yelled impatiently

The spell momentarily broken, you both let out your own breathy laughs

"Grandma...!"

She huffed at you and headed back inside.

"I'm so, so-"

Just as you turned back to Keeli, you found his lips upon your own. Your heart pounded in your ears as you melted against him, your fingers gathering the fabric of his shirt to ground you. The sweet and earnest display of affection was rapidly moving to something more sensual as your lips moved together.

All too soon, he pulled back and pulled you in for a tight embrace. He cheek resting against your own as he held you, although you could feel his heart hammering in his chest just as much as yours was in your own.

"I'm never leaving...I promise. We'll have all the time in the world" he pledged tenderly

You nodded softly, lekku twirling around each other in a silent show of your feelings, as you agreed happily

"All the time in the world"

[lisbeth-kk]

May 14 prompt: time (thanks for the tag @notjustamumj @meetinginsamarra @raina-at

The day we met

Sherlock’s undercover. In Liverpool of all places. Greg’s mentioned something about a football team being the city’s pride and joy. Sherlock’s deleted the rest of that information. Not relevant. What is relevant is the fact that Sherlock’s going to perform on live television. In front of the whole world. Apparently Ukraine won last year’s competition, but due to the war, and the UK coming second, Liverpool is hosting the Eurovision this year. Sherlock’s not totally oblivious, but he’s got no interest in the competition per se. The reason he’s present is that a threat’s been made, and Mrs. Hudson’s asked for Sherlock’s help finding the culprit. Normally he wouldn’t considered this sort of case, but Mrs. Hudson’s niece is the one who’s been threatened and she’s also one of the dancers in the show. Her fiancé is the one who’s narrowed down the number of suspects for some reason. Sherlock almost had an aneurism from mere boredom while Mrs. Hudson told him about the whole charade.

“The things I do for you, Hudders,” Sherlock had said before he kissed her cheek and headed out of Baker Street.

***

So, here he is, all dressed up in a leather outfit in black and purple. According to Alice, the niece, it should’ve been black and red, but as Sherlock’s the only male dancer in this dance number, he went for colours more suited for his skin tone. Mrs. Hudson’s clearly warned Alice about him, because she just shrugs when he explains himself.

A short man with gold and silvery hair approaches them, a clipboard in his hand and an earpiece in his left ear.

“That’s John,” Alice whispers. “He’s the stage manager. You don’t want to mess with him.”

Sherlock gives this John a onceover and smirks. Ex-military most certainly. Sherlock licks his lips in anticipation. Maybe this case won’t be as bad as he feared.

***

As John approaches Alice and this new fellow, he can’t help but cast an appreciative look at the newcomer. He’s tall and slender, pale, flawless skin, the most striking face John’s seen in a while and raven curls, meticulously styled. All of him radiates his posh upbringing. Public school, rich parents, arrogant, spoiled. All the things John despises, but if he does his job properly, John can at least enjoy the look of him while this last. There are ten days until the final, and John decides to make the best of it.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” are the words greeting John.

Normally John’s not one to get startled, but the question, not to mention the voice asking, leaves him amazed.

“Sorry, no time for pleasantries today, I’m afraid,” John says brusquely. “I’m John Watson, stage manager. You are?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” the man says with a knowing look.

Of course he would have a posh and exquisite name as well.

John feels his face blush. He hasn’t done that since high school.

“Right. Welcome, Sherlock. You’re familiar with this dance?” John inquires as professionally as he can manage.

“Obviously,” Sherlock says and rolls his eyes. “Shall we begin the rehearsal anytime this month?

John rolls his eyes and summons the dancers. They go through the dance a few times. Sherlock’s an excellent dancer and falls into step with the others in record time. His lithe body moving around the stage in the sensual manner the dance requires, makes John’s mouth salivate considerably. 

“Alright. One last time, then you can all take a few hours break and some lunch,” John states.

***

While the other dancers have lunch, Sherlock changes out of his costume and sends a text to Alice’s fiancé, Richard. They meet in Richard’s office, and Sherlock’s shown the little evidence Richard’s got. There are three messages. All of them spelled with cut out letters from The Times.

“How do you know it’s The Times?” Richard asks astounded.

“Please,” Sherlock drawls and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t elaborate.

Richard doesn’t pursue the matter. Mrs Hudson’s done her job at least. She knows he hates pestering and nagging when he states the obvious. The obvious to him, that is.

“Any suspects?” Sherlock asks, not too hopeful.

Richard surprises him. He’s actually quite astute.

“Eleanor, Cindy or Taylor,” he states with confidence.

Sherlock looks attentively at him.

“Eleanor is jealous of Alice getting the job. She was certain she’d get it, but she’s not half as good a dancer as my Alice,” Richard says affectionately.

“Alright. What about the others?” Sherlock prompts impatiently .

“Well, Cindy’s just a bitch on a regular basis, so that’s why I mentioned her. Not lightly her, but you said to be thorough when you texted me earlier.”

“Quite so,” Sherlock agrees.

“Then there’s Taylor. She…um…how shall I put it? She thinks of herself…well at a level above the rest of us. Her name isn’t actually Taylor at all, but she doesn’t respond when she’s called by her birth name, which is Anna, by the way. You see, she’s auditioned for Taylor Swift. It’s a few years back now, but after that, she started calling herself Taylor, and she’s totally weird. Doesn’t have to mean anything, of course.”

Richard trails off when he sees Sherlock’s blank face.

“You know who Taylor Swift is, yes?” he asks cautiously.

“Why would I? Is she, I assume it’s a she, relevant to this case?” Sherlock asks curiously.

“Er…no…I guess not,” Richard stutters.

“Well, then. Where can I find this Eleanor?”

***

“You’ve lost your mind, Watson,” John mutters to himself.

After five days of rehearsal, the show’s looking promising, but John’s predicament is of a more personal matter. He’s totally besotted with Sherlock Holmes, and that’s a bit not good. John’s never been one to hide his feelings very well, and Sherlock seems to notice every tiny glance John cast Sherlock’s way. Not that Sherlock’s been dismissive, the opposite, rather. But it’s highly unprofessional, and John’s a man of principles, so there’s that.

“John,” a familiar baritone purrs in his ear.

“Jesus, Sherlock!” John exclaims.

John had been lost in thought and hadn’t been watching where he was going. He had stopped right outside the women’s dressing room and out of nowhere, Sherlock emerged. Not entirely true. He’d actually come out of said room.

“What have you been doing in there?” John asks suspiciously.

“Investigating,” Sherlock mutters while texting rapidly on his phone.

“Invest…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, John,” Sherlock snaps.

He looks at John with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll explain it to you over dinner, if you’re so inclined. You’re dying to know what I’m up to, and you can finally answer my question from the day we met. Meet me at the entrance at seven.”

And with that Sherlock’s gone, leaving John speechless.

*** 

Waiting for the time to pass, was agony, and John obviously knew time didn’t go slower than normal just because he was eagerly anticipating what might occur during dinner with Sherlock. Nevertheless, time seemed to have stopped momentarily. When he turned up at the entrance, he had to wait another ten minutes before Sherlock showed.

“Shall we?” Sherlock said without apologising for being late.

He was texting at his phone again, in an unfathomable speed. Just as John was about to ask if his company was warranted at all, Sherlock pocketed his phone and stopped outside an Italian restaurant.

“After you, John,” Sherlock said and held the door open for John to enter first. 

It smelled delicious of Italian cuisine and the interior was cosy and not as posh as John had anticipated. They were shown to a secluded table with a chequered table cloth, large wine glasses, and a lit candle. They ordered wine and pasta, and Sherlock asked his question again.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

Instead of answering, John asked a question of his own.

“How did you know?”

Sherlock’s rapid deduction made John gape. Before he could praise the precise analysis, their waiter brought the wine and shortly after the pasta. John was famished, so he decided to eat first and ask further questions later.

Sherlock wasn’t much of an eater, so between his nibbling on the garlic bread and rigatoni, he told John about why he’d been inside the women’s dressing room.

“So, if you solve the case before the final, you’ll be heading back to London?” John asks with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Normally yes. The other dancers aren’t dependent on me. However, I have other interests than the case,” Sherlock says.

Suddenly he looks shy, something John didn’t think Sherlock was even capable of. The wine makes John relax and he feels a bit bold, so he reaches over the table for Sherlock’s hand. While stroking Sherlock’s knuckles with his thumb, his eyes meet Sherlock’s and the look in those cerulean eyes, makes John shiver.

“Care to elaborate?” John asks hoarsely.

“Mm, after dessert,” Sherlock answers. 

Decided to pay a little homage to Eurovision from last night, but I've been struggling all day with this after 4 hours of sleep, so go easy on me...

@totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely

[valdiis]

Character Traits: Daephrin Astramente

— B A S I C S

Name: Daephrin Rosamar Astramente Nicknames: Dae, Lark, Samar, 'hey asshole!' Age: Somewhere around 32 Nameday: 15th sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon Race: Ishgardian Elezen Gender: Cisgender male Orientation: Bisexual and yes, please Profession: Sky pirate, treasure hunter, leather-worker, professional scoundrel

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Warm black and windswept; straighter when it's very short or very long, wavy when it's a little shaggy. Eyes: Vivid emerald. Skin: Sun-tanned and lightly freckled. Tattoos/scars: No tattoos, a fading burn scar on his upper shoulders.

— F A M I L Y

Parents: Lucarian Astramente and Ilystra Rochenoire. Lucarian was a Temple Knight and Ilystra a noblewoman. When Lucarian married her, the official name of the noble house changed to his surname instead of hers. House Rochenoire was known for producing profound intellects and the Astramente line a knack for navigation. Ilystra died of pneumonia and several months later, Lucarian dropped dead of a heart attack. They say that couples in love rarely survive one another. Siblings: His older brother, Sarin, was a lancer and died in the Dragonsong War. His younger brother, Onaerion, is currently the head of House Astramente. Grandparents: Daephrin never knew them, but the Rochenoires were stiff, devout Ishgardians who had fallen on hard times and were very pleased to marry their daughter off to a relatively wealthy Temple Knight. The Astramente family was proud to count a Knight among their sons; they were mostly traders and trackers, barely a step above scoundrels but for their wealth. Wealth hides a multitude of sins. In-laws and Other: Though he is formally dating one man and unofficially entangled with another, Dae doesn't have any in-laws at this point. He has an Astramente uncle he's never met, but his mother was an only child. Pets: While he would like to have live pets one day, he fears he can't care for them at this time with his lifestyle. Instead, he has Sniffer, Spotter, and Sparrow - mammets made for him by his lover, Jaxon. Sniffer is a delightful little cat-dog mammet that sniffs out treasure. Spotter is a spider-like trap finder. And Sparrow is a bird-shaped recording device.

— S K I L L S

Abilities: Daephrin is quite a decent leather-worker, though he makes no fuss over it. More of a fuss is made over the fact that he's a crack shot with any ranged weapon of any kind (a manifestation of the Echo), including thrown knives. Just don't hand him a lance; he'll put someone's eye out. He knows Allagan programming language and technological construction. He can play piano pretty well. Hobbies: Aforementioned leather-work and Allagan treasure hunting. Airship maintenance for fun and profit.

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Dae is charming nearly to a fault. He can convince snakes to dance on their tails and Monetarists to part with their gil. He's got the perfect mix of a kind air, a clever mouth, and a fast mind; it makes him easy to trust, even when you probably shouldn't. Most Negative Trait: He is horribly, terribly self-centered. He struggles to put himself in other people's shoes or to think outside himself. He's working on it, but he's still pretty selfish.

— L I K E S

Colours: Black, gold, green. Smells: Well-oiled leather, bay rum, sun-warmed wood, his lovers' colognes (Jaxon and M'rath smell different, but equally amazing), fresh citrus. Textures: Silk, leather, black cat's fur, lacquered wood. Drinks: Whiskey, tea, hot chocolate, coffee, the occasional orange juice.

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not anymore. Drinks: Sometimes. Drugs: Once in a great while, though he did more when he was younger. Mount Insurance: Uh... No? His usual mount is a motorbike, as he has not the facilities to care for an animal. (In practice, he rides a kamuy because I love them, but he wouldn't know what a kamuy is.) Been Arrested: He has so far escaped the law, but his luck may one day run out.

[perxywonderland]

ENDORPHINS (reader version)

Because your way to find a cure to your curse stagnated, you were heavily frustrated, desperate, and depressed, you couldn’t even sleep anymore. Once, in the clinic, you explained to your favourite doctor how you felt. He prescribed you something quite therapeutic; a massage. But it turns out more intimate.

Relationships: Kuras/ gender neutral MC ; Kuras / reader Characters: Kuras, you/your mc Details: comfort, mature, penetration, massage, POV first person, Kuras is so soft and attentive I love him

Word count: 2080

Proofreading by @captain--miracle check their content it's amazing!

Because your way to find a cure to your curse stagnated, you were heavily frustrated, desperate, and depressed, you couldn’t even sleep anymore. Both Kuras and you try really hard, especially Kuras, he barely reads his favourite genre of book in his free time anymore, only books on curses and remedies. Once, in the clinic, you explained to your favourite doctor how you felt.

The doctor let out a thoughtful hum while holding his chin and crossing his legs. He could prescribe some pills to relieve stress. Something more therapeutic would be better than medication.

“How about a massage?”

You arched your brows at his idea. A massage? It felt off topic at first, he explained:

“Massages can trigger endorphin production, relieve stress, and induce good sleep. Leading to relaxation, pain relief as well as a feeling of wellness.”

He turned with his rotating stool to face the cabinet full of bottles and boxes with different sizes, colours, and shapes. Settling carefully his glasses ready to prepare the supplies he’d require for his remedial activity.

“You never told me you did those.” Carefully reading the labels on the bottles, turning them into his hands, he answered:

“I do them for a more close, private sphere of people I like. Depending on if they agree or not. It can become more… intimate.”

Realising what he meant, Your blood rushed through your cheeks, nose and ears giving those a deep red blush. With a few blinks of your wide opened eyes, you approached him.

“Do I… Do I need to wear something specific ?” “Your usual nightwear will do. Don’t worry, I will not push your boundaries.”

You nodded and headed to the resting area of the clinic you moved in to change into simple nightwear. You walked your way on the cold floor back to where Kuras was and waited for his instructions. Multiple bottles were on the counter, you could read they were essential oil based. Kuras didn’t wear his glasses anymore, he gestured to you to lie down with front body on the examination table. You obeyed and carefully lied down, you weren’t able to see much with your head turned to the left, watching the doctor’s tidy counter. He stood up while warming up some oil between his hands. He pressed a warm hand on your shoulder blade, and announced with a low and comforting voice:

“I will start with the legs and go upper, tell me when it hurts, or if you have enough or feel uncomfortable, I will stop immediately.”

You motionned a yes by nodding with eyes closed. Without even starting, his words and touch were relaxing, you left your whole body to him with no fear or apprehension. 

The doctor faced your body from the end of his examination table, and started his manoeuvre by gently caressing one calf with his oily hands, warming the body part up to a comforting temperature. Kneading, pushing carefully the skin and muscle in slow motions of back and forth and circles. Sometimes pressing his hands on the whole calf and running them towards the back of your knee multiple times, to then going back rubbing different local places on the one calf, he repeated the motions on the other. The gesture wasn’t strong or painful, it was gentle, attentive, confident, just like him. The body he was meticulously taking care of instantly became putty between his beautiful long fingers. 

Kuras’ hands made their way to the back of your thighs, warming them up and giving them the same treatment as the calves. Because of the shorts, sometimes his hands required going under the clothes to reach the top part of the thighs, but it didn’t disturb you. Kuras asked before moving to face your back horizontally:

“How does it feel?”

“That is interesting, I mean, I like it a lot, it is relaxing for sure.”

You answered into a slightly drowsy voice.

“Do you want to go further? Are you okay with my hands going on to your back?”

“Mhm.”

You nodded, giving your agreement to his upcoming gestures. Kuras reapplied some oil between his hands for the large surface he was going to take care of. The doctor began with the lower back, putting pressure into his circle motions with his thumbs, and covering your waist with both his hands in his back and forth motions. The silence during his work was comfortable, a sign of safety and trust. But you couldn’t hold your curiosity. “The pressure you add at certain places, why does it feel so good? “

Never missing an opportunity to teach, Kuras answered his question:

“The human body has nice spots, they enhance endorphins and serotonin production. Both are wellness hormones, endorphins are a painkiller, that method using pressure is called acupuncture.”

“I see, well, you sure are producing a lot of serotonin and endorphins there.”

You replied satisfied, a little melty as Kuras slid his warm hands more between your skin and clothes. Kuras escaped a little chuckle to your dozy comment. Kuras gently pinched the sleeve of your clothes, asking again for consent before going further, or stopping there. “May I?” “Yes.”

Kuras proceeded to slide them away with your help, passing them under your arms. You rested your head on the table and your arms were parallel to your body. He resumed his treatment on the shoulder blades, free from obstacles. The upper back and shoulders and neck seemed to be a sensitive spot for you and accidentally escaped a relaxed low moan, it tensed you up a little. Kuras reassured you. “This place does feel nice, yes.” 

“I wish you could teach me, so I can do it to you as well.”

You were a little scared your advance for giving affection would be declined, but he didn’t. Kuras replied with a warm and pleased tone: “That would be lovely.”

Slowly but surely, you pushed your boundaries to something more intimate together. Expressing interest into one another above the friend type. He finished his treatment, or almost.

“That was amazing, thank you, Kuras.” 

You complimented him after opening your eyes and sitting up on the examination table, you readjusted the sleeves, and smiled warmly to Kuras with your eyes half closed, relaxed; He couldn't help himself, he carefully took your bandaged hands into his, caressing them. “I finished, but as a doctor. As an intimate partner I haven’t.”

He began, and when you raised your eyebrows in surprise, he resumed:

“But I will not go further if you do not want to or do not feel comfortable with this.”

You remained silent a moment, your hands escaped his grip to carefully cup them, you replied stammering:

“I… I want to, Kuras.”

Only a few seconds after this you were kissing his jaw gently, moving up to the corner of his lips. Kuras pressed your lips together, tilting your head backward as he held your back into a firm hug.

You both broke the kiss while Kuras took one of your hands to guide you to stand up and follow him, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. You never ever found or caught him sleeping no matter the hour you came,  for troubles you’ve been in, or your friends. At best, he was in his bedroom but on the armchair near the fireplace to read. But the bed seemed to be barely used. You gently sat on the bed, and fiddled with his partner’s coat, as a question if you could undress him a little. He didn’t refuse, he even helped you by removing his coat and shoes before laying a knee on the bed, guiding you to lie down. Pressing some light chaste kisses there and here, from the neck to the shoulder, he made his way to your chest and stomach with his free hand, caressing those areas tenderly, another form of massage. You stroked his hair at the back of his neck, watching his every move, and his beautiful face, lashes and amber orbs were lightened by the warm light of the lamp next to his bed in a golden orange-ish shade. He truly was beautiful. You took his caressing hand in order to guide him to lie down next to you. You went on top of him and began undoing his top, revealing his toned torso, caressing it with both hands. He helped you take off your top clothes as well. Kuras lightly stroked his large hands lightly on your sides, sending shivers down your spine. It clearly was pleasurable by your weakened look. He pushed you on the side to lay down again next to him, you cupped his cheek with your hand, kissed him again, introducing your tongue. One of his hands reached down your lower back while the other slid into the shorts to remove it progressively. Your limbs intertwined together into a tight embrace with only both of your underwear left. 

Kuras hand played with the last cloth remaining on you, looking deep in his eyes, you gave him your consent on going further with a soft nod and a kiss on the neck. He gently moved you to lay on your tummy again like on the examination table, you did so and helped him to remove your last piece of fabric. His hands stroked your back into gentle caresses, back and forth as he progressively reached your butt, massaging it tenderly. Your thighs got the same treatment again, until his hand slid between them to brush with the tip of his fingers your private parts. It automatically caused a low moan escaping your mouth. You and him were more than ready by the reaction your lower abdomen had as he stroked it.

 A finger made its way into your entrance, then a second. Together they massaged your inside, it felt wonderful, too wonderful that you tried to muffle your moans and yelps of pleasure. But it was unsuccessful when Kuras nimbled your shoulder and neck. His own pleasure built up too. He removed his last cloth as well, revealing his own private parts. 

Impatient, you tried to look at what he was doing. He had another bottle of oil in his hands, but this time he was using it on his length. “I do not want to hurt you, MC. So I am taking precautions.” 

He answered to your puzzled look, it was reassuring how careful he was with you.

Pinning your bandaged hands together in one hand, and pinning your hips with the other, he stroked his private parts slowly on your behind, before slowly entering inside you. Both of you escaped a louder moan of pure delight. He moved first in slow back and forth, adventuring to find your most sensitive spot. In no time your legs twitched, found it. He pumped into the spot again and again, a little harder but still passionate. He bent to reach your neck to kiss it again and went even deeper, his breath and moans tickled your ear. You desperately tried between the moans to praise him but felt you were about to reach climax already. Your whole body twitching was a sign for Kuras to stop and get out before you reached the sky without him. Getting free from his grasp, you rolled to face him with watery eyes due to the pleasure. You pushed him to lie down next to you to kiss him and to  stroke his genitals with a hand actively, he was moaning in your mouth. You positioned yourself to his length and he did the motion to enter again. In this tight embrace both of you moved and moaned in unison. Giving praises to each other, eventually you both reached climax, He pressed your mouths together and you cupped his head with your hands. Little teardrops of delight formed on both of your eyes. 

Heavy breaths were the only sound left in the room, your head rested against his shoulder, he stroked your hair while you caressed his back. His smell was composed of spices, which always found comforting. Breaking the comforting silence you asked:

“That was another amazing massage, how many times a week do you recommend it?” 

Kuras smiled at your little prescription metaphor.

“For the first one, twice a week, the second, depends on the availability and will.”

“Good.”

You replied as you snuggled closer, eyes closed ready to sleep. Kuras just closed his eyes, and enjoyed the embrace until you woke up again.

----- Hope you enjoyed it 👁️👁️💙 Don't hesitate to give ideas for more in my question box, or/and your feedback, I would be happy to read them :)